The Bleaest of Seasons

(If you have not read the first part of this story, it is located

here

.)

*

Where you end up, surprisingly, is the mall.

You see it coming up and grin.

'Are we going shopping?'

'Yep.' He answers with a grin.

'I love shopping.' You say truthfully.

He nods, and focuses on finding you a spot to park. He circles around the lot a couple of times, which you think is odd as he drives past several spots. Finally he spots the entrance to the underground parking. He zips in quickly and through the barely opening garage door, making you clutch at the seat belt in a moment of terror. Then he whirls the rusty old beast around the lot and drives into the very basement level and parks the car in a dark corner with nobody else in sight.

You like this. A lot. It feels like you're a naughty teenager and you're about to start petting.

You start running through naughty cheerleader lines in your head. Maybe you can tell him to be careful, in case the coach finds out?

As usual, Scott is not in tune with your plan, as the moment the car is in park, his seat belt is off, the keys are in his hand and he's out the door to let you out of the car. You think he's being chivalrous, but a moment later you realize that the door is jammed and he has to hip check it just right to get it to open for you.

'Sorry.' He says with a sheepish grin as he holds the door open for you.

'At least you're not a car guy.' You smile back. You dated a car guy once. It was terrible. You spent an hour on the phone trying to subtly let him know that you were horny, and he missed every cue and just stayed home and buffed the leather seats in his Charger.

You sigh. You did miss the charger. The engine revved and vibrated in jusssst the right way. You didn't miss the driver. He was quicker than a ten second mile and way less satisfying.

He walks with you to the elevators, and you reach out and tentatively feel for his hand. He takes your hand without looking, gives it that same gentle squeeze he always does and keeps going.

He keeps doing these little things, and they endear you to him. He keeps putting the pillow under your head, he keeps squeezing your hand firmly, keeps not being concerned about his pleasure and is dialled in completely on your own.

He's not what you expected at all.

In the back of your head, you expected to be covered with welts and bruises and possibly be bleeding somehow. You're not sure how you talked yourself into even meeting with this man, because the stories that he wrote made you cringe and shudder and even gave you nightmares from time to time.

That story with the wasps... you shudder. Then you explain it away to him by saying that you're cold.

And naturally, he just puts an arm around you and rubs your back to heat you up. He doesn't paw or grope at you, he just wants to make you warm because you're cold and he parked in a chilly garage.

It makes your tummy flip flop when he does things like that. He cares. About you.

It feels like a long time since someone has.

You squeeze his hand back and give him a warm smile. The elevator arrives a moment later and you get in and let the little glass box carry you up to the shops filled with clothes and shoes, toys and books and all sorts of other little distractions. And the whole time, as the lift slowly takes you up, you hold his hand like a happy teenager.

The doors open a moment later, and you're ushered into the rather quiet shopping center. People mill around, but it isn't crowded. You both wander down the aisles and Scott steers you almost immediately into a shoe store so that you can pick up a nice comfortable black pair of Tom's. You gladly slide your feet out of the punishing heels and into the comfy flats with an almost audible groan of pleasure.

The salesgirl chuckles, and Scott pipes up.

'Do you need some time alone with the shoes?' He asks slyly.

'Maybe just a cigarette...' You say with a sigh and your eyes closed.

He laughs at that and so does the salesgirl, although her laugh is a little strained.

You slide your high heels into the box the Tom's came in and by the time you get yourself sorted out you see Scott at the counter talking to the Salesgirl. You wonder for a moment if the bitch is flirting with him, then you see him slide his bank card out of his wallet.

You watch in confusion for a moment, then she hands him a receipt.

'Hey!' You suddenly bark.

'What?' He responds, somewhat startled.

'Did you just buy my shoes for me?' You ask, somewhat vexed.

'Yes?' He says, a legitimate look of confusion on his face.

'Why?'

'Well, I tore you dress to shreds the other night, so I figured the least I could do is buy you a new pair of shoes.'

The salesgirl cocks an eyebrow but refrains from speaking.

'Ok, I asked you to tear my dress off and it was fantastic! You don't have to buy me shoes every time..'

'WOW!' Says the salesgirl forcefully. 'My stockroom is a DISASTER. I'm... I'm just gonna go clean it. Now. Goodbye.'

And she abruptly turns and marches into the back and behind a curtain.

Scott watches her go with a perfectly neutral expression.

'Well, at least she got an amusing story out of it.' He says dryly.

'Oh shut up.'

You leave the store a moment later. One hand wrapped around his, and the other holding the bag and the instruments of torture that you strapped to your feet on Friday night.

You both wander up and down the mall for a while, not really doing much but relaxing and strolling. Scott asks if you mind going into a book store for a moment, and you don't, so you both look at books for a while.

A candy shop tantalizes you both with fresh caramel and praline fudge, and he gets you both a small slab. You recline on a bench together and break the sweet gooey treat open. You slide a piece into your mouth, moments later your taste buds inform your brain that a piece of solid bliss is in your mouth. And it is creamy, and chewy and delightful.

'Oh god.' You murmur.

'It can't be that good!' Scott says skeptically as he pops a slice into his own mouth.

His eyes widen then slam shut as he inhales deeply.

'Sweet Jesus, that is unbelievable.' He says, then puts his head down and presses his pinky and thumb to his temple, his eyes shut tightly. You watch him enjoy the fudge like you have seen him enjoy little else (Including you...) and you can't help but rib him a little.

'Wow. Now I know how to make you orgasm. Fudge.'

He laughs, his tongue still wrapped in a coating of caramel and sugary bliss.

You just watch him. He really enjoyed it. He really, really enjoyed that. You like watching him when he has that much pleasure. He seems almost vulnerable and afraid when he's happy.

It's like he doesn't even know how to process that.

Interesting.

Time passes, and you meander down the shops in the mall. You wander by the theatre and Scott stops to look at the posters. The new Batman film is out, and he's gazing longingly at it.

Sometimes he's like a little boy.

'Did you want to go see that?' You ask him.

'Yeah, I've been meaning to go for a while now. Stuff just keeps coming up.'

'Am I stuff?'

'You are not stuff. Despite the amount of times I have... stuffed you.' He makes the goofy smile he only breaks out when he's really having fun.

You blush at him. He's gently mocking you, but he's literally given you more pleasure in the last 48 hours than you had in the last five years. It bothers you.

Then an idea forms in your head.

'Why don't you go watch it now?' You ask him.

He looks at you with confusion.

'I was just playing with you Addie. I'm sorry.' He says, genuinely apologetic for something he did that made you very happy.

And suddenly, it clicks into your head. You think you know what he wants. What he actually needs and needs badly.

You think you can give it to him.

You stand on your tiptoes and give him a little smooch on the cheek. He watches you warily, unsure what's going on.

'Please go watch the movie. I'll do a little shopping and we can meet up her in ninety minutes.'

'It's a two hour and twenty minute movie.'

'Please go watch the movie. I'll do a little shopping and we'll meet back here in two hours and twenty minutes.' You say sweetly, all the while thinking happily that this gives you more time to pull off your plan.

'Addie... I... don't you want to come watch it with me?'

'Nope. I like watching movies by myself.'

'Really?'

'Really.'

He looks at you hard for a moment, then he smiles brightly.

'You really are kind of fucking awesome, you know that?'

You blush. He means it. He really thinks you're fucking awesome. Not because you're having all sorts of kinky sex, but because you're willing to let him go and watch a movie he's been trying to watch for a month now.

You watch him head into the theatre, and it's like a weight got lifted off him. He's happy.

He wasn't unhappy to be with you, but he felt he needed to take care of you. That's why he kept stimulating you to the point of unconsciousness. That's why he wouldn't take you anally even when you offered, why he bought the shoes for you, why he keeps tucking the pillow under your head, why he stood between you and the drunks at the restaurant. That's why he's always giving your fingers those gentle squeezes.

That's why he doesn't really want to hurt you.

Because he feels he has to take care of you.

You'd bet your house if he didn't realize that he'd let his marriage blow up because he didn't take control he would have just driven you home meekly. He stopped you and yelled at you because he knew that that would blow it up if he let it happen.

You really want to give him one night. Just one night... where he knows that it's all about what he wants and what he needs and that you're there to take care of him.

You check your watch. The movie starts in five minutes. You should have just enough time to get the things you need.

You hit the liquor store first. You get yourself a bottle of Rye and get one of the clerks to find an exotic dark beer that you know he'll like.

Then you run down to a somewhat hip clothing store that caters to a younger crowd. You grab a clerk and ask for her help finding the sluttiest dress they have. She plucks out several that you would be ashamed to wear in public. You try them on rapid fire, but none of them seem to be giving you the effect that you are looking for. You sigh and tell the clerk that it doesn't look right. She nods, not judging you but thinking hard about what you want, then snaps her fingers and disappears for a moment.

She returns a moment later with some of the same dresses, in smaller sizes. She grins, and urges you to try some of them on.

After about fifteen minutes, you find the one that you know will blow his mind. It's an incredibly tight white spandex tube that keeps sliding up your thighs and exposing your underwear and your breasts threaten to pop out of every five minutes.

'The only way you could look sluttier would be to lose the underwear.' Says the clerk with a giggle.

She's brilliant. You were going to go and buy some really trampy undergarments, but this is faster and he gets you naked even quicker.

You grin and head to the front of the store to pay for your dress that you've crammed yourself into. A girl and her boyfriend are shopping in the store and he stops dead at the sight of you and your slut-tastic dress. A moment later, his girlfriend sees him ogling you and plants a solid elbow in his midsection.

The clerk rolls her eyes and nabs a cheap overcoat on the way to the front of the store. She plunks it down on the counter for you and tells you that it's on sale... and it should keep anyone from giving you a hard time.

You smile, whip out your bank card and pay for both items, then slide the overcoat on and buckle up the front. You dart out the front of the store a moment later and head towards your next stop... the shoe store that you got the Tom's at.

You quickly scan the available shoes, and you're disappointed. You wanted some ridiculously high heeled stripper shoes and they don't really have any.

You do see some very epic gladiator sandals with straps that wrap around the ankle and snake up the calf. Scott told you once that he loved the look of those shoes and this pair looks exotic enough to hold his attention.

A quick swipe of the bank card and you've got the comfy Toms stowed in yet another box and the clerk gives you a hand strapping the laces around your legs so that you can get moving. You snicker into your hand as you watch the clerk desperately try not to look at your frequently exposed vagina in the tiny, tiny dress.

And move you do, to your last stop, a beauty salon.

You explain to the receptionist what you're trying to do, and she grins and pages an older woman from the back. She listens to you intently and smiles.

'Honey, when we're finished with you, your man will think he's dreaming.'

Your hair is scrubbed and styled rapidly, the stylist shaping an exotic hairstyle for you that curls down your shoulder and rests on your chest. Then she gets out her makeup kit and with surprising speed turns you from a pale faced girl with no makeup to a pouty lipped exotic temptress.

You look in the mirror, turn your head from side to side and practice pouting sexily into the mirror. You look fantastic, but you are concerned this is too much.

'Honey, when it comes to men, there is no such thing as too slutty.' She says with a sly grin.

'How did you learn to do this?' You ask, marvelling at how red and bright your lips are.

'Eh, I do the girls up for a local porn producer around here.'

You look over at her in surprise.

'It's a living.' She says with a shrug.

You giggle, thank her and pay for her time and leave a nice tip.

Your bank account just took a hit, but you feel like you're ready now. You scoot down the hallway down to the theatre and then sit on the bench and wait for him to come out of the theatre.

You wait patiently for a few minutes. Most people ignore you, but one older gentleman nearly breaks his neck trying to get a sneaky look at you when he walks directly into a support pillar.

You're never dressed like this before. It's terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.

People start to stream out of the theatre. You see Scott a moment later as he wanders out of the theatre and looks around. He looks right through you, clearly not recognizing you in a different outfit, hairstyle, shoes and made up.

This will be fun. A smile crosses your lips.

He stands by the poster where you told him to go enjoy the film. His head swivels around as he tries to find you.

He's starting to look concerned. His cell phone appears so he can check the time and then slides it back into his pocket.

He shuffles his feet. He looks uncomfortable.

Ok, you think, that's long enough.

You pop out your cell phone and text him.

Addie: Where are you?

He hears the ping, flips open his phone and sees the text. He smiles and fumbles with the keys on his phone.

Scott: In front of the theatre.

Addie: Where?

Scott: In front of the posters.

Addie: Oh. I C U.

Scott: Great! Where are you.

Addie: On the Bench.

Scott looks over at the bench, then looks in the other direction. He rapidly texts back with a confused look on his face.

Scott: I still don't see you. Are you at the outside exit?

Addie: Look at the bench Scott. Look closer.

Scott looks up from his cell phone, then over at you. You give him a sly smile.

'Addie?'

You look around, make sure that nobody is watching, then slide the buckle on the coat open and lean forward and open your legs so that your cleavage presses forward and he can see clearly between your thighs. You know it's shiny and glistening down there, because you've been thinking about all the things you're going to do to him and for him for the last two hours.

Your nipples peek over the top of the tiny, tight white dress. You let them.

You stand, and walk over to him, bags in hand. His eyes are wide.

'Hi.'

'Hi.' He responds quietly, eyes still wide. You don't know if you've ever had his complete and utter attention this way.

You drop the bags in your hand and reach forward and take his hand. You squeeze his fingers gently and he snaps out of the spell you seem to have him in.

'Addie what is this?'

'I know you Scott. You put everyone in front of you. And you try and make sure that everyone likes you. And your needs never really matter. Do they?'

'I... I don't...' He stammers.

'They matter to me. You can fuck me for hours and never finish. You figure out exactly what I need and you make sure I get it. And whenever you guess wrong you blame yourself instead of anyone else.'

He just opens and closes his mouth, words clearly failing him. That pleases you on some level, because you've never stunned him into silence before.

'I'm asking you, please, take me tonight and use me however you want. If you want me to suffer, I'll suffer for you. If you want to take my body, it's yours. If you want me to serve you any other way, please just ask me.'

You stand on your tip-toes, whisper into his ear.

'I am your property. Tonight. Tomorrow night. Every night. I chose you. You get to make all the decisions from now on. Let me show you that. Please.'

Scott makes a strangled sound and blinks for a second, then he clears his throat.

'Do you want to go back to my place now?' He asks.

'Do you?'

'Yes.'

'Then let's go to your place.'

He nods, and for once he seems a little shaken. This isn't quite going like you planned it to. He picks up some of the bags for you and a sigh escapes your lips. For a sadistic dominant, he's certainly polite.

You tuck your nipples back into the ridiculous dress and suddenly feel very cheap. You spent two hours glamming yourself up, and suddenly he's too nervous to touch you.

Your hand slides down and grips his. Your eyes widen as you realize that he's trembling.

'What's wrong?' You ask. You just offered to be his whore, his slut, his slave, whatever he needs. Why is he afraid?

He stops, exhales loudly. His hand drifts up to his face and he grips his temples, massaging them while his eyes close.

'I don't... I'm not... Addie. This is not what we should be doing.'

'Why?'

'We just started. Literally just started. I know you want to please me but... but we can't do this. Not yet.'

'I think we can.' You grip his hand with both of your own and pull him closer to you. Heat radiates off him like it always does.

He shakes his head with frustration and concern.

'I trust you Scott. I do. I need you to be satisfied. I need you to get what you need. You've been so attentive to what I need... I want.... I need to do the same for you.'

He sighs and squeezes your hand and looks around. People are staring at you both. This isn't surprising as you're having a heated discussion and you're dressed like a porn star.

'Let's take this out to the car.' Scott says as he looks around.

You both walk quickly to the elevator. The glass box carries you both down to the car rapidly and silently. Scott seems tense. You squeeze his hand silently.

Is he afraid? Why is he afraid?

The elevator reaches the parking garage and you both stride out. His hand grips your own tightly as he strides to the car. He seems almost distressed.

'Scott... please.... I just... please talk to me. Please.'

'Addie. I just... it isn't... it's not time for this yet.'

'But I made myself into... I'm not sure what this is. I think I'm a tramp. Or a slut. Whatever you need me to be and... whatever you need to do.'

Scott doesn't stop walking. He just makes an enigmatic motion with his hand.