The Shopping Trip
A mall reveals rich potential
It had been three weeks since we last were together. That’s how it was with us; we’d move in our separate orbits until one or the other awoke with hunger in their blood, lust between their thighs and a thirst that only the other could slake.
When I called, she mentioned that she needed a couple of blouses so I suggested that I take her shopping. She paused at that, mulling it over. I could almost see her brow furrowed, her mouth scrunched up in a thoughtful twist as she weighed the implications. Then she said, “I’d love it,” sounding like the young, bouncy, frothy little whelp she so often could be.
Her hesitation was understandable. She didn’t come to me for shopping trips. Or movie dates. She had two boyfriends to satisfy those cute, romantic urges, neither of whom knew about the other. She came to me when she needed to be stretched, when she needed to be wrung dry, when she needed to be turned inside-out and worked over the way she required… and so very much deserved. It occurred to me that we might find that difficult to achieve in the middle of the mall… but who knew? I’m always in an improvisatory frame of mind, and she, quite frankly, was always up for anything.
And so we found ourselves wandering from shop to shop. She tried on this, pondered that, held things up in front of her and asked my opinion — yes, dear, it flatters your figure, no dear I don’t think it’s too revealing. We even held hands. I put my arm around her at one point and she leaned into me, rubbing against my shoulder, looking up at me. We lingered by the fountain at the crossing of the two main shopping arteries, and I kissed her, drawing her in close and she hungrily kissed back. Lordy, Lordy, was she ever in full girlfriend mode today!
I wondered about Mutt and Jeff (sometimes I called them Laurel and Hardy, sometimes Frick and Frack, sometimes Helpless and Hopeless) but, as always, I asked her nothing about her life beyond my own experience of her. If today she felt a different emotional need, so be it. As always, as was required by our strange but oh so satisfying contract, I would endeavor to meet it and send her on her way, satisfied and fulfilled. The trick was to give her what she needed while at the same time taking what I wanted. A bit easier when she was naked with her wrists bound behind her back. Trickier with Mom, Dad and the kiddies waltzing by stuffing their faces with ice-cream cones.
It was getting on towards evening and I suggested dinner. She agreed, looking surprised.
“Are you surprised that I offered? Or that you wanted me to?” I asked.
“I don’t know. This isn’t like me.”
“Of course it is. It’s simply a side you haven’t incorporated into our space. Now you have. We’ll just have to make room. Don’t want it to conflict with the rest of the furniture, after all.”
She shivered a little. “No. We certainly don’t.”
I was feeling expansive, touched actually, at her affection. From the start she’d been a curious mix of little girl giggles and mischief on the one hand and raunch and low debauchery on the other, a heady blend that never failed to tickle my mind and stiffen my cock. I’d had to vigilantly monitor myself. It was easy for one such as her, such a furious mix of opposites, to blur my own boundaries. On more than one occasion I’d had to remind myself, You really aren’t looking for a girlfriend, you lecherous old fart. And if she seeks romance, you’re the last person she’ll think of. Leave things as they are, on ground you both own together.
Still, today she touched a different part of my psyche. I had no interest in killing it. If it was meant to burn itself out fast, I’d let it. If it was a new dimension in our relationship, so be it. My priority was to include it, not be controlled by it.
We ordered drinks, then a second round. We lingered over appetizers, I ordered a bottle of wine. Dinner came, was delicious, we gazed fondly into each others’ eyes, thinking all the while of those dark hallways with their sinister doors just waiting for me to open and allow her to pass through.
After dinner, we had coffee. And then it was time for this little idyll to come to a close. It had been lovely, a brief visit to a country we’d never seen together. I asked for the check and then excused myself to visit the men’s room.
“Yeah, I need to as well,” she said, and started to get up.
“Wait for the check. I’ll be right back,” I said, all becoming suddenly clear in my mind.
I returned after a few moments, having taken somewhat longer than needed to comb my hair and wash my hands a couple of extra times (cleanliness, and all that.)
She said, “God, what took you so long,” and once again started to get up.
I touched her wrist.
“Sit, dear.”
Her face moved through several expressions at once. Resistance, of course, and anger, always. Indignation was there, as well as reluctance and a touch of uncertainty easing into fear. And then they blended effortlessly into the one I was looking for: resignation, as she gave herself over to whatever would come next.
“Very good, my darling pet. You did that admirably.”
With that, she allowed herself to be plucked out of her girlfriend state and back to where she belonged, where she wanted and needed to be.
She sat quietly, though with a look of stress on her face. I handled the check then stood and held out my hand. “Shall we?”
“Please…” she said. “Don’t do this.”
I stroked her cheek with genuine affection. “Come.” Then I took her hand and led her from the restaurant, back into the main corridor of the mall.
“Let’s take a little walk, shall we?”
She flinched. “Oh God. I can’t… you can’t do this to me.”
I turned to her. “Of course I can. Now give me a kiss.”
She leaned forward and our lips touched, but the shallow sound of her rapid breathing spoke to her true state. I hugged her, then placed my hand around her shoulders and drew her to me as we leisurely walked towards the fountain at the center of the mall, once more repeating all the small rituals we’d worked through earlier, only this time she was just a bit more fidgety.
“Can’t keep still, Pet?”
She couldn’t answer, was totally focused on her inner plight.
“Let’s sit a moment.”
She moaned, a long, forlorn sound of defeat and hopeless despair.
“Now, now, dear. It’s not that bad. You’ll do just fine.”
“Please…”
“You keep saying that. What effect do you think it’s going to have, other than to arouse me?”
Her lower lip trembled; her thighs softly squeezed together as she tried desperately to forestall the inevitable.
“Why…?” she asked.
I touched her lips, ran my fingers through her hair. “I would have thought that obvious by now, Dear. Because you let me.”
Suddenly her eyes flashed wide. “Oh Jesus…” She squeezed her thighs tightly.
But the moment passed and she seemed to regain control, though I caught her casting quick, surreptitious glances down her front.
“Having some problems, are we?” I said. “Well, maybe we should be going.”
She almost leapt to her feet, but instantly looked like she regretted it.
“Careful, Pet. You don’t want to be making any sudden movements.”
She clenched her thighs together tightly now, desperation on her face.
“Come, let’s walk.”
She started off ahead of me but I caught her hand.
“Walk with me, dear. Don’t go running off.”
Her breathing was coarse and ragged and her body shook from irregular spasms as she expended her last effort to prevent her humiliation. It was for naught.
As we made our way toward the exit corridor, I heard a harsh intake of breath, her body stiffened and then she moaned, “Oh no…”
I kept her walking at a steady pace. She started to sob.
“Stand tall, dear. Walk proudly. You’ve nothing to be ashamed of.”
Her body shuddered from the sobs she tried to hide. Every so often she would moan, “Oh God… no…”
I glanced her way, and looked down. The dark stain was unmistakable. It filled her crotch, her inner thighs and spread down the legs of her jeans.
I kept her walking at a steady deliberate pace and made certain that she got to show herself off. Of course, it gave her a thrill, one she’d never understand nor try to explain. It was simply part of the complex wiring that made her who she was. I was the last person who would judge her. But I was the first person to arrange events to suit her needs. Nevertheless, she hated what was happening right now, would have given anything to be elsewhere. That she was going through it was the reason she returned to me, and would continue to do so.
Finally in the parking lot, she relaxed slightly. Still anxious at being seen, she nonetheless looked towards my car as an oasis. It was a short-lived effort.
We got to my car and I said, “I hope you don’t think you’re sitting on my seats like that. You’re a fucking mess.”
She started to cry again. I sighed, an exaggerated, theatrical sigh. “You really are a problem, dear.” Then I popped open the trunk and pulled out an old blanket. It was sandy, had some dried up leaves on it, but it wasn’t caked with grease or anything objectionable.
“Get those things off,” I told her.
She tried the door but it was still locked.
“I told you, you’re not getting in my car like that. Take them off.”
No longer crying. Seething now. Anger eating at her.
But she set down her shopping bag, unfastened her jeans and pulled them down to her ankles. Then her panties followed. Yes, she was seen. But it’s was the kind of sighting that, later, when one thinks about it, tells themselves, “Nah. It couldn’t be.”
“Sneakers and socks, dear. They’ll need a good cleaning. I suspect you dribbled on them as well.”
Ah… if looks could kill, how many deaths would I have died that afternoon?
“Tell you what,” I said, after she was standing barefoot on the asphalt. “Go ahead and take your shirt off, just for the hell of it.”
“You shit!”
“Yes. Aren’t I?”
“I hate you.”
“No, dear. You hate this.” I indicated the wet clothing lying in a pile on the ground. “But you love that I put you through it.”
“Oh, fuck you. This sucks.”
“Take your shirt off and get in the car.”
“Asshole.”
“Naked slut.”
She glared at me. Then she stuck her tongue out at me and I tweaked a nipple. I opened the door, she got in and I gave her nice round ass a good swat as she did so. I handed her the blanket which she ignored, letting it lie in her lap. She stared at me with venom in her eyes. I didn’t need to check between her thighs to see if she was wet. I already knew her well enough. She would require some serious attention when we got home.
“Hand me that bag from the back seat,” I told her, and packed it with her clothes.
Later, as we drove back to my place, I said, “You realize, of course, I’m going to have to spank you for this.”
She closed her eyes, gritted her teeth, then turned to me. “Is that what I get for being so sentimental today?”
“What? No! Of course not. I’ve never seen you so delightful and refreshing. I wouldn’t object to more, quite frankly.”
She held her gaze, waiting.
“It’s simple dear. This is how we’re wired.”
