Christmas, Bloody Christmas

paper I sneakily jotted on for days surprised me. He didn’t like secrets or lies, even those made by omission. Sometimes I wondered why I stayed. I knew leaving him would mean my death; he’d trusted me with too many secrets. While he didn’t go into details, Sir didn’t hide what he’d done.
I wrung my hands as I kept pace with his slow, easy stride when all I wanted to do was rush forward and look at everything. We’d left the cabin before decorating the tree. I smiled as I realized he’d suggested this trip to get away from my excessive cheer. After my mom died, I’d spent holidays alone or at the few places that opened on Thanksgiving and Christmas.
My mom and I had so many traditions, decorating the house to the point that it looked like a Christmas store had thrown up. We’d cooked meals, watched all the movies, and both of us hid to wrap presents that we’d made or bought.
I knew he tried. I savored every surprise hug or kiss—the nights he loved on me instead of fucking me. Owning me had changed him in subtle ways. I didn’t understand why after seeing what he was—witnessing it for myself—that I accepted it.
Was there something wrong with me that I’d fallen in love with a killer? I’d been attracted before I knew what he was. I didn’t believe that love was blind. He got off on the torture and killing. Those acts kept him grounded. He’d shared with me everything from his past. The stories of his parent’s indifference or fear. The psychiatrists and the hospitals, the kills before he’d been old enough to shave. He truly saw himself as broken from conception. I wouldn’t even attempt to change his mind because something was broken. All I knew was that other than my punishments, he took care of all my needs.
He spoiled me in his own way. Loved me as best as he could. I’d acknowledged that I wouldn’t hear those words that every couple exchanged. Love wasn’t something he could experience with his senses. Everything needed a tangible explanation. And love didn’t have a physical manifestation.
I stopped next to a store and told him I wanted to go find him something.
“I’ll wait right over there. When you’re done, don’t wander off on your own, understood?”
I nodded in answer and realized that he had to release the back of my jacket where he’d fisted the fabric in his hand. His touches and embraces lasted longer each day. I’d never hear the words, yet he showed me in so many ways how he cared. Anyone could utter the words I love you, and they meant nothing more than someone reciting you the weather for the day. It was a throwaway sentiment.
He walked away from me and found a spot on a bench within sight of the entrance. I watched him for a few more minutes as I took in the way he was always on guard. When we were at home or the office, he relaxed as much as he could. I knew from the way his gaze slowly moved that he was analyzing everyone’s threat level. He knew every exit and escape route.
From his spot he made a shooing motion, and I entered the store. I’d made a list of the gifts I wanted to get him, but with a man who never mentioned anything, I’d needed to employ some observation. My checks still went into my account weekly. I hadn’t had a reason to touch any of the funds, and he’d arranged for the sale of my mother’s house. After paying off the debts, I’d had money left over. Cowen provided everything, so money wasn’t a factor in buying him gifts.
“Hello, sir, can I help you?”
A pretty brunette salesperson came up on my left.
“I need to get my…” What did I call him? Sir? My sadist? So I went with the third thing to come to mind. “Husband a present.”
“Well, let’s see if I can help you. What does he like?”
I bit back a giggle, almost answering, but figured my answer would be inappropriate. I dug my list out of my pocket. She looked at it and led me around the store. I found thick leather cuff bracelets. He always kept his long sleeves of his dress shirts buttoned or secured with cufflinks to hide his scars, so I grabbed a couple in black and dark brown leather.
By the time I was done in the store, I’d gotten him new shirts; a sea of black, charcoal and gray spread over the counter. My fingers caressed over the leather of a thick belt and it brought memories of my punishments at work. The slither of material through his belt loops. The unyielding metal of the cage pinched my cock as it slightly hardened.
My eyes widened at the total and I handed over my card. I signed the slip as she bagged my purchases. I thanked her and exited. My gaze went to the bench to find Cowen gone. I searched for him.
“Boy.”
I calmed as I felt his presence, and then he was pressed to my back. I blushed at my anxiety over him not waiting for me.
“Where to next?”
“I don’t know, Sir. Can we just walk?”
“Of course, just a bit longer and then we need to go home. Holidays or not, your bedtime isn’t negotiable.”
“Yes, Sir.”
He didn’t compromise on rules, and I’d resigned myself to following them whether I liked it or not. My life was a list of rules and regulations, chore lists, and I’d learned I loved being needed. After mom had died, I’d lost my purpose. I’d spent so many years caring for her that I hadn’t known anything else.
I started walking in the opposite direction of the exit. I tried to ignore the bag in his left hand. My face warmed at the thought he’d given in and got me at least a little something. We repeated the pattern of me running into