Make Me: Twelve Tales of Dark Desire

by Aleatha Romig

  Later, maybe, my mind whispered, later we can argue. But my God, what he’d done resonated down to my soul. This was Klaus? I thought I knew him, all of him. Now…I wasn’t sure I knew me, let alone who he was or what he might do next.

  Chapter Six

  Klaus

  ‡

  When I let her rise, Jodie stood there looking dazed. My hand stung from what I’d done. The clock on the wall ticked. I’d always thought it too loud. The last few minutes sizzled in my brain. Who was the man who’d done that?

  Without taking my eyes off her, I put my hands behind me found the kitchen counter and lifted myself back onto it, then I sat there with my legs dangling and I watched her. I’d hit her so hard. I’d never hit a woman like that. Judo was all safety consciousness and a mild martial art unless you combined it with other more contact orientated ones. With judo, you didn’t aim deliberately to hit someone hard enough to bruise and I figured I’d made some on her ass. A lot, probably. I wanted to take her shorts off to look. My dick wished that too. I adjusted my pants.

  God, my hand hurt.

  I could almost see the effect of that spanking draining from her mind. The mental shock was dying. Tear tracks marked her face.

  Total confusion was giving way to he hit me, and then to fuck that hurts. Lastly I figured that defiance had crawled back in and poked at her, whispering, you don’t have to do this.

  The effects were bouncing around in my head too. There’d been mornings when I’d woken up next to her and simply watched her while she slept. The gentle sounds of her breathing, the pure lines of her face unmarred by worry. She looked serene. Beautiful. Every time I’d seen her asleep my heart had felt that odd warm tug. Love? Once upon a time I’d thought I’d loved her. Then I didn’t know. And then I gave up.

  And now I was here.

  Drool spilled from her lip onto her shirt. She grabbed a towel.

  Didn’t need to think. I reacted.

  “Uh-uh.” I wagged a finger, real slow.

  She flinched and put the towel down.

  The rush that hit me then—at being obeyed. Wow.

  Sheer anger burned in her eyes as a string of drool ran from her chin onto the cloth of her T-shirt. With her hands on hips, I swear I saw her twitch her sweet denim-clad ass. Defiance. I liked it.

  The drool. Sexy? No. The round shape of her breasts stretching the shirt was sexy, sexual, alluring. That I could make her wear the gag was not sexy, it was…mind-blowing.

  Why? I barely grappled with the reasons myself. I’d delivered hit after hit to her ass. And each one had said mine—this is what I can do to you, because you’re mine, right now, whenever I want to. I can do anything. For all my fancy words about being a friend, I was more than that now. I’d let loose some dormant part of me. Some other me. A me that didn’t just allow me to beat her and make her do things. That me got fucking excited and roared when I did it.

  My phone rang. I slipped it from my back pocket, and checked the screen. Don, the secretary at the judo club. If I ignored the call, he’d possibly text me, or possibly not. The man liked hearing a voice at the other end.

  “Yes,” I answered, knocking my heel on the cupboard below and keeping a keen eye on Jodie as she finally did as I ordered and began to wash the dishes. Some weird-ass guilty reaction warned me she might snatch the phone away and run off to call the police. Not that I thought that…but this was so socially unacceptable. Yet I’m sure my dick had gotten even harder when she picked up that first dish. Damn, I was kinky.

  “Will you be down the club this Friday to teach?”

  I’d told everyone—friends, acquaintances, my locum at the business—that I was not to be contacted, except Don apparently. My excuse was that I was helping someone with a special project. I’d stayed mysteriously silent about the type of project. I had to cover the possibility that I’d be seen around the island.

  I held the phone flat to my ear, struck dumb by the dichotomy between the warm friendliness of his voice, and the well-spanked, gagged woman in front of me. Two different worlds. I volunteered most weeks to coach the beginners, the white and yellow belts, but also sometimes I did groundwork coaching with other black belts. I could hear the thump on the mats down at the hall. Hear the barked commands of the sensei. Smell the dust and the canvas and the freshly washed judogis, then the sweat as the sessions wore on. That was part of my life.

  My other life.

  My hand was throbbing so her ass must be too. I stared as Jodie washed the last dish then wiped it.

  The phone.

  “Klaus?”

  “No, Don. Sorry. I’m busy for the next few weeks. On holidays, but busy. Ian has the schedule. Check with him, please.”

  “Sure! No problem. See you when you get back then.”

  “Yes. For sure.” I pressed end, and tucked the phone into my pocket.

  Some things, when the opportunity presents, you just have to grab them. So I was grabbing my ex-girlfriend and doing whatever I could, legally, that made my dick hard and my mind inhabit that laser-beam sharp thought-place I’d just discovered. I would learn about this dormant caveman, sadist, whatever…this Him inside me.

  I crooked a finger at Jodie. “Still hurt?”

  She tried to swallow, nodded, then came forward until barely within reaching distance.

  Autumn meant the weather cooled some days. But after our struggle, I was sweating, and I could see the sheen of moisture on her neck and bare legs too. Some of that was dribble.

  “Your hand.” Again I beckoned. With the utmost reluctance, she raised her hand and placed it in mine.

  I ripped a paper towel from the roll on the counter then dabbed at her mouth and neck. Without breaking eye contact, I went farther and wiped down where her cleavage was, but over the stretchy cloth, then I wiped under each breast, pressing up a little so I moved them. She tugged at my grip on her hand but I tightened my hold and she made a little grunting noise, and gave in.

  My mouth dried.

  “Good girl.” Oh, the eyes. I could see a world in there. Jodie had pale blue eyes and no matter what people tell you, the eyes say things words could not. Though only a glimpse, I was certain I’d caught sight of surrender in there. When she blinked and turned her head, I dropped the paper and grasped her mouth with my thumb inside and finger outside.

  “Look at me.” Yes, the blue in there was fascinating. “You have beautiful eyes, Jodie. I thought I knew you, but I didn’t, did I? I’m going to study your eyes, and you. I want to know what’s inside your head.” I pulled her close and kissed her lips on one side over the gag while I murmured, “I’m going to learn about the rest of you, because we have all the time in the world.”

  Her gasp told me that had hit home. I’d planted the idea that this could go on longer than the month she’d stipulated. What better mind fuck could there be?

  But I had other ideas too.

  Then I led her downstairs and locked her in after taking out the gag and telling her to drink. With the gag and the drooling, dehydration was a possibility.

  Though I wasn’t certain where to go I drove into the main shopping area and did a whirlwind shop through several cheaper stores and a second hand one, and found things that might suit my purpose. I knew her size and I wanted her dressed in something not hers. A white lycra catsuit from the second-hand store was perfect. Slutty. My clothes, my body, said that other Him inside me. Not caveman, I decided. I was so rational about wanting to…I swallowed…hurt her, control her, it made the rest of the world go out of focus.

  I got milk, bread, veggies and meat while I was at it. It was a fast shop because I couldn’t help worrying over what would happen to her if the house caught fire. Ironic, really. She was the captive but I was equally caught. I couldn’t go far with her back there.

  On the way back to the car, I jerked and stopped when I went past the little café on the beach. Its main allure was having the beach almost under your toes as you sipped your coffee or frappes.

>   Valentine’s Day, all those years ago… She’d stayed overnight at my apartment and we’d made love that morning then had a swim in the slow-surging waves just below here. With the water still drying on our bodies, we’d sat here with ice tea and gourmet chocolates and told stupid stories. The salt water drying on her body, laughter, all those big smiles. A beautiful woman, and somehow we had connected back then.

  Until I found out that behind the facade was a woman who didn’t know how to give.

  The memories of our love bleached away in the hot sun as I walked along the sandy pavement. That was then; this was now.

  After parking my jeep in the garage, I detoured to the back yard, found a tree saw, and ventured down the steep slope to the left. The closest neighbor was here, hidden farther below, past a huge grove of wild bamboo. Someone must be cutting it back regularly from the short regrowth.

  I’d read all about bamboo, about caning. The page with a naked woman bending over with a cane laid across her ass had seared into my memory. Rattan was better. Old bamboo tended to break and split dangerously but green was flexible. I’d just have to be careful. I selected a few good-looking canes and took them with me, swishing at the air as I went. How would she like this applied to her ass? I’d like it applied to her, but with her naked. Those shorts had to go. There was no point in all this unless she got naked at some stage. My dick throbbed. It agreed with that part of my plan.

  Legal. Stay legal I reminded myself. Sort of. Yeah. Like hitting someone with bamboo was so legal.

  Actually, it was legal, wasn’t it? So long as the other party in some way said yes? Whatever. It was tacitly agreed to as okay between us. And now that I understood my own fantasies a bit better, I could explore them, but within reason.

  I swallowed and half-shut my eyes at the electric desire throbbing through me. The anticipation was killing me.

  Chapter Seven

  Jodie

  ‡

  He’d taken off the gag and told me to drink and say whatever I wanted to say to the camera. Though tempted to yell and kick his shins, I’d not done so. My lips and jaw ached and even stung in parts, and for some reason the longer I couldn’t speak, the more the center of my chest had ached too.

  Being cautious, I’d asked him what I was allowed to say. The man had a hard hand and, though I might overstep the rules he’d made up, I wanted to know when I was doing it.

  Anything, he’d said. Well, shit. I had so much waiting to pour out I was lost when he locked the door. The camera blinked at me while I went and got water. My stomach growled. Right then, I’d have eaten his cardboard steak or even cornflakes with wasabi, but he’d taken the plate away.

  Weird. For a second I hid my face in my hands, trying to sort out my thoughts, feelings. I was angry, but part of that was because, at times, I’d been aroused. It seemed so wrong. I had asked for this. But it still seemed wrong coming from Klaus. My arguments went round and round and round. I wasn’t being logical, was I? The anger was burning me up inside and just would not go away.

  Logic could go take a hike.

  After stalking up and down and in circles for four or five minutes, I sat gingerly on the floor. My ass still hurt. “Anything”, coming up.

  Though I’d liked some of what he’d done, my need to show I was no pushover reared its head. Perverse maybe, but I was angry and there were things I needed to set straight.

  “This capture fantasy is skating on thin ice right now. You’re a turd. You went too far, Klaus. I know I set this up and sort of gave you free rein but that didn’t mean I wanted you to make me do your frigging housework, and…and hitting me that hard? I may have fantasized about spanking but I have never said I wanted to be hit like that, like someone driving in nails. Or gagged. Tone it down. I need realism. But that much realism will…”

  I stopped. Did I want to threaten him with a law suit? No. It was dumb. Leave it be. State your facts and things will level out. Klaus had always been a sensible man.

  “Okay. Day two. This has been, I must admit, an eye-opening day for me in some ways. Changing the rules was a smart idea. Keeps me wondering what you’re up to. And I did find being man-handled arousing, which ties in with the normal fantasies of women with respect to these stories. If the spanking had been less forceful I might have enjoyed that too. Odd but true. Perhaps I’m a masochist after all. But I’m not a servant. No more dishes. Oh, and please ensure the camera covers any future activities we engage in. I’ll edit for effect later of course.”

  I went on for a few minutes more before stopping. When I heard the distant crackle of the tires across the driveway, it was strange how apprehensive I felt. I found myself tensing and listening as Klaus climbed the stairs. What was he up to? Takeaway would be nice. Sushi would hit the spot. I ran my hand through my hair and wondered if I should ask him to do my laundry. I had enough changes of underwear and clothes for a week but hadn’t thought to discuss laundry with him. If I had to take bets, I’d bet that he’d make me do it. Stuff him. No way.

  So how was I going to counter his judo moves if he still tried them after me saying don’t? Law suit after all? I wanted to make this documentary but could I stand the possibility of my ass being this sore for the next four weeks?

  And that time switcheroo he’d tried on me, implying this might last longer than we’d agreed to—not working. Laughable.

  I waited some more. Lunch, my stomach complained, need lunch. I lifted my T-shirt and flattened my hand where the cramp was the worst. Breakfast was long ago. Lunchtime was too.

  The door opened. Klaus’s expression was neutral, except for the steadfast glitter in his eyes. Damn, when paired with the green bamboo cane and the spider gag in his hand, that look said scary with a big S. The shopping bag with the pretty blue seahorse on it, not so much.

  “Lunch?” I asked hopefully. “Lobster would be nice.”

  “All out of lobster. First, I need your clothes. Underwear too. Put on this and hand out what you have on.”

  Uh. Curious. I stared. “You’re doing my laundry?” He didn’t answer. But no underwear? Or did he have replacement underwear? Interesting, but he wasn’t watching me dress. Still mild-mannered Klaus pretending to be Von Schnitzel from some B-grade Nazi movie.

  “No more talking.”

  I eyed the cane warily. “Been doing some gardening?”

  He smiled wryly then grated out, “Go change. That’s four by the way. Four words you weren’t supposed to say.”

  Four words? What did that mean? I sucked on my cheek. Should I do this? Mysteries made me nervous.

  When I headed for the bathroom, he went to my bag, carried it to the door and put it outside. That wasn’t just clothes. I’d have to rescue my toothbrush and other things.

  I shut the bathroom door. What was in his bag anyway? I pulled out the white piece of clothing. A thin white lycra catsuit, with the sleeves newly cut off and the legs too. Kinky? Perhaps. It would show all my curves without the underwear. But after one afternoon of wear he’d have to launder it. Denim shorts lasted for days with care. His problem, though.

  The cut-off shorts part ended at the curve of my butt. My still red and throbbing butt. Ouch. I shrugged. He’d seen me naked once upon a time. But after five seconds with it on, I felt the crotch seam working its way upward into my frickin vagina. Like I needed a lycra inner lining. I wriggled and plucked it out. Panties, really need panties with this.

  I emerged from the bathroom, trying not to walk like a duck about to lay an egg, and handed over my clothes. “No sexy lingerie?”

  “Turn.” The gag was ready in his hand. “That’s seven.”

  “Seven?” Why was he counting? I scrambled in my memory. Did he not want me to talk? But I had things he had to know. Fuck. Had he heard what I’d said to the camera? “No gag. Didn’t you listen to what I said on that, earlier.” I jabbed toward the blinking light.

  “Turn. Nineteen? I’d stop if I were you.” He swished the cane and tapped it on the floor. “Yes,
I heard it.”

  I almost spoke but didn’t. No point in risking… my mind stalled as I realized I was worried. I had called him a turd. My big mouth. I pointed at the gag and shook my head.

  “Turn. You don’t get to say what I do. Not anymore.”

  Fuck. I clicked my teeth and regarded him as I struggled with this concept. I knew he’d taken a step toward being happy using force on me. Always it came back to, do it his way, or give up. I didn’t want to give up. Wait. Wait and see. If the point comes that I have to stop things, I will. I turned. The gag was just discomfort. I could handle the twenty minutes he’d had me wear it last time. The cane though, I wasn’t sure I could handle that. I’d heard, theoretically, that they hurt like hell. If he dared…

  With the gag wriggled in and strapped, I was left wondering how I could say no if he did go too far. Gurgling wasn’t that good for communication. There were codes they used with BDSM—dropped plastic toys, clickers. Had Klaus bothered researching that? Prickles of nervousness ran through me.

  A blindfold I hadn’t noticed was wrapped over my eyes. Late afternoon, and bright daylight streamed through the cracks in the shutters, but everything went dark.

  Stay calm. Stay calm.

  “Your wrists,” he said to my ear. And he took them to my front and linked the cuffs together, led me over and used some rough rope to haul them above my head until I was standing tall.

  The tippy-toe pose again. Only this time I couldn’t see or speak. With my head back, I swallowed, trying to stave off drooling down my front. I wasn’t naked. That was about my one compensation for being helpless, tied up, and unable to do a damn thing if anything began to hurt like last time.

  My heartbeat picked up. Thud thud-thud-thud. Thuditty-thud.

  Calm. I said inside my head. My dumbass heart didn’t listen and kept on galloping like it expected to run away into a corner and hide there all by itself. Struck by the ridiculousness, I giggled. I was pretty sure that would be gory and fatal.