Make Me: Twelve Tales of Dark Desire

by Aleatha Romig

  But that dress would never do, not as it was.

  “Sit up straighter, Jodie, so I can see you.”

  “What?”

  I added sternness. “Now.” She blinked. I waited. Though she took longer than I’d have allowed her to without punishment a few days before, I let it go.

  Finally, after one tremulous breath and a small amount of lip gnawing, she complied.

  “Undo enough buttons so you can tuck the neckline under your breasts. Take off your bra. Cup your breasts so I can see them.”

  I stood, picking up and moving back the chair. While she undid the buttons, I took away the goblets and made the table top bare.

  With the bodice opened enough, she put her hands under her breasts and lifted them, offering them to me. Bare breasted, areola showing against her pale skin, apart from that, Jodie was the picture of elegance. Mine to command. Heady. I zinged into Master mode like I’d never left.

  I’d make that dress shorter. When we arrived, I’d bare her breasts like this and decorate her with the diamante nipple clamps and, I stepped behind the chair, there were more possibilities.

  “Get up and lean over the table.”

  Oh yes. Like a good little doll, she draped her upper body over the table.

  I took away her chair and I lifted the dress, rucked it up, slow, inch by inch. This was as heady as a slug of whiskey, revealing her intimate parts when she was dressed up and demure. White was innocence personified. I bared her whole ass and admired the contrast of white panties against skin. My lust barged in all impatient and almost throttled me.

  “Whoa,” I whispered. Her little moan spurred me on.

  “Klaus—” she gasped out.

  “Shh.”

  I’d missed doing this.

  I wriggled her panties down her thighs so just the line of her sex showed and then clawed my fingers into her ass cheeks and separated them, thrilling at her whimpers. I’d been getting her ready for anal, but I hadn’t done it yet. The medium plug at the party for starters. Yes. Then the biggest. Then me. Then perhaps whoever Moghul said was safe and who wanted to take her.

  “Stay.”

  After wetting my finger with her slippery moisture, I pressed my fingertip to the rosette of her anus. Anal finger-fucking by moonlight. I smiled. It almost sounded romantic. I rotated my finger a little as I pushed it into her. After one squeak, she opened up more, groaning as I went in deeper, to the second knuckle.

  With my finger still imbedded in her, I stepped back. The view was enough to turn my cock rock-hard. Jodie, ass-up over the table, dress flipped up and at the first stage of preparation for anal sex. I’d wanted this for so… Fucking. Long. I screwed my finger in farther, thrilling at her gasp and how she lifted herself into the thrust.

  Lucky the neighbors couldn’t see. A woman’s derriere, as the French called it, was the best thing in nature. From the small of her back, to the subtle swell of her ass and the way it dipped down to the hollow at the juncture of her legs—so inviting. Even more so when my hand was buried there, when I could feel the heat and squeeze of her anal muscles and hear her gentle moans and trembles. The moment simmered. I leaned in, put my mouth to the dimple of her back, and kissed her.

  What would it be like to watch another man fuck her? I knew it was something she wanted.

  At the party, maybe I could do some spanking, hurt her a little if she seemed to like that too? This was my chance to cater to what she wanted. To find where we truly clicked.

  Lightning hit. Holy crap. I was so stupid. When we’d started this weeks and weeks ago, when I’d had that epiphany about her documentary and told her how stupid she was, I’d listed all the things an evil man might do to her. This, sharing her with the man down the street, had been the last on that list. It wasn’t quite the same, but damn near it. I had a feeling I’d gone and done most of those in between too, except attaching her nipples to bolts in the ceiling. Oh, yeah. That one I’d seen in my head. Came close.

  My subconscious must have been writing that impromptu list.

  My new epiphany turned creepy cold. Sharing hadn’t been last on the list, killing her and burying her on the beach had been it. Christ. Thank God, I wasn’t that man, but it made me wonder who I had become. I doubted I could change back.

  I shook my head. I wasn’t him. That was the important thing.

  I left her there and went to find scissors to cut her dress, and all the toys, and to scan the medical tests we’d both had done before starting all this shit then email them to Moghul.

  I was careful, gentle, driving us down to get the key from Jon.

  Hard to imagine how this would be to her when she hadn’t left the house in a month. Her dress was shorter, ripped to mid-thigh length, but decent. The buttons were done up again.

  Streetlights weren’t common but some glimpses of the set of her mouth, and the stiffness of her posture made me think she might be worried.

  “It’ll be okay. I’m going to go with the flow. See what you like. What I like. I’ll keep you safe. Okay?”

  I glanced across.

  “Okay.” She nodded and graced me with a small smile.

  When I could, between changing gears I reached over and put a reassuring hand on her thigh. A few times, she sought out my hand with hers and wriggled her fingers under mine.

  Though I had a general invite to use Jon’s speed boat if he wasn’t, the hour was late. I waited at the door and got an inquisitive lift of the eyebrow when he returned with the key. He spotted Jodie in the jeep.

  “I see. You’re back together? Have fun, man.” He tossed me the keys.

  I shrugged. “Will do. Thanks.”

  So odd. An old friend here, and a girlfriend in the car who’d let me enslave her for a month. This was a scene from the Twilight Zone.

  The sea was flat. Wind speed barely a few knots. We made the trip across to the mainland in twenty minutes. The taxi I’d ordered took us to the house where the party was on.

  At the end of a long concrete driveway, a modern house was lit up, all angles and large plate glass windows. The tops of palm trees were silhouetted against the pale gray sky. There was no loud music, just fifteen or so cars parked along the street. Somewhere in the darkness nearby, water tinkled, as if from a fountain.

  Jodie seemed shell-shocked that the driver had spoken to her. With the bottom of her dress torn off like it was, the man had almost had his tongue on the floor when we got into his car.

  She clutched at the cloth of her dress. Nervous?

  Her eyes were dark, darker than even the night around us. Fear? Well, I had that too. I buried mine by taking hold of her hand. This was her fantasy I was doing. For her.

  Wrong. Fool. Face it, this was more for me. For a whole month I’d let myself just be. Once I’d gotten my head around the idea that I could live my out my desires, I had. I’d done what I wanted to with Jodie, like a child running around with a new damn toy. I had avoided thinking about the end as much as I could. I’d been obscenely one-way, one-track, one everything. I’d dreamed this wouldn’t end. Now I was up shit creek without a paddle, in so deep I needed a snorkel, and a lot of other really bad analogies.

  I shut my eyes and felt the soft lightness of her hand in mine. Despite it all, maybe she trusted me. Yeah? Why, though? That was the crux of it. I didn’t know why she should still trust me. I didn’t understand her, or me, or any goddamned thing. The end result was all I could comprehend. You are mine. Full stop.

  I had a sudden urge to do like I had that day when I taught her how to rescue herself if she was upside down in a kayak—just before I deliberately flipped it over so she was underwater. Trust me, I’d asked her. When was I going to be brave enough to say that again?

  I could see myself going down on one knee and asking that. Trust me.

  No ring, no marriage proposal, just those words. Okay, maybe a collar. I liked her with my collar on. Putting a proper ownership one on her neck would be incredibly satisfying. I’d be ten feet tall
with my eyes on fire.

  But me, the one kneeling? After all I’d taught her? That would look bad. Total power exchange. TPE. I’d figured out that’s what I needed…wanted. Either that or something so illegal I’d be put away for a hundred years. Kneeling was not an option. Leastways it wasn’t in the rules I’d read.

  Enough maudlin regrets. Enough fucking diddling about. Time to go.

  After this, after I showed her she could trust me, then I’d make sure we had a talk. Bridge the gap between the fantasy of the last month and the reality. Then talk.

  “Okay,” I muttered. “When the going gets tough the tough get kinky.”

  She swung her head. “What?”

  On the way over Moghul had sent another text. There was one couple interested, up there, inside that house.

  “Come.” I hefted the overnight bag with my toys, then tugged, and led her up the driveway. For once, I figured I was as on edge as she was. This had to work, because if it failed I’d be lost.

  Moghul met us at the door. Just inside was a small square timber table. This place was big enough for a two-story-high foyer. The low bass of music thumped from the living room beyond, where people sat on couches and chatted. From the quick check I made, my jeans and shirt would pass for a Dom, but Jodie was over-dressed. Black leather harnesses, collars, leashes, pretty corsets and even some kitty costumes were worn by the men and women who sat on the floor or in the laps of those I assumed were their dominants. A woman in a pink micro-mini was getting loudly spanked to everyone’s amusement.

  Moghul, though…

  I’d only seen the present-day Moghul from his Fetlife pics which didn’t show his face properly. Though he’d obviously done well for himself over the past five years, the man looked like a dressed-up Hells Angel biker—tattooed biceps, thick brown hair shorn in a ragged fashion, stubble, faded jeans and T-shirt.

  “How’s it going, Klaus. Long time no see.” He smiled as he held out his hand but I could see him assessing me. “Good that you made it. This is Jodie?”

  I glanced across at her. You wouldn’t know this was the feisty self-made woman from a month ago. She stood near my shoulder and seemed to be one second away from leaning into me. For comfort? I could see the worry radiating from her. On impulse, I put my arm around her shoulders, tucking her into my body. The surge of warmth I got from that pleased me. I liked holding her like this too. I’d forgotten, in a way, how important simple skin contact, just touching, could be.

  “Yes, this is Jodie.” The scent of her hair a few inches away made me want to kiss her.

  “Wait.” He ducked back a few feet, and put his head around the door as if searching for someone.

  I’d seen the party rules weeks ago, and there they were taped on the small table.

  Play at your own risk.

  No street clothes once through the door. Submissives dressed as submissives. Kinky fetish shit is encouraged. No playing with others unless you have express permission. All extreme play—blood, scat, water sports, rape play and anything else you think could bother others MUST be cleared by the Dungeon Masters—Moghul or Steve. House safeword is red or safeword. Any transgressors will be most likely be asked to leave immediately.

  No alcohol or drugs.

  Have fun but play safe.

  Moghul called out, “Steve, man the perimeter for a while, please. Good? Thanks.” On his return, he asked us to follow him and led us across the living room past the small crowd and into a study. He perched his hip on the corner of a steel-and-glass desk, wrapped his hand over the edge, and regarded us quietly.

  “Okay. Even though I know you, Klaus, we have things to discuss. This is the first play party for both of you? Yes? And I need to talk to Jodie. Since she’s your submissive, I’m asking you first. So, is that okay?”

  Questions? Jesus.

  “Yes. It’s okay.”

  What the hell would she say?

  I really did not know. But to get things on the right footing…

  I signaled to her. “Kneel.”

  Strange, the relief when she obeyed.

  “Now you can ask her.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Jodie

  ‡

  I looked up at this man, this friend of Klaus’s. He seemed kind, if imposing, plus, yes, a little scary in some odd way, as if he might be more than willing to punish anyone breaking his party rules. Those brown eyes were honest, but no-nonsense. I knew the look now. Klaus had given off that same aura, ever since we started this whole strange adventure.

  The carpet was raw on my knees. When I shifted in discomfort, without hesitation, Moghul raised an eyebrow and said, “Floor too hard?”

  I nodded.

  He walked to the window seat which was covered in pretty cushions, gently moved aside a cream Persian cat, and sorted through the cushions.

  Here I was, kneeling before two men, being treated as something lesser. I didn’t even consider protesting.

  Klaus. I shivered a little. I liked, plain fucking liked, being his. I felt safer than ever before. I was wrapped in his persona. If he gave me pain, I liked it anyway because somehow that reasserted his authority, and it said, I want you. Every pain, every wind of rope, every snap of the cane wrote, mine, in bold red letters on my skin and in my mind. And the needles, holy shit, though they’d seared me when they went in, and sent pain lancing through me while I lay there bound, I’d still loved it, all of it.

  Pain and pleasure and possession had become inextricably wound together.

  I wasn’t sure what date it was today. But from the recent changes, I thought this was a Sunday—the last Sunday. I could sense Klaus was uncertain, and because of that, so was I. Where would we go from here?

  I knew it was a little crazy, but I dreaded this ending. I hadn’t stayed with him because he forced me. His new forcefulness was what made me want to stay. I could have spoken. I could. Yet what we had wasn’t sustainable. I existed in a kinky la-la fluffy land, below the storms, beneath the waves of the insane real world. I was leaning on him way too much.

  But…sigh…I didn’t know how to stop. We’d been in so deep.

  Tonight, this was us, surfacing, and seeing if we could breathe again, together.

  Moghul returned with a flat cushion. “Can I give her this?” Klaus nodded, and Moghul tossed it to me.

  I didn’t thank him. I knew better. Klaus hadn’t said not to speak, but in here his rules from the past month had somehow fallen back into place in my head. From how he acted, he thought the same, and I wanted to please him. I edged my knees up onto the cushion.

  I listened carefully, brushing aside my thoughts. Missing some new rule might be dangerous in this house full of kinky people. And, though I’d learned to like some danger, I wasn’t stupid.

  “Okay.” He resumed his seat on the desk, and looked at us both. “I know from Klaus that you’ve only been exploring kink for a month or so. All of those here are longtime friends in the lifestyle. The only way you get in is if I know you well. I know you, Klaus. You’re sensible. But both of you need to be careful you’re not going too far. Even Doms can go past their limits. I don’t care about your kinks as long as you stick to the rules and play consensually and safely. But Jodie has to remember the safeword is there if she needs it.” He nodded at me. “And you, Klaus, have to both watch her for problems as well as yourself. Don’t hesitate to stop everything and ask for advice. That includes me and Steve, or Damien the other Dom. So. Good?”

  I nodded and Klaus said, “Sure.”

  “Also a general rule is that if you play sexually or with body fluids outside your normal partner you use condoms, even though we’ve all been tested. It’s common sense. You’ll find Damien will stick to that, and expect you to also.” Moghul stood. “Take care and have fun tonight. There’s non-alcoholic drinks and snacks available. I’ve got you a room to play in. Private is better this time?”

  Panicked, I glanced at Klaus, but he barely acknowledged Moghul’s unspoken invita
tion to do this in public.

  “Okay. Room it is. Any questions?”

  When I made a small noise, and rested my gaze on him, Klaus gave a nudge with his chin. Permission. Relief swept me.

  I took a breath. “Can we wear masks? Something.” I dropped my voice. “I don’t want to be recognized.”

  “No, you can’t. And there are others here who are well known in the community. Unless it’s fancy dress, we don’t conceal our faces. You’d make yourself the outsiders. If you’re not happy with that, you can’t stay.”

  I put my teeth on my lower lip. Panic fluttered in my chest. Here I was admitting that I was a well-known person. By mentioning my concerns, I felt as if I’d stuck up my head and shouted out, here I am. Here I am. Look at me. I wanted to hide again. Klaus stepped closer and put his palm on my head. Without thinking, I leaned toward him and found his trouser leg beside my face. I inhaled. Calm floated back in.

  Funny how he’d known. We were like two peas in a pod. Psychic twins. I could tell he liked this, that he was glad he could reassure me.

  Maybe this could work.

  If he’d just wanted to hurt me, I would have run away long ago.

  “Would you like to mingle first or go upstairs?”

  “Upstairs,” Klaus said without hesitation.

  Where anything could happen. Performing on stage paled against this—on a scale of one to ten this was a million and on stage was ten at most. Upstairs might be heaven or hell, or even worse, it might fall flat as a pancake. But Klaus wanted me to try. My palms sweated, and cold goose bumps rose all along my arms and the back of my neck.

  “She’s not really dressed correctly.”

  Oh. Guess I wasn’t. I looked down at the dress and the row of tiny buttons. Slight cleavage showed, but apart from the torn hem, I was normal.

  “No. But it fits the way I want her to look. Though only at the beginning. I want her innocent yet fuckable.”

  At that Moghul turned and really examined me. After a second, I dropped my gaze to the rug, and waited.

  Fuckable. Said so casually, it was thrilling what that single word had done. I nearly shuddered at the delicious dirty feeling coursing through me.