Make Me: Twelve Tales of Dark Desire

by Aleatha Romig

  He stood up in the tub, all leisurely and powerful, water running off his leanly muscled chest. He really did look like a god just then, body wet and shining and so dishy, but what really got me was the raw lust in his face. He loved that I’d said I wouldn’t get in. It was a ticket for him to be outrageous. What would he do? My heart fluttered in my throat as I stood there waiting.

  He pointed to the table still strewn with breakfast stuff, and in his rough-smooth dirty talk voice, he said. “Go get the butter and bring it over here.”

  My belly warmed—at the request as much as the tone. “The butter?”

  “Do it.”

  Was this leading up to a punishment? My loins clenched and I went over to get the butter. It got me hot just to walk a few yards to the table, knowing I was being watched—such was the erotic effect of that outfit. And a simple command from Thor in that tone. And the fact that you never really knew what the mad doctor would do.

  I brought the butter back and stood at the side of the pool, conscious of the cool air on my moist pussy, trying not to tremble with excitement. Fuck me, punish me, use me, I wanted to say.

  “Put it down on the side of the pool and go turn on the jets.” He pointed at the button.

  I put the butter dish down and walked over to the wall button and pushed it. I went back and stood, feverishly awaiting my next command.

  “Now, off with the shoes.”

  I kicked off my shoes.

  “I thought you cared so much about your clothes, and here you kick off your shoes? Set them somewhere nice, like you care.”

  This command required more erotic walking, as well as some erotic bending, which I did with aplomb. When I arrived back, I could see from his expression that he was quite moved by my show. It was such a turn-on to see him turned on. And it turned him on, I thought, to see me turned on. If we kept going at this rate, one of us would have a heart attack.

  “The stockings now,” he grated. “And the corset, if it’s so damn precious to you.”

  I pulled off my stockings and corset and draped them nicely over a chair, clenching my pussy as I did, which sent shivers clear over me.

  “Now you have to put the shoes back on,” he said, almost pleading, totally breaking his commanding character. I did it, of course. I walked back over and stood at the edge of the pool, looking down into the water. Would he not make me get in after all?

  “Okay,” he said. “Now kneel on the edge, facing away from me. On your hands and knees.”

  Okay, things were really getting exciting now. I did it, kneeling on the smooth, warm marble, hands down. He came near me, drizzled water over my bare ass, letting it drip into my crotch. My whole body felt electric.

  “Do you think I’m going to spank you?” he asked, drawing a wet finger up from my sensitive cleft to my asshole. I gasped as it tightened under his touch.

  The notion had crossed my mind, though spanking seemed more Odin’s area of interest than Thor’s. But Thor voicing it now sent an anxious flutter through my belly. I’d had other ideas of what he was going to do, considering the butter delivery, but Thor could multi-task.

  “Do you?”

  “No, I don’t know what you’ll do,” I panted.

  He dribbled some more water on me. It ran down my ass and thighs in rivulets that cooled and tickled as they went. I wondered if he could see how slick my sex was, chilling in the air.

  Really, Thor could do anything, and I would probably let him. The keyword there was do, though—I needed him to do something.

  “You like not knowing.”

  “God, yes,” I whispered. “And no.”

  “There’s only one way to find out. Put your head down. Ass more in the air.”

  I did it, pressed my forearms to the smooth surface and my head between them. Again his warm hand roved over my butt cheeks. In this position, even more air was hitting the slickness between my legs, hitting my sensitive bud, heightening the nerves there until even the lightest touch of Thor’s finger felt unbearably electric.

  “I might spank you,” he said. “But not right away.”

  OMG. “Okay.”

  “You so want to fuck, you would let me do anything right now,” he observed, practically reading my mind.

  “Within reason,” I said.

  Without warning, his hand landed on my butt cheek with vicious force. I gasped. He slapped me again, hard. Then again. I shut my eyes, giving myself over to the dark, delicious tremor of it.

  He stopped.

  “Anything,” he said. “Your body is mine to do anything with. Until you say the word. Repeat it,” he said. “My body…”

  Oh! Thor had entered a new realm of dirty talk. I hesitated and he spanked me again, vibrating my cheek and pussy in painful pleasure-tinged waves.

  I hissed out a breath between my teeth, pressing my thighs together, feeling like just a little pressure would make me come at this point. Just a little…

  “Oh, no you don’t—” He pushed one of my knees to the side, forcing me to spread my legs. “You’re not going there without me. If you want satisfaction, you’re going to say it. Anything…”

  “Anything,” I gasped. “My body is yours to do anything with. Anything you want, Thor, until I say the word. Please!”

  “That’s better.” I had this impulse to laugh from sheer excitement, but I knew not to. I heard the scrape of ceramic on marble.

  The butter. “Ready?”

  “For what?”

  In his rough silky voice, he said, “Whatever the fuck I want to do to you.”

  I don’t know if it was his words that hypnotized me or the dirtiness of the garter belt with the shoes and the spanking or what, but I felt feral with excitement. “Do whatever,” I gasped.

  Just do it.

  “Good girl.” I felt his finger painting the butter over my asshole, up and down, and then more, slippery and silky and sensuous. He got more butter.

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  Then I felt the tip of his finger push into my quivering asshole. And then farther. He pushed his finger in way deeper than he had in the car. I sighed, or more a kind of sigh-moan.

  “Relax,” he whispered, pressing farther. “Just relax.” He got up a little rhythm and I moaned happily.

  Then he pulled his finger out.

  “Sit down now,” he said. “Don’t turn around, just sit down.”

  I sat cross-legged, ass on the cold marble. He took me around the waist, pulled me backward, slowly, into the water.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Shhh,” He said into my hair. “Do you really give a fuck about those shoes anymore? Or that belt thing? Do you?”

  “No,” I said as my ass hit the water. But he didn’t pull me all the way in, just halfway, so that my calves were resting on the side of the pool and the rest of me was in the water, except my head and shoulders. He held me there with his arms around my stomach.

  Water shot out from a jet on the side, shooting toward me. Thor put his hand over my pussy and moved me to the right, pushed me forward, and when he took his hand away, the water was pulsing right into my clit, like a mega-vibrator. “Oh my God,” I said, tensing—it was almost too much pleasure. “Oh, God.”

  “Just feel it. Let it take you, let me take you.”

  “Fuck!” I said.

  “Relax, give yourself over.” And then he pressed his finger into my asshole, which was still totally buttery, and I began to pant and move with the sensation overload—the pulsing jets on my pussy, his finger sliding in and out of my ass.

  His finger moved and curled in me now, as I was being thoroughly invaded and pleasured by the pulsating water.

  I because aware that I was breathing nearly in moans—I sounded like a bear! I made myself stop.

  “You can’t stop it now,” he said huskily. “Give in. Give everything up to me. You have no choice.”

  The pleasure of his finger and the jets twisted in waves, in pulses, so relentlessly. The goodness of
it filled me, and in a blink of an eye, I felt my orgasm building and I shattered apart with a cry, throbbing with feeling.

  He pulled me back away from the jets as my climax subsided. Everything was fuzzy.

  “Okay,” he said. “I have to take you.” He yanked me all the way in and hoisted me into his arms and kissed me. “I need to…” He was panting. “Come on.” He carried me up the pool steps, out of the water and across the suite, both of us dripping.

  “Do me, fuck me any way you want,” I said, kissing him as he carried me. He banged my feet into a wall.

  “Sorry,” he said.

  “I’m not.” Hell, I could’ve lost half a leg and not cared at that point. He carried me the rest of the way down the hall and threw me down on the bed. He went up on his knees, cock erect, watching me wildly. He really did seem a bit wild, actually.

  I rolled over and grabbed a condom from the nightstand and turned back to him, but before I could open it or put it on him, I just went to him and took his cock in my mouth, clutching his butt cheeks hard, taking him all the way to the back of my throat.

  “Sheesh!” he said.

  I sucked and tongued him quite creatively, then I gripped the base of his cock nice and hard and did him with my mouth and hand at the same time. He thrust into me, over and over. Then, with an almost animal force, he grabbed my hair and pulled me off him. He didn’t have to say it twice.

  Not even once.

  I ripped open the condom and put it on him. Then I lay back and let myself be an offering to him, spreading my legs wide to him—I cared about nothing right then, nothing but being taken completely.

  He stayed there on his knees, watching me, like part of the fucking was to just revel in the look of me, submitting utterly to him.

  It was a very wonderful part of the fucking—being so crazy turned on and knowing it was coming to me.

  And then, with a stormy expression, the look of a man not in full possession of his senses, he crawled over me, all six-foot-whatever of muscular testosterone. He positioned the head of his fat cock into my opening, guiding himself just so, and drove in.

  I sucked in a breath. He was so huge; it was this intense sensation with him, heading just to the edge of pain. I loved how it felt, the surprise of driving fullness.

  He pulled out and drove in again.

  “I can’t stop,” he said, ramming into me hard, again, again. “I can’t stop, Ice, I feel like…oh.”

  “Then don’t,” I said, reveling in the intensity of being pounded by this thoroughly out-of-control man. “Fuck me, take me. Just…fuck me.”

  He drove into me relentlessly, and then a cry wrenched out of him, wrenched out the feeling from the depths of him. He stilled, cock pumping inside me, then he collapsed on me, panting.

  I held him against me, one hand on his back, one on his hair, held his head to my shoulder.

  I listened to his breathing—fast, like he’d been running. His breathing was the loudest sound in the quiet of our bank robber hotel suite.

  I held him and listened, wondering how he’d become this guy. Who he’d lost, what he’d lost. A criminal, he called himself, with hate and anger. But he’d once been a doctor.

  “Fuck me, take me, just fuck me,” he said. “Somebody needs dirty talk practice.”

  I pushed him off me. “Fuck you,” I said, and he laughed.

  Odin and Zeus came back late that afternoon. They were thrilled with the catfish sandwiches, which were apparently a delicacy for bank robbers. They seemed unalarmed by Thor’s having stolen a car for us to drive on errands, though I couldn’t help but notice that Thor didn’t tell them about the driving-in-front-of-a-cop-while-orgasming caper. Was that whole incident really just another way an outlaw acts like an outlaw? Beneath mention? Or was it something he preferred to hide?

  Odin and Zeus talked about their day. They were feeling good about what they’d seen—roads, alarm company, security, routine.

  Zeus said, “What really gets my dick hard is the way Odin’s traffic light disruptors work.”

  “We took control of a light just on a drive by,” Odin said. “Fucking-g thing of beauty.”

  “Lucky we didn’t blow them on the Baylortown job.” Thor tilted his head at me, eyes twinkling. “Oh, right, there aren’t traffic lights there.”

  I hit him. He caught my wrist and kissed my hand.

  We feasted and drank a lot that night, the four of us. Room service carts were wheeled in and wheeled out, hot tub baths were taken. It was quite the drunken bash.

  After about my fifth glass of champagne, I saw fit to model my new underwear, happy I’d saved most of it from a bath.

  Zeus seemed quite aloof about my getup—he was in some kind of strange, smoldery mood, but Odin took one look at me and slowly took off his glasses, which thrilled me to no end, as it always did. He stood and stalked toward me. I backed away until I hit a corner, but he kept coming until he mashed right into me.

  It really was a kind of dance with these guys, and I loved every step of it. Odin trapped my hands above my head in the corner, mauling me deliciously, then he picked me up and brought me into another bedroom and we fucked, with Thor playing a fabulous supporting role.

  Right afterwards I noticed the tattoos on both their ankles.

  “What is that? Clouds and lightning?” I asked, squinting as Odin pulled his pants back on. The tattoos looked cool, and elaborate.

  “It’s nothing. Let’s get back to Zeus,” Odin commanded.

  I liked that they had matching tattoos, but I could see they didn’t want me making a big deal out of it. I jumped up and quickly changed back into everybody’s favorite sundress.

  We went back out to find Zeus smoking a joint, dancing all by himself to Gonna be Starting Something—yes, the Michael Jackson song. He’d used this interlude to put together a special playlist for our drunken revelry. Thor and Odin joined him in the dancing.

  I watched the three of them, filled with a kind of awe, thinking that when guys can dance around to Michael Jackson with total abandon and still seem powerful and dangerous, they really have reached the far end of the tough guy spectrum. Michael Jackson! These were my kind of bank robbers.

  “Come on,” Thor called.

  I jumped up and joined them. We danced while drinking champagne straight from the bottle. I was so getting into this outlaw thing. The next song was Beat It also, of course, by Michael Jackson. I grabbed my new wig of long brown hair—Thor and I had picked it up thinking about the heist—and it afforded me the opportunity to swing my hair to the music, a pleasure lost when we’d cut mine off. When Elton John’s Saturday Night’s All Right for Fighting came on we all four danced like crazy people, and my bandits even seemed to know most of the words. I got up and danced on the coffee table like a spotlight dancer at a go-go club, and then Thor took his turn to do a special dance on the table, and then Odin did a strange sort of athletic dance later, when Ballroom Blitz came on. We were all laughing Even grumpy Zeus laughed a bit, though he refused to get up on the table and dance, much as we all begged.

  I sighed, thinking it was so sad, Zeus not dancing or taking part in our dirty fun. I eyed the latest set of flowers he had destroyed, petals ripped in half and left in little mounds near the vase, which contained only stems. Apparently not all the room service waiters had gotten the memo about bringing flowers to our room. It made me want to cry. Then again, I was totally bombed.

  Later the subject was robbery. “It’s ninety percent nerve,” Thor said to me after the waiter had delivered a cart with a pyramid of chocolate candies. “Bank robbery is ninety percent nerve, and the nerve makes the magic.”

  I teased him about being new age-y. A new age bank robber. That almost merited a spanking punishment, but it was quickly commuted to the withholding of chocolates. I took some anyway and we wrestled around, fighting over them, and eventually Zeus threw Thor in the hot tub. My badass Peter Pans were experts in living the decadent criminal lifestyle.

  The
next day we were all hung over and subdued, and Odin and Zeus did a bit more surveillance, and there were some practice runs. And that night, the eve of the robbery, my bandits behaved like monks. They ate healthy meals and they went to bed early without sex. They pulled into themselves, each in his own way. Marshalling their inner reserves, I suppose.

  Something Zeus said made me think that this was their usual pattern—a night of wildness two nights before a robbery to blow off steam, but a night of good behavior right before the robbery.

  Suddenly it was the next day, and we were on our way to knock off another First City.

  Thor had convinced them to let me baby-sit the car outside the bank, swearing up and down I had the nerve for it. Zeus was weird about it, as though there was something voodoo about my taking Venus’s place as car sitter, even temporarily. But really, what if somebody double parked and screwed up their escape? So he relented. They were such pros in so many ways, but when you lifted the corners, they were all just a bit crazy.

  I knew how they were going to pull it off—the four of us had had a lot of discussions about First City procedures and I felt like I’d greatly helped them refine their ideas. It would be a cinch, but still, I was pretty apprehensive.

  Thor stole a different car for the job—an old Thunderbird—and not from the hotel parking lot. The idea was that we’d ditch it and switch to the van on the other side of town; the van was waiting for us, all tricked out with compartments.

  So there I was, driving my guys in a stolen car, wearing the brown wig over my short platinum hair, and gloves, of course, because my fingerprints were on file, being that I’d been in the banking industry. I had my own throwaway phone in my pocket. I felt like a real bank robber. It was a total freakout.

  When they’d robbed my bank they’d blown up two cars and set smoke bombs, creating chaos to aid their getaway. This time, they were going for the traffic light chaos—Odin had created little electronic impulse-emitting devices for placement on lights; these devices would throw the timing off. He’d jogged around town putting them on there at dawn. They’d also messed with the back parking lot cameras.

  They wore their fine business suits, and Thor put on the earpiece that let him monitor police bands. I let them off in different areas—Zeus would go in alone first, then Thor and Odin would go in together afterward with Starbucks cups as their props, like colleagues out for a midmorning coffee run.