With my palms on my knees, I frowned again at the plate, thinking, trying to decide where I was at.
I was going to do this.
I didn’t know what it was about the situation that drew me. But I thought it revolved around belonging to him so deeply that it felt right. It was novel, thrilling and comforting. I could let him turn my ass black and blue, let him fuck me when he wanted and yet still be happy.
This was life brought down to its most primitive elements. Relying on someone else for everything.
For a supposedly pretend thing, this situation was becoming ever more surreal. But also ever more addictive. One day this would end, and where would our relationship be then? Where did I want it to be?
A memory came to me of one Valentine’s Day when we’d fed each other strawberries and chocolates down at the café on the beach. I’d threatened to bite his finger, but sucked it instead, in humorous, teasing way. He’d made me laugh that day. I’d never have let him, that him, do what Klaus had done to me just now. I’d have chewed him up and spit him out.
When I got angry with him back then, he’d mostly just sit and take it. Sometimes, he’d frown. Sometimes he’d explain why I was wrong, and sometimes he’d end up sulking and not talking to me for a day or two. And that, I realized, had made me despise him, just a little.
If I snapped at him now, even spoke out of turn, he’d have me facedown and caned so quickly. A shiver ran through me, cold and fast. Goosebumps. I stared some more at the floor. God. I liked this new firmness. I did. I must be mad.
Unhurried, I poured some syrup on, gave it back to him, took up the knife and fork, and I began to eat. On the other side of the coin, I was famished. He could have fed me whale blubber outside on the lawn and I would have eventually obeyed him.
When we’d eaten, I reluctantly washed up. Upholding the feminist tradition of self-righteousness and self-reliance was too ingrained for me to feel that doing this for a man, providing for him, was right. It always screwed with my sense of me.
The last dish dried, I turned to find Klaus there, crowding me back. By covering both my hands with his and pressing down, he nailed my hands to the counter top to either side. Then he kissed me thoroughly until I was afire again. I angled forward, grinding my hips against him. But no relief was in sight.
“You can come in a few days, if you behave.” He lowered his lips to mine and this time, he slipped his knee between my legs. The heavy muscle of his thigh was right where I couldn’t escape it. My arms stayed pinned out to the sides, and with my smaller body jammed into the counter by his weight, I could do nothing as he kissed me some more, breathing hotly into my mouth.
This was as restrictive as bondage. As freeing. I stopped struggling and gave in. When he ceased kissing me, I was shaking and my head was bowed back. He let me up and put his finger on my poor assaulted lips then rolled out my bottom lip a little. A familiar place for his finger. I licked him and delicately sucked his finger in a half-inch inch or so. Watching him, watch me suck on him, while I could feel the length of his erection against me, ahh, I couldn’t help myself. I moaned and spread my legs some more.
Mirth danced in his eyes but his thigh pressed on me harder, teasing me deliberately. “So desperate, Jodie? Be good. A few days only.”
Behave for a few days? I screwed up my forehead trying to convey my question.
But he only laughed. “I think you’ll know what to do. Look at how well you’ve learnt not to speak. Think about that if anything. Think about what it does to you, not being able to talk. Say it to the camera, behave for me, and you can come.”
Philosophy 101? Then I get to come? Wow.
I should have wanted to smack his face for that. But no. I would have kneeled and sucked his cock all day for how that had made me feel. Having to wait for permission to come, it just grabbed me somehow.
Slut.
You just did not do this. Not.
Why simply slut, I thought. This was more. Slave?
Documentary. I yanked myself up short with that. Remember? Pretend?
Was it though? I was finding it hard to tell. So goddamned hard. I liked this. Somehow…I liked it.
*
I was good for three days. I was so good I would have made my old self vomit. I did what Klaus asked me to. I cleaned naked, I cooked naked, I kneeled at his feet, also naked. I bent over when he asked and let him touch me and I protested not at all…apart from whining when he stopped touching me. I lost count of how many times he stirred me up then left me aroused and unfulfilled. Excruciating. Yet I wanted more of what he did.
On the third morning, when he let me into the downstairs room for my morning monologue, I tried to say to the camera something of what he asked me to.
“Not being able to talk to you,” I began. “What does it do to me?”
I was kneeling on the floor mattress and sitting square to the camera like some little disciple talking to her mentor or sensei. Corny, but it felt right. And I was beginning to like the feel of doing things right.
“It means I don’t have to spend time wondering what to say next. If something is absolutely important to me, I think I manage to say that through body language. Yes, damn you, Klaus, I have learned to hold my tongue. I can see now that we humans tend to waste time saying a lot of stuff that is either negative or unnecessary. We waffle our way through life.
“This way…” I licked my lips and looked up at the camera from the corner of my eyes. This next bit was close to the bone for me as it made me remember him touching me intimately. “This way I can feel more. I don’t get so distracted. I hear, I feel, maybe I even smell and taste things better. There. I said it.” I shrugged. “That’s it. That’s all I figured out so far.”
Funny, when I heard his footsteps coming down the stairs I realized something enormous—I’d forgotten to say anything about the documentary.
We hadn’t had breakfast yet and when we reached the kitchen, I saw he’d put out all the ingredients for a big Aussie breakfast—mushrooms, bacon, eggs, tomato, the toaster and fry pan. Before I could do anything he stopped me with his hand on my arm.
“Wait. You’re wearing this today.” Then he squatted and gestured for me to step into a red circle of silk and chiffon. No underwear, just a skirt. The waistband came up to below my belly button. Curious, I checked with my fingers, and found the hem ended just above the lowest hint of my butt. A little red bra top made the set. He helped me on with that too and went round behind me to fasten it at the back.
“Gorgeous.” I felt his hand on my curve of my ass, lifting the skirt. “Sexy and it’ll just show me a hint of your little cunt when you go up the stairs. If I’m behind you. Which I will be a lot, today.” There was both lust and amusement in his voice.
Then his teeth sank into the muscle between my neck and shoulder. The sudden pain transfixed me. His warm tongue licked the teeth marks. As he bit me and sucked, I shuddered. I was already moistening—a sexual reflex which now hit whenever Klaus touched me. Like I was automatically primed and prepared, ready for him. Though biting was pure distilled ecstasy.
With one arm wrapped across below my breasts, holding me still, and his hand on my hip, he used his teeth, lips and tongue to mark a trail from my nape to my shoulder. Soon I was a quivering, panting mess of a woman offering her neck for him to do anything he wanted.
“Good girl.” He patted my ass one more time and I heard him step back. My neck stung nicely. In this little kitchen one proper step back meant he’d be against the wall. I gulped in a few breaths and let the haze of lust lessen before I turned.
Good girl was damned insulting, or so I used to believe. But from his mouth it now became the greatest compliment. Odd, how the mind changes. The perverse and kinky became acceptable. An insult became a compliment. What next?
In his right hand Klaus held a crop. The rectangular tip rested on the top of his bare foot. He waited for me to start breakfast. As always, that he was dressed in board shorts and T-shirt emp
hasized how under-dressed I was. No underwear beneath this skirt, for some weird reason made me feel even more aware of my femaleness than when I’d been naked.
If I made breakfast without being told would I get to come? The little skirt, and how carefully he’d dressed me, handled me, and that glorious biting—it made me want him so much I ached.
Underneath the concealing chiffon my clit was sitting up and pretty much begging. I wanted to him to make love to me. I wanted to get to come and not just be a fuck toy like the day before. Had I been good enough, though?
I eyed the crop. He hadn’t hit me with anything for ages, only little pats on my behind. Like maybe he was sparing me? He cared that I was bruised? Yet I remembered how he’d adored caning me. That, I hated, but the crop, surely that couldn’t hurt as much?
I…I just clicked. I wanted to see where this would lead me. Demeaning? Maybe. No worse than before, except that I was going to set it in motion.
I breathed in deeply then I went to my knees. I crawled to him and I put my hand to the crop and tugged uncertainly, afraid I looked silly. His mouth was straight and tight. His eyes blazed gray-green and fearsome. Right then you could have told me the sun was that color and I would’ve believed you. I swallowed, paralyzed. Then the corners of his lips curved.
He likes this.
And that, God, that thought gave rise to another—I loved pleasing him.
Klaus released the crop into my grasp. I put it in my mouth then I returned to the counter, making sure I waggled my butt as I crawled. I stood and lay on the counter as I had the morning before, then I reached back and balanced the crop across my lower back. Tantalizing, inches from my ass. I figured the picture that presented would be near on irresistible. I could feel his gaze on me there, between my legs, where I knew my lower lips were already swelling. I swallowed and waited. I was a soda pop bottle all shaken and about to explode.
And so I waited for him to decide what to do. I hazed out just a little. Waiting, forever.
Right then, I succumbed and gave myself to Klaus. The only man who’d ever made me his.
Chapter Fourteen
Klaus
‡
I nearly swallowed my tongue. Maybe it shouldn’t have surprised me. I knew Jodie read books about women being captured by men and subdued, sometimes even raped. She read them because something in the stories attracted her. I knew that what I’d gotten her to do would never have worked at all with many women. So why the surprise when she begged for the crop, basically flaunted her pussy at me, then presented her rear end to be cropped or fucked or whatever I wanted to do with it?
Because it was like a step into another world. A world where she had said in explicit body language, this could become us.
Damn.
I had that right didn’t I?
Christ, I hoped so.
I stepped up to her, rested my hand on her butt cheek and stroked it while I retrieved my crop. I drank in everything about this position she’d assumed.
The blue sky in the window beyond and the cream counter top framed her upper body. She lay there flat with her peach-shaped ass peeking naked from under the red skirt. The line of her bare slit glistened with her moisture. The bruises on her skin were fading but still evident as dots of heavy blue black. The slope of her long legs led the eye downward to the ankle cuffs and her dainty feet. Her toes scuffled on the floor, flexing, releasing. She waited for me to act. To choose.
Under my hand her warm butt tensed and relaxed.
Some of the possibilities ran through my head. One of them was needles. I’d seen pictures on the net of them being used. I had some in the box of toys I’d collected. Sterile, unused, safe. I could see myself slowly pushing one through her skin, could feel her quiver and squeal, see her eyes dilate. My groin tightened. I gulped and cleared my throat. Jesus. No.
Get a grip. Some kinky shit was not meant to happen.
No. Never ever. Something else.
And how was this a documentary when I was even contemplating doing that? It wasn’t, clearly. Whatever it was though, I was running with it and not stopping until I had to. I did a few experimental taps on her ass with the crop. Red slowly flared on her bite-worthy female butt. Fuck winning the lottery, I had Jodie.
I could have simply thrashed her and I would have enjoyed the whole process. I knew that about myself. But I lowered the crop to the counter. I wanted her to enjoy this too. I wanted her to join me in this adventure more than she had so far.
“Stay.”
I went out and grabbed a desk chair from the study, wheeled it in, was ridiculously pleased to see she hadn’t moved. After locking the wheels up, I sat.
“Come here.” I beckoned.
Though hesitant at first, Jodie lay over my lap when I showed her where I wanted her. Her hands and feet on the floor kept her balanced. Frowning through a curtain of her auburn hair, she peered back at me.
After flipping up the tiny skirt to reveal all of her bare ass, I caressed both cheeks. My palm made gentle circles over the wonderful curves and down to her cleft, spreading her thighs, then I delved past the dimpled button of her anus. The instinctive wink of the muscles there gave me an idea.
Anal. That was another of Jodie’s no-noes. So many of them. I planned to plow through them all.
I found her vaginal moisture. She wriggled on my knee.
“This is definitely mine today,” I murmured. “Jodie’s ass. All of it. I’m going to do whatever I want. First of all, I’m going to spank you.”
That first little whimper was enough to squeeze my balls.
I started slow and light. Between blows, I toyed with her cleft and her clit, and soon she was writhing on my knee, and gasping at every smack. I wanted to hear her say how she felt. Wanted her to admit to how much this worked for her.
“Do you like this?”
After a swallow, came a quiet, “Yes.”
I kept going. I spanked her harder and fondled her clit and her nipples. I bit the back of her neck, the muscles of her back and every place I could reach on her butt, until I had her moaning and pushing her groin onto my leg.
“Nearly there, Jodie?” She was. I didn’t need an answer to that question. Her whimpers and cute sexy noises told me.
One orgasm to warm her up. Only this one came with a small price. I knew precisely how she liked her clit pressed and once I had a rhythm going I didn’t let up. Her back arched up into my hand and I parked my otherwise unoccupied hand on the small of her back. Using her own juices for lubrication, I hooked the very tip of my finger into her anus and slowly, sneakily, worked it in.
I’d always loved doing this to a woman. It was so hot and tight in there. Taking Jodie anally was a dark and powerful way to make her mine.
Though she squeaked and attempted half-heartedly to get away, I leaned on her with my forearm. Then with my finger and thumb I forced the orgasm from her. A hot and incredibly long one.
Her high-pitched cries and the upward arching spasms of her back went on and on.
The best part was where my forefinger ended up. I smiled as I looked at where it was, buried to the second knuckle inside that little rosette of muscle. “I’m going to train you to take butt plugs, Jodie. In a week or so, we’ll be having anal sex.”
She grunted and levered herself up an inch off my lap. The word came out soft but very audible. “Nooo.”
“I heard that. It’s yes, and you’ve only made me work my finger in farther. Three strikes.” I angled my eyebrow. “But you were getting those anyway. Now, the crop. And the smallest butt plug.”
Sure she’d agreed to the crop, but the butt plug suggestion would make her fight. I knew that and I plain loved fighting her. With her flailing her arms, twisting, and struggling to rise, I forced her down, grabbed her wrists and locked them together. Then I clipped her ankle cuffs together. Last of all, I got up, and forced her to lean over the back of the chair so I could clip her wrist cuffs to the base of the arm rests. Her palms were set flat
on the cushioned seat, her breasts were where I could feel them as needed, and her stomach rested on the thick, padded chair back. And boy, was she cross.
When I swept aside her hair to see her upside down face, her scowl would have flattened a six foot construction worker. Not me.
“Save that for someone who cares.” I grinned and straightened. I interlaced my fingers, turned them inside out and stretched my finger joints. “You’re all mine, darling.”
She hadn’t spoken again, no matter how much she hated this, she hadn’t spoken. Priceless. I surveyed my little victim.
Her thighs and pink ass were right where I wanted them. Jodie was trapped and ever so croppable. I worked the chair forward so it was wedged into the corner of the cupboards, and I attached her ankle cuffs to the base of the chair. Then I took up the crop and gave it a practice swish.
“Wait there.” I backed away. She couldn’t go anywhere. Except… “Don’t wriggle or the chair could turn over. “I’ll be back in a sec.”
I knew some of the rules now. The safety ones. Like don’t leave anyone tied up and unsupervised for long.
Chapter Fifteen
Jodie
‡
Okay. That wrestle had not been wise. It had knocked the stuffing out of me and made me notice all the wonderful muscles Klaus used in judo fights. The thrill I got from being beaten down had come back and possessed my body again. I detested the idea of anal in principle. It just seemed dirty. But when I’d come, inside me there’d been new sensations. Foreign, yet interesting. I closed my eyes and felt those again. My pussy squeezed in.
I still hated him making me. I tried to stamp my feet but stopped when the chair wobbled. Fuck it. Then I tried to work my hands loose anyway, and was grunting and tugging when…
“Still here?” The close warmth of his voice from a foot behind shocked me into stillness. “Move one more finger and I’ll get the monster plug. Now, this is the same as my finger and it’s lubricated, so you can take it.”
Make Me: Twelve Tales of Dark Desire Page 90