Can't start a fire without a spark

With stark realisation he stopped and took a breath. It didn't matter that he smelled of her, it wasn't important in the grand scheme of things. He wanted to smell of her, he wanted to remember every damn second, he couldn't wait for the next time but he knew that his time was up. He turned over the Mercedez and it purred beneath him, the turbo emitting a deep and dark grunt that he'd once loved -- now it just reminded him that he was about to face up to it -- face up to the fact that when he had kissed her after fucking her until she was just a little bit more than his submissive little bitch, it had meant something. They both knew it. They all did.

He inhaled a deep breath through his nose, released it through his mouth and leaned over the steering wheel with his arms, eyes closed, repeating the breathing exercise several times. He could feel the sweat on his palms and damp patches on his t-shirt just below his arm pits, unsure whether they were a result of his encounter or a precursor to what was going to happen next. Not that he knew exactly, but he had a fair idea.

He raised his head, put the car into gear and checked the rear view mirror -- darkness had fallen and though he could no longer see the dirt track he could see the lights from the houses in the distance -- the same houses that she had joked about in her head -- the houses with the people inside who were going about their business, ignorant to what was going on right on their doorstep across the common. All of them that was, except one.

He took one final deep breath and held it in as he put the car into gear and drove slowly to the junction, turned left and headed towards the houses with the lights in the windows. As he pulled up at the edge of the pavement he heard the alloys scrape along the kerb, his nerves causing him to shake and misjudge the parking bay by an inch. Maybe it would be alright after all, maybe he was misjudging his girlfriend too.

He walked up the driveway and reached for the cold metal door handle, his hand visibly shaking as he realised there was no resistance -- the door wasn't locked and as it swung open he heard the Beatles blasting out 'Hard Days Night' from the sound bar in the lounge. The smell of his girlfriend's perfume hung devastatingly strong in the air and as he looked through the glass door from the hallway he stopped in his tracks, rigid with fear, his eyes focussed on the television above the fireplace.

He entered the room, his eyes immediately drawn to Lucy's presence to his right. He slowly turned his head to look at her, momentarily frozen by her beauty and impressed with her effort to dress up for him. He looked at her from her feet up to her face -- knee high PVC boots that hugged her calves and made his legs shake with desire, naked thighs bronzed with fake tan, shining slightly as the light from the uplighter in the corner of the room reflected off them. Her red knickers hugged her crotch, inviting him in and the red sparkly bone filled corset complimented her figure impeccably. In that perfect moment he almost fell back into his usual self, the person he becomes around her, her most amusing play thing -- that was until he spotted the remote control in her hand and the anger in her eyes.

'Did you enjoy that? Did you enjoy performing for me again? Did you like how you can make her do anything for you? Did you like how she tasted and felt and believes that you do it for her? Did you?' Her voice was edgy, different.

Before he had the chance to answer, she launched herself towards him and slapped him hard across his cheek before looking deep into his eyes and grabbing him by the balls, rendering him useless, unable to move for fear that she would turn her wrist and twist him in pain. She pointed the remote control towards the TV and pressed play, the paused video replaying the moment when he kissed her after the fuck, the moment on the bonnet that had signified that it was more than just a fuck. The moment that his feelings had broken free from this hell and he had realised that sex could be filthy and he could be dominant and she could still enjoy it. As the image on the TV zoomed towards the kiss, Lucy demanded that he removed his clothes, told him that she needed to humiliate him as he had her. Shaking, he told her 'No', it was time for this to be over.

Lucy reached towards the TV stand, grabbed the taser that she had strategically placed atop the table. She knew what this was, she would do anything to not let him go, he was everything to her.

She pointed the taser directly at his chest and pressed fire for an extended period of time, forcing him to fall to the floor and writhe in pain, shallow breaths barely sinking enough oxygen to keep him lucid. He curled up, clutching his chest, smelling the burn that stung through his skin, through his ribs and into his heart. She laughed hysterically, her face screwed up, angry, ready to punish him like never before.

'Roll the fuck over!' she yelled, kicking the side of his abdomen before lifting her foot and placing it on his hip bone, digging the sharp heel of her boot into him with force. He cried out in pain -- this was not normal, not her usual controlled insistence when she wanted him to fuck her. This was different, she was on the brink of madness and the fear he felt before driving home returned ten fold as he continued to hold his chest, waiting for his heart to smoulder in a sea of ashes.

'You fucking enjoyed her didn't you?', her voice ripped into him, echoed around his head as he tried to focus on answering her and ignore the stabbing pains left by the taser. He didn't get the chance.

'This was for us. This was for me. When the fuck did it become about her, the adulterous bitch? Fuck you. FUCK YOU.'

She collapsed into the chair at his side and put her head in her hands. He didn't know whether she was expecting an explanation from him, something to make this right or whether she was becoming further enraged by what she had seen. She rewound the recording and played it again, twice more before storming out of the room, kicking him hard as she left.

His breathing was slowly returning to normal, though he was in agony and remained curled up in the foetal position wondering how much tasering a person could survive.

He wasn't sure how much time passed before she returned, maybe half an hour or so, but for the whole time his body was hurting, and the pain from the taser reverberated through his every limb, reminding him that the moments he had spent with her on the track, the moments where he had been in control, were fleeting at best. He had managed to drag his upper torso up so that he was leaning against the chair that faced the television, clutching at his chest where the pain was still severe.

Lucy strutted back into the room, appearing somewhat intoxicated, the glass of whiskey sloshing around in her right hand.

'Get up' she demanded.

He looked at her face, in her eyes -- she was different. This was different. He let his mind briefly wander back 25 years to when he had first met her -- the most beautiful woman he had ever set eyes upon and she had made a bee line for him. It had taken 2 full years for them to become comfortable with each other, for him to let her tie him up and become truly dominant. He was a slave to her every desire and it worked for them. It just did. But 12 months into them agreeing to bring a third person in, despite that girl not even knowing, and everything had gone to shit. Lucy had instructed him at every step, it was all a part of her controlling him, making him do that stuff for her because it turned her on. Neither of them had considered that he may like being in charge, that he may like being the dominant one, that it may end up being more than a planned fuck on a dirt track.

'Get the FUCK up' she demanded. He gripped the side of the chair and slowly pulled himself up, standing but leaning on the arms of the chair to steady himself.

'Go upstairs' she whispered in his ear. It was sexy, it was starting to feel more normal, more like they used to be.

He steadied himself upon the unit by the door and slowly made his way back into the hallway, she followed him, having grabbed the taser once more.

He was very aware of his every footstep as he slowly walked up the stairs, hands retaining his balance upon the stairway walls, very aware of the taser pointing at the middle of his back. It wasn't the same. He'd thought it was very briefly, but it wasn't -- she was bubbling with anger, she had seen that kiss, zoomed in on it and he knew he was going to pay.

As he reached the landing she shoved him in the back with the taser, towards the spare room. The lights were off and he was blind to what was to come. As he fell through the doorway, she flicked the light on and he was presented with the scene of nightmares. Or dreams. He was unsure which.

It took 40 minutes for Lucy to bind him properly. She placed him under the window, a mirror opposite him, reflecting the camera set up in the window, zoom lense perfectly poised upon the spot on the track where he had fucked her. She teased him. Told him about how she had been there watching him the whole time. Making sure that he had done what she wanted him to and followed her instructions to the letter. She told him about how she recorded it and saw with her own eyes that he had gone beyond what they had agreed and how she had seethed when he had enjoyed it. It infuriated her and she was going to make him regret every single second.

Lucy loved him. She had given him everything. All of the sadistic desires she needed and all of the masochistic needs that he had. But it wasn't enough, that had become clear. He had a want for this bitch and Lucy was not built to handle it. She was going to make him suffer in the worst way that she could.

Satisfied that he was strapped to the radiator in the spare room, bound so tightly that even breathing would take a conscious effort and moving more than five degrees in any direction would make him hurt, Lucy smiled. As he sat uncomfortably watching the track from the camera lens via the mirror with no chance of release, Lucy took the phone from her pocket and sent a message to her colleague.

'Hi Talia, Did you do him? Did you get what you wanted? I'm so excited to hear about what happened!' Her teeth ground upon each other as she pressed 'send'. She waited for a response, her breathing heavy and uneven as she sat watching him, his vulnerable demeanor making her sticky and wet.

It was 3 minutes, maybe 4 when her phone tweeted a sweet notification.

'Yes!' replied Talia. 'I think this is going to be something more, I want him. I need him. I think I love him. I'll give you the full details in work tomorrow, but fuck it was good!'.

Lucy reached into the pocket of his jacket, took his phone in her hand and demanded that he told her his unlock code. He closed his eyes and attempted to flex his fingers that were strapped slightly too tightly to the metal bar above his head. The same metal bar that she'd previously strapped him up with silk twine as she'd sucked him off.

'The code, NOW!' she demanded as she tasered him briefly once more.

His body, on the brink of shock, lifted and slammed into the radiator. Fuck, that hurt.

He opened his eyes and looked into hers. She wasn't joking -- the taser was pointed directly at his chest and the glint in her eye was sufficiently malicious to break him. He was left without another option.

'20030', he spoke quietly, softly. Submissively.

'Next week, Thursday, usual place x' she messaged.

Talia sat opposite her husband, picked up her phone and replied with a kiss. For her, it was on. Another encounter with the man that she had fallen head over heels for.

For Lucy, this was just the start. He was immobile. Fallen. She wasn't sure whether she would ever release him. If she did, she would make sure that this was well and truly over first. She made plans for him to meet Talia. One week and counting.

She held the taser tight and grinned as she turned her back to him and switched off the light.

In darkness he sat, with only his thoughts running free.