The Spark

With gentle precision, he turned the knob quietly and silently opened the door. He gazed down into a darkened stairwell with dim lighting glowing from the periphery of the basement. Jack took a deep breath and started a slow, careful walk down the tiered wooden planks.

*WHHHPPPSSHHH WHHHPPPSHHHH*

"AARRHHHHMMMMNNNNNN!!!"

The noises became much louder as he proceeded stealthily downward. The sounds of persistent flogging and the man's cries of torment were accompanied by jingling chains and the sounds of stiletto heels striking the cold basement floor.

"Your ass isn't NEARLY red enough for my liking! Or your balls for that matter!"

*WHHHPPPSHHHH*

"MMMPPPPGGGGGHHHHMMMMMM!!!"

Jack winced as the latest yelps were accompanied by slobbering coughs and muffled groans. After inching two thirds of the way down the stairs, the sides of the narrow corridor began to open into a view of the vast play space. Wendy had a massive dungeon below the quaint-looking inn and the scope of her operation made Jack's eyes widen to saucers of disbelief.

The smell of leather, rubber and metal were heavy in his nose. The walls were bright, shiny red with a ring of lights that went all the way around the perimeter. The massive chamber was filled with all manner of bondage furniture; most matching the wall's red color or standing out in stark, contrasting black. Clothes racks of leather and rubber outfits lined much of the studio. Other walls were covered in implements of pain, restraining devices and rows of fat rubber strapon dildos.

The heavy smacking sounds and male wailing continued to belt out as Jack tracked them to their source. There was Wendy, clad in nothing but a black latex bra and panties as she laced into her client repeatedly. The poor man was hung in a web of leather and metal, dangling from the ceiling as he was beaten mercilessly.

Wendy dual wielded a thick paddle and a cat-o-nine-tails flogger. Her athletic body gleamed with a light sheen of sweat despite the cool dungeon air. Her hair flowed like black silk as she flayed her bound target and cackled. She was really going to town on this guy.

*crrreeeeaaaakkkk*

Jack took one more step at an inopportune moment. For an alarming second, Wendy didn't strike and the submissive didn't groan. The only sound was the one he'd foolishly produced underfoot. A bolt of terror shot down Jack's spine as he froze and wondered if he'd just completely fucked himself.

Wendy knew that sound only too well. Her head began to turn, but she paused. She thought about wheeling around fully to confront her uninvited guest, but stopped herself. The impassioned Domina smiled wickedly.

'Oh! That eager to get started, are we? Fine then. Enjoy the show.'

She acted as if she'd heard nothing, focusing her attention back on the slave dangling in the leather harness. Wendy raised her flogger and sent it's thick leather tassels whipping into the man's limp dick and quivering scrotum. After several loud yelps into his gag, she followed up the brutal assault with another round of punishing slaps into his already reddened ass. She stalked back and forth, pouring on verbal degradation and hocked wads of spit in equal measure to her physical beatings.

Jack peaked around one of the beams lining the stairway, wide-eyed as he watched the scene of debauchery play out. He remained quiet as the grave, beholding the spectacle and trying, in vain, to tear himself away from its perverted thrills. Jack had never before engaged in voyeurism, but found himself enraptured. After a surprisingly lengthy viewing, he turned and tip-toed back up the stairs as silently as he'd entered.

* * * * *

Jack was typing away furiously when he suddenly noticed the time. The corner of his laptop monitor alarmed him to the fact that it was 2:56 AM. He'd planned to turn in hours ago, but after his exciting infiltration of Wendy's BDSM lair, there was no way he could sleep. On top of that, he finally had some new ideas to play with. As soon as he'd gotten back to his desk, the words began flowing. A trickle at first. Then a stream. He'd cranked out six pages in good time.

'Yeah! This could be it... The start of something new and exciting!'

He wanted to continue, but fatigue was setting in. Besides, breakfast was in six hours, and there was no way he was going to miss that after typing with a grumbling stomach all night.

Breakfast with a dominatrix. That would be something! Starting tomorrow, he'd be looking at Wendy in a whole new light.

* * * * *

Warm water gushed from the large, metallic spout positioned a foot and a half over Jack's head. He lathered himself up as he stood in the fancy glass enclosure. The water ran down into the single drain in the center of the floor.

When Wendy said communal showers, truly horrific images had reeled through his mind. A large wooden tub in an oversized outhouse with a single hose dangling above it. A prison bathroom with the most basic plumbing where gang beatings and sexual assault occurred regularly. Thankfully, the inn's bathroom was nothing like that.

The room was fancy enough to pass muster even in an upscale hotel. The white paint, combined with the metal and glass furnishings, gave it an almost opulent character. Two sinks were available, both nicely decorated, with drawers full of complimentary soap, shampoo and other toiletries. Fresh towels bearing the letters 'HH' hung from the towel bars on either side of the large stand-up shower. There were two shower heads available, presumably so a couple could bathe together if they wished.

Jack had just started humming a little ditty when the door behind him opened and he practically jumped out of skin. He grabbed the support bar just below the shower controls, stopping himself from slipping. The soap dropped and hit the floor with a wet thud as he raced to cover his manhood with his free hand.

"W--Wendy?!?"

"Good morning!" she said casually as she stepped into the warm enclosure. The buxom belle was nude as the day she was born. "You're a shower singer, huh?"

Jack stood in stunned silence, saying nothing for a few moments as Wendy stepped under the second spout and turned the warm water on. In no time at all, her midnight locks were soaked and gleaming in the overhead lights. Jack risked a cautious side-glance as water trickled down her fulsome curves.

"I... Well, I don't really sing" he spoke over the sound of spraying water. "I don't have the voice for it."

As she turned and began lathering herself, Jack got a full view of her gorgeous assets. Flawless, fair skin, a heavy pair of E-cup breasts and a wonderfully round butt. Her enticing form was painted with two expert ink jobs. Her left ass cheek bore a red heart tattoo with the words 'KISS HERE' above it. Sliding down her right leg was the depiction of a coiled snake, drawn into her flesh with exquisite detail.

"Who cares?" she replied. "It's not like anyone's gonna hear you. Well, not normally, anyway."

Jack turned away, still cradling his privates as Wendy glided her hands up and down her soapy body.

"Ummm, yeah. I didn't think anyone was going to hear me at all."

"Relax, Jack. No need to be bashful. We're both adults. I guarantee you've got nothing I haven't seen before."

After what he'd learned last night, it was hard to imagine that was anything but the gospel truth.

Jack lowered his guard and leaned down to pick up the soap. When he stood back to his full height, he found Wendy's head turned. She was studying him up and down with a cheeky grin. They said nothing for a spell as they both washed. Eventually, she broke the silence.

"You're in good shape. Especially for a man who sits at a computer half the day."

"Thanks" he responded with a half chuckle. "You're... in great shape too."

Wendy rolled her eyes. She'd obviously been expecting something more flattering. No surprise, since the men she entertained likely lavished her with constant compliments and outright worship.

"What makes you think I don't have a typewriter at home?" he followed up. "Maybe I'm old fashioned."

"Nah, I don't think so" she replied as the suds slid off her freshly washed form. "You don't give off that vibe." She reached out and shut off the water before turning to him. "Besides, I've read every interview you've ever given. You never mentioned a typewriter."

Jack froze in place as her eyes locked on him. For the first time, he wondered if the joke he'd cracked to his wife before leaving the gas station hadn't revealed itself as prophecy.

"Breakfast in twenty minutes" she reminded him before opening the glass door and stepping out. "See ya then."

"Sounds good!" he called over his shoulder before the door closed behind her.

Jack breathed a sigh of relief. He took his time rinsing his body before killing the hot, soothing jet and shaking himself like a wet dog. He stepped out and dried off with the branded and wonderfully fluffy towels. Moments later, he realized something was wrong.

'What the fuck? Where are my clothes?!?'

The pile of clothing he'd left on the linen cabinet by the door was gone. His brow furrowed as he tied the towel around his waist in frustration. He strode to the bathroom door, opened it and stepped into the hallway.

"Hey! Wendy!" He looked up and down the corridor. "WENDY! HELLO?"

No response. She'd ghosted with his things. Jack sighed, closed the bathroom door and headed back to his room to fetch another outfit.

* * * * *

"I enjoy a bit of mischief" she admitted while setting a plate of bacon and toast on the table in front of Jack. "You won't hold it against me, will you?"

He watched her like a hawk as the woman in the black apron, latex bra and leather skirt headed back to the stove. Wendy's smile was as provocative as her dress. Her words as impish as her deeds.

"I suppose not, as long as I get my clothes back."

"You'll get them back, eventually" she remarked while tending to the sizzling scrambled eggs.

Jack leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over a shirt he hadn't been planning to wear that day. "I hope so, because I only brought so many outfits for this trip."

"There's nothing to worry about, dear" she said while scooping up the yellow globs of cooked protein onto a second plate. "If you run out of clothes during your stay, I have some you can wear."

"I bet you do" Jack said with a snicker. He traced her movements as she strolled back to the table and set the plate of eggs in front of him.

He couldn't help but admire her devil-may-care attitude and athletic form. She had full, round thighs that bulged through her leathery skirt. Her bare midriff displayed just a hint of abdominal definition. Wendy's full breasts strained in glossy black rubber, her bosom bouncing slightly as she moved. Her arms were well toned from chopping and carrying firewood; not to mention flaying her clients.

"Bon appetit" she purred before sitting adjacent to him and snatching up a piece of toast for herself.

"Thank you" he replied before grabbing some bacon and adding it to his plate. He lifted his fork and dug in. "I'm starving."

"Eat your fill, but I'd recommend skipping lunch. I'm going to cook tonight and you won't want to miss that!" she announced between bites of buttery crust.

"What's on the menu?"

"Parmesan chicken cutlets, fresh tomato salad and garlic mashed potatoes" she answered with lifted eyebrows.

"That sounds amazing!" he admitted before scooping another load of eggs into his mouth.

Wendy smiled. "It's a date, then."

* * * * *

Jack managed another four pages of prose before his eyelids grew heavy. The effects of a full breakfast and the lack of a full night's sleep began to take their toll. He wasn't used to staying up till the wee hours of the night and getting up with only four to five hours of sleep.

He wanted to continue, but will alone wasn't going to cut it. Besides, he was starting to run low on ideas again. What he'd seen in the last twenty four hours had led to a new character and setting, but where to go from there?

Reluctantly, he saved his work, closed his laptop and rose from his chair. Jack shuffled to his bed and collapsed, falling quickly into a peaceful slumber.

* * * * *

Cold. Shivering.

Jack opened his eyes groggily. He was surprised to find himself on top of the covers instead of under them. Even more surprised that he was completely nude. When had he undressed? And why did he feel so heavy? Jack moved to sit up, but found he could barely move. He grunted and strained with effort, but his torso barely lifted before he let his weight collapse back onto the mattress.

His vision was hazy. Nothing made sense.

The door swung open and Wendy stomped into the room. Shiny black latex covered every inch of her skin below the neckline. An officer's cap rested on her head, shining with radiant leather and flashy metal adornments. The fetish bodysuit gleamed and creaked as her boot heels struck the floor. Her fulsome curves flexed as she stalked to the end of the bed and looked down at Jack.

In her right hand was a leather riding crop. She lifted her left hand to display another glossy fetish garment. It was a rubber suit designed for a man and much thicker than the one she was wearing. It was covered in metal buckles, leather straps and other locking devices. Jack was pretty sure he'd heard it referred to as a gimp suit before.

She tossed the elaborate fetish attire onto his body. The heavy latex and metal bits slapped his naked form and made him grunt.

"Put it on" she insisted.

"Wha... Why?" he said, blinking in confusion.

Wendy lifted her crop and pointed it at him. "I said, put it on! Now."

"I can't-- I can't move."

*THWACK*

Her crop laced into the footboard of the bed.

"I'm going to hurt you, Jack. How much depends on how quickly you put that suit on. Now GET. FUCKING. MOVING!"

*SCHNAP*

Her crop whistled through the air and came scorching down on his crotch. A burst of sheer agony flooded Jack's nervous system as his vision swam. He cried out, but no words exited his lips. Wendy laughed haughtily as she raised her weapon and prepared for another blow.

*SCHNAP*

Jack bolted upright in bed, yelling incoherently and pushing the covers off him. His sweating form inhaled and exhaled heavily as his chest heaved up and down. He looked from side to side. He was alone in his room. His boxers were still on.

He collapsed back into his sweat-glazed pillow and collected himself. Moments later he rolled over and grabbed his watch from the end table. It was almost time for dinner. Had he really napped for almost four hours?

'Holy shit...'

* * * * *

The silky black gown Wendy wore that night was the closest thing to regular clothing she'd donned so far. It flowed up and down her curvy form, highlighting her ample assets wonderfully. She'd accessorized with a fashionable headband and fancy diamond earrings. It put Jack at surprising ease, especially after what he'd experienced that morning and afternoon. The meal and conversation that unfolded over the next hour only deepened the effect.

Jack couldn't remember the last time he'd tasted such fine food and drink outside of a five star restaurant. The wine and anecdotes flowed freely as the pair shared stories from their past. Jack grew ever more red-faced as the haughty hostess drowned him in compliments and flattery. With every refill of his glass, Jack fell deeper into his buzz. Eventually it was an outright stupor, his vision swimming as prominently as it had in his unusual dream.

"Jack? Are you still with me?" Wendy asked at one point. She laughed and snapped her fingers in the air. "You look you're ready to pass out."

"Yeah... just about" he replied, wavering slightly.

Wendy smiled and pulled a small book from below the table. She moved her plate aside, set the tome down and opened to a book-marked page.

Jack set his elbow on the table and rested his head in his hand. He watched her with a stupid grin. "Heh... Waz that?"

The suddenly serious hostess ignored him. She began speaking words that Jack couldn't parse. Arcane phrases in a foreign language that formed into a chant. Wendy raised her arms as her incantation grew in volume and power. Wind whipped angrily against the outside of the inn. The lights dimmed several times as the candles on the table flickered violently.

"Incertus, pulchra, imperio!"

Under normal circumstances Jack would've been alarmed, but he felt oddly calm as Wendy stared at the open page and spoke the words. His limbs were drained of all strength and coordination. His eyes grew as heavy as his body. The sensation flooded his frame, merging with the effects of the alcohol. As his eyelids fluttered, the last thing he saw was Wendy looking up, staring at him as she repeated the words.

'Is that... Latin?'

Jack slumped forward, his arm sprawling across the table as his face found rest in the soft tablecloth. His sudden lurch knocked over his wineglass, spilling its dark red remnants. His other arm landed on the corner of his cleared plate, sending his silverware flying through the air before landing on the floor with a clatter.

Wendy's chanting slowed and her volume steadily faded. As she lowered her arms, the wind eased and the lights stopped flickering. Soon, silence reigned over the now peaceful dining room. She looked down and closed the small black book sitting before her. When her gaze returned to Jack, she observed his torso rising and falling gently. She heard nothing but the sound of air whistling in and out of the slumbering man's nose.

She drained the last few sips from her glass and a devious smile spread across her crimson lips.

"Good boy."

* * * * *

The powerful stench of ammonia entered Jack's nose and his lungs took a deep, involuntary breath. The smell flooded him and his eyes shot open. He tried to speak, but found his mouth packed with something rigid and wet.

Wendy stepped back, withdrawing the smelling salts from his nostrils. He could barely see her through blurry, tear stained eyes. Nausea and gripping tightness overwhelmed Jack's newly awakened senses. He tried to move and found he couldn't budge an inch.

"Ah, there we are! You were taking too long to wake up, so I hurried things along. It's play time, slave! Let's make your first session one to remember!"

Jack attempted to respond, but only muffled gibberish followed. As his vision slowly cleared, he could see a sizable silicone dong sticking out from his gagged mouth. The other half of the penis gag protruded down the length of his tongue, stuffing his face with five inches of thick, pungent rubber. He coughed and sputtered around the thing, unused to having anything packed in his mouth, let alone a girthy sex toy.

He shook his head, but the disgusting apparatus was strapped around his face tightly. Jack pulled at his limbs, finding that not a single muscle in his body could respond appropriately. He was naked and strapped to a bondage bench. Every segment of his body was laced with rope and strapped down with thick leather cords and straps. No matter how much he squirmed, he couldn't budge an inch, or even jolt the heavy furniture on which he was trapped.

Jack's eyes sought out Wendy and found her not far away, gathering some toys from the many racks and shelves lining her dungeon wall. Astonishingly, she was damn close to naked herself. Aside from a shiny latex bra wrapped around her ample breasts and a pair of heeled black leather boots, she was baring it all. Her tattooed ass hung out, taunting him with its wonderful curvature. The snake gliding up her leg now seemed very fitting, a warning Jack had not heeded. Wendy radiated confidence and oozed dominant sexual energy as she went about her work.