The Spark

* * * * *

Jack awakened to sore limbs and sideways vision. His face lay against a flat surface, a puddle of his own drool smeared across his cheek. He groaned with brutal ache and sat up slowly, his body obeying his commands grudgingly. Once he'd righted himself and rubbed the crust from his eyes, he was startled to find himself sitting back at his desk. His computer was on and his word processor was open. The cursor blinked at him tauntingly.

A chill went down his spine as Jack noticed the page and word counts. His eyes grew wider as he seized the mouse and began scrolling upward. He rifled through page after page of text. Twenty more pages had been added to the story. Pages that he had no recollection of writing.

'What the fuck... WHAT THE ABSOLUTE FUCK?!?'

Jack had seen enough. It was 5 AM and still dark outside, but the sun would be rising soon. He closed his laptop, unplugged it and quickly packed it in his laptop bag. He moved about the room, gathering up his important things. He would only take a couple bags with him. Everything else could stay on this cursed peak.

He put on his heavy jacket, slung his belongings over his shoulder and headed out into the hall. He marched down the connecting hallways until he reached the lobby and the front doors. He wasn't too surprised to find Wendy sitting by the fire, enjoying a drink and lounging in leather finery.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Anywhere but here."

"I don't think so."

"I don't care what you think, lady" he snapped while ripping the front door open.

"Jack, I'm serious. You can't--"

He stepped through the entrance into the bitter cold and let the slamming door cut off her words. Jack hustled down the stairway, turned the corner and walked around to the inn's parking lot. He strode directly to the rented Jeep, unlocked it and set his gear in the passenger side before walking back around and entering the driver's side.

He shivered while placing the key in the ignition and turned it to find... nothing. Not even the usual mechanical retching sound you hear when a vehicle has trouble starting. Literally silence, aside from the gentle clicking sound of turning his key back and forth.

"You've gotta be shitting me..."

He opened the door and stepped out. A quick survey confirmed the vehicle wasn't plugged into the heating unit. Was the battery dead? Were the engine and fluids frozen? Both? Jack was no mechanic and there was no one anywhere near this mountain who would help him. He was fucked either way.

Defeated, he grabbed up his gear, slammed the door and headed back inside. When he re-entered the foyer, Wendy was waiting for him with her arms crossed just below her bust. Her leather pants and shiny black corset shined in the light of the roaring fire behind her.

"Told you."

"Why the fuck is my car unplugged?!?"

"The heating unit warming your rental failed yesterday."

"How convenient."

"I'll have someone up to fix it, but it might be a while."

"Fuck that! I'll make a call and have another vehicle up here by the end of the day. I'm leaving" he spat as he headed back to his room.

"With whose phone? And what about your wedding ring?"

Jack stopped in his tracks and looked down at his left hand. He removed his driving glove and realized that he was, indeed, still missing his marriage keepsake. He turned and glared at the devious woman. "Where is it?"

She unfolded her arms and placed her hands on her leather-wrapped hips. "Jack, we both know if you leave this place, you'll never finish that story. That's why you can't leave until it's done. You've always trusted the process. Why the hesitation now? You're on the verge of something great! Are you really so afraid to suffer for your art? Just a little bit?"

Jack snickered and shook his head. "You're psychotic" he replied before turning on his heel. "Completely fucked in the head" he added as he marched down the hallway.

"That's fine. Let it all out!" she called after him. "YOU'LL PAY FOR THAT LATER!"

On the way back to his room, Jack noticed the landline telephone had been unplugged and removed from the hallway. He cursed under his breath as he continued to his room. When he got there, he locked the door before setting his laptop bag on the desk and his other things aside. After a few moments of contemplation, he took the extra measure of pushing the dresser in front of the door.

He clapped his hands together and took off his coat, throwing it on a nearby chair. Jack kicked off his shoes and laid on the bed. He placed his hands behind his head as his mind raced.

'Fucking great... Now what? What's my play?'

As he tried to decide on his next course of action, exhaustion seeped into his mind and body. Jack was able to resist it for a while, but eventually the lure of sleep overtook him once again.

* * * * *

Waking up to surreal circumstances was becoming commonplace, but this one still took the haunted writer aback. He sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes to be sure he wasn't seeing things. The door was unlocked and the dresser had been moved back to its normal position.

Next, he noticed the cool, tight sensation around his cock and balls. Jack realized, with increasing horror, that he was naked. He flipped the covers off his body to find himself wearing nothing but a shiny, steel cock cage around his twig and berries.

'Fucking hell...'

If those had been the only surprises, it would've been disturbing enough, but the fun didn't end there. Jack rose from the bed and quickly realized almost all of his luggage had vanished. He marched, barefoot, to the dresser and opened the drawers one by one. His clothes, supplies, snacks and personal effects were all gone.

Growing more distressed by the second, Jack turned and made a sweeping survey of the room. Wendy hadn't even left his shoes. His laptop remained on the desk, but that was it. Then his eyes found the chair where he's tossed his jacket earlier. On it lay a full body black latex gimp suit with a few other items perched on its glossy surface.

Jack strolled to the waiting pile of fetishwear for a closer inspection. A matching hood, pairs of wrist and ankle cuffs and a studded leather collar sat atop the sleek male catsuit. Two words lined the collar's exterior: 'BITCH MADE.' Resting below the accessories was a white note card with just three words written on it: 'PUT THEM ON.'

Jack grabbed the card and crumpled it in his hand. Resistance was his first instinct and it burned brightly for a few moments, but the feeling didn't last. His fervor to rebel faded the more he considered his pitiful lack of options. He was hungry, isolated and had no way to escape. Not unless he wanted to fight Wendy for her car keys, and Jack wasn't exactly confident he would come out on top. She was no pushover and this was her turf.

Even if he emerged victorious in a trial by combat, leaving now would destroy the process. It would be giving up. Wendy was right about that much. Jack had gone on some crazy adventures to recapture the spark, but this one was the most arduous by far. This time, it was demanding he sacrifice his pride and put his fate in the hands of an utterly sadistic woman. Jack's muse had made her intentions clear. This was the price for his next novel. Would he pay it?

The reluctant writer sighed. The balled up wad of paper dropped from his hand and drifted to the floor.

* * * * *

The all-consuming rubber of his new second skin stretched and creaked around his trim body as Jack made his way down the hallway. His short, blonde hair, now hidden below the stifling bondage hood, was already growing sweaty against his skin. His entire body was warming up gradually in the tight latex prison. The metal D-rings on his collar and cuffs clinked as he lumbered forward.

He entered the kitchen to find Wendy waiting for him. Her smile grew as Jack ambled forth. He strolled to a stop in front of the counter and placed his arms behind him like a soldier standing at attention. Wendy was back to wearing a black latex bra and leather pants. Interestingly, she was barefoot.

Her lips were painted the same dark color as her eye shadow and the rest of her glossy black attire. The only new addition to her ensemble was the single key hanging from a chain on her neck. Jack knew, instinctively, it was the key to the cage locked around his cock. Wendy's wicked smile grew as she studied him up and down. The metal studs on Jack's collar gleamed in the light shining through the kitchen windows.

"Very good, slave. That's more like it! It's nice to see you understand your role. Though, perhaps not well enough. You're still standing."

Jack flinched and opened his mouth to retort, but quickly bit his tongue. The silence of the kitchen was pierced by the rumbling of his stomach. It felt like ages since he'd last eaten a full meal.

"Only good dogs get fed!" she exclaimed, lifting a large, plastic dog dish from the counter. "On your hands and knees, pup! I know how famished you are."

Grudgingly, Jack lowered to his knees and stretched out his arms. He stared at the ground as Wendy strode around the counter. Soon, her leather clad legs and bare feet strolled into view.

"Kiss my feet" she ordered from above.

Jack seethed internally, but he knew there was no point arguing or putting it off. He was starving and the sooner he ate and played Wendy's sick games, the sooner he could get back to writing. The quicker he finished the book, the quicker he'd be out of there. Assuming this psycho bitch wasn't going to kill him and play with his blood.

That last bit seemed unlikely, though. She was a crazy fan, but still a fan. If Jack died, the new novel would never be published. He was confident Wendy didn't want that. So all he had to do was play along for a couple weeks and he'd get his life back. Jack could always file a police report later, for all the good it would do.

He bowed his head down and planted a firm kiss on the top of her right foot, then her left. He kept his lips adhered to her flesh just long enough so that they didn't seem insincere or insulting in their duration. The demonic woman cooed as she felt the warm kisses on her dainty feet.

"Not bad, but I think you can do better" she prodded. Wendy lifted her right leg and presented the bottom of her foot to Jack's face. "Lick, doggy!"

Jack stared at her sleek, fleshy sole for a few seconds, holding back a wince. Finally, he willed himself to comply. He leaned forward, extended his tongue and brushed his wet, fleshy appendage up and down the soft bottom of her foot.

"Mmmmm... that feels nice. We'll do more of that later" she announced before pulling her foot away. "Yes, you'll be on hands and knees at all times from now on, slave. Unless I give permission otherwise."

She leaned down and set the dog dish on the ground in front of Jack. It was filled with dry cereal. It was a far cry from the fresh, home-cooked breakfasts he'd enjoyed until now, but better than nothing.

"Eat" she instructed. "No hands allowed! And don't leave a single scrap in that bowl, or you'll be punished."

Jack dove his face into the bowl and gobbled at the woefully dry carbohydrates. As he crunched away, Wendy leaned down and clipped the end of a thick leather leash to the D-ring on the front of his collar. She gave the heavy strand a few firm tugs, jerking his neck away from the dish.

Wendy chuckled as she watched him eat ravenously. A few moments later, she lifted her left leg and placed her foot on the back of Jack's head. She pushed his face deeper into the bowl, causing him to grunt and gag as he scarfed away.

"That's it, slut. Eat up! We have a busy day ahead."

* * * * *

"Jack?!? Oh my god! It's so good to hear from you! I was getting worried!"

"Hey babe. Sorry! I meant to call sooner, but you know how it is. The days fly by once I get going."

"I know, but please call sooner next time. I tried calling a few times and either it just rang and rang or I wasn't able to get through at all."

Jack felt Wendy's hand close firmly around his scrotum. If she squeezed any harder, he'd be in serious pain. Her other hand was wrapped around the leash, pulling at his collar sternly as she supervised his telephone time. Her leather and latex clad form pressed on his, the body heat from her flesh as aggressive as her grip.

"Oh! Yeah... The weather plays havoc with the phone lines up here, apparently. Not sure how that works, but I wouldn't bother trying to call. Don't call us, we'll call you!" Jack quipped. He felt Wendy's hand release his aching ballsack and sighed in quiet relief.

"Alright. Just don't make me wait four days again."

"I'll try not to."

"So, the book is coming along? The words are flowing?"

"Surprisingly well, yes. I should be done in a few weeks, at this pace."

"Wow, that's great! And how are you getting along with the owner? It's Wendy, right?"

"Ummm... fine. Yeah. Wendy. She's interesting."

*SMACK*

Wendy's leather paddle blistered into Jack's ass and his body nearly buckled from the sheer force.

"AARRRGGHHH!!!"

"Jack? Jack, what was that?!?"

"Ow! Hhrrmggh-- Nothing! Just stubbed my fucking toe."

"Pffft, you big klutz! Be more careful."

"Yeah, I'll try. You enjoying your break? Without your lovable oaf around?"

"It was nice for the first couple days, but I'm already missing my oaf. I don't want to keep you, though. I'm glad you called, my love."

"Yeah, I should get back to work. I'll call again as soon as I can. I love you, baby."

"I love you too, honey boo! Byyyyeeeee!"

"Bye."

Wendy grabbed the receiver from Jack and set it back on the phone's base. "The dutiful wife. How touching. I bet she's never inspired your characters."

"You're wrong, Mistress Nyx. As a matter of fact, Emily inspired a big one."

"Which?" Wendy asked with eyebrow raised.

"Sandy, in Prison of Silence" Jack answered with a smug grin.

"Hah!" she chirped, reigning in Jack's leash tightly. "I knew there was a reason I hated that bitch. Other than her dull, wallflower personality, I mean. Hank was a fool to stay with her. He could've had so much more with Carmen."

"Maybe, but we don't always get the ending we want."

Wendy tugged on the leash harshly, pulling his face closer to hers. Jack stared deeply into her dark, gleaming portals, awed by her crazed, dominant energy. Her perfume invaded his nostrils. Their lips were almost close enough to kiss.

"Well said, slave. But something tells me that's a lesson you still need to learn." Wendy grabbed his head and shoved it down. "Back on your knees where you belong! Follow me."

She strutted into the parlor, the stilettos of her boots clacking across the hardwood the entire way. Jack followed behind her at a frenzied pace, shuffling forth on hands and knees as she tugged at his neck. Wendy led him directly to a large leather sofa.

"Stand up and bend over the side. Face down."

Jack reluctantly did what he was told. His gimp suit squeaked along the surface as his torso slid down into the leather cushioning. His latex wrapped feet remained planted on the floor with his ass sticking up in the air.

Once he was in position, Wendy brought a snap-hook fastener to bear on his wrist cuffs, binding them together tightly. Moments later, Jack's legs were kicked further apart and he felt a weighty, iron spreader bar being locked to his ankle cuffs. Immobilized at both ends, Jack swallowed and waited to see what act of depravity would be next.

*crinkle crinkle*

*SNAP*

The sound of stretching rubber emanated as Wendy pulled the long, latex arm glove over her right hand and forearm.

*zrrrrrrrrrppppppp*

Jack's ass felt cool air for the first time in hours as the back door of his suit was unzipped.

"Have you ever been fisted, slave?"

Panic flooded the suddenly anxious writer. "N-No, Mistress."

Wendy lifted the bottle of anal lube and squeezed, sputtering the thick gel all over her latex palm and fingers. "First time for everything."

She thrust two wet, slimy digits into his pucker with no warning, immediately working them into a steady finger fucking rhythm. Her left hand found the leash and wound it around her wrist until she was pulling on his collar tightly. The leather tightened around his throat, making it harder to breath as she steadily pumped her rubberized pointer and middle finger in and out of his supple starfish.

"EERRRGGGGHHMMM!!!"

She added a third finger and gradually increased her pace. The thwacking sounds of lubed up latex diving into helpless man cunt picked up steadily. Wendy alternated between tightening her grip to cut off his air supply and relaxing it to let Jack breathe freely as she pistoned her hand ever deeper into his ass.

Then, her pinky slipped in with the others.

"AAHHHHHH!!! FUCK!!!"

"You'll be moaning like a slut, soon. I promise, slave. And if you make me into a liar, I'll gag your slut mouth and paddle your balls until you cry."

* * * * *

Time lost all meaning in the twilight zone of Hecate Heights. Life on the mountain entered a continuous cycle of writing and ever kinkier BDSM. The days blended together and Jack no longer had any idea what time of day he would be awake, let alone when he would be writing and when he would be sequestered in the dungeon.

Wendy's fetish clothing, or lack thereof, shifted often, while Jack's singular gimp suit and bondage accessories were a permanent fixture of his stay. His only visits to the communal shower were when Mistress Nyx wished to bend him over and fuck him like a prison bitch. As he endured her continual oral and anal assaults, Jack was certain he would never feel clean again.

There was no logic in this place and somehow that freed Jack to summon the spark more frequently and powerfully than he ever had. Mistress Nyx had become his muse, as loathe as he was to admit it. Wendy lorded it over him; chiding, teasing, degrading and humiliating him at every turn. Although Jack didn't enjoy it in the way an authentic submissive might, submit he did.

The story revealed itself like a path of flames to the underworld; exploding into being twenty to thirty pages at a time. Each time the well ran dry, Jack woke up back in Wendy's clutches, a fresh hell of pain and bondage awaiting him. They formed a hedonistic symbiosis with her delighting in Jack's torment and he bathing in the glow of creativity radiating from the wounds she inflicted on his body.

As the novel progressed, their play sessions grew longer and more severe. Jack never knew whether she would be wearing a strapon or wielding a cock that would make a porn star blush. Between ever tighter stress positions and frequent floggings, she filled his holes with ferocious frequency. Rubber and cock became the constant companions of Jack's stretched-wide mouth and blown-out bottom.

For three weeks that felt like years, Jack plodded through the miasma of Wendy's sadism. In that time, he was fucked, fisted, throttled and smothered more often than even the most indulgent masochist could hope for. Trapped between the keyboard and the dungeon, Jack felt like it would never end. Yet the word count didn't lie. Soon, his magnum opus clocked in at three hundred and fifty finished pages.

The climax was in sight. Something big was on the horizon.

* * * * *

"MMMMM! YESSSS!!! FUCK YES! TAKE IT!!!"

Wendy's frenzied cries filled the basement as Jack's bound body rocked back and forth. Her thick, rigid erection was deep in his fleshy tunnel, pumping in and out of the crack in his gimp suit as she filled his ass with hard, pounding thrusts.