Madam Lash Swings Again.
I don’t own any of the characters
A party was in full swing at Sunnydale’s best—and only—art gallery. Nearly eighty people mingled, talking and gazing at the modern sculpture exhibit. The stark minimalism of the pieces on display was sharply contrasted by the wide variety of costumes the revelers wore as they celebrated Halloween 1997.
‘I can’t believe he talked me into this!’ the thought reverberated through her mind for what seemed like the thousandth time that night as USAF Major Samantha Carter caught a glimpse of her reflection in the floor to ceiling plate glass window. ‘I mean ok, I did lose the bet, but this is ridiculous!’
“Oh, come on Sam,” Daniel Jackson’s mirthful voice did nothing to reduce her frustrated blush. “It’s not that bad.”
“Not that bad?” Sam hissed, not wanting to draw any more attention from the partygoers around them than she already was for her outfit. “I look like some kind of B-movie Dominatrix! I can’t believe you talked me into this!”
“First of all, of course you look like a dominatrix—you’re wearing a Madam Lash costume,” Daniel began patiently explaining. “Second, you agreed that I could dress you any way I wanted if you lost the bet—which you did.”
“I still can’t believe the colonel agreed to extend our stay on PX-686 by another week!” she groused. “He hates missions where all you do is ‘look at rocks’ for days on end,” she added, quoting Colonel O’Neill’s usual description of Daniel's archeological pursuits.
“Didn’t you notice that the lake by our camp-site had fish in it?” Daniel replied with a smug look.
Sam’s jaw dropped. “He...you...” she trailed off, openly gaping at him. ‘I’m dressed like rubber-girl because the colonel wanted to spend a week *fishing*?’
“Besides,” Daniel went on with a raised eyebrow. “Doctor Frasier told me what you had planned for me if you’d won.”
Sam couldn’t help but smile at the thought. “But you would have looked good in a loincloth,” she said with a lascivious smirk.
“Uh huh. At least you’re mostly covered!” he rebutted.
Sam looked down at her outfit. “Technically, maybe,” she said begrudgingly as she took in the thigh-high boots, the snug miniskirt, and the short tank-like top—all in blood-red latex. Only a few inches of thigh, a inch of belly and her shoulders and upper chest were actually uncovered, but the tissue thin latex didn’t hide a thing—and every time she moved she squeaked and creaked rather loudly.
‘Not to mention the effect this chilly air is having on me!’ she thought with a blush as her eyes reached her breasts—studiously ignoring the light sheen of sweat on her skin that belied that excuse.
“Thank God the Colonel isn’t here!” she muttered even as the mental image of his likely reaction to her outfit brought a smile to her face.
Daniel snickered, apparently picturing it as well.
“Daniel, I’m so glad you made it!” a woman’s voice interjected.
“Joyce!” Daniel cried with a happy smile, pulling the forty-something blonde woman into a hug.
Sam raised a brow at the unusually open show of affection from her co-worker.
“Joyce, this is Samantha Carter—she’s a Major in the Air Force,” Daniel introduced her. “Sam, this is Joyce Summers—she owns this gallery.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Sam said, extending her hand.
“You as well,” Joyce answered, taking the blonde’s hand in her own. “I have to say, if this is the Air Force’s idea of women’s uniforms, I heartily approve!” Joyce added in an aside to Daniel.
Between the comment and the fact that Joyce had kept hold of her hand while she said it, Sam felt a warm blush suffuse her face and move down her neck and chest.
“H-how do you know Daniel?” Sam asked, stuttering slightly as she tried to change the subject.
“Oh several years ago I needed to ‘get away from it all’ for a while and a friend of my got me to go on a dig in the Valley of the Kings,” Joyce began to explain, smiling towards Daniel as she spoke.
“Ah,” Sam replied, needing no further explanation.
“So, I see Daniel’s come as a pharaoh of the first dynasty...let me guess, Menes?” Joyce said, commenting on the archeologist’s costume and receiving a nod and a grin. Turning back to Sam, she added “But you clearly didn’t continue the Egyptian theme.”
“I, uh, unfortunately I lost a bet with Daniel here...” Sam trailed off self-consciously.
“Well, she didn’t bring anything and there were only two costumes left in her size at the shop,” Daniel started.
Joyce laughed as she asked, “What was your other choice?”
Sam felt her fair skin flush with heat as Daniel answered the question. “The slave outfit that probably went with this one,” he answered with a gesture to Sam’s costume.
“If you can call that little material an outfit,” Sam muttered, recalling the tiny scraps of material connected by thin chains.
“Hmm, and you went with this because?” Joyce prompted.
“Well, other than the ‘coverage’ issue,” Sam began. “I just don’t see myself going with anything submissive...no offense,” she added with a raised brow.
“And you went with a bit of a...uh, classic?” Daniel took Sam’s segue, commenting on Joyce’s costume.
The gallery owner laughed lightly. “Well, who doesn’t love a catholic school-girl?” she said with a wink sent Sam’s way. The USAF Major flushed once again when Joyce whispered sotto-voice, “Plus, this way I didn’t have to actually go out and buy anything new.”
‘Good God, is she flirting with me?” Sam wondered. ‘And, am I more afraid she is, or that she might not be?’
Any further musings were cut short when a palpable wave of energy passed through the crowd and Sam suddenly felt lightheaded.
“Sam, are you okay?” she heard Joyce’s question as from a distance before darkness overtook her.
“What happened...where am I?” Samantha Carter wondered as she blinked her eyes open.
She was laying on several thicknesses of blanket in a dimly lit room with wooden crates and packing material off to one side.
A shuffling sound from near her feet snapped Sam to attention, sitting upright even as she prepared to attack whatever it was that had apparently captured her. “We’re in the stock-room, Mistress Lash,” Joyce’s subdued voice explained, taking the wind right out of her sails.
“Why are you naked?” Sam asked as she took in Joyce’s kneeling form. ‘Are those handcuffs?’ she wondered at the glint of metal from where the gallery-owner’s hands were laying at the small of her back. ‘Holy cow, I’m naked too!’ she realized.
“As you commanded, Mistress Lash,” Joyce continued. “You didn’t wish to wait till we could go to my home, you wanted me immediately.
“Mistress?” Sam muttered as the odd form of address sunk into her mind.
Before any further explanations could be given, Sam noticed that the two women were not alone in the room. “Daniel!” Sam nearly shouted as she saw her team mate—also naked, and strapped spread eagle to the floor next to them. “Why is Daniel naked, and why is he duct-taped to the floor?”
The strip of silver tape across Daniel’s mouth prevented other than a muffled response, though Sam felt certain there was some cursing going on behind the tape.
“Don’t you remember Mistress?” Joyce asked with concern in her voice. “Daniel began to behave very strangely; he started shouting for everyone to bow before their God.”
“Oh no,” Sam whispered, thinking of Goa’uld possession. ‘But I don’t feel any symbiote in him.’
When she made no comment, Joyce continued. “He tried to hit you when you laughed at him, and next thing I knew you had him in some kind of arm lock, and you told me to find a way to secure him...all I had was the duct tape...” she trailed off, waving in Daniel’s direction.
Noticing Daniel’s chest, stomach and legs were covered with long red welts, Sam felt a sinking sensation. “Did I...um...,” she gestured helplessly toward Daniel and the whip that was laying next to her—part of her costume from the night before.
“Yes, you were absolutely masterful, Mistress Lash!” Joyce gushed happily.
Her body’s soreness began to register on her and Sam let out a groan of lament. “Then...he and I?” she left off, seeing the answer clearly written in Joyce’s expression. “And, you and I?” she added with a squeak.
“Oh yes, Mistress!” Joyce answered happily. “Many, many times...all three of us, though of course Daniel was more of a passive participant,” she added with a wicked chuckle.
“The colonel is going to kill me,” Sam moaned, dropping her head into the palms of her hands.
‘Thank God I can’t remember any details,’ she thought...
—just before the flashback.
To be continued in the sequel: A Lash Flashback