Flash Fiction: Fire

Here’s the third entry in the “Earth, Air, Fire & Water” series. This one is, appropriately enough, called “Fire. This one’s by me, Dean Chills @DeanChills


by Dean Chills


Juan woke up and looked around. It was pitch dark, and he couldn’t move. His arms were bound behind him. He felt that he was naked as well. He twisted, trying to free himself, only to learn that his ankles were also bound. He was tied to a thick tree trunk. Who would do this to him?

Suddenly, there was a fire before him; he wasn’t alone. A figure in a robe was holding a torch. That torch lit other torches, and before long there were twelve hooded figures, all holding torches, circling around him.

“What are you doing? Let me go!” He demanded. He didn’t know what they were planning, and he didn’t want to find out.

All twelve of the figures came together around a thirteenth figure that was holding a large bowl. There was something dark in the bottom, but he couldn’t see it. They each, in turn, dipped their torches into the bowl, and whatever it was in there started burning.

In the light from the flaming bowl, he could see a beautiful, feminine face. The woman carried the fiery vessel over to him and set it down between his legs. The flame wasn’t high enough to set him on fire, but the heat was incredibly painful. Juan cried out in pain and fury, as the woman got down on her knees and touched his cock.

Her hands partially shielded him from the heat of the flames down below; it was a needed relief. His cock grew large under her protection, and her hands deftly massaged him to full erection.

The others stood in a half-circle around him, watching and waiting. The woman before him stood up, holding a knife in front of his eyes. “No!” he cried, knowing he couldn’t defend himself.

Surprising him, she pulled up the sleeve of her robe and cut herself. Not deeply, but enough to draw blood. She then held her bloody wrist up to Juan, forcing some of the blood into his mouth. As soon as she was sure he’d swallowed some, she got back down on her knees and resumed pumping away.

He spit out the remaining blood, and felt the surge below. He was going to come. He didn’t know the point or purpose to all this, but out of spite, he chose to hold it back. It hurt, even more so with the burning smoke, but he held it in.

She stroked harder, and faster, almost putting out the fire in the bowl with her robe sleeve. The fire was burning lower now, but it was still burning. Juan couldn’t hold it anymore. He cried out as he tensed, shooting his seed on the girl, her robe, but mostly into the burning bowl.

The girl stepped back and lifted the receptacle above her head. She covered the bowl with her robe, said words that Juan couldn’t make out, and stepped back. Where the fire had been, there was a newborn baby.

Juan screamed again.

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