Mistress of Fire

© D. Musgrave,  2002

  * I will give a word of warning, this story is dark.  D. Musgrave has a way of weaving a story, and drawing the reader into his world, but Mistress of Fire is about an arsonist's worshiping his goddess. *

 

Beyond the glow of the city lights, a car rolled through an open gate, with the headlamps off. The vehicle followed a path in the tall fescue, lighted by the pale radiance of the full moon. Reaching a line of trees, the driver parked the car and slipped out the door. The chirping of crickets filled his ears as he stalked around the front of the car.

 Reaching through the passenger door, he slung a backpack over his shoulder, cinching the straps tightly across his shoulders. He stood, looking at the hulking darkness of the forest and began making his way through the trees. The moon-glow was hidden behind the canopy of timber and he had to grope his way through the thick undergrowth.

 Several minutes later, a shadowy figure, lugging a rucksack slung on his back, materialized at the eastern fringe of the forest. He threw furtive glances about to verify the seclusion of his position. A smile pulled at the corners of his lips as he dropped the backpack softly on the velvet carpet of the forest floor.

 He dug in the knapsack and pulled out a small switch box. Without hesitation, he flipped a toggle on the remote control device and an infrared LED flickered to life. With a slight sigh, he dropped to his knees and pressed another button on the controller.

 Across the field of clover, the incendiary device attached to the eight-inch diameter steel pipe, beeped twice. The red light on the switch blinking several times then exploded in a blinding flash of brilliance.

 Instantly, a terrific explosion leveled the distant natural gas depot. A rolling shock wave sped across the field of red clover and he straightened his back, waiting for the recoil to strike him. He shuddered as the force of the blast connected with his body. A flush of excitement surged through his body, as he leaned into the shock wave.

 The flames rose into the air in a titanic plume of fire and debris, sending orange light across the countryside. It didn't matter to him whether the security guard was on duty or not. The only consequence was his fix; death was merely collateral damage. He continued to kneel, mesmerized, as the column of fire began to exhibit the apparition he longed for -- his Mistress of Fire.

 The light of the firestorm revealed his passionate yearning. His hands were busy manipulating, fondling the growing tension between his thighs through the dew-soaked denim. He loosened his pants and slid them down over his slender hips, exposing his flesh to the cool night air. The hardness of his lust bounced and throbbed in rhythm to his rapid heartbeat.

 Adrenaline pumped through his veins as he watched with rapt interest for her body to take shape in the spouting conflagration. Her crimson hair billowed about her head, her perfectly curved body covered in a glaze of perspiration. The inferno licked at her hardening nipples and flashed from between her thighs, wrapping around to crawl up her nether-cheeks. Flames engulfed her body as she turned her empty gaze toward the crouching figure in the woods that brought her back to life.

 She opened her eyes to reveal the bright scarlet pupils that hid her rampant soul from mere mortals. He quickly removed his hands from his shaft and folded them behind his back. She'd caught him in the act and he knew she'd make him pay. He dropped his head and waited for her rage to smite him. When it didn't come, he cautiously raised his gaze to see her spread her flaming folds, opening herself for his viewing pleasure. Drops of liquid flame forming on her glowing clit and streamed down the back of her hands.

 He unfolded his hands and resumed masturbating, paying homage to her beauty and destructive powers. The stream of pre-cum, lubricating his shaft, made the gliding of his hardness, slick and easy. The urgency of his impending climax began its upward climb as he tightened the grip on his aching shaft. His balls rolled and tumbled in his free hand, cupped under the sack. He flexed and thrust his hips forward as he watched her pleasure herself.

 Their eyes met and she began to buck as her body was racked by the first wave of orgasm. The shock wave of the second explosion knocked him flat on his back as the swirling flames of her climax completely obscured her visage. He struggled to regain his balance and the grasp on his cock, as she began to slowly resurface in the pyre.

 The series of explosions in the auxiliary tanks spread the periphery of the fire several hundred feet from the gas station in all directions. The security guard, killed by the first explosion, disintegrated in the subsequent blasts, leaving no trace of him or the device used to trigger the horrendous detonations. The secret was safe and would remain hidden from prying eyes.

 He looked back into the eyes of his Mistress of Fire and understood the unspoken command she'd just given. The speed of his strokes increased two-fold and soon his weeping cock-head swelled from his rapidly approaching zenith. He squeezed his balls tightly, sending him to the pinnacle of consummation. The glassy-eyed pyromaniac quickly reached completion; the ultimate honor paid to his Mistress.

 He molested his cock in earnest as the shaft swelled, signifying the impending release. The hardness increased and throbbed as it spewed streams of his milky offering to his Mistress of Fire. She followed suit with a gushing orgasm of her own. His seed volleyed in an arch onto the dew-laden grass in rivulets of lust, as pillars of flame swirled from her boiling sex into the air with a loud roar.

 Falling forward, he braced himself with his left hand as he milked his spouting member. Tightness in the base of his spine spread as he thrust himself into his fist. Keeping his eyes focused on his Mistress, he watched as her body began to spin in the eddy of rising flame, alternating between visible and not. The radiant hair flailed about her head as the waves of orgasm wracked her body.

 A ringing began to invade his consciousness as she continued to fade from view. Her orgasm subsiding as she stopped spinning in the torrent of flame. He knew this moment was inevitable, her departure was preordained, and they had no choice. She had to return home, but would reappear if beckoned.

 Automatically, he rose to his haunches, his free hand reaching for her. Then she was gone. The incessant ringing grew louder until the realization hit him. The Fire Department was arriving and he must make good his escape, lest he be caught and ruin the affair.

 He sighed heavily through his clenched jaws as he pulled his pants over his hips. The tenderness of his head brushed against the rough denim, and reminded him of the success of his mission. Taking one last look at the fire, he only saw the twisted steel of the gas main and a plume of fire shooting into the air. She was gone, for now.

 Fifteen minutes later, he was behind the wheel, speeding down a gravel road with the headlamps off. The car wheeled to the north, traveled about a half mile, and stopped at an intersection. Captivated, he sat in his car, as the geyser continued to shoot out at a steep angle. His facial expression was one of intense contentment. He remained in that state for a few minutes basking in the glow of success, watching the fire fighters struggle to stem the torrent of flames, to no avail. Feeling good about himself, he threw the car into gear, turned west, away from the fire, and sped off into the night.

 

 All rights reserved. Reproduction in any form is prohibited without written approval of the author.

 Visit D Musgrave's site

 

  This website is Copyright ã 1998 - 2002 and maintained by Michelle Houston and protected by Infiniti Studios.   All rights reserved.
For technical problems, email Tech.