“Fire Insurance” by Addison DeWitt
Sandra’s eyes lit up when he told her.And even in the dim lighting of the dance club, Kyle could see the spark in her hazel eyes. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen it, and his past experience had taught him how to spot the chicks that would love finding out about him.
Kyle was a firefighter.
At only 29, he’d already learned repeatedly that some women had a particular weakness for firefighters, although his various conquests had yet to inform him of the origin of the fascination. Was it that he was sworn to protect and serve, often risking his own safety to do so? Was it that his job indicated a certain fearlessness and daredevil quality about him? Was it that, despite his vices, he stayed in excellent shape, keeping his body muscled and defined, not only for the job but for the perks as well?
It didn’t matter. All he usually had to do was casually mention that he was a firefighter and a hot fuck was ensured.
Sandra proved to be no different. Her flirtations had been clear after he first offered to buy her a drink, although Kyle had still not been certain that he’d get this one in the sack. Dropping his profession idly in conversation proved to do the trick. Where Sandra had been playing a game of sexual cat and mouse, she was now overtly coming on to him, leaving no doubt in Kyle’s mind.
Once he got her back to his place, Kyle learned that not only was Sandra one of the many women who got wet over firefighters, but that her tastes included some kinky turn-ons, which pleased him immensely. Kyle loved tying a chick up before giving her the fuck of her life.
And Sandra got just that.
Afterwards, she lay there — the cuffs removed, his seed still warm in her channel — and watched him light a cigarette.
“Isn’t smoking in bed a dangerous habit?” she teased.
He looked at her, his dark features heightened by the shadows in the room. “I have lots of dangerous habits, baby,” he said with a lascivious smile.
She nestled against him, her hand finding his cock, and purred. “I hope I get to find out about some of them,” she said.
I can always spot ’em, he thought contentedly as he smiled in the partial darkness and took a drag off his smoke.
Kyle exhaled a plume of smoke as he stubbed out the butt.
“Dude, you fuckin’ rock, man!”
The words of praise came from Kenny, the newest member of the small fire company Kyle belonged to. They’d been sitting in the break room at the firehouse, filling ashtrays with butts and the time with bullshit conversation. Until Kyle came into the room, that is, and poured some coffee, lit up a smoke, and mentioned having scored the night before.
From there, Kyle dominated the conversation, telling his buddies about the three times he’d fucked Sandra less than twelve hours prior. Planning his storytelling well, he saved her interests in kink for the end, interests that weren’t limited to bondage.
“You think she’ll go for it?” Phil asked after Kyle mentioned an idea he had in mind.
“Don’t know for sure,” Kyle responded honestly. “But I think my gut’s right on this one.”
That night, while Kyle filled her cunt with his impressive meat, he worked her toward a shattering climax with his words as well as his flesh. He started by getting her to tell him how much she loved spreading those creamy legs for a firefighter, getting her worked up and begging for him to enter her. Once fully seated in her wet crevice, he made her tell him about the firefighters she’d fucked, matching his thrusts to the level of arousal she was exhibiting.
Sandra was in ecstasy. Her long-held attraction to firemen had led to many lovers and one-night stands. And here was this incredible god, pounding into her with an intensity that was only matched by his interest in her impending orgasm. Further and further he drove her on with his words, fueling the fire that raged in her loins. And for once, she found a guy that wasn’t put off by her history. In fact, this was the first guy who got off on it with her.
Just as she was on the verge of exploding in a fiery climax, he said the words that hurled her over the precipice into shattering pleasure.
“How’d you like a few firehoses to work with at once, baby?”
Sandra’s nonverbal reaction was unmistakable. She arched her back, driving her pubic bone against his, and writhed under him, clearly in the throes of an orgasm of unforeseen power. As Sandra plummeted over the cliff into ecstasy, Kyle joined her, flooding her womb with a rocket blast of sperm.
Kyle had not yet even lit his post-fuck smoke when Sandra took the bait as he’d hoped she would.
“Were you serious?” she asked, her face still flushed with pleasure and her breathing still coming in slightly ragged gasps.
“About what, baby?” Kyle toyed with her, not giving away the fact that he’d carefully set her up for this very moment.
“About getting fucked by more than one firefighter,” she reminded him, however unnecessary the mental jog was.
“You’d like that?” he asked, masking his pleasure at having maneuvered Sandra into the exact position he wanted her in.
“If you’d be okay with it,” she qualified, “yeah, I would.”
While he smoked, he told her about the other guys at the station. There was Kenny, a 25-year-old golden boy, strapping, blonde, blue-eyed, and horny as hell. Phil was the senior member of their unofficial club, thirty-nine but with a body that matched Kenny’s and Kyle’s. Then there was Gus, a few years older than Kyle at thirty-two, and a hard-living, hard-drinking sonofabitch. Lastly, he told her about Blaze.
“Blaze?” she asked, amused by the nickname.
“Yeah,” Kyle said chuckling. “But not because of his firefighting. The dude’s back is covered with a tattoo of flames.”
Sandra used a manicured nail to trace the outline of Kyle’s tattoo on his left bicep. “Fire’s hot,” she said, “but I like your yin-yang better.”
“Well, baby,” Kyle said, “it’s all about balance in life. Give and take, right and wrong. What we’re willing to sacrifice to get what we want and need.”
Sandra purred as she felt her loins revive with fresh moisture and a freshened hunger.
“Balance, huh?” she asked coyly as she straddled Kyle’s hips, his own crotch having been resuscitated by the conversation. “Wonder if I can balance on this.”
Kyle face spread in a satisfied grin, one flavored by the anticipation of things to come. He took a deep drag as Sandra settled onto him, pulling the smoke into his lungs as deeply and slowly as she took his cock into her cunt.
The next day at the firehouse, Kyle filled the guys in, telling them of Sandra’s unashamed and unbridled reaction to the thought of being gang-banged by a bunch of firefighters. Their responses were equally enthusiastic, especially since today’s conversation included a photo of Sandra that she’d sent to Kyle in an e-mail. The firefighters concurred: this one was four-alarm hot, and none of them could wait to share her.
“We need to take it slow, though,” Kyle cautioned. “We don’t want her freaking out at the last minute.”
Kenny was the first to balk, his youth, inexperience and enthusiasm driving him. It had been a while since he’d gotten laid, at least by his standards, and he needed it bad. Plus, this was to be his first experience sharing a slut with his co-workers. No, not co-workers, he thought — brothers, as they often said.
However, Phil provided the voice of reason as he often did.
“No,” he calmly countered, “Kyle’s right. She needs to keep thinking that this is her idea. Or, at best, something Kyle’s planning because it’s what she wants.”
This was certainly not the first time Phil had navigated these waters. In fact, it had been at his instigation that the tradition of sharing “firefighter groupies” became an institution. One by one, over the years, he’d indoctrinated new members of the department into the ritual, one his own father had shared when Phil first became a fireman.
And it was to Phil’s wisdom that they always deferred.
Kyle continued seeing Sandra, almost nightly, with each date ending in a fuck that put the prior encounters to shame. Sandra couldn’t get enough of Kyle’s body, his cock. But mostly, she was reaching heights she’d never known when Kyle would discuss the possibility of a firefighter gang-bang.
After almost three weeks of sharing each other’s bodies, Kyle told Sandra that she might get her wish, perhaps sooner than she’d anticipated. They were sitting on his couch, watching TV, when he casually dropped the tidbit he knew she’d love.
“Get out!” she enthused. “When? Where?”
“Calm down, Fire Slut,” he said, laughing heartily and sincerely. “One thing at a time.”
With that, he opened his fly to reveal his own reaction to the conversation. He guided her head lower and, when she was comfortably on her knees before him, he lit a smoke and told her what was on the horizon.
“We go every year,” he said after telling her of the annual weekend the guys shared at Phil’s hunting cabin, adding that it would make a good place and time for her little party.
“Please tell me you don’t hunt,” she said, stopping in her attention to his shaft.
“Only for women, baby,” he said, laughing, “only for women.”
“Mmmmm,” she purred in response. “Well, you’ve caught me.” With that, her mouth was back on Kyle’s staff, where it stayed until he unloaded in her mouth.
Kyle told Sandra that it was important to him that she meet the guys before the big weekend. He assured her that he wanted to know she was completely comfortable with all of them before moving ahead with what would surely be a mind-blowing weekend. While Sandra didn’t feel the need to approve Kyle’s friends, she agreed to his suggestion and, on his next day off, accompanied him to the firehouse.
Waiting in the break room, she found herself fidgeting nervously, which amused Kyle. He moved behind the chair in which she was seated and massaged her shoulders, carefully moving her auburn hair out of the way so as not to muss it before she met the guys.
“You’re gonna love them,” he reassured her. “I wouldn’t have suggested it if I didn’t think so.”
He continued massaging the apprehension out of her muscles. “And I know they’re gonna love you.”
To calm herself, Sandra let her eyes wander about the break room, seeing if she could create mental images of the men who used it. Next to the coffee maker was a row of mugs, mostly nondescript except for the bright red one proclaiming, “Firemen have better hoses.” That had to be Kenny’s, judging from what Kyle had told her of his friends.
On the far wall were photographs of men in their dress uniforms. She didn’t need to ask to know that they were fallen comrades, firefighters who’d made the ultimate sacrifice in the line of duty.
Something about the photographs struck her and she questioned Kyle.
“I’m guessing that those guys died in the line of duty?” she asked, somewhat rhetorically.
“Yeah,” Kyle said solemnly, not needing to expound.
“But I’m noticing that the pictures are all kinda old,” she continued. “That’s a good thing, I’m guessing. I mean, I hope it’s not just that you ran out of space.”
Kyle bent down and slid his strong arms around her shoulders, his cheek against her hair. “It’s a good, thing, baby,” he said, directing her attention to a sign on the wall next to the door. “We’re as proud of that as we are of the sacrifice they all made.”
The sign was indeed cause for pride. According to the bold lettering, it had been more than thirty years since the company had suffered even so much as an injury in the line of duty.
“That is impressive,” she said sincerely. She turned to face her lover and kissed him lightly on the lips. “Not that I needed to be told that you know what you’re doing.”
The moment was interrupted when the door swung open, covering the sign’s celebration of the company’s track record.
“Fuck me raw!” Kenny exploded as he burst through the door.
He stopped short, seeing Kyle there with the redhead that clearly had to be the infamous Sandra. His fair skin was soon equally red, having fully embarrassed himself in front of this woman.
“Umm,” he stammered, “sorry. Didn’t know anyone was in here.”
He covered his awkwardness by pouring himself a cup of coffee. Sandra was surprised to see him reach for a plain black mug with the letter “K” on it. She wondered who drank from the red one.
Kyle introduced the two and poured coffee for himself, also using a nondescript mug. Once past his initial embarrassment, Kenny proved to be that enticing combination of boyish and manly qualities, and Sandra could feel herself dampen at the thought of taking both of these men.
In a matter of minutes, Kyle had rounded up the others, and Sandra found herself surrounded by her wildest fantasy. Five firefighters, all hard bodies, all smoldering sensuality. On top of that, the guys were also surprisingly courteous. There was no question that, if she agreed, they’d all be sharing her body repeatedly, but that wasn’t the focus of the conversation. Mostly, they talked about themselves, their passions, their dreams.
And she was amused to see Blaze drinking from the red mug. She made a mental note that her powers of deduction weren’t what she thought, and smiled at the realization.
When she and Kyle were seated in the café for a late lunch, she told him how excited she was, and how much she wanted to join him and his friends at the cabin more than ever now.
“You haven’t told anyone, have you?” he asked, digging into the burger he’d ordered.
“No, why?” Sandra responded, puzzled by his question on some unknown level.
“Well, it’s just that I might meet some of your friends,” he told her. “I don’t want them thinkin’, ‘Oh, this must be the guy that got her gang-banged,’ that’s all.”
Sandra almost choked on her sandwich in an effort not to laugh so hard that she’d spew the contents of her mouth across the table.
“No worries there, Kyle,” she reassured him. “I don’t share my sex life with all my friends, unlike you guys. In fact, I’ve only told one friend that I’ve been seeing someone, and I didn’t even tell her who or how serious it is.”
Kyle reached across the table and took Sandra’s hand, smiling with his mouth and his eyes.
“You’re perfect,” he said. “Do you know that?”
The guys’ annual trip to Phil’s cabin was scheduled for about nine days after she met them all in the break room. Kyle and Sandra fucked almost every night, constantly talking about what was in store in the mountains. Sandra found herself lost in the anticipation, consumed by desires long held but never realized. There wasn’t one of them that she wouldn’t fuck on his own, even without the added “firefighter” turn-on. Knowing that they were, in fact, all firemen and that they’d be sharing her for a whole weekend only served to fuel her excitement immeasurably.
So, too, were the guys excited. The break room at the firehouse became a hotbed of anticipation. It had been a year since they’d shared a chick at the cabin, and their hunger for their annual visit was powerful. And Kenny, who’d joined the department since last year’s weekend at the cabin, was beside himself, unable to control his enthusiasm and excitement at being included in this long-standing ritual.
“Down, boy,” Blaze would say with a laugh as he blazed up one of his endless Marlboros. At thirty-six, he was the closest in age to Phil and also the longest-standing member of their little club. He’d seen kids like Kenny before and, God willing, would see many more.
“Let him get through the weekend, Blaze,” Gus would throw in. “They’re always like this before their first one.”
Kenny blushed again. He loved being accepted by these guys, but hated when he was reminded what a pup he was. It took many shots one night after a shift for him to even admit that he’d never helped gang-bang a chick. And he’d heard plenty of tales about prior weekends at Phil’s cabin, weekends filled with unbridled debauchery as they shared some slut’s body, overdosing her on her firefighter fix. He couldn’t fuckin’ wait!
The only thing that concerned him was the fact that he’d been told not to bring any condoms. Not that he had a problem with going bareback, quite the opposite. He loved skipping the irritating necessity of putting a glove on his cock and just sinking it in raw. But that was with his own past girlfriends or one-night stands who didn’t even have his real name.
Sandra was different, she was Kyle’s girl.
“What if she gets knocked up?” he’d ask, betraying his relative youth.
“That’s not something any of us will have to worry about,” Kyle would reassure him. “Or her, for that matter. I told you she was the perfect girl for our weekend, and that’s part of it.”
“Well, shit, man, bring it on!” Kenny was too excited to let his one reservation take hold, and he soon stopped worrying about the outcome.
Phil sat back in his chair and smiled benevolently. He loved initiating a new guy.
Because of some last-minute errands that would take him away from both their apartments, Kyle asked Sandra to meet him in town. Wanting to get to Phil’s cabin as eagerly as Kyle did, she readily agreed, seeing no sense in making him backtrack to pick her up at home.
Once they were off the local roads and onto the highway, Sandra admitted that she was actually nervous.
“About what?” Kyle questioned, working his ass off not to sound concerned.
“Just that it’s everything I’ve imagined it would be,” she shared. “What if I’m sorry afterwards?”
Kyle reached across and put his hand on her knee.
“You don’t need to worry about that, baby,” he said soothingly. “I’m sure you’ll be surprised by some things, but I know you won’t be sorry come Monday.”
He slid his hand further up her thigh and under her skirt. As he navigated the car through traffic, he probed her cleft with his fingers, keeping her in a constant state of arousal without pushing her all the way to climax. He knew how to calm a girl’s concerns.
Once at the cabin, Sandra stepped out of Kyle’s car and looked around. It was breathtaking, everything that Kyle had described. A lifelong suburban girl, Sandra loved the country, loved drinking in the scent of the trees, of the soil.
The other guys had already arrived and gotten things in order. The fridge was well-stocked with food and beer, there was plenty of firewood chopped and ready for the massive stone hearth in the living room. Fresh sheets were on the bed, fresh towels in the bathroom. Sandra could smell a pot of chili when she entered. It mixed with the other aromas in the space: the wood of the walls and floors, the long-blackened cinders in the fireplace, the smoke that hung in the air from years of cigars and cigarettes and pipes. The inherent masculinity of the room made Sandra’s knees weak and her pussy moist.
While they enjoyed a leisurely long dinner, Sandra learned that this was Kenny’s first trip to the cabin, making her feel a little less apprehensive about stepping into what was clearly a time-honored tradition. She knew that other girls had joined them for past weekends, and it was only when Sandra noticed a photo on the wall that things became clearer for her.
“Isn’t that one of the guys whose picture is hanging in your break room?” she asked, pointing to the old black-and-white print of a middle-aged man holding a fish aloft.
The men followed her gaze, and Phil answered.
“That’s my grandfather,” Phil said, his voice rich with affection and admiration. “This was originally his cabin. He was a firefighter, too, and so was my father. I guess it’s something of a family business for us.”
“Traditions are good,” Sandra said as she reached for another piece of cornbread, deciding that the activity she had in store would be enough to work off the carbs. Her idle thoughts about maintaining her figure halted though when she realized the significance of the photo that hung in the firehouse.
“But if his photo’s hanging up in the break room …,” she trailed off, letting her question be implied rather than voiced in specific words.
“Yes,” Phil said, the affection and admiration still present in his tone. “He was killed in the line of duty while I was still a boy. Some strung-out asshole firebombed the station house one night, destroyed damn near the whole thing. It was a skeleton crew, thank God. Grandpa didn’t make it out, though.
“But,” he added with emphasis, “he was the last firefighter our station lost. And that calls for a toast.”
Phil stood and lifted his beer bottle, the others following suit.
“To our fallen forefathers,” he said with sincerity and dignity. “May they smile with favor on our actions and continue to protect us from the embrace of the flames.”
“That was beautiful,” Sandra said after sitting back down. She looked around the room more closely than she had when they arrived. Questioning various objets d’art around the space, she was informed that most of them were “memorial relics,” as Phil called them, detritus salvaged when the old firehouse burned down and took his grandfather with it.
But a new firehouse gave them a new beginning.
“And it’s incredible that your company hasn’t had any casualties since then,” Sandra said, clearly moved by the stories.
“Well, that’s part of the reason for this trip,” Phil expounded. “See, every year we come up here and celebrate another twelve months without injury or death. It’s become something of a ceremony or a ritual.”
Before Sandra could question why only a select few of them shared in the revelry, Kenny and his horny enthusiasm interrupted her.
“Yeah,” he chimed in. “One I can’t wait to start!”
Phil smiled at the young cub, confident that he’d included him in their circle wisely. He had fire in him, this one, something that set him apart from the others at the station. Something that set all five of them apart.
“Then why wait any longer?” Phil asked as he stood up from the table.
The six of them moved into the spacious living room area of the cabin and made themselves comfortable on chairs and sofas. However, the conversation became slightly awkward as it continued, with no one making a move to do anything more than talk.
Sensing this, Kyle followed Sandra to the refrigerator when she went to retrieve another beer for herself.
“If you’re waiting for the fun to start, baby, then you have to start it,” he whispered in her ear. “It’s part of the tradition that you give yourself to us willingly, not that we just pounce on you like animals.”
Sandra smiled at him, the expression conveying a tantalizing mix of love and lust. “Well, you shoulda told me that, silly! You know how willing I am!”
When she returned to the living room, Sandra had the beer she’d gone in search of. What she didn’t have were her clothes.
The men immediately responded as she’d hoped: smiling lasciviously as they stood and removed their own clothing. Kyle hadn’t exaggerated, she noted. Each of them was a stunning specimen of manhood, their bodies chiseled and well-prepared for any challenge their careers presented. She could feel her pussy become saturated, feel her lower lips flower open in anticipation of what was in store.
Once all six of them were equally naked and equally aroused, Kyle slid his arms around her waist from behind. She could feel his hardness nestled against her soft butt and leaned back onto him. While the others watched, he slid his right hand lower until it had found her warm mound. Sandra shuddered in pleasure, in anticipation as he probed her wet flesh with his fingers, his strong left arm holding her body securely against his own.
In a tone that sounded somehow different to Sandra’s ears, as well as Kenny’s, Phil asked, “Is she ready?”
Kyle plunged three fingers into her drenched cunt, eliciting a gasp that quickly became a moan, then a growl. He smiled at Phil, at the others.
“She’s ready, Phil,” he replied, his words unnecessary after the reaction Sandra had just unashamedly enjoyed in front of all of them.
Still holding her against him, still pleasuring her cunt with his hand, Kyle whispered into Sandra’s ear as Gus and Blaze went into a back room and Phil took Kenny aside.
“There’s a special way we do this, baby,” he cautioned. “You’ll be chained down.” Her groan at hearing those words assured him that she wouldn’t give them any trouble to start.
“It’s how we do it,” he continued, “part of the ritual. You’re okay with that, right?”
She answered in a cry of pleasure as she imagined being restrained and taken by these men, these unbearably sexy firefighters.
Had she not cried out at that particular moment, she would have heard Kenny across the room, would have turned in his direction and seen the look of disbelief on his face as Phil spoke to him in hushed tones.
“For real?” the young man asked, letting his voice rise in volume as he often did.
But Sandra didn’t hear this, didn’t see Kenny’s face, didn’t notice Phil put his hand on his shoulder, much like a big brother would, and calm him. By the time she focused on Kenny, the momentary look of shock had been replaced by the salacious grin that had been there since she arrived.
“Shit, man, that’s fuckin’ hot!”
This time Sandra did hear Kenny, his tone further dampening her crotch as Kyle continued to please her.
In moments, Blaze and Gus had returned, carrying with them an odd, rough-hewn table. Clearly not one that would be used for dining, and too tall to be an end table, it struck her as odd that the construction should be so rustic, yet it sported a high-gloss varnish. Sandra asked Kyle what it was while she moaned in pleasure.
“You’ll see, baby,” he answered as Blaze and Gus set the table in the middle of the room.
All six of them converged on the piece of furniture at once, each silent as he or she approached it. Sandra’s eyes met Kenny’s and she found herself wondering what Phil had told him. He seemed even more super-charged than he had been during dinner. Whatever it was he’d been told, she hoped it was hot.
Kyle moved Sandra to the table and bent her over it, which she willingly allowed. The men then surrounded her, affixing her wrists and ankles into the metal restraints that had been built into the legs. In addition to the varnish, Sandra could smell the scent of fresh wood under her nose.
“This is new?” she asked, breaking the silence that had only been punctuated by the sound of the shackles locking in place.
“Yep, it is,” Gus said proudly. “Finish was finally dry last night. Make a new one for each girl every year.”
Sandra found this amusing and laughed. “And what do you do with the old ones? Send them home with the girls as a souvenir?”
The men looked at each other and smiled. “In a manner of speaking, little lady,” Blaze said and fired up a Red.
Once Sandra was secured, Phil spoke, but not to her. He spoke to the other men.
“It is our time of celebration and thanksgiving. Our time to join together to ensure our future safety from the ravages of fire that we’ve pledged to fight. Our time to give thanks, and in doing so, commit to another year of protection for ourselves and our comrades. Our time to honor the tradition started by my father, a tradition he taught to his son.”
The ritualistic tone Phil was using made Sandra feel somewhat ill at ease. Kyle had told her it would get a little kinky, which had turned her on. But this just felt plain old odd. Before she had time to question what was happening, though, her senses were transported by the invasion of a cock in her soaking wet cunt.
As she cried out in exquisite pleasure, she heard Kenny behind her, grunting his lust as he drove in and out of her pussy. The others stood around her in a circle, slowly stroking their hard-ons, watching Kenny’s initiation into their number. She had hoped she’d get to suck them while she got fucked, but that could wait. They had the whole weekend ahead of them, and if this is how they traditionally kicked things off, so be it.
Kenny continued to fill her hole, bringing her to repeated orgasms as he thrust into her, almost savagely. After what seemed like an eternity of pleasure, Sandra heard his breathing quicken to match his pace and knew he was about to unload in her. This pushed her over the edge into another shattering climax.
As Sandra shrieked in pleasure, Kenny yelled, “My offering to be delivered.”
Sandra was still cumming when Gus took his place behind her, and the orgasms overlapped endlessly as Blaze went next, followed by Kyle, each of them making the same ritualistic statement when they shot into her womb. She didn’t care how silly it sounded, she was more concerned with how it felt. And this felt like nothing she’d ever known and wasn’t about to interrupt it to question their traditions.
As Phil entered her cum-sloppy cunt, he spoke.
“You are the Messenger,” he said. “You have come to us willingly to partake in our celebration, and you have been elevated to a place of honor. You are the one to deliver our offerings and ensure another year of safety for us.”
This was a little more strangeness than Sandra could let slide, even in the throes of ecstasy.
“We’ll worry about offerings on Monday, Phil,” she yelled. “Just fuck me and don’t stop.”
“Quiet!” Phil roared behind her, his cock driving in so deep it almost hurt. “The Messenger must not speak during the Offering.”
Not knowing what to think, not wanting to despoil what was obviously a solemn tradition, Sandra refrained from further comment and tried to enjoy what was happening in her cunt. But something didn’t feel right and for the first time since agreeing to this, she started to question her safety.
In moments, she heard Phil bellow, louder than the others, “My offering to be delivered!” She felt his cock swell, spasm, twitch as he pumped jet after jet of sperm into her. She, too, was convulsed with pleasure, despite the unease she’d felt since Phil first started fucking her.
After pulling himself out of her, Phil spoke to the other men. “We have celebrated well, my brothers. But now we must give thanks, not only for the protection we’ve enjoyed this past year, but for the Messenger as well.”
Before Sandra could speak, she felt the table being lifted by the other four men while Phil oversaw the operation.
“Guys, can we maybe take a short break so I can clean up and have some water?” she asked. None of them answered, fueling the discomfort she’d started to feel while Phil fucked her.
“Guys, I’m kinda serious,” she continued, trying to laugh despite the apprehension creeping into her voice.
They didn’t reply. Nor did they even seem to notice as her protests became more emphatic. As Phil opened the front door, the men carried the table outside and down a path. Sandra pulled at the metal restraints, beginning to fully fear what the men had in store. Nothing she said seemed to be heard by them as they carried the table into the woods until they reached a clearing.
They set the table near a large circle of rocks, but before Sandra could fully discern her surroundings, she was blinded by a black hood pulled over her head. Restrained by the shackles, sightless thanks to the hood, she pleaded with them, her voice growing more and more hoarse.
The men did not respond. Pausing in her begging, Sandra listened keenly. As much as the hood blinded her, it dampened very little sound. She could here the men moving about the clearing, could hear the dull, deep clank of metal bumping metal.
Her unanswered pleas did as much to weaken Sandra as her vain struggles against her metal restraints. Pain coursed through her: through her arms and legs as she fought her bounds, through her throat and head as she hoarsely sobbed, through her mind as things spun further and further out of reality.
By the time the men finished working, Sandra was crying softly, no longer begging, no longer fighting the shackles. She sensed the men approaching her, encircling her. Her heart leapt as she felt their hands on her wrists, her ankles.
“Oh, my God,” she cried, her voice scratchy from her screams and sobs. “Thank you, thank you, you had me so fuckin’ freaked out. Oh, my God, guys, really had me so scared.”
Without speaking, the men lifted Sandra off the table and stood her up. She ached more than she’d realized while still chained down. As her bare feet touched the cool dirt, her knees buckled and cramps shot up her calves and thighs. Two of the men were still holding her arms and caught her weight. Her mind still reeling, the hood still covering her head, she used their strong grips to regain her footing.
But they didn’t let go once she was steady on her feet. Nor did they remove the hood. The wave of relief that had washed over her receded, leaving her once again fighting panic.
“Guys, c’mon,” she said, trying to sound casual. “Lemme see what’s goin’ on?”
The men holding her didn’t respond. Neither did they increase their grip. They didn’t need to; Sandra had already determined that fighting them would be futile, given their strength and her weakened state.
In darkness, she listened to two things: her breathing and the sounds around her. She could hear the other men moving about the space once again. The sound of something being dragged, a thump, more metallic clinks, a bunch of them.
She sensed the other men approach her, moving behind her and the two guys holding her arms. A soft cry of relief escaped her lips as she felt hands at her neck, fingers nimbly undoing the drawstring on the hood. However, before she could fully give herself to this moment of hope, she felt two more pairs of hands on her body, grasping her ankles as tightly as the men holding her arms.
Sandra cried out as the hood was briskly pulled from her head, her eyes startled by even the dim moonlight in the clearing.
Sandra gasped, but stopped struggling or crying out.
She couldn’t. She was stunned into stillness, into silence by the most surreal sense of dread she’d ever known.
Jutting up from the center of the circle of rocks was a massive silver post, maybe 15 feet high, shining in the moonlight despite it’s obvious age and usage. Sandra’s mind flashed back to the salvage decorating the cabin, she immediately knew what she was seeing.
She was looking at the remains of a firepole. The firepole Phil’s grandfather had once used.
Chained to the side facing their group was an out-of-date metal ladder. Not the kind your Dad always had in the garage; it was a fireman’s ladder. The last element of this surreal image was the table to which Sandra had been chained, placed in front of the vertical metal structure like a platform, small wooden stairs leading to the tabletop.
It’s almost like an altar, she thought in paralyzed terror, an altar for a sacrifice.
Sandra’s fears proved well-founded, and she started to scream when the men broke the almost-holy moment by dragging her toward the center of the circle. Despite the pain in her limbs and larynx, she redoubled her fight, both physical and vocal. She thrashed wildly against their unyielding hold on her, shrieked incoherently into the chilled night air. Unfazed by her resistance, the men moved swiftly and nimbly, shackling her with her back to the cold metal ladder, almost completely limiting all movement from her. With her legs pulled wide, chained to the edges of the table, and her arms hoisted straight above her head and cuffed to the ladder, she resembled an upside-down human “Y” on the platform.
While Phil watched from the perimeter of the circle, the men moved without speaking as they lifted the stairs away from the table and dismantled the makeshift structure. Even as she struggled fruitlessly and wailed herself even more hoarse than she’d been, Sandra watched them, rending plank from plank without speaking.
It was a brief moment, though, and Sandra’s terror drove her into a screaming, struggling frenzy when the men tossed the dismembered stairs under the table. They continued, working from a large pile of firewood just outside the circle, until they’d carefully placed the logs beneath the table.
“What the fuck are you doing?” she wailed as they continued to work solemnly. “This is so fucked up. Stop fucking with my head!”
After the wood was piled, Phil handed Kenny a small metal container.
“Your initiation,” he said as he put the can in Kenny’s hands.
Kenny knew what to do. He approached the table and smiled at Sandra. “I knew this weekend was gonna be fuckin’ wild, but this is awesome,” he said as he splashed the gas from the can onto the wood beneath the table. Sandra had ceased begging and had dissolved into incoherent sobs.
As Kenny walked back to the others, having drained the can below her, Sandra’s eyes met Kyle’s just as he put a cigarette in his mouth. In the silver moonlight, his face was instantly illuminated by the Zippo he used. But he didn’t flip the lid shut with its usual metallic “clink.”
Instead, he kept his eyes locked on Sandra’s as he exhaled smoke with a smile and extended his arm toward Phil. In a flash, the circle was flooded with light as the Zippo touched the small torch Phil was holding.
Phil raised the torch toward the heavens and cried out. “We have made our offerings, our offerings of celebration and thanksgiving. And we now give you the Messenger, the vessel that delivers our offerings to you.”
“Protect us from the flame,” they all intoned. With that, Phil thrust the torch into the wood beneath the table.
The flame instantly burst to life, driving Sandra’s screams to a level she never would have thought possible. The sound of her terror pierced the night, filling the clearing with a gut-wrenching cry.
As the fire spread throughout the pile of wood, it licked at the freshly varnished surfaces of the table, the finish further fueling the flames. When the fire burst through the table, it fondled her feet and calves, it caressed her skin like a lover, like Kyle. Pain like she’d never known raced through her neurons to her brain, igniting that organ in a conflagration of agony. Sandra pulled on the restraints, unable to break free as the fire began to eat at the table just as it had already begun doing to her flesh.
Once the fire had taken hold, the five men began to add wood to it from the pile. These men, trained in fighting fires and saving lives, were now using those same skills to stoke a lethal blaze.
Having gotten the fire raging, the men stood around her, each slowly stroking his cock, smiles of pure pleasure on their faces. The fire grew in the center of their circle, reaching Sandra’s exposed cunt, causing the accumulation of fluids to sizzle as it leaked out of her. From the hips down, her form was only visible through the growing fire, flames that were now eating her, turning her fair skin black. Her screams were like music to them, even to Kenny who’d never dreamed this weekend would be this unbelievable. They watched her once-lovely figure turn first red, then black as she was sacrificed to their fire, ensuring their continued safety. They watched her twitch and spasm as the fire grew into a blaze around her, her will to live so strong that she lasted well past what they would have expected.
They were living things, dancing together, she and the inferno. Inside the blaze, they saw her still moving, even as the table collapsed into the fire, leaving her dangling from the shackles on her wrists. The flames roared up around her, and she continued to writhe in a fiery ballet of death, despite the fact that her body had begun to burn as fiercely as the wood. Finally, as the conflagration raged even higher, Sandra’s movements stopped, her form giving itself to the all-consuming pyre.
“Fuck yeah!” Kenny hollered when he saw this. “She’s fuckin’ dead, man!” With that, a torrent of semen rocketed from his cock, its liquid state sparkling in the firelight as it jetted through the air. The other men climaxed as well while they watched Sandra die in the fire, expelling the essence of life at the moment of death, ensuring their continued protection from harm. They stood in silence and continued to watch until her form was unrecognizable as having ever been human. Letting the fire gutter on its own, the approached the site wearing protective gloves and unlocked the wrist shackles, letting the smoldering remains fall to the ground, breaking apart on impact. Each man was once again hard. In silence, they stroked once more, anointing the Messenger with their final loads of the ritual. The figure that had once been Sandra lay in the center of the circle, blackened, charred, unrecognizable, covered in semen that sizzled as it hit her form.
The Messenger had served them well.
“Please tell me we don’t just do this shit once a year, man,” Kenny pleaded through his laughter.
They were comfortably lounging around the cabin, having showered and dressed in fresh clothes. The beer was once again flowing, a fire now raging in the enormous hearth.
“Once a year is all it takes, Pup,” said Phil. “It’s our insurance against injury and death in the department.”
“Well, it obviously works,” Kenny said enthusiastically. “Shit, that’s one premium I think I’m actually gonna like paying!”
From the shelf on the wall, Phil’s grandfather smiled.