The flicker of an oil lamp enlightened nothing. Exiled into a corner, Dun looked on from the shadows. The frayed wicker of the wobbly, straight-back chair only added to his discomfort. Whiffs of smoke mixed with the smell of old wood. One spark, he thought, and the whole cabin would go up in flames.

Dremma had a dark side. The other was softly illuminated by the shifting, amber glow from the fireplace. She was sitting on the rug in front of it, leaning forward with her palms flat on the floor. Her gaze was lost in the flickering flame of the candle.

Perhaps unkindly, Dun thought his wife looked damaged. Her eyelids were droopy, her jaw was slack, and her face was devoid of expression. Spit pooled around her tongue, and she drooled.

And then, there was that obscenely huge cock. How could she not see that god damned thing? From his remote hole, Dun couldn’t tell whether she didn’t care or was simply blissfully unaware of it as it swung dangerously low on the other side of the candle. Clearly, that big man’s brass was why he was where he was, and Dun had been tucked away where he was.

Dremma’s limited attention was fixed on the man’s deep, soothing voice. “Follow the edges of the flame. See how the tiny fire dances. See how its limbs beckon you, beckon you.” She did as she was told. Her head bobbed faintly, out of sync with her eyes, which crossed and rolled in time with the flames’ fluid rhythms.

“Yellow, my dancer,” the man said.

Yellow. The command sparked a response, and Dremma sluggishly obeyed. She arose and removed her top. A flare of anticipation faded quickly, and she settled back onto the floor, anxious still for the flickering, flickering candle.

Of all things, Dun wondered why his wife hadn’t worn a prettier bra. If it were his choice, it would have been sexier, but he wasn’t in charge. Red was. Then Dun wondered how it was that Red didn’t have an erection. Dun’s cock was already achingly strained in his pants, and the night had just started.

“Yellow,” Red repeated. He lifted her with a gesture, and she swayed where his hand conducted. “Feel the dance,” he said, and her body did, unburdened by any thoughts of her own. Her bra dropped to the floor, and then she did. “Yellow.” Her jeans. “Yellow.” Her ordinary panties. She briefly cradled Red’s cock against her cheek before sitting again, this time upright and spread-eagled, tender tinder for the candle’s promise.

“The flame from without calls forth your flame from within.” Red baptized her with melted wax: a drop on her forehead, drops on each breast, and drops to the sides of her hairless cunt. “Fan the flames. Grow the fire.”

Dremma lowered herself onto her back. “Free the dragon,” she chanted.

“Good girl.”

She moaned for his praise and writhed beneath her fingers, masturbating to arouse the blaze-to-be.

Red took his great cock in his hand, stretched and stroked it. “Your woman is on fire,” he said into the dark.

“Don’t mock me,” Dun pleaded, conscious that his words meant less now than they had the first time they met, when he confronted Red and demanded to know if he was fucking his wife.

“Not yet,” the bigger man had said.

Dun fidgeted in his seat while his wife sizzled on the floor. He couldn’t see her where she lay, but he knew what her orgasms sounded like.

“I’m not mocking you, son. I’m commending you for bagging such a hot wife.” Red snapped his fingers. “Orange,” he commanded, and Dremma sat upright, mid-climax. “Orange. Do what needs doing.”

Dremma lit a fresh candle and padded toward her husband. He saw her, fit and lissome as a beast, and wondering if she was awake or at least aware. She regarded him with affection and seemed to recognize him.

“Feel her heat,” Red said. “Tell me—you can see the fire in her eyes. Real fire.”

Dun could see the bright life in her eyes, and, behind that, he saw the real fire. He squeezed his eyes shut, rejecting the illusion. This is one of Red’s mind tricks.

“I said, tell me.” Red’s command was gentle, even sympathetic, but a command nonetheless.

“I saw it.”

“Orange, Dremma. Do what needs doing.”

She understood what needed doing—what needed doing had long been tightly coiled in the recesses of her head. “Stand.” Dremma’s voice startled Dun, and he glanced at Red before doing what he was told. She lit another candle beneath a dish of paraffin wax, undid his pants, and pulled them down.

“He is bound.” Red’s suggestion didn’t need to be loud.

Dremma needed volume. “You are bound,” she asserted. She stared at her husband’s throbbing cock, then dismissed it because this, this was not a dragon’s cock. Dun groaned when she touched it, believing that relief was finally at hand.

“He must be burned,” Red declared.

“You must be burned,” she repeated, almost inaudibly.

On the table, next to the melting wax, was a box of ordinary birthday candles. Burn what needs burning. She lit one, squatted, and judged its flame’s height before surgically singeing the hairs around Dun’s manhood. He froze when the stink of burnt hair reached him and, bound by the pants around his ankles, he convinced himself that he could trust his wife.

Back home, Dun hadn’t caught on to Dremma’s emerging obsession with fire. The gas stove that replaced their electric one was expensive, but, hey, she did all the cooking. Girls like candles, and so what if she scattered them everywhere? He wasn’t about to question her new thing for candlelit baths, which kindled ever-hotter beds.

Dremma had denied the laser treatments that Dun found on their credit card. “That cannot be,” she struggled, caressing her hairless arm. “My body hair was burned away by fires within.” She begged him then to tend to the fires in her cunt—her cunt—and even though he didn’t understand what she meant by the fires within, he never asked about the charges again.

Once Red was satisfied with the controlled burn, Dremma lapped the caustic ash from Dun’s pubic stubble, ignoring the cock as it tapped her face.

Dun let his breath out and begged for release. Her mouth was right there. “C’mon, baby. Suck on it.”

For a second, Dremma wanted to comfort this miserable man, but a sharp “Orange!” reprimand reminded her that things still needed doing, and she hissed, open-mouthed, lusting for dragon’s fire to spew.

Dremma echoed Red’s commands: “Sit! Sit on your hands!” Dun complied and froze, save for the twitches of his neglected erection. Red complimented his good girl, and she hissed again at her husband.

Red towered over them, laid his hands upon her, and thumbed her back between the shoulder blades. “Feel the buds of your dragon’s wings, Dremma. Here. And here. Feel the fire feeding your wings even now as I caress them.”

Wide-eyed and wicked, Dremma could feel two red coals, pleasantly hot on her back.

“Soon,” Red promised.

“Soon,” Dremma hoped.

“Orange, my she-dragon. Finish what must be finished. Bind the one who blocks the dragon from consuming you.”

“Dremma…” Dun didn’t know what to ask.

Red asked, “Doesn’t he love you?”

“Don’t you love me?”

All the meek man could do was nod. This wasn’t his Dremma who questioned his love.

The melted wax was hot enough to give pause. Dremma scooped some with three fingers and smeared it onto Dun’s balls. He winced at the heat but was not burned as she applied more and more, shaping the wax up his shaft, blowing each layer hard until his dagger of flesh was trapped in a scabbard of thick wax.

All that was left was the waxed string. Dremma used her pussy to soften and oil it, and slowly, carefully gave Dun’s candle its wick. Encased in their paraffin prison, his balls couldn’t tighten, and his cock couldn’t twitch, but they yielded to the pressure, and his thick, hot fluids pathetically gurgled out.

“Good girl. Blue. Sleep.”

Her head dropped to her chest, and she stood, invisibly lifted by the scruff of her neck.

“Dremma will light your dick without a second thought, son, if I tell her to do it.” Red snuffed Dun’s candles and dimmed the lamp. “Nobody wants to see you or that pathetic dick. But you want to watch what my cock does for your wife. You can’t take your eyes off it.”

Red called Dremma to the fireplace. Dun was frustrated that he couldn’t see Red’s swinging cock until the big man finally turned around. “Your pants bind your legs. You cannot stand. Your hands are trapped. You cannot touch yourself. The only thing you can do is watch my cock with your wife. Say that you understand.”

Dun tried to lift a foot and failed. He tried to pull his hands away from the chair. He tried to look away from Red’s cock. “I understand.”

“That’s okay, son, that’s good.” Red laughed and said, “You can’t even tell if your dick is hard or not.”

Dun looked at the wax figurine in his lap and knew that it was true. Everything that Red said was true.

“Now, keep quiet while I fuck your wife.”

Dun swallowed hard when his jaw locked.

Red touched Dremma’s shoulder. “She-dragons don’t slouch,” he said, and she lifted her head, still relaxed, more relaxed than she had ever been. “Here,” he said, touching her back, “and here, feel your dragon wings grow under your skin, and wiggle under your skin, anxious for flight.”

Dremma fidgeted, pulling her shoulders forward, flexing them back, wanting to satisfy the raw itch that she could not reach.

“Smooth scales,” he said, brushing her arms and legs. “Scales, ruby scales, emerald scales, a she-dragon’s scales, softer than flesh, smoother than silk, await your transformation.” She shuddered, and her breaths grew heavier and faster at the thought. Dremma whimpered when Red placed his palm firmly on her chest. “I invoke your dragon soul, girl.”

He let her imagine what her rising dragon soul felt like. From her panting, it must have been hot. “Fuck a dragon!” he cried. “Fuck the he-dragon and free your she-dragon soul!”

She moaned when she imagined that.

“When you open your eyes, you will see the dragon. Open your soul to the dragon. Open your she-dragon cunt to the he-dragon. The dragon has giant wings. He stands like a man, with blood-red scales, with jet black scales. The dragon has great strength. The he-dragon has a great cock.”

Red stepped back. “Open your eyes. Dance for me and awaken your dragon.”

Dremma snapped her eyes open. Vexed that her hands couldn’t reach her nascent wings, she swung her head about. Looking for prey and looking for a mate were, for a she-dragon, one and the same. When she spotted the strong dragon with great wings and a great cock, and who stood as a man, she opened her mouth to hiss fire at him. She raised her hips to present her sloppy dragon cunt.

“Dance for the dragon,” Red commanded. “Dance for your wings, and dance for my cock.”

She-dragons dance for the privilege to mate. Dremma lifted her arms, wishing and willing them to be wings. She spun on one foot and landed as a dragon lands from its flight. She danced a dragon’s jeté, a dragon’s ballet. She danced as her foremothers had a hundred hundred generations past—primal dances around the first fires.

“Feel your wings bloom.”

At first, her fledgling wings followed the flow of her arms, but soon they danced on their own in counterpoint to her arms and legs as she dipped and swirled across the floor for her mate.

“Yes, my she-dragon. How can a cunt so wet hold so much fire?” Red offered his cock, and her dance centered around it. She caressed it. She ground against it. She loved it with her mouth and tongue until the he-dragon’s mighty phallus stood steadfast and tall. She returned then to the fireplace, center stage, and gyrated for him, writhing under the weight of her wings.

Dun, impotent in the dark, was a mute audience. He was only a man, one who couldn’t even tell if his own insignificant dick was hard for his wife. God knows, it should have been.

“Your wings!” Red cried. “Swaddle yourself in your wings! Unfurl them and fly to me!”

Dremma, glad for his summons, dashed headlong across the floor and flew into the he-dragon’s powerful arms. He easily held her and let her gently claw at his voluptuous wings. With a handful of his hair, she tipped his head back and smelled his face. Beating her wings to keep aloft, she took his tongue with hers and ground her scaled hide to his as they kissed.

Slowly, slowly, the Dragon Red lowered the Dragon Dremma onto his shaft. She snarled from deep in her throat, and, before she was filled, she lifted herself up and slammed herself down, and she roared. With her knees slipping from his hips and her feet scrambling up his thighs, she drove the he-dragon’s stone in and out of her fiery furnace.

Red kept a firm grasp on Dremma’s ass and let her do what needed doing. He answered her screeches with roars of his own, happy to keep his game and her illusions aflame.

Dremma arched her back when she came, flailing her arms and touching her wings to the floor. Red didn’t stop pumping until she collapsed, and then lifted her away and tossed her aside. She rolled into a crouch, ready to pounce.

“On your feet, dragon bitch, and bend over!”

The she-dragon obeyed, and Red buried his cock before she could grab her ankles. Red didn’t give a rat’s ass what she believed she was, or what she believed he was. He had been surprised by how many women were drawn to the dragon fantasy. Fucking with women’s heads was half the fun, sure, but fucking them hard enough to knock them over was what it was all about.

Fucking with their men was always a bonus when he could get one.

Red told Dremma that she would cum with him, and she did, shrieking with every one of his great cock’s throbs and spurts, until her fire was quelled, but not quenched. She would have fallen when he withdrew, but he scooped her into his arms and praised her for being a good girl. He laid her before the fireplace, touched her head, and told her to sleep.

“Pink, little dragon,” he said, touching her forehead. “Sleep naturally. The dragon has been sated. You are content. You feel great love for your husband. Too much to remember, sleepy dragon, too much to remember. Remember nothing but the fire. You are satisfied. You love.” Red looked toward Dun and added, “You want your husband to cum on your face.”

That would be fun to watch.

Red approached the she-dragon’s cuck, close enough for Dun to smell Dremma on the terrible, still terribly huge cock. “You can stand now,” he said with a touch on his shoulder. “You can speak, and you have an overwhelming need to cum on your wife’s face.”

He dressed while Dun shuffled over, nearly tripping over his pants. He desperately tore his cock free from its wax prison and flinched when he whipped the wick out of his limp dick. His voice was hoarse when he called his wife’s name.

“The fire…Dun, my love,” Dremma drowsily said. “Cum on my face.” She closed her vacant eyes and opened her mouth, and waited to sleep. Dun feverishly yanked and shook his cock awake, and it squirted before he could get it hard. “Cum on my face,” she mumbled, once more, long after the last bits had dribbled out.

Dun, lost with his dick limp in his hand, looked up at Red, who chuckled and touched the small man’s forehead. “Pink, son,” he said. Dun curled next to his wife, and they both slept. “Remember what you will when you awaken, but you won’t want to remember anything. Tell yourself it was all a dream, but know that it wasn’t.”

“As for you, my little girl, let the dragon rest. There’s too much to remember, too, too much to bother to remember, but you’ll remember the fire and that your husband was with you. Your memories will fade and fade until I return them to you.”

Daylight came through the cabin windows, and Dremma awoke Dun with a kiss. He looked around, half expecting someone else to be there, even while his wife gave him a good-morning blow job. Once he was certain they were alone, and why wouldn’t they be, he mounted her, and they made love by the embers.

The next day, they were still as giddy as newlyweds and resolved that they should someday spend another weekend at the cabin.

The day after that, Dremma had stopped thinking about the cabin.

The day after that, Dremma asked Dun, “What cabin?” when he brought it up, so he stopped thinking about it, too.

And then, later, Dremma showed Dun a wonderful cabin she had found and suggested they go there for a romantic weekend. Dun was apprehensive, despite the swelling in his pants.

“And look!” she exclaimed. “It has a fireplace!”