Burning Free

Burning Free
Quinn bites her lower lip and fights the tears threatening to rain from her eyes. She will not give him the satisfaction. She suppresses every urge to scream when Alroy bites down on her nipple. She feels the trickle of blood. He is really going to devour her. His fingers rake down her sides and loop around her panties. She sucks in a deep breath as he rips the seams of her underwear. This is a nightmare. She shakes her head wildly trying to wake up. When he inserts his finger inside her, she whimpers in pain then squeezes her mouth closed.

“I will fuck you raw, little dove, if I have to.” Alroy withdraws his finger, disappointed Quinn is not wet.

Quinn gives a small victorious smile knowing her body has not betrayed her. Maybe the terror is keeping her from being stimulated. No matter what it is, she is grateful for it, until Alroy sits back on his knees, pinning her knees to the floor beneath him. She tries to raise her upper body, but fear keeps her rooted in place. 

He takes in all of her. She tries not to tremble below him. He knows she is fighting her horror of what he is going to do to her. Alroy gleans immense pleasure at the water blurring her eyes, making them sparkle like the ocean on a sunny day. He runs a finger over the side of her face, shaking a tear loose. 

Alroy lowers his head down and licks the tear running down her cheek. Quinn cringes and tries to turn her head away. He catches her chin in his hand and clutches forcefully, returning her head to forward facing. Quinn squints her eyes closed not wanting to look at him. His grip gets tighter and she struggles to ignore the pain inflaming her jaw.

“Open your eyes, little dove.” Alroy slams two fingers deep inside her. She cries out in pain, throwing her eyes open. “Good, I want you to see me as I fuck you.” He lowers down and licks her cheek again.

Quinn salivates and spits in Alroy’s face while he is close. A little spittle drops down on her chin. Alroy laughs and wipes her spit away with a finger. He then sucks the finger in his mouth, delighting at the taste of her fear.

He rises back up again, keeping his eyes fixated on Quinn’s eyes. She works to replace fear with anger in their reflection. Alroy notices the change, but ignores it. He unbuckles his belt and begins to loosen the buttons of his jeans. Instead of terror returning to her eyes as she watches him undress, Quinn feels rage.

Alroy rubs his hand over Quinn’s bare stomach as he frees himself from his boxer shorts. “Once you are pregnant with my child,” he cups her stomach and continues, “we will make Ciaran’s bastard our slave and my child shall be the future leprechaun king.”

There is no way she is going to carry this monster's child. No way she is going to let him violate her. The memory of him naked in front of her as she dangled from the ceiling of his room plays in her head. Fury sets in. Just as Alroy sets himself to penetrate her, she screams out. Her scream is violent, feral. 

The space around them bursts into flames. The fire encircles them and draws closer. Alroy jumps up as the flames kiss his ankles, singing the hair beneath his jeans. Quinn seems undisturbed by the fire playing on her bare skin. Incinerating in the blaze, although painful, will be a far better fate than bearing Alroy’s child, Quinn surmises.

She lays still as Alroy bounds around the room, his unbuttoned jeans falling to the floor, tripping him. He tumbles to the ground. The fire senses him and moves to encapsulate him. He screams and pushes himself to his feet. His legs start to blister from the burns.

Quinn remains quiet. Her only movement is to turn her head and watch the spectacle before her. She smiles as Alroy tries to hike up his jeans and slap out the flames. A chuckle escapes her lips when he cries out in pain from smacking his blistering skin. 

Alroy makes his way to the door. He scowls at Quinn just laying there, her body engulfed in the flames. Her skin is not blistering, she seems at peace and not in agony. How is she doing this? Not just the fire, but she looks impervious to it. 

As he hurriedly leaves the room, Alroy calls out, “How are you doing this, witch?” With those words, he disappears through the door. 

The fire extinguishes itself. Unharmed, Quinn lifts herself into a sitting position. A wide smile adorns her face. Witch is so much better than little dove, she chides. She surveys the charred room. The furniture is reduced to ash. The curtains only threads covering the window. Heavy black paints to walls. She then glances at her body. She starts by examining her hands, then her arms, ending at her feet. There are no blisters, no burn marks at all. 

Satisfied the fire did not harm her, she stands. The movement heightens her awareness of the ache in her chest and between her legs. She winces as she brushes herself off. Naked, she trudges through the main room and into the bedroom. In the corner of the room is a full length mirror. Quinn stares at her reflection, assessing the damage.

Large bruises form on her chest and legs. Blood outlines the bite marks on her breasts. After several moments of vacant staring, she closes her eyes and steps away from the mirror. She heads to the bathroom.

In the scalding water of the shower, she scrubs furiously trying to get clean. Her skin is red and raw from the water and her rubbing. Can she ever wash him off her body, she wonders as she lathers her cloth for the fifth round of washing.