A Dark bit for Dewin

She heard the screams before she realised: it was her own throat producing them. Instead her mind was firmly fixed on the heat, and the rope, and the searing pain behind her eyeballs as her flesh melted into the hemp. Closing her eyes tightly to block out the acrid smoke, she tried to gather her last bit of energy in a struggle to get free. The flames licking at her heels were no longer the biggest threat, if she couldn’t get her wrists free from the knots, she knew it was game over. She had always been a fighter but failure seemed inevitable.

He knew this as he threw the lighter into the carefully prepared bonfire, she had set his heart aflame and then torn away any hope he had for the future. He said he would return the favour as he said his goodbyes.


  1. Hey Ginni,

    ‘she had set his heart aflame and then torn away any hope he had for the future’ – Ouch! Minx, the most conniving and deceitful of all cats: more like vixens than felidae per se, with their sneer and snarl mentality. Maybe she should reflect far more deeply on the error of her ways, she’ll not be as perfect as she may like to imagine else there would be no need for the burning to remove the impurities from her alchemy. But what do I care? I’ve never even met her!

    Regards the title – thank you Ginni, awesome! 😀 I’m beaming like a Snow Leopard who just got the cream: I’m flattered excited enticed, almost sweating perhaps reading this, hot stuff! Phew! Mmmm, those screams are…delicious., they amused the muse:

    ~ Soft and Slow ~ By ~ DN ~

    Soft and slow Lamia,
    Soft and slow.
    O Lamia please tread soft and slow.
    Soft and slow, soft and slow,
    O Lamia, Lamia, please tread soft and slow!
    Softer, slower, now move lower,
    O Lamia! Go slower! Go lower!
    Move slower still.
    Lower, O Lamia!
    Tread lower, lower my lover, tread lower!
    O Lamia! Lamia!
    Lamia slower!
    Lower my lover, tread slower!
    Slower my lover, move lower!
    Lower, slower, lower still!
    Slower whilst I lower,
    Lower you slower.
    O Lamia!
    Softer and slower,
    Lower! Move lower!
    O Lamia!
    Lower and slower!
    Slower and lower!
    O Lamia! Lamia,
    Lamia! Burn!
    O Burn and burn, and burn and burn, and
    burn and burn, and burn and burn!
    Burn and burn, and burn and squirm, and
    Burn from the burn of my burning squirm!
    My squirming burn, burning your squirm,
    Burning your squirming on the scalding hot top,
    The scorching hot-trot on my flaming coal tip!



    I thank you! 🙂

    Namaste 🙂


    Liked by 2 people

    1. P.S: It was my birthday yesterday, celebrated on WP. If you weren’t there you missed out on a cracking old time. Mango juice was flowing, the notification in-box went red-hot, and it was all I could do just maintaining semblance of order, never mind being a good host! 🙂

      For those friends who may have been absent on the big day, I raised a toast and borrowing a line from Victor Hugo declared,

      ‘What is love? I have met in the streets a very poor young man who was in love. His hat was old, his coat worn, the water passed through his shoes and the stars through his soul.’

      “Bottoms Up!”

      Namaste 🙂


      Liked by 1 person

  2. Hey Ginni 🙂

    How are you doing?

    I’m just here venting my spleen whilst I had five minutes busy doing nothing 🙂 Hope you don’t mind?

    ~ Chantilly Lace ~ By ~ Dewin Nefol ~

    Into the forest deeper and deeper,
    Cutting broad ties, my moor prison keepers.
    Escaping stripped bars, I made for the clubs,
    Keeping away from dodgy backstreet pubs.
    I hastened along alleyways, avoided avenues,
    I took the bus here and there, a train maybe tubes.
    Perhaps a taxi also, but I’m getting a but confused,
    For having turned down the last bleeding road,
    There was the corpse of my fiery ex-muse!
    I was startled like a shot starling! Surprised and ruffled to,
    I hadn’t expected her to appear here! She’d long been done and through!
    She never met my expectations: damn frigid if I were true.
    Then dragged me penniless to fucking Hell and back!
    For some evil fucking rues!
    I loved her once adored her twice, married her three darn times!
    I worshipped the ground she walked upon, her footprints were divine.
    Without her I’d have fallen apart, we were always together from the very start.
    Until that night beneath the light, the light of the Silvery Moon,
    When I saw a sweet pretty kitty for what they really were, a crazy freakin’ tune!…
    Late was the hour after a long days work, I was tired and rather weary,
    Feeling contrary my back and shoulders hurt.
    I’ve never been one to slack off you see, never been one to shirk.
    Six weeks now working the grinding stone, the flourmill down the road,
    Twelve weeks of listening to tall sails turn, to hoppers hopping, miller’s burn,
    Then home in small hours through fields of corn, to the one I love, to the woman I own.
    This night was very different, deeper and darker somehow,
    Like an Eagle ripping the throat out of a wolf’s piercing howl.
    I paused by the front door with my instincts alarming,
    Fists clenched knuckles white, body bulk hardening.
    Braced ready and waiting, for Death to come harvesting.
    Stepping through the doorway into the shady shadowy hue,
    When a sudden burst of moonlight glinted steely steel blue,
    And flashed as it dashed from dark depths screaming,
    “Bastard! I fucking hate YOU!” “I do!” “I do!”
    “Bastard! I fucking hate YOU!” “I do!”
    Twenty years in Broadmoor, and still they can’t prove a thing,
    Despite the beatings and the rapes, the shankings, the suffering.
    Seeing her there now in crispy guise, burnt and charred before my eyes,
    Brings memory flooding back, the sweetness of screaming, the sudden attack,
    O delicious crack! Splicing skulls with my butchering axe!
    She looks better now than she ever did before, before the blade fell
    Dividing her into four. Four far easier for dragging, dragging her out of store,
    Down the passageway, passed the cupboard, just here by her chamber door,
    I left a little piece of her bloody face in a note upon her gilded floor.
    The rest I disposed of early one morn, when I had a tidy little pyre,
    Nothing grand you understand, only a little fire: scorching hot and burning,
    Scorching hot and torturing! Fiercely hot debauchery! My speciality!
    Loved watching her boil, loved seeing her in trouble,
    Loved waiting for the moment her ego burst its bubble.
    I would dream of tasting her molten fire,
    Of tonguing her naked flame.
    I would dream of keeping her slowly simmering,
    Upon the extreme edge of excruciating pain.
    I wanted to lick and lick the fiery red flare,
    Flaming Chantilly lace on her melting underwear.
    I wanted to keep her moist and gently roasting,
    Until she screamed begging in a prayer!
    Well scream-on baby! There was no-one ever there!
    Never anyone sharing your agony, because no-one ever cared!
    Hell! I was probably your last fucking hope,
    Until the Zippo lit and you simply flared!


    I thank you 🙂

    Namaste 🙂


    Liked by 2 people

      1. Thank you Ginni

        I am a total novice merely indulging wicked fetish and fantasy. You lacerate your dark velvet with far more panache and swarthy sensuality than I, your strokes expose deeper shades of blood in seams of burning coals 🙂

        Hoping all is well and you wearing the mystery of happiness as a corsage at the end of a warm and sunny day. Take care of you, and of one and all in your charge. Smile like you own the world!

        Namaste 🙂


        Liked by 1 person

  3. Hey Ginni 🙂

    I was up late with a Disney flick – if flick is the correct term – and thought the song Esmeralda inspired in Judge Claude Frollo, Hellfire was fitting ‘A Dark Bit For Dewin’.

    It’s a wicked track! Enjoy! Bwahahahaha!

    Namaste 🙂


    (From the Disney soundtrack for The Hunchback Of Notre dame, 1996)


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