In a post to the “Fire” social group Fireboots, my favourite fire fetishist, wrote:
I wake up almost every night at 3:00 a.m. in a vivid dream of my execution by burning at the stake, always with a raging hard-on, that needs to be resolved!
Because of the vividness of these dreams or visions, I am convinced that I have been burnt at the stake nude before and LOVED IT!
Maybe at some point in the future I will find myself willing walking to a stake naked to be burned alive! Until then I can fantasize, fire-play, and dream!
His reply set me off day-dreaming, unfortunately with too many words to reply in the group. It seemed to me that FB was hinting at a possible new religion. A sort of specialised reincarnation, where in each life the faithful are burned to death. So I'm putting my reply here, perhaps in the hope that the Church of the Sacred Flames can get more than two members.
So, FB, did it all start at Stonehenge where you were bound to a stone, naked, cold, helpless, surrounded by chanting Druids, to be burned alive at the winter solstice?
Later, as head of a Saxon village, raiding Vikings captured you and mounted you on a huge bonfire at the centre of a village as symbol of their victory. You looked out past the rough wood pole to which you were tightly bound towards the sullen crowd, the burning houses, and the jeering victors, as you felt the flames licking at your naked, humiliated arse.
In the twelfth century, you were burned at the stake as a warlock, the timber piled around your naked body up to your waist to ensure rapid, merciful, consumption by the flames.
In the fifteenth century you died as a heretic, mounted on a platform above the fire, to prolong the purification of your sins and to maximise the visibility of your suffering to the mob. The loose linen shift provided for modesty would have burned off in a brief flare long before your reddened, sweating, writhing body was roasted in the heat of the fire below you.
In the sixteenth century, your body glistening with a mix of tar and oil, you lay in chains on the funeral pyre of your gay lover in India in accord with the tradition of suttee, your nostrils filled with the scent of wood smoke, and your ears alive to the crackle of burning kindling.
In the seventeenth century, in Massachusetts, you were again charged with witchcraft. Stripped naked to be searched for witch marks and bound to a stake you were part strangled by an executioner who was driven back by the heat of the fire before you could be granted the mercy of a swift death. For more than half an hour you struggled and twisted in the relentless heat. Your mind reeled with the intensity of the experience as you felt the the passion of the flames licking your flesh, searing, engulfing, and eventually consuming your hard, throbbing cock.
You were selected as the chosen sacrifice for the winter solstice ceremony on a remote Scottish island in the eighteenth century. Gagged and bound you looked out from the flexible but constraining lattice of a wicker man, the icy cold of the north wind on your naked skin slowly being displaced by the rising heat of the fire below you.
As a cowboy in Arizona in the nineteenth century you were captured by native Americans. They stripped you of the symbols of civilisation: your weapons, your boots, tight Levis, leather jerkin and cotton shirt. You suffered days of sophisticated torture as a bare, defenceless animal, until at last you found yourself bound to a wooden stake. Between you and the whooping, dancing, natives was a ring of fire that burned day and night, tormenting you with constant heat heightened by wind blown sparks and flames that bit and seared your scarred flesh, driving you wild with pain and unexpected lust. You humped the stake with your engorged cock for hour after hour until your mind faded within your charred body.
In the early twentieth century you joined an underground cremation sect, and volunteered to undergo the process alive. Laid naked on your back on a pyre in the remote Welsh hills you tried to describe the experience as the flames from the rain soaked wood licked slowly around you, your voice finally failing as your cock, standing like a flagpole from your groin, began to sizzle.
You must be wondering how your present life will end. Most likely seems a group of like-minded CDG members taking you to a wild place to record a high-definition video of you chained to a steel stake with multiple viewpoints and slow-motion capability. The fire would be an adaptation of the native American ring of fire, to maximise your experience, but with three gaps to allow clear visibility for the cameras. You can imagine how good the images will be, the yellow firelight reflecting on your naked body as it glistens with sweat in the fierce heat. Every gasp, every cry, every moan of your suffering will be recorded, as will every twist and thrust of your hips as you drive your insanely engorged cock against the steel stake. The final video will be a classic to be posted and reposted across the internet.
And what of your future lives? Will you one day be held fast to a smooth obsidian post by strange biomagnetic forces, your cock being massaged by the stone which has an almost biological feeling of flexibility and firmness, your pale arse smoking as it is caressed by a green Martian heat ray? Or will you plunge back through a wormhole in time to enjoy more of Man's inhumanity to Man? Who knows?
What I do know is that you have the makings of a cool new religion – the Church of the Sacred Flames, perhaps. Specialised reincarnation would be the centre of the belief – that each life will end in fire, and that the worthy will be reincarnated to burn again. I imagine that the religion is for men only, that there would be a sacred text lavishly illustrated with idealised heroes, all naked, all being sacrificed to fire in all manner of imaginative ways.
The focus of the congregation would be temples centred on a sacred stake. Men would gather on a weekly basis. Within the temple no clothes would be worn. One of their number would be chosen by lot to be chained to the stake. With much chanting and procession believers would take fire bowls and let the flames caress the chained man, repeating the mantra “To the eternal flames”. The victim would be moved from pain to ecstasy, and the fire bowls would circulate to allow each member to stimulate themselves to religious fervour. Although there would be much burning of body hair and some slight flesh scarring, at the weekly meeting care would be taken to ensure only light injuries. After the ceremony the man at the stake would be released and would be anointed with calming, curative, lotions by many hands as he is carried around the room.
Four times a year, at the solstices and equinoxes, there would be a quaternary ceremony. The focus would again be the man at the stake, again chosen by a lottery. The difference is that the struggling victim would be surrounded by a ring of gas flames at the height of the ceremony, alternately roasting and burning his naked body. Though stoic acceptance of pain, death, and eventual reduction to ashes is a feature of the faith, there is no shame in the victim's screams, his writhing in the heat, and his obvious sexual arousal to pumping climax. It makes the sacrifice real to the devout congregation, who each, individually, imagine themselves as the man being slowly consumed by holy fire and feel the shuddering shivers of erotic arousal at the thought they too may win the lottery of life one day.
As with any religion there is a heaven, a state of grace, a nirvana to be aimed at. After many cycles of reincarnation, after many burnings at the stake, the truly faithful may achieve perpetuation. This is believed to be a condition of physical and mental perfection. The body becomes a pinnacle of male beauty, with youth, muscles, fitness, and potency. The mind becomes one with the universe. The state of being is that in which the body stands alone, the legs slightly apart, the arms separate from the body, the cock fully erect, rigid, and horizontal, an expression of beatific ecstasy on the handsome face. Every part of the body is engulfed in fire, making it glow like gold, but consuming nothing. Time has ceased for the man who achieves the blessed state of perpetual burning. It is believed that for eternity he will feel both the intensity of fire on every square centimetre of skin and the constant overwhelming ecstasy of the type experienced in life only briefly, at the point of sexual orgasm.
I've never been much interested in religion, myself, FB, but this one sounds attractive. I particularly like the idea of holy statues in glowing gold, from small to large, of a perfect naked man standing at ease with a thrusting erection, being erected all around the world as the religion spreads.
I wake up almost every night at 3:00 a.m. in a vivid dream of my execution by burning at the stake, always with a raging hard-on, that needs to be resolved!
Because of the vividness of these dreams or visions, I am convinced that I have been burnt at the stake nude before and LOVED IT!
Maybe at some point in the future I will find myself willing walking to a stake naked to be burned alive! Until then I can fantasize, fire-play, and dream!
His reply set me off day-dreaming, unfortunately with too many words to reply in the group. It seemed to me that FB was hinting at a possible new religion. A sort of specialised reincarnation, where in each life the faithful are burned to death. So I'm putting my reply here, perhaps in the hope that the Church of the Sacred Flames can get more than two members.
So, FB, did it all start at Stonehenge where you were bound to a stone, naked, cold, helpless, surrounded by chanting Druids, to be burned alive at the winter solstice?
Later, as head of a Saxon village, raiding Vikings captured you and mounted you on a huge bonfire at the centre of a village as symbol of their victory. You looked out past the rough wood pole to which you were tightly bound towards the sullen crowd, the burning houses, and the jeering victors, as you felt the flames licking at your naked, humiliated arse.
In the twelfth century, you were burned at the stake as a warlock, the timber piled around your naked body up to your waist to ensure rapid, merciful, consumption by the flames.
In the fifteenth century you died as a heretic, mounted on a platform above the fire, to prolong the purification of your sins and to maximise the visibility of your suffering to the mob. The loose linen shift provided for modesty would have burned off in a brief flare long before your reddened, sweating, writhing body was roasted in the heat of the fire below you.
In the sixteenth century, your body glistening with a mix of tar and oil, you lay in chains on the funeral pyre of your gay lover in India in accord with the tradition of suttee, your nostrils filled with the scent of wood smoke, and your ears alive to the crackle of burning kindling.
In the seventeenth century, in Massachusetts, you were again charged with witchcraft. Stripped naked to be searched for witch marks and bound to a stake you were part strangled by an executioner who was driven back by the heat of the fire before you could be granted the mercy of a swift death. For more than half an hour you struggled and twisted in the relentless heat. Your mind reeled with the intensity of the experience as you felt the the passion of the flames licking your flesh, searing, engulfing, and eventually consuming your hard, throbbing cock.
You were selected as the chosen sacrifice for the winter solstice ceremony on a remote Scottish island in the eighteenth century. Gagged and bound you looked out from the flexible but constraining lattice of a wicker man, the icy cold of the north wind on your naked skin slowly being displaced by the rising heat of the fire below you.
As a cowboy in Arizona in the nineteenth century you were captured by native Americans. They stripped you of the symbols of civilisation: your weapons, your boots, tight Levis, leather jerkin and cotton shirt. You suffered days of sophisticated torture as a bare, defenceless animal, until at last you found yourself bound to a wooden stake. Between you and the whooping, dancing, natives was a ring of fire that burned day and night, tormenting you with constant heat heightened by wind blown sparks and flames that bit and seared your scarred flesh, driving you wild with pain and unexpected lust. You humped the stake with your engorged cock for hour after hour until your mind faded within your charred body.
In the early twentieth century you joined an underground cremation sect, and volunteered to undergo the process alive. Laid naked on your back on a pyre in the remote Welsh hills you tried to describe the experience as the flames from the rain soaked wood licked slowly around you, your voice finally failing as your cock, standing like a flagpole from your groin, began to sizzle.
You must be wondering how your present life will end. Most likely seems a group of like-minded CDG members taking you to a wild place to record a high-definition video of you chained to a steel stake with multiple viewpoints and slow-motion capability. The fire would be an adaptation of the native American ring of fire, to maximise your experience, but with three gaps to allow clear visibility for the cameras. You can imagine how good the images will be, the yellow firelight reflecting on your naked body as it glistens with sweat in the fierce heat. Every gasp, every cry, every moan of your suffering will be recorded, as will every twist and thrust of your hips as you drive your insanely engorged cock against the steel stake. The final video will be a classic to be posted and reposted across the internet.
And what of your future lives? Will you one day be held fast to a smooth obsidian post by strange biomagnetic forces, your cock being massaged by the stone which has an almost biological feeling of flexibility and firmness, your pale arse smoking as it is caressed by a green Martian heat ray? Or will you plunge back through a wormhole in time to enjoy more of Man's inhumanity to Man? Who knows?
What I do know is that you have the makings of a cool new religion – the Church of the Sacred Flames, perhaps. Specialised reincarnation would be the centre of the belief – that each life will end in fire, and that the worthy will be reincarnated to burn again. I imagine that the religion is for men only, that there would be a sacred text lavishly illustrated with idealised heroes, all naked, all being sacrificed to fire in all manner of imaginative ways.
The focus of the congregation would be temples centred on a sacred stake. Men would gather on a weekly basis. Within the temple no clothes would be worn. One of their number would be chosen by lot to be chained to the stake. With much chanting and procession believers would take fire bowls and let the flames caress the chained man, repeating the mantra “To the eternal flames”. The victim would be moved from pain to ecstasy, and the fire bowls would circulate to allow each member to stimulate themselves to religious fervour. Although there would be much burning of body hair and some slight flesh scarring, at the weekly meeting care would be taken to ensure only light injuries. After the ceremony the man at the stake would be released and would be anointed with calming, curative, lotions by many hands as he is carried around the room.
Four times a year, at the solstices and equinoxes, there would be a quaternary ceremony. The focus would again be the man at the stake, again chosen by a lottery. The difference is that the struggling victim would be surrounded by a ring of gas flames at the height of the ceremony, alternately roasting and burning his naked body. Though stoic acceptance of pain, death, and eventual reduction to ashes is a feature of the faith, there is no shame in the victim's screams, his writhing in the heat, and his obvious sexual arousal to pumping climax. It makes the sacrifice real to the devout congregation, who each, individually, imagine themselves as the man being slowly consumed by holy fire and feel the shuddering shivers of erotic arousal at the thought they too may win the lottery of life one day.
As with any religion there is a heaven, a state of grace, a nirvana to be aimed at. After many cycles of reincarnation, after many burnings at the stake, the truly faithful may achieve perpetuation. This is believed to be a condition of physical and mental perfection. The body becomes a pinnacle of male beauty, with youth, muscles, fitness, and potency. The mind becomes one with the universe. The state of being is that in which the body stands alone, the legs slightly apart, the arms separate from the body, the cock fully erect, rigid, and horizontal, an expression of beatific ecstasy on the handsome face. Every part of the body is engulfed in fire, making it glow like gold, but consuming nothing. Time has ceased for the man who achieves the blessed state of perpetual burning. It is believed that for eternity he will feel both the intensity of fire on every square centimetre of skin and the constant overwhelming ecstasy of the type experienced in life only briefly, at the point of sexual orgasm.
I've never been much interested in religion, myself, FB, but this one sounds attractive. I particularly like the idea of holy statues in glowing gold, from small to large, of a perfect naked man standing at ease with a thrusting erection, being erected all around the world as the religion spreads.
. It did the trick though, I came
