The world roared around her, muted only by aged wood. The barrel rocked back and forth from the winds that buffeted it, shaking it loose as the rest of the mill house burned down around her. The heat seeped in but she managed to hold it back with a shield of shadows that frosted the inside of the wood.
The cold from the shadows didn’t last long against the heat. It only had time to ice the wood for a few minutes before the fire melted it. Waves of heat seeped through the barrel and swirled around her as she struggled to keep her attention moving from one warm patch to the other. She laid down a thin layer of ice and shadows against each one before moving to the next and then the next. By the the time she had painted the entire insides of the barrel with her spell, the first parts were hot again.
It was exhausting but mindless. Her mind drifted slightly as she swirled her attention around. There was nothing to focus on, she didn’t have someone to dominate her or even time to masturbate. Instead, she ended up going over the battle over and over. Each time, she thought about the things she missed or mistakes she made: she could have used her collar more, she could have dodged in a different direction, what if she opened a portal first, could she have saved Sable without making her think Bass was dead? She doubted every choice and decision.
The heat continued to seep through the wood. As it melted the frost, the steam swirled around her and tickled her reforming lungs and skin.
She couldn’t sleep or let her mind doze. Her need to sleep and heal throbbed in the back of her head, plucking at her attention. She had to fight it, knowing that if she missed too many sections, it would be harder to recover. If she stopped, then she would be boiled alive.
Merrie groaned and twisted slightly. The beer at the bottom of the barrel sloshed around her. Some of it leaked into her wounds and she felt the sting of it burn across her skin before it faded in the boiling darkness of her core. More of it lapped at her ass and pussy, teasing the sensitive flesh. She wanted to finger herself, to build up pleasure to give herself more energy but couldn’t afford the distraction.
Groaning, she twisted around again and redoubled her attempts to focus on the spell keeping her cold. Sooner or later, the fire would finally die down and then she could save her friends.