The White Flower and the Imp - Sex Stories

The White Flower and the Imp

... in a hundred different tongues that Genevieve could not comprehend. “We can fix this!” Genevieve felt hot tears well up again and she sniveled as she pictured herself with a plump belly full of squirming imps. Hilda’s fit had ended and now she stood hunched over, breathing loudly through her mouth, and thinking to herself. “Yes. Yes…It might still be early.” Hilda said between breaths. Genevieve looked up to her companion, cheeks blushing with compunction. “The little devils might not have reached their destination yet. No, not yet.” Hilda yielded a dagger in her hands and took a menacing step towards Genevieve. “There may still be time to purify your blood.” At the sight of the curved blade, Genevieve wept loudly, and began to beg. “Hilda, I’m sorry…they took me.” “Hush child, it will be okay.” The crone moved with the speed of lightning, propelled forth by her dark magic. One minute she was standing by the entrance to her mound, and the next she was just in front of Genevieve, her dagger plunged into the lady’s lower abdomen. The sharp pain doubled Genevieve over, her shoulders falling against Hilda, and she sobbed tears of anguish into the damp wool of the crone’s robes. The past few days fluttered passed Genevieve’s mind. She thought of Devyn, delivering her into the hands of the lecherous imps in an act of terrible perfidy. She thought of Eogann, tricking her into selling her honor. She thought of Maedoc, smiling as he defiled her. And she thought of Edward, waking ...

... up but never seeing his mother again. Gasping in pain, Genevieve reached beneath her garments and grabbed hold of her concealed weapon for one last act of revenge. With an agonizing scream she drove Devyn’s sword upward and through Hilda’s chest and ran forward until the tip pierced through the back of the old crone and impaled her to the wooden frame that held the door to her home in place. Hilda roared and pulled the dagger from Genevieve’s abdomen. It slid out with a gush of blood. The lady clutched her stomach and sat next to Hilda, ready for the end. Beside her, the old crone struggled to articulate words as she coughed out green blood. “Man….kind…..” Genevieve was ready, she leaned her head on the wood of the door and wondered what it would feel like to close her eyes and never reopen them. Hilda coughed and sent droplets of green liquid flying out. They fell on the dirt and seeped into the ground. “Mankind….the forest….they heal in the forest.” Genevieve opened her eyes in shock as she remembered the wounds the imps had given her and how quickly they had disappeared. She lifted the skins that covered her slender body and examine the place where the dagger had pierced her. Save for the blood that had begun to dry on her pale skin, there was no sign of the dagger’s fury. Hilda clasped at the hilt of Devyn’s sword, shaking her head, refusing to die, and began muttering inaudible words as Genevieve rose, now aware of her mistake. With a pang of regret, the lady rushed to ...