The White Flower and the Imp - Sex Stories

The White Flower and the Imp

... ever shifting voices. Sickening giggles filled the trees around her, and Genevieve tightened her grip on the hilt of her sword. “Oh, come on, let’s get it over with already. I’m getting hungry.” Genevieve spun left, turning to face the voice. “You’re always hungry. Herd of swine would suit you better.” The lady turned to her right, sword extending towards a large bush. “Quit your bickering! This one could be for the horse-men.” Genevieve grew ever more restless. The voices had formed a circle around her. “No. Ain’t no centaurs around here, and this one looks older than what they like.” “Well then, let’s take a closer look.” Five creatures dropped from the boughs above her and Genevieve stifled a scream when she saw them. “What’s the matter," the fool quipped, "you ain’t never seen an imp before?” The short creatures laughed, some holding their red bellies, others with hands on the curled horns above their heads. Genevieve waved her sword around. They were small. The tallest would have barely reached her navel. But the clawed nails on their hands, and the hooks on their tails told her she probably could not fight all five of them. Their eyes were upon her, black, watery eyes like those of a pup, and their gazes made Genevieve uncomfortable. “What are you doing in the woods, lovely dove, searching for berries?” A large imp with a crooked nose leaned side to side, studying Genevieve. “Virgin berries is what she needs.” “Is that right? Do you need virgin berries to tighten up ...

... your twat?” Genevieve grunted and swung her sword angrily, but the imp was quick, it rolled forward into her stomach, pushing her back onto the ground and pinning her arms over her head. She went frantic, kicking and then screaming when she realized the other imps were upon her, holding down her legs and arms. But now the largest of the imps was on her, straddling her abdomen, his loin cloth dangerously close to her chest. “You trying to cut my hair, dove? Imps don’t have hair.” The group laughed cruelly. “I ought to teach you some manners.” The imp ran a caressing finger down her cheek, neck, and chest. Genevieve trembled violently and she cried out without any regard for her words. “Please! Please, I have gold…silver…let me go…I can make you the richest imps in the forest.” Her captor smacked her across the face, cutting her cheek and sending blood flying into the ground next to them. He grabbed hold of the hem of her dress that ran across her chest, tore it and exposed the top portion of her breasts. “I don’t want gold…do any of you dogs want gold?” He said sardonically. The imps grumbled and snickered. “But you have a fine set of teats. Look how big they are.” The imp motioned to her chest and, when something stirred behind his loincloth, Genevieve tried to squirm to freedom again but her efforts were too weak to overpower the creatures. “Yes, they’re probably nice and perky, aren’t they?” The large imp flicked his tongue. “Please…” She begged. “How many rats have you ...