The White Flower and the Imp - Sex Stories

The White Flower and the Imp

... similar. The lake was more or less the same in size and shape. But the trees surrounding the waters were now bent in terrible shapes. And there was something else as well. Genevieve stood quickly, the terrible feeling of horror filling her insides once more as she studied the sky. A sickly, darkened red color had replaced the monotone, midnight blue that had once been there, and where the moon had once been, there remained only a gaping black, circular abyss. Something moved within the cover of the trees and Genevieve turned to face the woods behind her. A strange fog crept in the depths of the forest, crawling between the trees just shy of the lake. Genevieve readied her sword. “Were you offered to the centaurs?” A voice croaked in the darkness. “No, no…you’re much older than their usual lot. Not centaurs then.” The shape of a short creature finally materialized into view, but its features were still obscured by the shadow of the forest. “How old are you child?” Genevieve steadied herself, ready to shed blood. She called out to the being and clenched her jaw nervously. “Show yourself!” The creature emerged from the shadows, the red glow of the sky illuminating her wrinkled, green skin and tattered, grey robes. She approached Genevieve at the pace of an elderly woman, using a wooden cane to advance. “Ah, that is quality steel if I ever saw it. So, you are highborn.” The old crone chuckled to herself. Genevieve studied the being’s strange features and recalled stories of ...

... goblins and imps. She raised the blade even further. “There’s no need for it, child, I won’t harm you.” The short woman finally stopped just a few paces in front of Genevieve. “You’ll have to excuse me,” the creature waved a hand over her worn down clothes. “We don’t get many people of noble birth around these parts.” Genevieve lowered her sword but did not ease her stance. “Are you Eogann?” She asked tremulously. The goblin woman spat out a cackle that nearly sent her into a coughing fit. “I am neither portentous, nor vile enough to be that old sack of bones!” “Well who… what are you?” Genevieve realized her impropriety as soon as she had spoken the words, but in light of all that had occurred recently, her head was filled with a childlike curiosity. “Now, now, no need for unnecessary chagrin either.” The goblin noted. Genevieve’s expression must have betrayed her. “I am what I am,” the old crone waved her cane around and began walking towards the forest. Genevieve felt compelled to follow. “And what I am is quite alarming for the likes of you.” Genevieve and the crone stopped within the cover of the trees and the little goblin woman pointed at the red sky with her stick. Genevieve followed the direction of the piece of wood and noticed a raven roaming the red sky. “You have been followed, yes, and I fear you might not realize just exactly what you’ve gotten yourself into.” The crone clicked her tongue. “No worries. The beast has no power in these woods.” She turned and started ...