The White Flower and the Imp - Sex Stories

The White Flower and the Imp

... down a narrow path carved into the undergrowth, Genevieve noticed it led for quite some distance though thicket and rows of trees. She followed the goblin and began to ask a question but the crone interrupted her. “You have many questions, yes, too many perhaps. But you answered none of mine, no, none of mine. And true, there is much you must know if we are ever to make it out of here, but no, now is not the time to discuss such matters. Fate has brought us together, but Time seeks to rob us of our chance.” Genevieve rubbed her forehead, still flustered from the flurry of terrible things she had just experienced, and turned to look at the dim reflections of the lake before finally following the crone into the murky recesses of the forest. Somewhere in the distance a beast howled at the abysmal moon. What had she gotten herself into? *********************************************************************************************************** Genevieve had a hard time adjusting herself into the small confines of the goblin-woman’s earth mound, but when she finally gave up on trying to sit down on a chair that was too small and too rigid for her, and sat, instead, on the warm earth, she crossed her legs and found a comfortable enough position. “You did not answer child.” The crone stood before a boiling pot, stirring its contents with a wooden ladle that looked just like her cane. “How many new suns have you seen?” Genevieve opened her eyes. She had been close to falling asleep. ...

... “Forty.” She leaned forward, fighting the urge to lie down. The crone raised an eyebrow and looked over her shoulder at Genevieve. “Your body does not betray you, child. Do you still bleed?” Genevieve was getting tired of that question, and, in her languor, she answered with a more irritated tone than she had truly intended. “What does it matter?” The crone turned suddenly, the fire dimmed as the light was stolen from the cramped, circular home, and the goblin seemed to rise in size as the change cast a horrifying shadow on her face. “I offer you hospitality, child, bring you into my home! The least you owe me is a modicum of respect, and not the brutish tongue your kind have imbued you with!” The crone glared at Genevieve for a few more seconds, her nose twitching petulantly, and then turned back to the boiling pot, with a despondent look in her face. Genevieve released the white knuckle grip she had on the handle of her sword and bowed her head into a hand. “I’m sorry. You’re absolutely right. Thank you for taking me into your…fine home. My journey has made me weary but there is no excuse for offending such a wise, and kind….” “Now, now, child, there’s no need to be sycophantic about it.”The crone paused for a taste of the boiling liquid. “Though I must agree, this is as fine a home as you will find in these parts.”The crone chuckled to herself in her croaking voice and Genevieve relaxed, seeing that her host was as easily appeased as she was angered.” “I do still bleed, but ...