1. The White Flower and the Imp


    Date: 7/2/2017, Categories: Dark Fantasy, Cruelty, Drug, Male / Older Female, Monster, Non-consensual sex, Rape, Reluctance, Author: JonSnow57, Rating: 85.7, Source: sexstories.com

    “Seldom does a wise man make a pact with the imp king.” Hilda gulped down the soup loudly. “Eogann’s an imp?” Genevieve smiled incredulously. The crone slammed her bowl down on the table and the lady's grin disappeared. “The self-proclaimed king of the imps has no more powers than I do!” Hilda replied curtly. Genevieve lifted the bowl once more between interlocked fingers and said nothing else. “If we make it out of here I will cure your child of any illness, yes, the gods shall not have his soul just yet.” Finishing her soup, Genevieve curled up by the fire with her hands beneath her head and her back against an earth wall. She kept her sword a hand’s length away from her, and her body pointed towards the circular, pine entrance, vigilant while she remained awake. “As soon as you have rested and gathered your wits we will collect all we need. Our hunt for ingredients will lead us to more perilous parts of the Deep Forest, but if you do as I tell you, our way will be paved out for us, and your son will soon be healed.” Hilda poured herself a second helping and spoke no more. Genevieve eyed the old crone as she hobbled within her abode, wondering just how much she could trust her, but at last, the fatigue was too much and she succumbed to a deep slumber filled with dreams of a lakeside. *********************************************************************************************************** Genevieve scanned the land around her slowly, searching for a hint of white, but ...
    when her efforts led to naught, she continued walking through the thick undergrowth. Morning was no less dull in the Deep Forest. Day had replaced the red sky of the night with a vapid, grey sheet of clouds, and the thick canopy above her allowed the woodlands to retain their shadows. The fog that had lurked between the trees the night before was gone now, but the crone had been right. When Genevieve studied the horizon, she could see nothing more than trees and more trees, large, thick beasts of trees, sprawling up into the large organism that lived and breathed above her with the strength of thousands upon thousands of the crowns of trees. . Genevieve stopped again, several yards away from the glade and the lake, her eyes running through dense foliage. Somewhere off to her right, a twig snapped and Genevieve’s head turned sharply, like a doe sensing a hunter. She had run across no wild life throughout the first part of her search, and she intended to keep it that way. Hilda had given her a list of ingredients she needed to collect in preparation of the liquid that was half of the key to reopening the portal, while the old crone herself had ventured deeper into the woods to gather the root that made up the other portion of the requirements. “I shan’t take you with me, child, no. The Faeries of those parts are wicked, little devils,” Hilda had said to her before they parted. And when Genevieve had protested to being left alone, the goblin woman had raised a finger and shaken it ...
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