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

    why does it matter?” The lady asked, truly curious. The goblin woman added a dash of some pungent ingredient to her soup and put a lid on it before turning to sit on a chair. “And, I do not wish to question you…er…my lady," Genevieve continued, "but why did you take me in?” The goblin sat silently, old rheumy eyes fixated on some distant point as she reminisced. But, at last, she explained herself, her wrinkled face lighting up proudly as she began. “I am no lady, child. I am Hilda of the East Bank! The goblins of the Stones answer to me in these parts, and the centaurs seek my guidance when their young fall into illness. The Waers honor my territory and do not hunt unless I allow them to, and even the imps, those wretched creatures, must admit that not much goes on in these woods that I am not aware of.” The crone’s gaze fell and the fire’s light flickered once again. “But it was not always so. I was a woman once, like you, yes, much like you. A pretty lady making men swoon even well into my years.” Silence took the air again, leaving only the boiling pot’s contents to fill the void with their bubbling. A bony, green hand, twisted with swollen joints, rubbed the crone’s chin as she recalled her past. “I will not waste time, for time is precious even here, telling you about my fall from grace, child. But know this…” Hilda raised a finger and pointed it at Genevieve. “I miss my home and life on the other side, and you are the key to our escape from this dark land!” Hilda ...
    jumped to her feet as the pot began to hiss and continued fiddling with the soup. “Can’t you just walk out of here?” Genevieve inquired. The crone spat and waved a gesture in the air. “You still do not see? Mankind is still as dimwitted as I thought, yes, still very dimwitted.” Genevieve’s mouth opened, insulted, but she did not say a word. “Open your eyes, child!” Hilda raised her cane and swung it around in all directions.” “You go south, east, west, north, you find more trees. The Deep Forest, yes, it is called that for a reason. It does not extend far in your world, but here…” Genevieve finally understood. “The lake is a door?” The lady clasped her chest, stunned by the realization. The crone cackled. “Not so dimwitted after all.” She nodded her head, the loose green folds of her neck bobbing sideways. “A door with very specific keys.” Hilda tasted the soup again and decided it was ready, taking it from the fire and placing the wide, metal pot on the ground next to the table. “Yes, we may get out of here soon enough.” The crone handed Genevieve a wooden bowl filled with a brown sludge that made her want to lurch by sight alone. But when she brought the bowl to her lips, so as to not offend her host again, she was surprised by its pleasing taste. “I cannot go back without first meeting this Eogann.” Genevieve's voice was timid and cautious. The crone’s face was hidden behind a bowl as she slurped its contents greedily. “My son, he’s sick….The plague has taken many already.” ...
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