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You remember reading once that In times of old, town markets..
🕑 Added 2024-07-24 17:48:10 +0000 UTC You remember reading once that In times of old, town markets would have merchants who sold wards; an enchanted scroll on a neckless, piece of iron on a chain, magical things which would lose their power if they touched the ground. It was oh so very interesting the lengths people would go to just to avoid superstition, invented creatures to blame for all manner of tragedy. It’s always easier to blame an evil creature than to accept that the universe is just random and uncaring; people can understand evil, it has reason at least unlike the latter. Witches and Fae, the belief in their existence, seemed to have all but died out these days. Exterminated like most other British wildlife as the countryside was increasingly tamed; there was no need for a reassuring pentagram on a tiny roll of paper to give a traveler confidence anymore, not that you would have ever bought one. You spend a moment ruminating on the folly of arrogantly believing the world was simply not that interesting while the vines holding you to the floor tighten. “Hello” The tiny girl cheerily declares, fluttering down to land on your stomach. “H-hell-“ You begin to awnser but a thick vine quickly gags you “Shhh, No mouth noises from you, No need for that, nope, Not any more” All this seems very unfair, she tricked you! You heard a little voice in the brush, lost and scared, they wouldn’t come out until you promised to stay a while with them, which you did. Foolish. “I see you’re feeling hard done by, wouldn’t expect anything less from one like you”. The vines crept and bunched up under your clothing until they lazily tore off leaving you naked. “Well, well, well” She raises a prickly eyebrow at your already hard member. Stupid bondage fetish. “This is nice! I like it a lot” She hovers around it, inspecting it from several angles. The rapid beating of her wings fans the tip with annoyingly effective stimulation, “Hmm, now I’m doing a re-thinking…How about you agree to let me play with this?” The question throws you off a bit. This situation seems quite, well extremely perilous; tied up at the mercy of a magical folk-lore is pretty low on the list of “times when it’s appropriate to be horny” yet here you are considering how great it would be if she pole danced on your dong. The vine gagging your mouth loosens and she asks again, firmly, “Will you let me play with your willy?”. She’s terribly dominating for such a tiny creature…God-damn-it what kind of a man would you be if you refused? None at all! What’s the worst that could happen? “Okay, but you must agree to let me go afterwards” “Hmmmm, I don’t know about that…I’d be putting myself at quite a loss there but I’m feeling really nice so I’ll think about it” “Oh, uh, well thank-you for thinking about it I guess” She beams a sharp grin at you’re gratitude “Well now you owe me now so I’ll accept your deal!”, Before you have a chance to question THAT declaration, the gag re-gags you and she lands on your cock like a koala hugging a tree. Her body is soft, warm and squishy and feels wonderful on your shaft, if only her hair wasn’t so distractingly prickly on the tip of your dick. “The name’s Thistle, by the way” Her tiny hand tickles its way up your shaft, lingering forebodingly at the slit of your dick-hole. As the brush around you warps forebodingly upwards and a fine vine descends towards her, It suddenly occurs to you that you never specified at which afterwards she had to let you go. “Now, about that wrapper you tossed into a bush, I really dislike littering”
