Esma: Part 1Mature

A little mature, a little playful, a little fantasy, a lot of fun between a Knight and a Witch.

I laughed as I threw my latest conquest into the pond near the main road going into Kingdom Village. His croak as he flew through the air amused me for some strange reason I couldn't fathom. I ran my fingers through my long blonde hair and simply smiled, turning around and making the hour's journey back to my home in the Forlorn Forest.

People called it the Forlorn Forest because it grew out of control of even the strongest magics. It grew to the borders that it was born from and no more or no less. I took my home in the Forlorn Forest 20 years earlier when my mother was raped by some adventuring knight. She had me and she cursed me for being born out of wedlock. I was cast into the forest and I was raised for several years by a pack of wolves. Looking back now, I think I was being trained by them to be their bitch. But thankfully, I was rescued by a witch. She was ugly, though. And old. She was dying and wanted to pass on her magic to someone before she died. She told me that she'd committed many horrible acts and was from a long line of witches, she was the last. She taught me until I was 15, then she died. I learned everything she knew and after she died, I was broken. But I recovered by taking my anger out on traveling men. I'd learned about my heritage by using a spell the witch taught me. I hated man that raped my mother and I vowed to reap revenge on mankind. I decided to morph any male that I came across into a frog. It was a fitting punishment for those men that want to take whatever they want without care for anyone else.

I arrived home and went to my mirror. I was told by the witch to always take care of my skin. Because my descendents would inherit it after I die. Generations of witches not taking care of their skin causes the warts and wrinkles that the witch wore on her face. I don't mean to say that I'm vane. But I trick the men by using my beauty. Without it, I'd have to resort to less successful ways to land my prey. I grabbed my brush and slowly brushed my long blonde hair. It had been growing relatively uncut since I was born. When the witch brought me into her culture, she showed me how to present myself as a lady and how to groom myself. Since then, I'd always cut my hair just below my bottom. Often, I would twist it into a braid and sometimes I'd twist it into many braids and make intricate folds with my hair in order to entrance the men I tempt and take. I was about to undress and take a bath when I felt the familiar twang of power in the air. One of my traps had been sprung. I smiled to myself and jumped into action. Time to take my prey.

The End

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