“What did you have in mind for her, Niamh?” asked the lighter skinned nymph, picking up Eilwy’s bag and peering inside inquisitively. Nypmhs aren’t known for their patience, however, and pretty quickly she had upturned the bag and began shaking its contents onto a bed of muddy leaves.
“I haven’t decided,” said Niamh, the darker nymph, grinning. “Maybe, if she’s good, she doesn’t spend the rest of the summer as a frog!’
Eilwy’s magic bag was capable of holding much more than it looked, and the lighter skinned nymph was clearly amused by the sheer volume of belongings dropping out. A couple of spare robes, a wand, a cookbook, a bunch of clean black panties tied together in string, a black grimoir…
The black grimoir fell into the bed of leaves with an ominous thud, and the nymph jumped back with a small cry of fright. “The Grimoir of Armenta! Niamh, look!”
Oh no! Thought Eilwy helplessly. They’ve recognised it!
Niamh’s eyes boggled. “It can’t be, Assha! The Grimoir is held by the Black Reaver” (she spat) “and she hasn’t been seen… seen around here….”
Both nymphs turned slowly to look at the captured enchantress.
“Well, well, well,” said Assha softly. “Eilwy, the Black Reaver herself!”
“The Black Reaver, fucked by a troll!” giggled Niamh, colour returning to her face. “Do you remember the noises she was making? When he had her legs on his shoulders?” She pulled a serious, pained face. “Urrg! Oh! Oh! Ooooo! Get off me, you’re too big, you mean troll!”
Both nymphs giggled.
“She’s not as scary with her clothes off.”
“I’m not scared of her,” said Niamh, and waved her hand.
The vines holding Eilwy’s booted ankles tugged playfully. Eilwy struggled, but in vain, as her legs were pulled slowly apart into an obscene “v”.
Niamh grinned. “Let’s see how the Black Reaver likes getting fucked by a couple of nymphs!”
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