Grimora the Sorceress Chapter 2 first draft

The Discovery

Then came a timid knocking at her door. “Mistress! Are you decent?”

Grimora sighed with much less contentment. Of course. It could never last. She wrapped herself in a sheet.

“Never am, Sneegleeves. Enter.”

The door creaked open, and in shuffled Sneegleeves, a scrawny green imp about 3 feet tall, wearing an old cracked pair of glasses and an old brown shirt full of holes as a tunic. Of all Grimora's minions, he was the least useless.

“Ah! I, ah, regret to disturb you, evil one--”

“You shall regret it much more if you do not get to the point, Sneegleeves.”

“Indeed, mistress, indeed! But I bring wonderful news! We found the Chronicle of Origath!”

Her mouth dropped open. And then it closed.

“Sneegleeves. Either someone lied to you, or you lie to me. The minions, MY minions, cannot have found the Chronicle of Origath.”

“I swear it to be true, your evilness! I have seen it myself, seen its foul etchings, read its first few leaves with my own eyes!”

“You are telling me, you worm, that not only did you all summon the brainpower to find the last living copy of the great Emperor Origaths' own chronicles, you actually laid hands on it? How in all the hells did that happen? Speak!”

“A most happy accident, my lady! Our forces found a caravan traveling under light guard, which they set upon. In one of the wagons was a chest full of old tomes, and this Chronicle has a terrible leering skull on its cover, and the others know how you adore things with skulls on them, your Greatness. So they brought it home unspoiled, and I opened it, and so it was! The Chronicle!”

“You have it here!? Bring it to me! Immediately!”

“At once, your vileness!” he gave a quick bow and scampered out.

Grimora fell back on her pillows in disbelief. The Chronicle of Origath. The final copy of the histories of the legendary Dread Emperor Origath. Origath the Doombringer. Origath the Calamitous. Origath the Worldburner. He who could not be pierced by spear nor cut by sword. He who feared no weapon or spell. He who tread kingdoms under his feet like grass. He who made all tremble at the sound of his name: Origath! Who crushed all and ruled all with an iron fist for a hundred years, and was only vanquished when a secret alliance of archmages combined their powers and organized a betrayal in Origath's court. And then, after a long battle, disintegrated his body to dust. Even then, it was said that he was so deathless that his soul still wandered the earth, waiting to be reborn in a new conqueror.

But most importantly to Grimora, it was said by some that he was never born in the first place, but made. By a ritual most obscure and revolting, created to do battle and never be defeated. Well, up to a point, Grimora thought. But nearly invincible was good enough. And this Chronicle might be the key to finding out if it was true. And if so...!

A trio of minions came bursting through the door, carrying a big book over their heads and staggering under its weight. Sneegleeves came in with them.

“Careful, you maggots! Up on the lectern!” Sneegleeves barked at the others.

But Grimora was too impatient. She waved her hand, and the book lifted up and floated through the air towards her bed, a minion dangling from it and squealing. She grabbed the book with a look of wonder in her eyes, and without looking, booted the gremlin off onto the floor. It did indeed have a big beautiful skull on it. She opened the cover to the title page, and there is was in big red illuminated text: “The Chronicles of His Majestie, Origath I, Emperor of All He Beholdes”.

“YES!” Grimora shrieked. She put the book down on the bed and threw up her arms in triumph. “YEEEEEEEEESSSSS!!!”

The sheet fell down and her boobs fell out. The minions yelped and covered their eyes. Grimora glared at them.

“Everyone except Sneegleeves, get out! Go get some grog, or burn something down, or whatever.”

“Yes mistress!”they squeaked in unison, and fell over themselves as they ran into the hall.

“As for you, Sneegleeves, read this and summarize for me.” She hated reading.

Sneegleeves hopped up on the bed and peered at the pages, skimming and flipping through carefully.

“Ahh...it says that he ruled alongside a most powerful mage, Revolta the Wise and Powerful. And that...she made him! With magic!”

Grimora's heart leapt. “How!? Read on, damn you! Tell me how!”

Sneegleeves fretfully skimmed. “It does not say here, only stories of this childhood and all the things he murdered while learning to walk! Perhaps further on? I will read more, your Greatness!”

A tense minute of fruitless page turning. Grimora bit her knuckle, her heart beating faster. So it's true! An unstoppable conqueror made by magic! It had been done, and done spectacularly! Now, the thought, if this book leaves out the recipe, I am going to blow up my own mountain.

“Wait,” she said. “What's that loose page towards the back?”

“Eh?” Sneegleeves looked. There was indeed a differently colored page sticking out a bit. He flipped to it, and saw a loose single sheet of what looked like vellum. Scrawled lines and sigils were all over it, looking much less neat and scholarly than the surrounding pages. Grimora's heart beat still faster. That looks like human skin, she thought. You always write your black rituals on human skin, that's been the standard forever!

“Read it. Read iiitttt!”

“...A Potion for...an Immortal Warrior! Giant's semen...troll's blood...powdered dragon scale...dried demon's heart!”

“YEEEEESSSSSSS!” she cheered again, laughing and cackling madly. “At last! At last! My very own dark emperor, within my reach! Sneegleeves! Prepare the minions! We go to find these ingredients, at once!”

It took many adventures to get them all, and to keep this tale short, they will be abbreviated here. Grimora set out with her minions herself, because none of these ingredients could be gotten easily. She had to be sure they jobs were done right. They summoned a demon, then slayed it and cut out its heart. They hunted down a troll and bled it dry into jugs. They had to delve into the tomb of an ancient dragon, take its scales, and then find a hammer and anvil strong enough to crush them. As for getting the barrel full of giant's semen...there was catfishing involved, and a lot of unhappy minions.

Until at last, the ingredients were gathered and brought back to the fortress. Grimora and a crowd of chattering imps gathered around a cauldron, poured everything together, and brought it to a boil. She stirred the concoction with a unicorn's shinbone, gleefully chortling as she did. The imps danced and hooted and laughed along with her. The potion became bright red and full of glitter from the dragon scales.

Grimora paused to sip from her favorite skull goblet. It was full of the blood of her enemies. That she then turned into wine. It still counted, and tasted much better.

“What's next, Sneegleeves?”

“'Take it off the heat, allow it to cool!'” he announced. Grimora made a simple hand pattern, and the flames under the cauldron went out in an instant. Another pattern, and a jet of freezing air blasted from her fingertips, covering until the cauldron was coated in frost. The crowd of minions watched and went oooooh!

“And now, Sneegleeves?”

“'Take half a flagon of the potion, and flush'...um...” Sneegleeves hesitated.

“And what? Out with it!”

“...'flush into a womb steeped in powerful magic. Hold inside for 1 minute.'”

The room went quiet. Grimora stared at him and the recipe sheet, which was now trembling in his hands.

“...did you read that right? Like...a literal womb? Not like a container or something?”

“I-I don't know, your evilness. It seems to m-mean what it says.”

Grimora paused, a bit taken aback. She knew about rituals that needed other female elements, like menstrual blood, or milk, but this? This was a first. Well...unfortunately, she had one of those. And couldn't think of anyone else to use.

“So...what the fuck is a flagon, and how much is half of it?”

“Um...I, I'm not sure, your greatness? I think a flagon is like a big cup, or a jug? And half of whatever that holds?”

“Hmm...” She thought about it. But not too long. Big magic was never supposed to be easy.

“You! Go to my chambers and fetch the old turkey baster. As for you, Sneegleeves...”

She hiked up her dress, sat barebottomed on a nearby table, leaned back, and spread her legs.

“...you will get me ready. Start licking.”

Sneegleeves gulped, but put down the recipe sheet and timidly shuffled towards Grimora's waiting crotch. Many minions covered their eyes, but many others leaned in closer and leered.

It was not that Grimora was at all attracted to imps. Nor did she particularly enjoy being watched. But she did enjoy mortifying Sneegleeves. So as he stuck his long nose and glasses between her legs and started meekly licking her snatch like a kitten, with a throng of minions staring at him, Grimora looked down at him and smiled.

“A little higher, Sneegleeves. And a little more pressure.”

She gently rubbed her left breast in a circular motion, and took another sip of her wine.

“Ahhh...very good, Sneegleeves. Keep at it.”

Grimora looked around at the rest of her minions. “If any of you think you can do better, you can come have a turn in a minute. Just know that if any of you perform badly, I will crush your skulls between my thighs.”

One orange imp in the crowd jumped up and down and waved a hand excitedly. “Ooh, ooh! Me, Me!”

“My, my! A brave one!” She tapped Sneegleeves on the head, who backed away and coughed. “What is your name?”

“Me don't know!”

“No name yet, hmm? Well come on then, little one, let's see if you don't earn one. If I don't kill you, that is.”

The imp ambled over with his tongue out and a greedy look in his yellow eyes. What Grimora expected was that the upstart imp would dive in and slobber all over her privates like a hungry dog, and then she would snap his neck.

Instead—he put his paws on her thighs—felt his lips on her folds—and--

“Ooh. Ooh! Oh my! Just a little bit slower, but...aah!”

What was this? He was rough and eager to be sure, but...he was doing everything right! Waves of actual pleasure began to run through her, and her lower parts began to heat up. She massaged her own breast again, faster this time, and gave a little moan. She wrapped her legs around the imp's head. Unfortunately, this made him stop and make muffled squeals in terror.

“Don't you dare stop!” snarled Grimora. “Keep going, or I pop your head!”

The nameless imp resumed with renewed fervor. Grimora leaned back, putting her hands on the back edge of the table, and sighed with a smile on her face.

“I never ah gave any of you balls, but...mmmmif you had them...I think you'd have good ones! Ha ha...ahh!”

She looked at the door and was a bit dismayed to see the first minion come back with a sizable turkey baster in his hands. Not now! It was feeling good! But...did she really want to cum in from of all her minions?

Yes. Yes she did. She grabbed the brave imp by his long pointy ears.

“Come on, a little harder, right there! Yes! Almost there! Al-(gasp)-most! Come on! COME ON! Yes! That's the way! Keep at it! Keep at (gasp) it! Ah! Ah, yes! Ah! AH! AH!...MMMMMM! Ahhh...yessssss...”

No doubt as the orange imp felt the thighs clamp tight around his head, his short little life flashed before his eyes. But instead they released him, and he looked up into the rosy face of his evil mistress, who was sweating and breathing heavily.

“You...have been promoted. Your name...is now Slobberjaw. Or until I come up with...a better one. Understand? Answer me, Slobberjaw!”

“Yes mistress! Me Slobberjaw! Me your happy happy servant!”

“Yes. Very good.” she breathed. “Now one of you fill that baster with the potion and bring it here.”

It was done, and Sneegleeves stood before Grimora with the baster in his hands, quivering.

“Well come on now, Sneegleeves.” She spread her vaginal for him, showing him his target. “Push it in until I tell you to stop.”

He, very slowly, very carefully, slid the baster into her vagina. She hissed.

“OK...OK...stop. Now...squeeze that bulb...and fill me up.”

She felt the somewhat familiar feeling of the thick warm liquid hitting the back of her vagina. But much more than she ever felt before. She tried her best to clamp down and keep the liquid in but...there was so much! Sneegleeves withdrew the baster, and Grimora put a hand down to her vagina to try and keep it all in. She crossed her legs and sat up very straight, and felt it sloshing around inside.

“Whoo! Oh, that feels very strange! And I've got to hold it for one minute?

“Yes mistress.”

“And, um...what do I do with it after? Just kind of...let it out into bowl?” She took a somewhat shaky sip of her wine.

Sneegleeves peered at the recipe. “'Repeat once a week until conception'.”

Grimora spat out red liquid in a spray, out of both ends. A group of minions caught the blast in their faces and went awwwwhh! Except for Slobberjaw, who licked his lips.

“SNEEGLEEVES!” Grimora roared. “YOU MISERABLE IMBECILE! YOU DID NOT THINK TO READ AHEAD AND TELL ME ABOUT THAT PART!?”

A wind blew through the chamber from nowhere, and lightning sparked across anything metal, terrifying the crowd. Sneegleeves dropped to the ground and cowered.

“N-n-n-no, your greatness! I thought w-w-w-we were to go one step at a time! I did not think—oh, mercy, mistress! Mercy! Mercy!”

The wind and lightning died down, and Grimora took a deep breath. And let it out.

“You're lucky your name is so fun to say, Sneegleeves. Or I would have roasted you long ago.”

She stood up, put a hand to her chin, and pondered, pacing.

“This...is not what I expected. What a strange twist. So Oligath's sorceress creator was...his mother? That's how she did it? Bore and raised him herself? Hmmm...” She frowned, and pondered some more.

“Could I do it too? Having children...ugh. But...that child would be my ticket to world domination. On one hand: ruin my pelvic floor. And my figure. On the other hand: thousand years of darkness, which would be awesome. On one hand: having to wait for him to grow up. And remember birthdays. On the other hand: can start early, teach him the basics of evil, then get to conquering. On one hand: having to carry a baby in me for ages, then have to push out that baby, destroy my lady parts, eww. On the other hand: that baby will have superpowers. And will do whatever I tell it to. And then the world would be mine. Hmmm...”

She turned to Sneegleeves. “Any other extremely important instructions I should know about?”

Sneegleeves yelped and scrambled for the recipe sheet.

“Ah...'Eat or drink no intoxicants, n-nor potions until the warrior is borne.' That's all, mistress! That's all!”

Grimora put a hand to her face and groaned. “On one hand...no more wine. On the other hand...”

She sighed. Then, resolutely, she sat back on the table and spread her legs.

“Come on then. Give me another dose. Quick, while I'm young, and before I change my mind!”

Sneegleeves filled the baster with more red potion, slid it in, and squirted his mistress full. This time, she kept it in. She put her hand on her lower belly, thoughtfully.

“...on the other hand,” she said to herself, “she who dares...wins.”