By the Green Road

By T.C. Mill

Two stories of lyrical, lush femdom fantasy with spellbinding women and sweetness mixed with thorns.

Evann follows the summons of the Green Road and comes under the power of an Elven woman, curious and cruel, whose intentions are impossible to predict but whose methods are seductive and at times even sweet. Despite his fear, Evann finds some pleasure in being her plaything, and can’t deny a curiosity of his own.

When Henry goes to visit the Rosewich Desidiria for a love potion, he has a lot to learn about his true desires. Happily, Desidiria is ready to teach him.

Contents: for audiences 18+, these stories contain explicit scenes between spellbound, willing men and sexy, dominant women, including themes of captivity and bondage.

“Rosewitch by T.C.Mill is another one of my favorites. I loved the atmosphere of the witch’s cottage; I could almost smell the roses when I read the description of her garden... The witch uses her rose vines to restrain him as she initiates him into the thornful, sweet pleasures of submission. ” - Bettina Theißen

• Language: English
• Publisher: T.C. Mill
• Release date: Aug 30, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301969203

T.C. Mill

T.C. Mill watches more BBC programming than is probably healthy, takes more books off library shelves than she can ever read (getting an eReader has not improved matters), and is currently writing her next story in a fashionable eco-friendly notebook. Or composing it in Microsoft Word with layers of Tracked Changes. Whatever works. Speaking of work, she earns her living as a freelance editor and disorganized author balancing three pennames.With Alex Freeman, she has co-edited two anthologies of passionate, cutting-edge erotica with the New Smut Project. Her work has been published by Nerve magazine, Bust, Bright Desire, Carina, Circlet, Cleis Press & the Tempted Romance imprint, and House of Erotica. More updates about what she's doing next can be found at TC-Mill.com.

Book preview

By the Green Road

T.C. Mill

Copyright: T.C. Mill

First Ed. Published: September 2013

Rosewitch copyright T.C. Mill 2014

Its original appearance was in Fifty Shades of Green from Greenwoman Publishing.

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Thank you for purchasing this ebook. This book is the copyrighted property of the author and may not be reproduced or distributed for any commercial use. Limited non-commercial reproduction and sharing, including the use of quotes and excerpts in reviews, is permitted. Your support of this author is greatly appreciated!

This story is a work of fiction and any resemblance to locales, events, or persons living, dead, or immortal is purely coincidental.

Enjoy these fantasies! And please do your research before attempting any real-life BDSM activities, which should be enjoyed with all participants’ informed consent.

†

By the Green Road is dedicated to my dear friend Hearts, who received each scene as I wrote it in a rush, hoping only to send her the complete story before a hurricane cut off her internet access. Thanks to Hearts, and thanks to Sandy, the first draft was completed in record time!

Table of Contents

By the Green Road

Rosewitch

About the Author

Other Stories by T.C. Mill

By the Green Road

‡

Evann first saw her walking along the border between the fields and woods, a shadow passing so swiftly that at first he thought he imagined movement, imagined the female figure with its long black hair, dreamed the keen, hard brightness of her eyes. No woman would go walking in the forest during the morning when there was so much work to be done, and no human being at all would stroll so casually through those trees.

No human being’s eyes would shine so clearly, even in the haze of green leaves and shadow. It was not a quality of human women to be at once so unfamiliar and singular—Evann had never seen her before, and he knew he never could confuse her with anyone else.

He wasn’t a fool; he had listened to all the old tales growing up, and he remembered their lessons. Yet he didn’t let imagination run away from him, either. It was just possible that she might be an ordinary woman, albeit one with extraordinary eyes. A girl Evann had sat by the river with to exchange silly endearments when they were both sixteen had tried to convince him his own eyes, blue as cornflower and startling against his darker skin, were so extraordinary he could be Elvenkind.

There was one way to put his fears to the test, based on his knowledge of the old ways. So he lay down his mattock and went to the place at the eaves of the woods where he had glimpsed her, peering between gray bark and emerald oak leaves. His heart thundered with fear, leaping in his throat from it, fear that left his flesh so tightly tense it was almost a sweetness, fear of something extraordinary, fear like passion.

Breathing deep, he smelled the sharp, bitter black soil of the forest. He stood with his toes digging into it and looked down. Here and there, the loam was cloaked with fallen leaves—but among them, sprouting in lush profusion, he found the trail she left. Grass as dense as a woven blanket, green as the high days of spring, fresh and whole as if untouched by grazing animals, and brighter than anything had a right to be beneath the shade of the thick branches.

The Green Road; the Elventrail.

Evann didn’t go to the Elders with word of what he saw. After years of hearing all the stories, he already knew what they’d tell him, the warnings they’d voice. Those that followed the trail of unnatural green growth never returned. He knew that already. It was the first, and to some extent the only, thing that could be known of the Green Road.

Advising caution was useless. At best they might pray for him, but the Elves were the children of the old forest gods. Legend said they intercepted prayers when they chose.

And it was not the Elders’ concern. Not a village matter. The village was safe, everyone else was safe. Evann was the only one who had seen her. He was the one called by the Green Road and the woman waiting at the end of it.

†

He spent the next day at home, giving the roof a new layer of thatch as his mother had wished for some time. But whenever he paused to rest, his eyes were drawn to the green on the horizon, the waiting forest.

When he went to work in the fields the next day, he saw her again, passing between the pale trunks of the trees on a tall white horse. He watched her ride by, letting the hoe fall forgotten from his hands. The slow flex of her shoulders and hips transfixed him, and he was breathless and aching at the gleam of her hair and the patterns the leaves’ shadows left on her skin. Skin that, varying as the light touched it, was golden or gray, smooth and soft-looking but covering wiry muscles, which in their arrangement did not really resemble a human’s. The same pattern