Resist the venom and get some answers

The imp venom thrumming in your blood has overwhelmed your defenses. You stare at the imp's luscious cock and imagine slipping your lips around it and tasting the hot succulent flesh against your tongue. Your virgin sex is slick with arousal and you are almost ready to cast aside your vows and beg for the imp's cock. But through the surging hormonal storm of lust within your body is a quiet, calm voice urging you to remain strong.

You focus your inner attention on that voice. Whether it is some inner reserve of willpower or the encouragement of the Burning Rose, you cannot be sure, but it gives you the strength you need to fight off the venom in your blood. You set your teeth, but hide your strength, letting a lusty smile slip onto your face.

"Oooh," giggles the flapping imp. "You want it, don't you? Can't wait to fill you with my seed. Yes indeedy!"

"I need it inside me," you moan, taking a step back and dropping to the floor. "Please, Mr. Imp, fill my with your big, thick cock."

The words make you shudder with real lust, but your resolve remains strong. You sit back amid the wash basins and spread your legs, your gown riding up your creamy thighs. One hand holds the hem of your gown, lifting it higher and higher to expose your underclothes to the imp. He flaps lower and lower, sniffing the air, apparently mesmerized himself by the scent of your arousal. He descends towards you, his huge cock so obscenely large it tips him forward as he flaps lower. Your free hand gathers the thick weight of a winter blanket.

"Yesss," you pur, rubbing yourself through your underclothes. "I must have you inside me."

"Oh, I will fuck you again and again my fire-haired slutmuffin, we'll-- Aaiiiee!"

He squeals in shock as you throw the heavy blanket over him, covering him and throwing your body atop him to pin him to the floor. You can feel him trying to stab his stinger through the thick blanket, but it's no use. The barb just isn't long enough to pierce the bunched fabric and get at your flesh.

"That's enough of that!" you growl, crushing him under your knee.

"Oooofff! Can't... breathe..."

"That's the idea you flapping blasphemy!" You throw in a few punches for good measure. When you finally lift the blanket, the imp is dazed and one side of its face looks like it is going to swell up. He looks at you, obviously dazed. You grab his tail and straighten it out. A carefully wrapped handkerchief and a tightly knotted lace create a cover for his stinger. No more tricks from this one. Thankfully, his cock is at last deflating and your mind is beginning to return to you. "Alright, you red-skinned ****. How did you get in here? What are you doing here?"

The imp manages a smile.

"Too late for you and sisters, fire-hair. Thoros is here. He will take your cunts and then your souls."

Thoros! His history with your order is long and terrible. He should never have been able to enter this realm and certainly not within the walls of the abbey.

"How did you get past the wards?"

Before the imp can answer, you hear a commotion in the hall. There is a scream that you think you recognize, followed by the snarling voice of a daemon. Was that the War Mother?

"Thoros comes!" laughs the imp. "Soon the sword of St. Magdalena will be ours and--"

"That's what you're after! Where is it?" You grab his scrawny neck, aware that the sounds outside the laundry seem to be getting closer. "Tell me or I will kill you."

"NNnnnnn alright! Stop... COUGH **** me. Will take you."

He might be trying to trick you, after all, that's what imps do. Another scream from the hall tells you that a **** battle is being waged.