The Wishing Well
The Wishing Well
By Jaded_Fox~™
Disclaimer: Readers under 18 strongly discouraged. Rated R for sexual content and strong language. I just want to say thank you to all the supportive readers who helped "My Fantasy" to become a 10 out of 10 story! You're fantastic! Anyway, getting on with it, The Wishing Well is based on a dream I had not too long ago. Like all good writer's, my dreams inspire a lot of the tales I spin and I hope this one is worthy of your time. Cheers!
-Jaded_Fox~
The town of Whitewood Springs was story-book-esc but none the less beautiful. The tiny complex of pubs, cafés, and bookshops was quaintly nuzzled between a low-ranging valley, the grass and trees more blue-green than the deepest of shades. Cars were non-existing, keeping the mountain air pure and the noise pollution to a low. The inhabitants that lived in Whitewood were amazing, their species a mixture of animal and human due to their love of the earth and nature with the help of evolution. The people loved their town and everything in it. It was peaceful and a calming place to stay. But when Gwen arrived...the town was gone.
Raiders had hit at dawn, burning the buildings with throw-torches, killing the beautiful people and leaving nothing but salt sewn wreckage. The fox's sharp storm-colored eyes took in the blood spattered cobble stone streets, the black carcasses of old buildings, the bridges that were burned and rotting in the bottom of the stream, with a heavy heart. This had been her home once. She'd left and this was what happened.
She felt her stomach twist into a slimy knot as she passed the dead miller and his wife, hung permanently suspended with spears through their bellies, pinned to the stable walls like some crude ornaments. She'd helped the miller's wife raise her wolf kits into strong young lads she loved to teach archery to. The bar keep was collapsed against his pub's porch beam, a bottle of strong liquor in one paw, a case with some powder-white pills in the other. Gwen would not cry for him, she had yet to see the ultimate heart-wrencher.
This is all my doing.
And there they were, her family, outside the far defense wall, her mum with a bow, her father a paw full of javelins. She knew they would fight tooth and claw for this place, their home. Tears stung her eyes as she climbed the latter to the top of the wall, the wind whipping her long chestnut locks like an omen. She pried her da's fingers loose away from the javelin he was clutching, folding his arms across his chest gently. The girl-fox softly brushed hair from her mother's face, slipping the bow from her grasp and folding her paws in her lap.
This is all my doing.
Her heart took a drop as she climbed down the ladder and came face to face with a bandit that was only slightly wounded, his 'coon teeth bared at the unsuspecting fox-teen. Lightening fast, she tore her Kitana from it's sheathe and made the thief breathe no more, slicing open his throat and turning away from the hot spray of blood, waiting for him to fall only to stab him again and again.
This is all my doing.
"You bloody bastard! You killed my family, my home!" she screamed, cutting the dead raccoon to pieces as her blade slashed at the trodden animal again and again until she collapsed into a heap of sobbing fox. Blood stained and crying out her pain, she levered herself bodily into the fountain, leaning her head against the middle statue of three wolves standing together, singing together, being together, the smooth alabaster stone under her body soothing her, the cold water washing away the blood.
This is all my doing.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~
"But mum..." Gwen blushed as she stepped from behind the delicate pink-tissue dressing wall, a small shy smile on her lips. A luscious black dress adorned her body, fitting it as easily as a well-made glove. The soft fabric was made from the finest of all materials, a cosmic blend of silk and velvet, sleek and shiny, hugging the fox-girls narrow waist and wide hips daintily, fanning out at the bottom into a wide skirt.
Her mother sighed with pleasure, seeing her daughter in such a beautiful garment when all Gwen wanted to wear was suitable breeches and stable shirts. A tiny black-glass butterfly was tucked between one ear and her mass of cascading chestnut ringlets, a small silver flute hanging on a chain 'round her neck resting between the exposed crest between her breasts. Two form-fitting slippers of the same fabric were on both feet. Gwen raised her paws to her lips in surprise as she confronted the full-length mirror.
"My little foxling..." her mother cooed, straightening the dress, tugging at it in a motherly way until it was just right. "Now, get out there and celebrate at the formal! This is a lovely evening and I want you to enjoy it." Those were the last words she'd heard her mother say. Gwen stepped out into the cool evening, the breeze softly tugging at her long locks and her dress playfully. She quietly made her way to the fountain, sitting down on the edge and listening to the music of a small band a street over, the streets strewn with lovely paper lanterns as decoration. The square smelled of baking bread, hot metal and flowers of all kinds, a soothing knowing sort of smell.
"I'm sorry, erm..." Another fox about her age slipped his paw behind the sitting Gwen and pulled his book away. Apparently, he had been sitting there before the young girl-fox had arrived.
"Oh! I'm...sorry," she laughed, standing up to see if there were any more books she'd been sitting on in her festival-educed stupor. The other vulpine grinned wryly, tucking the book away in his bag.
"It's alright, I just went to see what all the commotion was about in the Bakery and I'd come back and thought my book had turned into a beautiful fox. Since I got my book back and a fox out of this, I consider myself very lucky," the charming young man laughed, flashing a smile of straight white teeth and obviously teasing her. Gwen didn't know what to say, blushing softly beneath her fur, sitting back down on the edge of the fountain carefully, her skirts sighing prettily.
The young man was dressed in a brown leather tunic studded with gold rings, a billowy long-sleeved white undershirt under that. His breeches were dark brown and of soft fabric, outlining his natural muscles; not those you get from beating yourself to death with barbells. His hair was a brush of darkness; longer and more unkept than proper but not so much that it looked bad. It gave him the distinct look of someone who had just stepped off the windy sea from sailing.
Gwen fingered her flute quietly, looking down at her feet, long lashes casting beautiful shadows on her smooth cheeks in the soft lamplight.
"May I sit here m'lady?" the young man-fox asked, his bright gray eyes smiling down at her as he gestured to the smooth marble rim of the fountain next to her. The vixen smiled and nodded, scooting a bit so that he had enough room to be polite. He sat down, placing the book beside him and looking up into the starry sky, the delicate purples and navies of the night playing across his facial features. He had a strong nose a bit too much for traditional good looks, full sensitive lips, and a grand physique in Gwen's opinion. But it was his eyes that got to her, his bright silvery eyes that were so full of hidden emotion, full of secrecy and yet so expressive.
"M'lady?" Gwen blinked and realized she'd been staring directly at the stranger and blushed cutely, pulling her hand-fan from her satchel and opening it, covering her face below her eyes to hide the flush timidly. A strong paw slipped to the black fan and tipped it downward a bit. "Don't hide such a face." She noticed he hadn't said 'Such a pretty face like she'd come accustomed too she realized with horror, and she also noticed that before, when he'd called her beautiful, he was joking. Now he sounded serious. Intrigued, she let the fan fall away from her face and lay in her lap, exposing her soft nose and heart-shaped rose-pink lips.
She was rewarded with a smile from her counterpart, a wry one at least, and slipped the fan back into her bag, most of her blush gone into the night air. They'd been sitting peacefully for a few moments before the young man stood, and stretched, then to her surprise and hidden delight, took off his outer tunic and breeches. Gwen's lips parted in hidden surprise and she looked away slightly, hiding under the curtain of her hair.
"Sir?" she whispered dryly, looking helpless as the male fox eyed her curiously.
"Well you don't expect me to ruin my good leather in the wet, do you?" he asked as calmly as though she'd asked about the weather. Wet? Gwen's eyes widened as he slipped over the wall and into the water that was spilling from the alabaster wolf's mouth above. When she hadn't joined him, he trudged back through the water and sat on the rim. "Don't you know the legend? On the night of the Reaping Festival, if two lovers dance in the fountain, it brings the town luck. C'mon!"
"My father told me about this... a long time ago. I don't...I don't think we should, it doesn't always bring good luck!" The young man made a 'so what' gesture with his paw and beckoned again for her to join him.
"We're not really lovers, so it doesn't matter. Be daring, climb out of that good girl shell, join me!"
Gwen watched him in amazement for a moment before grudgingly standing up.
"I can't believe I'm doing this..." she muttered darkly, stripping off the beautiful dress and tucking it under the shelf of the fountain edge so not to get wet, tossing in with it the glass butterfly, slippers and her bag. Dressed only in a black corset top, her flute and a sheer black underskirt, she glowered at him. The young fox did all but glower back, taking in the soft curves of her breasts through the corset, the gentle angles of her waist and powerful legs through the short underskirt, the way her hair fanned out around her shoulders when she walked.
He offered a hand and helped her in, his eyes never leaving her face when they found it, a smile on his lips as she yelped at the coldness of the water.
"Thanks to you, kind sir," bitter sarcasm in her voice, "I will promptly catch cold and die." Something flickered in the young man's eyes as he pulled her under the shielding curtain of water of the fountain.
"May I ask this lady's name?" he inquired innocently. Gwen glared at him good naturedly and huddled closer to him, the spray of the falling water coating her fur and making her shiver.
"This lady's name is Gwendolyn Malady. I'd have yours?" Gwen asked, doing a very over zealous curtsy to be smart and immediately fell back into the water, the 'yours?' at the end of her spoken sentence drown out by a mouth full of water. She raised her head above water and took in a great gulp of air, cursing more vividly than half the sailors in the town. The gentleman-fox looked appeased and helped her to her feet, brushing a leaf from her hair with a gentle hand, the fingers stopping to touch her cheek before cupping it softly, angling her face upward toward his.
"I'll tell you a secret..." his voice has taken on a serious, more mysterious quality to it so that Gwen was transfixed, her green-gray eyes locked on his. She then realized her face was closer to his than it had been and she held her breath, her chest softly brushing his as she was pulled closer. Her lips parted expectantly as she leaned upward, angling her head a bit before the male-vulpine suddenly bent near her ear and whispered, "I can see through you're skirts."
For a moment, sure he was going to say something awesomely romantic, Gwen froze, an expectant smile on her face. Then, realizing that's what he had planned to say all along, she exploded with a laughing fit or rage and thumped him across the chest with one paw. The gentleman-fox laughed brightly.
"What were you expecting?" he inquired, again pulling her close to him by just the gaze of his eyes, Gwen stepping closer to him. One hand reached up and softly ran along his back, slipping up his spine, making his brows furrow slightly and his body to tense with ticklish pleasure, as the she-vixen slipped her hand along his bare back and up his neck, tangling her hand in his soft hair, pulling his body closer to his.
"I was expecting this..." she murmurs a little wickedly, leaning up and pressing her lips to his a bit hard, arching her lithe body against his hands and breaking the kiss, breathing in deeply with her lips against his so that he was literally 'breathless' for a moment. Not that she had to help; the male fox totally taken aback by the sudden expression of lust. He stumbled slightly backward in the water, only to fall against the stonewall that supported the statue above. Gwen licked her lips playfully and then examined her nails as though enjoying a holiday in the park.
The male-vixen recovered instantly from the kiss and eyed her warily. From the way he approached, she'd done more than surprised him by the kiss. He tilted his head at her and then slipped his hands to her waist, taking her unawares, pulling her against his solid body and leaning down, hovering his lips just over hers. Now that she wasn't the one making the moves, her heart gave a nervous little leap, the good girl in her creeping back. He felt her tremble under his hands and furrowed his brows, stepping back a bit.
Fearing for the chance to kiss him again was lost, she reclaimed her spot in front of him and ran her hands carefully up his stomach to his chest, making him breathe outward softly against her hair as he rested his chin on her head, letting her explore his body freely. She softly nuzzled his neck and shoulder, slipping delicate hands over his hard chest and collarbones. His own hands slipped up and down the strings of the corset along her spine, tugging them thoughtfully as Gwen's hands moved to his back, trailing her nails along his spine soothingly, liking the feel of his strong body melded against her own soft one.
After thoroughly mapping out what parts of his body she could reach, Gwen backed up slightly, gazing up into his eyes, trying to read what he was thinking through her long lashes. He gazed back silently, slipping his hands to her shoulders and brushing back her hair gently, one finger slipping under her chin and tilting it upwards as he leaned in and kissed her lips softly, a mere brush, so different compared to her earlier mash-o-thon. She breathed in as he breathed out, tasting his breath as their lips lightly touched. The young man's hands slipped slowly up and down her back, experimentally brushing over the back of her skirts and down the back of her thighs a ways before coming back up, each time drawing a soft moan out of the she-vixen.
It was Gwen to slipped her tongue beautifully over the part of his lips first, drawing a soft gasp from the male-vixen as he retaliated, parting his lips and brushing his tongue against hers, tasting her sweetly and drawing her body closer to his own, feeling a gentle pressure where their lower bodies touched. The light brush of hips wakened something she'd never felt before and the she-vixen deepened the kiss instantly, slipping her tongue deep into his mouth, moaning softly as she felt his tongue brush past hers to do the same.
In an instant the corset was limp and falling off her shoulders, the strings pulled and loosened with Gwen's help, laughing quietly as she broke the kiss to undo the outer clasps. She tossed her bangs out of her face and resumed kissing the young man, the corset slipping down her body and finally around her knees into the water. Gwen's didn't even bother picking it up, her body now fully traitor to this feeling the man was giving her. As he felt her breasts brush against his bare chest, he moaned softly into her parted lips, their tongues touching delicately as his paws caressed their way up her stomach and over her breasts gently, feeling their skin cool and warming them with his body heat.
The kiss was broken and he was kissing his way down her collarbones, across her neck and to the flute, pausing to give it a respectful kiss before finding one breast and kissing it warmly, making Gwen intake breath quickly and press her body closer to his warm, damp lips, her eyes closed, her knees weak. He treated her body as though it was a treasure, but made it blatant that she was offering it to him and he wasn't doing anything wrong so that they both felt comfortable. He kissed his way down her smooth stomach and paused to nuzzle her between her legs playfully before slipping the skirts down her thighs and into the water with her drowned corset.
Fed up with her being the only one naked, Gwen eased the handsome creature to his feet and played her paws along the band of his breeches, slipping them down, occasionally looking up to see the male-fox's expression of the utmost wanting. Knowing he wanted her, harnessing that power, she teasingly slid them down into the water. Her eyes widened slightly and the blush was back but she refused to back out now, moaning softly as she stood back up and pressed her body against his, feeling him softly brushing against her thighs and biting her lower lip.
The young man turned her around slowly, leaning her against the smooth stone wall of the fountain. He gently slipped his paw down her thighs and parted them, coaxing a smooth gasp of surprise and pleasure from Gwen's lips as he stroked her slowly, feeling her paws curl into loose fists at his shoulder, leaning against the wall for support as he slipped a gentle pad into her. A quiet whimper of pleasure was lost in the roaring sound of the fountain as the young man slowly worked slipped in and out of her, stopping when he knew it would push her over the edge.
Gwen opened her eyes and looked up at him with a sly smile on her lips, pulling him against her and pressing him in an inch or so, catching him off guard so that it felt even better with the element of surprise. She would not lose this lusty tug of war for power! She felt him lean against her and press all the way in, her muscles contracting around him slightly, getting an answering throbbing sensation from him and feeling her knees almost collapse with ecstasy. Two strong arms wrapped around her and lifted her against him, wrapping two bent knees around his waist and allowing him leverage.
He slipped in and out easily though she was a virgin, guiding her hips against his and finding their own inner rhythm, building easily with the slickness of the cool water. Panting softly, she felt her climax near and wanted to slow, wanted to make it last, but knew she couldn't stop it. She embraced his speed, the solidity of his body against hers and finally arched against him completely, taking him in deeply for the last time and feeling him release inside of her, digging her claws lightly into his back and clutching him closely. They stay there for a moment, cling to each other for support for a few long minutes, letting their bodies slow down, coming off of the high of the purest pleasure.
She'd never seen the stranger again after the night they'd become lovers in the fountain on the Festival of Reap. And this salt sewn wreckage you see. This was her doing.