FSE

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*Story copyrighted May 2008, by me Tyvara_Panther. Story is of an adult nature. Inspired by a Thursday prompt (Community on FA) in March that got a little out of hand and took me longer than I'd expected to finish and has been sitting on my computer for three weeks in hopes of having a friend edit it. Since she is currently MIA I edited it to the best of my abilities. Hope you enjoy.*

The trees had just begun to change, and the vibrant shades of russet and gold, blended with the faded greens and browns of the towering and hanging limbs; not a zephyr ruffled them, and the air felt heavy with autumn warmth as the sun rays blinked between varying trunks. The only sounds were that of the screech of crow calls as thousands of obsidian forms scattered into the sky like beams from one focus, as a convoy of vibrantly decorated carts rumbled and lurched as they were pulled by huge guar oxen, on an old and worn forest path.

As one of the carts lurched over a particularly deep crevice a feline screech--followed by a curse--echoed as Vavarrie, a servaline genet, grabbed her dresser with her strong and agile limbs; with her best effort focused to keep her boxes and vials of products from tumbling to the floor, and though nothing was glass, she had no desire to scramble about a cart trying to catch ever evading beauty items, as they tumbled about the ever jostling floor. She gritted her teeth as the cart gave a few more heavy rumbles and hiccups before it finally settled onto even road, and with a deep sigh of relief Vavarrie released her dresser. Finally she could finish the last stages of getting ready, and a good thing too, Medenine's Market Day was almost upon them, and she had to be ready with her dancing girls to reap in their share of the towns vast wealth.

She straitened her skirts which were a variety of shades of purples, greens and reds that twirled about her amber-furred legs like showers of petals, which every now and then revealed the warm brown spots that flecked her thighs and calves. Her cincher, pulled tight so the skirts billowed out and gave the impression of wider hips than she possessed, was black ochre, and her shirts in shades of cream, were cut low and wide so to reveal the other brown spots that flecked her golden body.

With the road even and the ride now steady, Vavarrie sat on the stationary stool next to her dresser, and with the help of a large oval mirror she began to pull the tight spirals of her dark sepia hair into an attractive coiffure, to which she added a variety of ribbons, chimes, bells and fanciful clips, which she secured in place with a selection of concoctions and helpful hints she'd come across in her travels. She added beautiful golden bracelets and anklets, covered in golden clackers to each appendage--a gift from a rather wealthy lover--which gave her the sound of rain on wind-chimes when she walked. When she had finished, she stood and took a step from the stool and gave an elaborate twirl to test her handiwork. Satisfied that nothing would come loose on stage, Vavarrie went to her window and leaned outside and called to the head of the cart. "Zamayr, how goes it?" her voice loud and sweet.

The driver Zamayr leaned back, a large hyena with the look of a small mountain, his voice soft and melodious. "Almost there Ma'am; the building team was sent far ahead so we should arrive to a set stage."

"Fantastic!" She exclaimed and pulled a cord which sounded a loud series of horn toots--a signal for the other carts that their destination was soon upon them. Most of the other girls shared living quarters, with the exception of those who had purchased their own, and she had a lively company of girls; mostly felines among them, though she had excepted an exquisite golden jackal, a fennec, and a rather exotic fruit bat as dancers. Her stage hands however were of a wider variety, all big and burly, but in that alone were they the same, and in all her years as troupe leader, and even before that when she was a mite and her mother had run the company, her stage hands kept the safety of her girls.

When they came to the gates of Medenine the smells of Market Day had filled the carts and gave Vavarrie a nervous twitter in her stomach which developed into a large lump by the time the convoy of carts pulled up to their stage. No matter how old she got or how many times she went out on stage, she still got nervous before a show. "The sign of a good performer." Her mother would always say. "It'll keep you from getting cocky too." Vavarrie wasn't sure about that last part, but she was content to swallow around the lump that had risen into her throat and take her steps on stage when the girls were called.

The first dance was simple, the music was lively yet moderate, a warm up for both the dancers and the crowd. Quickly beasts gathered round the stage; the only separation between the girls and those below was the row of box-like stage hands, which they'd were quickly glad of--once the music came faster and the steps flew like lightning, and their skirts flew high in the air; for then the males hooted and hollered with each girl that was tossed across the stage, which soon became a frenzy, as lengths of furred thighs were clearly seen, and the dancers flew from open arm to open arm, as they were tossed and tumbled and launched, until the girls seemed to never touch the ground--but with one bellowed call it all came to an abrupt end, with the music ending in off keys and left a few of the dancers stumbling and dizzy.

"Harlots!" The voice sounded from the far back of the crowd.

Vavarrie, who had been in the midst of an elaborate tumble, came up sudden and stiff as she looked about the crowd for the location of the voice, and when she did--she went numb--for where the voice emanated from was tall, large, and strong; his form sleek and trained--a fierce and stunning example of generations of caracal elite breeding; his jet black hair stark against his creamy golden fur and even more offset by his moon colored eyes, and dressed in the fierce ultramarine uniform of the Medenine guard and decorated with the golden tags of a general. He was surrounded by a few of his fellow guardsmen who stood stiffly around him.

"Sirens and Thieves!" He called out again.

Vavarrie felt the blood rise to the fur of her cheeks and she shouted back. "We do only honest work here Ammbroas. Us entertainers have the sanction of the High King to do business here. Go back to your barracks and crow at your men, and leave those of us who wish to enjoy the market day be."

"We take to the streets to keep law and peace in Medenine and . . ."

"And we keep it well Ammbroas." Vavarrie interjected. "While you are insistent on disturbing our audience and making a mockery of your station by harassing dancing girls."

Ammbroas laid back his ears with displeasure, though that was the only apparent sign of it, as the insult struck home. "You just keep on your guard wench." He called out, as his men turned around abruptly. "All it takes is one slip up, and you'll be in my clutches." He gave a wry smile that gave an eeriness to his face, and Vavarrie felt her hackles prickle nervously which caused a ruffle to spread through her fur and she was thankful Ammbroas was far enough away that it was a secret between her and her girls.

With a blink he turned and followed his men as they began to disperse into the city, and left the crowd in a state of murmured whispers which quickly grew to a dull roar as an ever larger crowd began to gather in hopes of snagging some tidbit of Market Day gossip. The girls were in no less of a tizzy and the musicians were lost in their own state of wagging tongues as the stage hands below looked up toward Vavarrie for direction.

That knocked her into action and with a swift flick of her tail she turned and rushed to the musicians and grabbed an intricate wooden horn and turned back toward the audience and gave a tightlipped blow, the sound loud, as it resonated across the square and against the buildings. The crowd went into quick silence as Vavarrie put the horn down and shouted out at the now enormous crowd.

"Come! Let's not have this spoil the festivities. This is a Market Day, enjoy the wares of Medenine. Eat, drink and play!" She bellowed as she threw up her paws and Azalee the fruit bat was launched across the stage into the crowd, and as she opened her wings and soared above them and back to the stage the beasts below gave out an uproarious cry and the girls, who had been covertly slinking back into position since the horn blast, began their dance again with the music as lively as ever and the crowd packed tightly within the square so that the food vendors could only make their rounds of it's outskirts.

As the day progressed the stage became so littered with currency that the entertaining ended early so the girls could go out and enjoy the evening festivities, and Vavarrie too was eager to traverse about the square with the warm autumn air that had lingered through the dusk and would long into the twilight--the evening boded well for a pleasant end to the Market Day. Overall the day had been prosperous, despite General Ammbroas' minor disturbance, which in the end proved more profitable than anyone could have guessed, and it is a grand day indeed when the money comes rolling in by droves.

Vavarrie soon grew tired of the vendors and began to meander through the square. It was strange for her, to be stuck within this town, trapped behind the towering walls and buildings--she had never lived in a town--all her life had been spent in the dancer carts out under the openness of the sky. She stretched out a paw, and laid her pads against the cold stone of one of the buildings next to her, and felt the lifelessness of the mortar and rock; Vavarrie quickly pulled her paw back and continued to stroll. She would be glad when she could return to the beauty of the trees and the full open sky above, and the freedom of life amongst her troupe of dancing girls.

After a while of walking the sounds and smells of the market had become faint, so Vavarrie looked about her, and in a panic realized that she had no idea where she was. She mentally berated herself for her neglect and carelessness, but she still had to get back to the square. She stood on tiptoes and attempted to look between the buildings for signs of the lights of the market and strained her ears for the sound. She scuttled forward and repeated the position and soon she began to hear familiar sounds. With a sigh of relief she followed those sounds, until she rounded a corner and a shadow blocked her path.

"You seem distressed." The voice called, and Vavarrie's heart skipped a beat.

"What do you want Ammbroas." She said as she crossed her arms, though still with a step backwards. "Have you stooped to stalking me?"

Ammbroas stepped forward into the light and gave another of his eerie smiles. "I didn't need to, I could hear you a league away."

Vavarrie uncrossed her arms and the sound of rain on wind-chimes followed the movements--she had forgotten that she still wore much of her dancing attire. She took another tentative step back as she looked upward at the General. "What do you want?"

Ammbroas licked his lips as he quickly grabbed her arm and pulled her to him. "You know exactly what I want." He said as he grabbed her other arm, which held her still, though Vavarrie struggled little, she knew she was trapped. She simply stared upward, her eyes wide as she stared into the almost hypnotizing moon-like eyes of the General.

He pulled her into the shadows and pushed her against the wall. He smiled, and the light from the street beyond glinted off his shining teeth. "I told you, you'd be mine." He bent down and pressed himself against her.

Vavarrie licked her dry lips and whispered. "You said I'd be in your clutches."

Ammbroas stopped and pulled back slightly. "What?"

"You said I'd be in your clutches, not that I'd be yours."

He released one of her arms and ran his paw through his hair, "Did I really?" He gave a soft laugh. "Did I sound irate at you or what?" Ammbroas said as he released her arms only to wrap them around her and pull her into a deep kiss. She wrapped hers around his neck, as she returned the kiss with equal intensity.

When he pulled back, he looked down at her and gave a heavy sigh. "I've wanted to do that for . . . for far too long. You taste like water in a drought."

Vavarrie smiled and replied, "Then drink your fill my love." And he kissed her again; the more Ammbroas kissed her, the more venturesome his paws became, until they had found their way under her skirts, and caressed and rubbed her mound. She moaned softly into his kiss as he spread her lips and dipped his digits into her. She steamed with wetness and he rubbed her juices over her sex, as his thumb lingered on her clit; she gave another soft moan and Ammbroas quickened his efforts until it became apparent that Vavarrie could barely contain the sounds that wanted to steal from her lips, and in an even quicker movement Ammbroas' pants were undone and his swollen cock slid into her depths. She gasped and her body shuddered as she gripped Ammbroas' hips with her thighs and in a swift motion he had her elevated in his arms and pressed to the wall, his thorny dick buried into her.

They kissed passionately and Ammbroas thrust upwards, with gravity left to pull her down onto him, and Vavarrie in passionate albeit repressed cries. As his thrusts came faster and harder, she bit down on his neck in desperation to keep silent as tears of joy slid down her face, and Ammbroas began to bite at her neck in return, and as the two built toward climax they became a furry of thrusts, grunts and scratches, until in one surge it came to an end which left Vavarrie in a state of soft shakes and Ammbroas with rapid, heavy breaths. They clutched each other, and he kissed her again as his dick throbbed and twitched within her, and her muscles clenched around his shaft. When he finally pulled from her she began to slide to the ground, her head cocked to the side, and her face bathed in bliss. When she looked upwards at Ammbroas, his glistening dick stood proudly overhead and she gave him a smile.

"You could clean me off while you're down there." He said with a returned smile.

"Well since that little row you caused will fill our coffers for longer than I'd have ever hoped . . ." She said with an even wider grin as she wrapped her paws around his shaft.

"We do stir up quite a crowd in Medenine." He said as he gave her arm a pull, so she released him and followed him upright. "You know I don't think you a harlot, or any of the things I said."

Vavarrie giggled, "I know you as well as one knows their own soul. It is all a game to me, a girl likes to cause a little scene wherever she goes, and as a dancer, to have a row with the local law--more over the general--keeps the townsfolk's tongues gabbing long after I've gone, and makes the crowds all the larger the next time around."

"If it helps you love, and brings you closer to my home and bed." He said as he ran her tail between his paw digits.

"You could never tie a dancer down my love, it would be the same as if you caged the nightingale, its song is born in freedom as is my dancing, and I would wither in this stone cage you call a city."

"That is because of your youth, but when you are older and your feet don't fly as swift, maybe you will decide to leave your troupe as your mother did, and perhaps you could find solace with a mad war general."

"Maybe, though I think only time will tell in the end."

"I agree." Ammbroas said and kissed her again. "And I can wait as long as it takes, and spend my time in convincing you that you'd be happiest with me of all your lovers, in your retirement."

"That is a ways off still." Vavarrie paused, then smiled up at Ammbroas as she continued, "But in the meantime, I think I can give you something to remember me by." She said, then kissed him and when she pulled away she slowly fell to her knees and wrapped her paws around Ammbroas' shaft and daintily took it into her mouth, and surrounded him in wet warmth. She swirled her tongue around his length and moaned with pleasure at the sight of his contorted faces of bliss, and Vavarrie continued her attentions, as her head slowly bobbed; her sandpapery tongue against the prickles of his shaft and after a while his penis began to twitch within her mouth, and he gripped her hair so tightly she was sure he had dislodged some of the barrettes there. She continued until her efforts were rewarded with the first spurt of cum; soon her mouth became so full of it that Vavarrie gulped as much of it down as she could, with as much care possible taken to have none of her lovers liquid dribble down her maw.

Finished, she rose up and dabbed at the corners of her mouth. Ammbroas' eyes were dazed and out of focus, but still he wrapped his arms around her and held her to him.

"Are you sure you can't stay with me?" He whispered into her hair.

Vavarrie nuzzled his neck and kissed his cheek. "I have a troupe of dancers waiting for me, not to mention musicians and stage hands, all depending on my experience and direction. Now is not the time my love, but one day perhaps I shall return here but I could never live within the walls of this city."

Ammbroas pulled back and kissed her deeply, as their tongues explored the others mouth, they held one another for an eternity that lasted only a few short seconds, and when they finally pulled from one another they rubbed noses and smiled warmly at each other.

"I should be going soon, I wouldn't want anyone to worry. You did cause quite a stir today, they might think you've captured me or some such thing."

"Since you mentioned it, when you return would you not make me sound like an utter fool in front of my men the next time we cause a scene? I'll have to be exceptionally overbearing with them for a while just to build my reputation back up again."

"Well next time don't interrupt during one of the fastest and hardest dances, when over half my girls--me included--are flying through the air."

Ammbroas slumped his shoulders, "I did do that didn't I? I suppose I deserved as much then, but it just proves how fabulous you are. You were so collected you had my tail twitching."

"Did I?" She said and played with his tail affectionately. "It's still no excuse to do it."

"You know you like a challenge." Ammbroas said with a grin.

"As do you." Vavarrie replied and wrapped her arms around the caracal and hugged him to her, her head atop his chest, and she held him until she could hear the beats of his heart, and then she pulled from him. "I should go."

Ammbroas held tight to her spotted paw as she pulled from him and Vavarrie stared back at her lover. "You will return for the next festival." It wasn't a question, he needed to know she would return.

"I will, Medenine is a city I shall never pass on visiting."

"Then I shall be here ready to cause any scene you wish of me." He kissed her paws tenderly before he released her and slowly Vavarrie turned from Ammbroas and paused only when she heard him call out to her. "It does me good to see you with the gifts I gave you. I hear the sound of you in my dreams."

Vavarrie touched the bracelets on each wrist and smiled as she called back, still faced from him, "They are a treasure to me."

"A treasure for my own."

"I hope you dream well, and we shall spend our nights together in sleep."

"It's the most I get of you; time as precious to me as you in the fur." Ammbroas said softly, and she could almost feel him reach out to her, but still they remained apart. "Till our next meeting."

"Farewell." She said as an echo to his thoughts, and with a heavy step Vavarrie began to walk again and only when she rounded the corner did she not feel Ammbroas' eyes at her back, and she followed the final sounds of market day, until she was back to the square. She had gotten "lost" enough times to pick her way backwards until she was rewarded with the warm lights of her caravans, a few of her girls and the stage hands were about with strained looks on their faces.

Vavarrie rushed to them and one of them, the hyena Zamayr rushed to her and patted her paws wordily as he spoke in his singsong voice, "You look as if you've been in a scuffle, General Ammbroas did you no harm did he?"

"None whatsoever." She replied calmly. "He did us a great service today, you saw what we raked off the stage today, let alone what was pulled from the audience, he's asked nothing of me that I felt was too great to give." Vavarrie smiled as she patted the paws of her friend reassuringly and added, "I'd suppose we may see another girl or two with their own carriage before long."

"Well I have plenty of free paws to be sure, so I don't suppose there will be any problem."

"Nor do I." Vavarrie agreed, as she looked upwards at the crisp autumn sky and she twitched her whiskers a couple of times before she continued. "I suppose we should head out, we can settle the caravan up the road a ways, Albora has their Ocean Festival in a few weeks, we could head in that direction. No sense in skipping a profitable festival simply because of one good performance."

"An excellent performance; the tongue lashing you gave General Ammbroas had the streets buzzing for hours, you have no idea how many folk managed to interrogate me." He smiled and added, "I guess my size isn't much of an intimidation."

Vavarrie looked at Zamayr, "It is until you open your mouth. A voice trapped in prepubescence, I swear."

"If only you had heard me in my youth."

Vavarrie gave a laugh, "I'm sure it was quite a sonance." Zamayr smiled and opened her carriage door and as she stepped inside she turned around for a moment and looked back at the empty square.

After a moment of silence Zamayr interjected, "Are you okay Miss? You seem unwell?"

"I am well Zamayr." Vavarrie said quickly as she blinked herself into the present, "I simply wish to see this stone fortress behind us, and to be where only greenery towers above us and the good earth is underfoot."

"Your wish is my command, my lady." Zamayr said, as Vavarrie stepped fully into her cart and he closed the door behind her.

Vavarrie went to her bed and sat on the neatly set blankets and looked out her window, her tail held daintily in her lap, the tip twitched consistently as she stroked the fur. She gave a sigh, but shed no tear--she never had, in all her life shed tears for a lover living--and she would not begin now, but with the grunt of oxen the cart gave a lurch, and she let its pull take her down onto her bed and she stared upwards. She could sleep if she wanted; Zamayr and the other males could take care of camp when they reached a suitable site, and though she didn't think it would, sleep finally did take her, aided by the rumble of the cart, and soon she drifted away into dreams filled with fond embraces and tender kisses.

The End