Fox Huntsman
Samuel Patterson, son of a wealthy Noble family, has come of age and is a part of his very first fox hunt - but when his mare throws a shoe, the hunt for him is over - but little does he know, its only just started....
Fox Huntsman (c) Cederwyn Whitefurr 9th April, 2012. All Rights Reserved.
Quietly, the gathered human Nobles sat astride their horses, decked out in their traditional red jackets and black trousers, knee high boots on their feet and the sparkle of blood-lust in their eyes. Their horses neighed and stamped their hooves - eager to be off across field and forest, on the annual hunt. Nearby, the hounds that were used to hunt and harass the fox - who lay curled up in its cage - eyes wide in fear and confusion - bayed for the fox's blood. They revelled in the hunt, the chase was exhilarating to them - but knowing they'd run their quarry to ground and would soon tear the hated fox limb from limb - this was all the hounds desired.
"Master Patterson - " Spoke the master of the Hunt, an old man, a golden trumpet at his left hip.
"Sir!" Spoke a young man, astride a palomino mare, who snorted and flicked her ears forwards - eager to be off.
"Since this is your first hunt - you shall have the honour of first blooding!" Spoke the Master of the Hunt, bowing formally in his saddle to the younger human.
Rousing cheers of 'hear hear' and 'bravo' rang forth from the assembled men astride their own mounts, making young Master Patterson blush with embarrassment. For a young Noble - this was a part of their coming of age, to be defined and welcomed into the gathering of his peers - he had to pass his test as a huntsman, and today was the day. He had looked forward to this day all his life - today - he would be bloodied and welcomed as a peer amongst his fellows, for today - he would earn his place as a man...
"As fitting our noble tradition - the fox shall be given a half hour start - before the hunt commences..." Spoke the Master of the Hunt, as he gestured and a servant opened the cage.
Frightened, terrified of the scent of men, the fox looked around, then without warning sprang from the cage and vanished under the nearby fence - its thick brush streaming out behind it and ears flat, as it seemed to instinctively know - its very life depended on its cunning and ability to outwit the hounds it could hear baying hungrily for its blood. As the fox fled into the wilds, the hounds baying cries grew more and more insistent - agitated and riled by the servants who intentionally dragged a reeking blanket back and forth across their enclosure - the blanket covered with fox urine and blood. Their loud cries and blood-wrath overwhelming them, their lust to hunt and tear the fox to pieces grew in ferocity and longing. Many of them leapt at the closure door, their thick muscular bodies striking the iron bound door and ricochetting off again, which only added to their aggression and thirst.
*
A servant who stood nearby glanced at the watch he wore, then holding aloft a red handkerchief, he let it drop and with the blare of the Huntsman's horn - the door holding the hounds was released and they boiled like a furry mass of gnashing teeth, foaming muzzles and thundering paws - as the Huntsmen kicked their horses in the flanks with their boots and leapt eagerly into the hunt - it was begun - with only one possible outcome - the death of the fox, and the blooding ceremony that would follow...
*
Panicked, the Vixen ran as she'd never run in her life - her dark socked paws stretched out too and fro as she darted under fences and over fallen logs, her toes clawing at the soft loamy soil, ears flat and brush trailing behind her. She employed every trick her mother had instilled in her - leaping into shallow streams and often doubling then tripling back over her own tracks, leaping at trees to leave her distinctive scent on them and numerous over tricks and misdirections, always mindful of the distant baying of the hounds as they hunted her mercilessly. Over the stream, back again, then once again ploughing into its cold water, she splashed wildly upstream - desperate to try and mask her scent, before she crawled out of the water and shook herself off- water spraying like a fan from her luxuriant coat. Twisting her head too and fro, fine whiskers twitching, she sought new places to hide, but her options were fast running out.
Fear nipping at her foot-paws, she turned tail and fled back through the thick underbrush - unmindful of the thorns on the blackberry that scratched and tore along her spine - she just wanted to put as much distance between herself and her pursuers as was possible - preferably - using her cunning to mislead and confuse them, so they'd give up their hunt and leave her in peace. Leaping for all she was worth, her short blunt claws scrabbling wildly at the lichen covered stones that made up the wall, she barely made it to the top - where she sprawled exhausted, scratched and bloodied, her mouth hanging open as she panted heavily, trying to catch her breath. Having run herself almost to exhaustion, the Vixen sprawled atop sun warmed stone and panted for breath. It come down to this, the final dance of life and death - who would come out victorious - the hunters and their hounds - or would the cunning of the Vixen prevail and she would outsmart them all with her tricks and whiles? Rising weakly, she leapt down off the stone wall and went to ground - curling herself up under a thick shrub and awaiting whatever fate the Gods had planned...
*
Through hedgerow, forest and field, the Huntsmen ran their steeds until their flanks were shining in sweat and their muzzles coated with foam, the hounds circling and doubling back over their own - and the elusive Vixen's - tracks. Unperturbed, the Master of the Hunt reined them all in, and settled his nervously prancing stallion - whose eyes rolled in their sockets - so eager was he to continue the chase.
"Have no fear Master Patterson - " Come the gruff voice of an elderly gentleman astride his chestnut, who reigned in beside the younger man. "Our Huntsman is the best in this country - we've never lost a hunt yet, you'll be blooded before sundown, we promise."
"I have no fear of such Lord Kalen," Patterson replied respectfully, tipping his head in a respectful bow. "I look forwards to joining the ranks, as my birthright and blood declares me a rightful member, but unless I complete this hunt successfully, I shall have no right to my name and titles."
With a nod in return, Lord Kalen touched the brim of his cap in a respectful salute, before the master of the Hunt whirled his headstrong stallion about and put spur to flanks - the powerful coal coloured stallion eagerly breaking into a ground devouring stride - the others quick to follow.
*
For hour upon hour, the hunt was fruitless, even the Master of the Hunt began to have doubts - but his pride and self-assurance promised he'd never lose face amongst the Nobility, he'd promised them a hunt, and by the Gods themselves - he would give them one! Already, his years of experience and cunning were paying off - as he'd paused only a handful of times - his sharp eyes catching a few paw-prints here, a pinch of russet hairs there - and his confidence grew as he knew the Vixen was close...very close.
*
Awoken by the baying of the Hounds, the Vixen's eyes snapped open and her triangular ears pricked forwards as she listened with everything she could muster. Holding herself well masked under the scented brush in which she hid - the flowers would help mask her scent from those who hunted her - and sure enough, they passed within a dozen feet of her hiding place. As she watched the hounds go streaming past, their bloodthirsty baying sending chills up her spine - the Vixen froze into immobility and even held her breath. Thunderous cacophony of hooves pounded all around her, then slowly faded into the distance as the hounds once again followed a false trail...
*
Patterson's mare, her spirit willing, tried to keep up the relentless canter that the other horses were putting forth - but her body was unable to keep the speed, and more and more she began to fall behind, finally with a loud braying whinny, she threw her head back and her four hooves locked, causing herself to skid across the loamy soil, the right shoe on her hoof flying off into the shrubs and causing her to become lame. Patterson swore and sighed, then quickly dismounted - smelling the scent of sweat from his mare and he instinctively checked all four of her hooves - until he found the one missing the shoe. His mare looked at him, her eyes seemingly saying it wasn't her fault - and he didn't blame her for this misfortune. It had happened, and for him at least - the hunt was over - at least this time...
Little did he know, but the Vixen he hunted lay only a handful of paces from where he sat on an old fallen log, her hazel eyes peering through the thick foliage - watching him with a gaze that was almost unnatural in its intensity. Staying as still as a rock, the Vixen kept her watchful gaze on the human, who sighed then beat the riding crop against the ground in frustration and shame. He had prepared both physically and mentally for this hunt for months - it was to be his coming of age - and now, through some unforeseen misfortune, it'd had ended right when he felt it was about to reach its inevitable conclusion.
Frustrated, he stalked off into the woods, his mare snorting softly in confusion, then merely resigning herself that her human master knew what he was doing - so she lowered her head and began slowly calming herself. She could still hear the other horses, the shouts of their riders and the baying of the hounds - but as wilful as her spirit was - there was no way she would allow herself to be ridden with only three shoes...regardless of how much she adored her owner and master.
*
Kneeling at the edge of a stream, Patterson cupped his hands into the cold water and splashed some over his face and neck, wiping away sweat and grime, before sighing quietly and staring into the placid water. After half an hour, he sighed again and made a move to stand - had just started to rise when a shadow fell over him and he startled, head snapping around - just in time to see the thick oaken cudgel come crashing down on his head. With a moan, he staggered and his knees faltered, before he fell heavily and his consciousness fled. Unseen, his assailant crouched, then placed a hand at his throat and counted the slow, methodical beats. Satisfied, it quickly tied Patterson's hands behind his back and then his ankles with thin but strong braided leather, securing its prize.
*
Patterson woke an unknown time later - feeling dry moss beneath his naked...wait - his mind reeled, partly from the blow to the head he had suffered, partly from confusion and shock - he couldn't see, a crude smelling rag had been tied like a blindfold around his head - blocking all but the faintest of sunlight, yet not enough for him to get his bearings or work out who had abducted him.
He mentally tried to recall what had happened - but it had been so quick - he hadn't heard a word, then the darkness come down like a hammer on him, and now - laying as naked as the day he'd been born - he could feel a cool breeze washing over his body - he moaned and squirmed slightly, only to find his hands still bound and feet tied by the ankles.
"Whats going on here - I demand you - " Patterson's voice rang forth.
"You demand?" Come a soft snort - hot breath washing over his left cheek. "You're in no position, I would think, to make demands young man - "
"What do you want from me - who are you - what's going - " Patterson groaned, then winced as he felt a cold, wet poultice held to the lump at the back of his head.
"What I want...what a fascinating concept you have there, like you're in a position to bargain with me..." Come that quiet voice - the breath tickling the hairs in his left ear.
Unmistakably, Patterson felt warm fingers lightly trail across his chest and down his stomach - the sensation was like being caressed by a feather - so gentle was the touch, and to his shame, he felt himself being examined like one of his servants would examine a bull - the delicate fingers trailing down his penis, then cupping his scrotum and delicately cupping the testicles.
"Hey now - " Patterson gasped, then flinched involuntarily.
"Be quiet - " Come a low, menacing growl, the sweet, gentle voice becoming more impatient and agitated. "Just...be quiet - and you shall leave here - happy and content. Refuse my request - and it is a request at present - and you will not leave this wood alive..."
Patterson moaned, feeling the fingers prodding, poking and examining him - and to his chagrin he felt himself becoming aroused under the gentle caresses.
"No..." Patterson whimpered, his fears conflicting with the very real pleasure this unseen person was bringing him.
"No?" Come a mocking laugh.
Patterson gasped as he felt warm lips delicately kissing from the base of his aroused member to the tip - such subtle touches - he thought he would lose his mind then and there. Yet something - something - just wasn't right, the lips were sensual, alluring and definitely arousing - but there was something that just didn't 'feel' right to him...and with a gasp, he suddenly realised what it was...
He could feel the unmistakable ticklish caress of fur...and whiskers....
"What sort of sick - " Patterson gasped in fear, then struggling wildly, he only felt the tight leather cords biting deeper into his wrists and ankles.
"Sick?" Come the mocking laugh again, then once more - the whiskery kisses walked up and down his penis. "Come now - give yourself to the pleasure of it - I can tell you're enjoying this...I can do things to you, you could never imagine - bring you the greatest of pleasures - or the worst of pain - I advise - you to decide wisely..."
Patterson couldn't deny the pleasure - the nerves firing and in turn, firing others, until his body trembled in the helpless paroxysm's of the lust and pleasure built on pleasure. He still couldn't see - but the fur, the whiskers, all of it was washed away - when he felt the long, slippery tongue lolling forth and licking with an intensity from base to slightly ridged head. As the tongue flickered over his penis head, Patterson would have, then and there, given up his soul - so great was the mounting pressure in his loins, and the ecstasy this - creature - was bringing him.
"My...eager young man, aren't you - " Come the voice, from somewhere below his navel. "Now, we will have a discussion - you and I - if your answers please me, then you will be rewarded...if they displease me...."
Patterson shrieked, as he felt powerful and razor-sharp canines pinch the skin just above his groin, the thin trickle of blood was quickly licked away by that sensual tongue.
"I can - and will - do things for you..." Come the low, subtle whisper. "Now, shall we begin?"
Patterson, knowing he was caught and helpless, promised himself he would do anything - anything at all - to pleasure this creature, to ensure his survival - and a part of his mind churned and swirled, as it perceived the pleasure was indeed - beyond anything he had ever experienced - and would desperately like to feel such delights and sensations.
"What is your - " Come the voice, then the warm breath washed over the head of his length and the tongue quickly followed - lapping delicately over the narrow slit.
"Patterson - Samuel Patterson - " Patterson moaned and bucked, his hips rising off the moss bed on which he lay.
"Excellent, a wonderful - " There was a pause, followed by a long, sensual lick from head to base then back again. "..start. See? This isn't so hard...unlike something..."
Samuel shrieked again, his hips bucking upwards and soliciting a grunt from the creature, who pulled its head away and pressed leathery padded fingers against Samuel's stomach. These fingers - were distinctly human-like, with four individual fingers, but the padding on them was rough and leathery - like those one would find on a dog.
"Now, behave young man - and this will go well for both of us, control yourself - as I'd rather not have my new...plaything...getting too eager, just yet - not when the fun has only just started."
"Who...what are you - " Samuel moaned softly.
Leaning close, the creature walked its fingers up his belly, then placed them either side of his blindfolded head and leaned in close, brushing its soft furred cheek against one of its intended playthings, then the other side. Samuel felt the fur and the whiskers, the warm, oh so warm breath, yet his mind refused to believe what his senses were telling him.
"No...you're - you're not real - this is some..." Samuel moaned.
"Some sort of joke - some - ritual thought up by the members of the Hunt? To shame and embarrass you, to think you would be mating with a beast? Oh, I assure you - this is - quite real young human...very...very real. Your kind have long thought my kind - a tale, something to frighten naughty children with, if they did not obey - am I right?"
Samuel's mind still recoiled, trying to believe, yet fighting the fear that grew inside him.
"Allow me," Come the chuckling voice.
Samuel blinked as the blindfold was slipped off his head, and he stared into the unmistakable hazel coloured eyes of a Vixen. Sensuously, she stood upright, revealing her height about five feet four inches tall, her slender ears, expressive and black tipped, flicked forwards as she smiled, the hint of her canines barely peeking from her lips, as her whiskers twitched as she smiled down at him. Gently, she trailed her dark furred paws down over her human-like breasts and across her taught, muscular stomach - smoothing down the milk coloured fur, then with a mischievous grin, she licked a middle finger on her right paw - then trailed it teasingly over the silky patch of fur at her groin. Samuel couldn't help himself, he moaned as he caught the briefest glimpse of pale vaginal folds - then the finger probed inside and the Vixen moaned quietly, expertly finding her clitoris and she began a sensual masturbation, her eyes locked on those of Samuel. Her thick brush of a tail twitched slowly from side to side behind her, as she dropped her pose and knelt over his legs and delicately caressed his wilting penis with her leathery padded fingers of her left paw, continuing to pleasure herself with her right paw..
"No...you're...you're not real - you can not be real!" Samuel whimpered, eyes widening in fear.
"I'm quite real - I assure you, now - stop this childish nonsense...your kind were hunting me - but it would seem, the hunter has become the hunted...no? I promise you - behave yourself, do as I command, and you will find pleasure beyond anything you could possible perceive of - will be yours and yours alone young human. Now, be quiet, and let me show you just a hint - of what I can bring to you...providing of course...you don't make me, upset..."
Before Samuel could utter a reply, the Vixen smirked and slid herself down his thighs and to his ankles, lowering her body as she moved - until he nose lightly caressed his firm penis once again. It seemed to have a mind of its own, his mind screaming silently in terror at him - yet his engorged member seemed not to care, as the Vixen smirked and delicately wrapped her left paw around the base of his penis and held it upright like a flagpole.
"My..." She breathed, eyes widening. "For a young man - you've certainly got..."
Samuel gasped, as the Vixen grinned at him, then with ease she lowered her head and her lips parted. He stared incredulously, as she slipped the head of his length into her muzzle, the instant pleasure this alone brought him sent his mind reeling, as her long tongue slurped over and around, then wrapped itself about the head of his length and she smiled wider - hazel eyes sparkling with mischief - before she lowered her muzzle and he grunted in pleasure. Such unimaginable sensations washed away conscious thought, as Samuel felt her lowering her head - the tongue squeezing tighter and the head of his penis behind rubbed delicately along the bony ridges of her upper muzzle.
"No...oh...oh this...this can not - " Samuel moaned.
Ignoring him, the Vixen flattened her ears and closed her eyes, as she began suckling like a nursing calf. Samuel's mind reeled even more, as he felt her press her cold, wet nose against his pubic hair, her slow methodical breaths coming in time, as she eased him against the back of her throat, then a cruel smile dimpled her furred cheeks. Before he could cry out, she tilted her head and with effortless ease, she took his penis head into her throat and began rippling powerful throat muscles, whilst her tongue squeezed and salivary glands worked overtime o keep this strange intruder well lubricated.
For fifteen minutes, she suckled like a thirsty calf, Samuel's mind lost in the pleasure, before he began squirming and her eyelids snapped open, her thick brush fluffing out too twice its size, then a low, menacing growl escaped her lips.
"No...oh, please mistress - please stop...I - I can not..." Samuel gurgled, as he felt the ache in his scrotum becoming almost unbearable.
With a snort, the Vixen sighed and lifted her head, giving a few sensual slurps as she did so, then rocked back onto her heels, her tail swishing slowly back and forth across Samuel's toes.
"My, eager young one - so quick too offer me an unwelcome drink!" Come the weak laughter from the Vixen, as she drew the back of her right paw across her lips and wiped away the saliva. "Well, if you're so eager - then the least you can do..."
Rising, she turned herself about, then knelt over Samuel's head, one paw holding her thick brush up, as she brushed her damp groin against his nose and mouth. Samuel blinked in surprise, then when his senses smelt the succulent scent of the aroused Vixen, and her seemingly willingness to permit him to pleasure her this way, he nodded in acquiescence. Smiling, she stroked his stomach, then carefully lowered herself down - before placing her paws either side of Samuel's hips and wriggling into a more comfortable position.
"Now - be a good pet, please your mistress with your tongue - as I know your kind can - but be mindful...the slightest hint you're going to do something silly...and you'll feel my fangs buried in something very - succulent and tender - understand me? I will be pleasuring you - as you pleasure me - if you dare, so much as a drop, before you finish me...you'll regret it, understand?"
"Yes...mistress - " Samuel whimpered, as he closed his eyes and felt the Vixen's hips slightly lowering.
He wasted little time, rubbing his nose against her warm mound - inhaling the scent, so unlike any human woman's scent - and he felt the ache of the lustful emotions taking him, before he used his tongue to probe across and carefully, oh so carefully, into the Vixen's warm labial folds.
"Oh...." She hissed, as she arched her spine inwards and tilted her head back. "Oh, good boy - go on, you're almost there..."
Samuel squeezed his eyes closed, his mind trying to make him come to his senses, but he had always had a gift for pleasing young women with his tongue - and apart from the fur and the greatly increased warmth - this Vixen was - more or less - still a woman...and Samuel began to pleasure her, knowing this strange, enigmatic Vixen meant her threat. His mind finally clicked to what she was - for she was a very rare, almost mythological, Lycanthrope - one of the rarest of all, a dangerous and deadly fox-woman.
*
Samuel employed every technique he knew, his tongue swirling, probing and lunging with reckless abandon, soon hunting out and flickering wildly over the young Vixen's clitoris. She kept her end of the bargain - as difficult as it was for her to concentrate - and soon, she had her nose almost pressed to the ground, as she worked Samuel's warm length into her muzzle and throat. Their combined lustful groans and panting grew and grew - Samuel's body soon sweating profusely, the musky scent of his mixing with the alluring scent of the Vixen, who squeezed the tears from the corners of her eyes and kept suckling for all she was worth. Lifting her head up, she used her tongue to lap over the sensitive tip, feeling and hearing Samuel's gasps and convulsive shivers beneath her - her own trembling growing stronger in intensity as Samuel fought his own urges to buck his hips against the Vixen, sheathing himself completely within her throat and muzzle - and then gaining the sweet, orgasmic release his aching scrotum demanded.
For nearly an hour, the two enjoyed their carnal tryst - the Vixen bringing Samuel right to the edge again and again, Samuel in turn, bringing the Vixen close to her own orgasm - then letting her body relax - before sending her to the very precipice once again. Yet all pleasure must have its time - and with a grunt and a loud, choking gasp, the Vixen ground her hips against Samuel's face and he felt her vaginal walls contracting in a crushing squeeze - the convulsive trembling finally pushing him too far and he ground his hips against the muzzle of the Vixen, who pulled her head back and began swallowing - feeling her new pet's salty, sticky semen spurting in strong, thick jets into her muzzle. She secretly loved the hot, salty taste - as it sent electrifying sensations from her taste-buds up her nerves and into her mind.
Samuel kept licking and nuzzling at the Vixen's incredibly tightening folds, amazed and astounded at the muscular contractions, never having experienced anything like it - and he made a deal then and there, if it was the last thing he ever done, he'd make love to this vixen in the conventional way - just to experience the incredible feeling this would bring to him. As his mind reeled into the realm beyond consciousness, driven there by the orgasm of the millennia - he was sure he'd never experienced one like it before - his body convulsing and trembling, the Vixen squirmed and felt her new pet's body, bucking and squirming, beneath her, then his low, moaning gasp before his mind collapsed in on itself and he went limp beneath her.
For a dozen minutes, the Vixen kept her pose over Samuel, her breathing coming in quick, sharp panting breaths, before she shivered and carefully climbed off him and crawled to one side, where she shivered and swallowed. Her ears flicked forwards, as she heard the rustling of brush, and she was too exhausted - both from the earlier hunt - and now - post-orgasmic exstacy, to try and change, let alone run. All she could do, is sprawl on her belly and close her eyes, as the bushes rustled more - then a pair of thick leather riding boots appeared a short distance away. Whimpering, the Vixen swallowed and dragged herself to her knees, then bowed, her breasts touching the ground and arms outstretched to either side, eyes squeezed closed and chin resting on the loamy soil.
"Well," Come the gruff voice of the Master of the Hunt, as he reached down and grabbed the Vixen by the scruff of her neck, lifting her head up so she could look into his eyes.
Tears welling in her eyes, the Vixen shivered and timidly looked up.
"Well?" He snarled, and shook her like a hound would shake a rat.
With a whimper, the Vixen quickly nodded, keeping her eyes downcast. "Yes Master, as you foresaw, the hunt went well...we shall have a new pet..."
With a smile, the Master of the Hunt released the Vixen, who rubbed at her nape and shivered.
"You done well Vixen..." Exclaimed the Master of the Hunt, as he stood and smoothed down his hunting jacket.
Lifting her eyes at praise from the man, the Vixen nodded, then smiled and glanced at the unconscious human beside her.
"Yes, he will make a fine addition - father...." She whispered, then brushed the loamy soil from her fur with her dark paws. "Next hunt - he will know the fear...let us hope, he learns well, as I did..."
END