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Mirth Interlude: Among the Gravestones (*/F)

mirthgoblin

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Among the Gravestones
A Mirth Series Interlude: (*/F)

Resting amongst the granite angels and simple tombstones, my pointed ears prickle at the soft sound of hesitant footsteps and the light rhythm of nervous heartbeat. A new scent, strange and new to this musty graveyard, trickles into my nostrils and runs up my muzzle. Something is coming.

I rise to my paws, claws digging into the grave soil. I shake myself, knowing that my coat is as free of dirt and leaves as when I lay down. Sometimes, instinct overrides intelligence. I pad my way over to the path through the cemetery, my four paws leaving no mark of my passing. I slip behind a tombstone, and gaze around it. Unlike normal wolves, my vision is as powerful as my sense of smell. Even with only the sliver moon’s light, I can see every detail of my visitor, my green eyes cutting through the thick mists.

She is a human woman, with the flush of youth painted across her cheeks. She is clad in a simple, homespun dress, reaching down to her ankles. Over it, she wears a brown apron, patched with a few darker stains. In the cool summer air, she needs no cloak. She is pretty for her kind, with a lovely, round face, long straw-colored hair bound by a white handkerchief, and a shapely figure hidden under her drab wrappings. Her soft, brown eyes flicker back and forth among the tombstones, taking tiny steps with her brown slippers. She must be in quite a hurry for her to cut through my cemetery. That, or she’s looking for an adventure.

I watch in amusement as she slowly creeps forward. She nearly leaps out of her shoes when a nearby owl shrieks. I see her clutch her chest, panting slightly. She turns around, staring at the iron gate, barely visible through the white shroud. Her face shifts from fearful to determined, and she turns back to the path in front of her. In my ears, her racing heartbeat slows down.

I step from behind the crypt, the pale mists concealing my form. I walk over to the path, and exhale. The mists part around me. My lovely guest gazes up at me, her brown eyes filling with terror. Within them I can see my reflection. I see my lupine head, my black nose, the light green fur of my jaw, the darker green fur that travels up my muzzle and transforms into stripes that frame my glowing eyes. I step closer.

She stands there, the instinct to flee crushed by my presence. I pad my way around her, the deep green fur on my sides brushing against her shoulder. I dip my head down and snuffle around her hair. She smells of brandy, meats, and woodsmoke, probably a barmaid at a nearby tavern. She shivers as my cool nose touches her neck. I step all around her, and stare into her eyes. As she takes in my massive form, I see a glint of wonder and awe. It is refreshing to see those emotions in a mortal.

I breathe out a sea of green smoke at her. For a moment, she falters, her feet backsteping slightly before the emerald tendrils envelop her. They wrap around her arms, pinning them to her sides, curling around her legs and lifting them off the ground. Her hips bend, as she is lip with terror. Soon it appears that she is sitting in mid air, her legs extend in front of her. My smoke wraps around her tighter, preventing her from struggling. Soon she gives up and goes slightly limp, her eyes once gain welling up with fear.

I sniff at her shoes, smelling the faint traces of ale spills. I tuck my nose under her left ankle, and lift slightly. Her shoe slids up, hanging only by her toes. With a quick jerk of my head, her shoe flies up and away. She watches it fly off into the bushes, before returning her attention to me. I nip the heel of her right shoe, and pull it away, leaving her feet bare.

They are well formed, but slightly callused, as one would expect from a girl who spends much of her days on her feet. A long cut mares her left arch, its ragged edge healed over into a scar. We cannot have such attractive feet looking so dingy. I gently lick her feet, letting my red tongue rest upon her soles for a moment. She gasps, and gives a slight giggle, but that is not my intention… yet. Instead, I lift my head up and watch. Though she cannot see the soles of her feet, she can certainly feel the sensations. Her calluses smooth and fade away, as her cut recedes, leaving behind soft, wrinkled skin. Soon her bare feet are unmarked and soft, the tender skin perfectly smooth.

I lick her bare soles again, this time letting my long tongue rasp against her skin. She bursts into a flurry of giggles, the sound strange in such a solemn place. I drag my tongue along her ticklish skin until its tip passes her tiny toes. I look up at her face. She stares back at me, comprehension slowly dawning as I stick out my tongue and descend again upon her feet. Her hesitant words shatter into howls of laughter as I again stroke her ticklish soles with my tongue. Again and again I lick her feet, feeling her toes wiggle against tongue. Tears begin to fall down her blushing cheeks as she whips her head around. Her blue kerchief falls from her head, dropping softly to the ground.

After a few moments, I stop, staring at her glistening feet. She’s panting, gasping for air. Her eyes are closed. I wait, watching her expression. She shakes her head and open her eyes. To my surprise, her fear is utterly gone, replaced by a look of delight. She smiles at me, and gives a slight giggle. She wiggles her toes at me invitingly.

Now I know what brought her to my graveyard. It seems rumors of my presence are gathering. As inviting as this visitation is, once people begin to seek me out, it is time to move on. However, I see little reason to hasten this encounter.

I concentrate and two long tendrils of smoke reach out and wrap around her largest toes, gently pulling them back. Her soles become taut and helpless. She bites her lower lip in anticipation, her adorable face scrunching up.

I walk around her once more, curving my body so I wrap around her. I lay my head on her right shoulder, keeping my weight off. I opens an eye, realizing that the onslaught she was expecting has not arrived. She stares into my eyes; I stare into hers, and let my gaze flow down her legs. Her sight follows mine and she gives a little noise as she realizes that my fluffy tail is waving just in front of her feet. Before she has a chance to brace herself, I brush my tail up and down her sensitive soles.

She erupts with laughter, her ticklish feet completely unable to avoid my steady strokes. The soft caress of my tail is driving her wild. Her face so close to me, I cannot help but notice how cute she is when she laughs. I can see, beneath the radiant glow of her blush, tiny freckles on her cheeks. Her full lips press against each other as she takes a breath, and then are forced apart by the rising laughter. I swish my tail across her bare, little feet, and watch as she giggles into the night air.

I can feel her exhaustion rising. As much as we are both enjoying this encounter, it has come time for us to finish. I let my tail cease its tickling stokes and step away from her. I give her bare feet on last sniff, a parting lick that sends her into cascades of laughter, and then slowly withdraw my mists. Her feet slowly fall to the path. She stands, slightly wobbly, like she’s had one too many drinks. I step behind her, letting her rest against my side. She catches her breath, turns, and gives me a huge around my neck. I feel her soft embrace. As she pulls away, I gently lick a remaining tear from her face. She gathers up her shoe and runs off down the path, bare feet flashing in the dark. I sigh. It has been a good night.

I notice she left her handkerchief behind. I bend down, and take it in my teeth. As I rise, a presence I did not sense, reveals itself behind me. I turn, and confront the purple robed figure. It is short, and its hood is pull tight, hiding the face in shadows even my eyes cannot penetrate. I give a low growl to the unwelcome mage, for only magic could have concealed its presence.

A deep, sultry voice comes from behind the cowl. “So, is this how you spend your nights, tickling the wits off street waifs? An undertaking far beneath you, wouldn’t you say, Specter, last of the ghost wolves?”

I drop the kerchief and growl. My voice arises into the night air, not from my mouth but from deep within my chest. “Who dares speak my name in the dark of the night? Do you know what power I possess?”

She steps forward, almost in reach of my breath. “Specter, your kind has great power, but that alone has not prevented your kind’s destruction. Men learn. They track your kind to the places of death where you dwell, armed with silver blades and arrows. They use flame to drive off your breath, hunt you down as you hunted them. It is only your… unique tastes that have kept you alive so far. Why hunt a monster whose only intention is the tickling of young ladies?”

She walks around a tombstone, coming even closer to my clutches. Yet, I hold. She is driving at something, and I will hear her words. Time enough to capture her should she prove uninteresting. I can almost hear her lovely voice raised in ticklish laughter.

I can hear a smile in her voice, as if she can see what I’m contemplating. “Indeed, it is that very expertise that has drawn me to you, tempted me to leave the security of my own lands. I seek your healing tongue, and your tickling skills.”

“And what will you offer me for my skills? Treasure, gold, magic talismans. I have no need for such things.”

She holds her arms wide. “I offer you a purpose, a focus for your life. You drift now, aimlessly, from one place of decay to another. I can offer you service to a great power, a chance to prove your own worth in eyes other than your own. I can give you a reason to live.”

I snort, the green mist drifting towards her. “My patience wanes. A beast such as I, serving you? Do you know what they call wolves who serve men?”

She pulls back her hood. Long, flowing white hair falls back. Large pointed ears sit atop her head. Intense, red eyes stare at me from above a short, white muzzle. Her eyes are utterly devoid of fear, of hate. Instead she gazes at me with respect. I have never felt such powerful eyes. She grins, baring her white fangs.

“Yes, I know what they call wolves who serve men. Do you know what we goblins call wolves who join with us? We call them allies.”



This story is dedicated to June-Sama, http://june-sama.deviantart.com/, for her awesome wolf design! While it is an interlude into the regular series, I can assure you, these character will be appearing in the Mirth Series soon enough.

I do hope you enjoy this story and comments are always appreciated. The more comments I receive, the more encouraged I am to keep writing.
 
Thank you for reading my story and commenting! I’m glad you enjoyed it! Always a pleasure to know someone appreciates your work.
 
good to see you are still out their, Mirth. Any idea when the next addition to the series will be?
 
Well, I’ll be honest. Currently this series is on hold. Right now, I’m working on a new series with Cheshire Cat. I’m writing and he’s illustrating it. It’s called Mytheroptera, and it is a new, sexy tickling comic that will have a few freebie comics to give you a taste of the world, and near forty chapters of reasonably priced comics containing lots of fun, sexy tickling, tickle torture, and innocent tickling. So, whatever your tickling tastes, you’ll probably see it.

So, the bad news is, you probably won’t see much for this series in the next few months. Good news is, you’ll get to see a whole lot of my writing very soon, and when I decide to return to this series, I’ll hopefully be an even better writer.

Thanks for the interest, and I hope I answered your questions.
 
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