Little Rabbit

Jessica is strolling through the park. The sun is setting, and the warm summer evening is quiet. She is moving in rhythm to the music playing through her headphones, rolling her hips slightly. The heat is still oppressive, hanging in the still air like a smothering blanket. Her skin glistens with sweat, and she pulls at her blouse, trying to coax her skin to cool. Her flowing skirt drifts in the air as she walks, the thin cotton outlines the curve of her thighs. A slight smile plays on her red lips - she is content, purely living in the moment. She fancies herself a character in a movie, her plush red curls sculpted in perfect ringlets, her 50s outfit like something out of a catalogue. She is lost in her self-absorbed daydream.

Imagine the shock and terror that flashes through her veins then, when seemingly out of nowhere, an arm hooks around her neck and squeezes tightly. She can't breathe. She struggles. She kicks. Her heel connects with his shin, and he curses in her ear. Another man appears from behind her, grabbing her legs with a disturbingly well-practiced ease. It all happens quickly, but she is becoming lightheaded with panic, still unable to breathe. The second man is lashing her ankles together. She is disoriented and can't focus - she pours all her strength into trying to break free, but she is no match. Her vision goes dark, and she hears him whisper as she begins to slump; "Good girl..."

She wakes in darkness. She is cold. The floor is concrete, and its chill permeates her whole body. She shivers violently, huddling in on herself, trying to warm herself. Her eyes slowly adjust, and she is keenly aware of the throbbing in her head. She coughs, her throat dry and rough. She can hear movement in an adjoining room, and a frisson of fear ripples through her. A door opens. The light hurts her eyes, and she shuts them instinctively. Her captor flicks the light switch, and she blinks rapidly, willing her eyes to stop burning. She seems to be in some kind of storage closet. He blocks the only exit.

He approaches her, and kneels, looking at her with a strange smile. "Good morning, little rabbit. Sleep well?" She is frozen with fear, unable to move away as he reaches out and brushes back the mess of curls that have escaped from her hairdo. Every muscle is taut and rigid, and some insane, distant part of her mind begins laughing at the corollary of being petrified in the face of her predator, like a little rabbit. "Would you like some water?" She looks confused, and nods slowly. He holds a bottle of water out to her, and she snatches it, gulping greedily, eyes never leaving him. She is waiting - she knows the worst is to come.

"It's so cold in here, little rabbit. Wouldn't you rather come out and play?" She stops drinking, stomach sinking. She shakes her head, her whole body trembling violently. "Oh, I think you'll like the game I have in mind." He grabs a fistful of her hair, and yanks her to her feet, ignoring her scream of terror. He pulls her, stumbling behind him, out of the closet, and into the room beyond. Leading her to the centre of the room, he lifts her head to look directly at him, leaning in close to her. "You'll play. You'll play for as long as I want you to. Because if you don't..." He leaves the sentence hanging in the space between them, and the tears well in her eyes as she acknowledges the cold truth of it. He releases her hair, reaching for her hands, when she makes a mad dash away from him, moving towards the only other door she can see. She makes it barely a few steps before she hits the ground heavily, his body weight pushing her into the concrete floor. They struggle, she screaming in shrill panic, and all at once, she is on her back, and his open palm connects with her cheek. The shock and pain stuns her, and in those dizzying seconds, he binds her wrists in heavy duty leather restraints. Pulling her by her restraints, he hauls her to her feet, and resumes their previous position in the middle of the room. He holds her arms up in the air, and hooks the restraints onto a chain that dangles from the ceiling. Her tears are streaking mascara down her cheeks, and she whimpers pathetically. He stands back to admire his handiwork, and cups her chin, raising her face to look at him. His thumb idly caresses her cheek, wiping away a tear.

"Here's the way we play, pet. I'm going to teach you the rules. Then we'll have some playmates joining us. And if you're a very, very good girl-" He is leaning in close to her now, his breath whispering over her skin, "-you'll be rewarded. But you have to play by the rules." He grips her face tightly now, forcing her mouth open, and kisses her viciously. She reels back, repulsed, and when he releases her, she sways, trying to regain her balance. She is forced to stand on the tips of her toes, so high is the chain which connects to her restraints. He is fetching various implements beyond the scope of her vision, and when he returns, he is holding a pair of EMT shears. She feels a rage welling in her as he begins to cut away her clothes, all clothes that she had made by hand. He tosses the shreds of fabric aside irreverently, smirking at her glare. She is left exposed in her underwear, and he stands back to admire her stockings and garter belt, lace French knickers and matching bra. "I think we'll leave these on for a little longer." He tucks the shears into his belt, and circles around her, trailing his hand over her curves, her skin prickling with goosebumps. "Rule number one. You don't fight. No biting, no kicking, no scratching. You're going to be well behaved, and obedient, and not even think about trying to get away again." He is behind her, squeezing her buttocks.

"What if I don't?" she asks, her voice cracking.

Her answer comes in the form of the heavy crack of a leather flogger connecting with her upper back. She screams in equal parts pain and fear. He begins to work the flogger over her back, albeit more gently, warming her skin. "Then you'll be punished," he responds, and punctuates his point with another heavy whip. This time she arches her back, and cries, trying to pull away. His hands massage the reddened flesh of her back. "I'm very good at this, little rabbit. I can cause you a great deal of pain." He bites at her neck. "Though before long, I promise you, you'll learn to enjoy it." She whimpers, unable to answer, overwhelmed by her predicament.

"Rule number two." His mouth is right by her ear, and his breath tickles her. "You'll do whatever you're told. No matter who gives you the order, you will obey. And above all others, you will obey me. My orders supersede all. Do you understand?"

"Yes." He slaps her ass, and she cries out, the flesh reddening and stinging.

"Yes sir," he corrects her. "Rule number three, you will address me at all times as Sir."

"Yes sir," she whispers, and though she can't see it, he smirks, pleased at how quick she is to obey.

"Rule number four." He circles in front of her, and looks into her eyes. "Please me, please my guests, and you'll be rewarded." He trails his fingers down between her breasts, over her stomach, and slides his hand into her panties, teasing her clit. He is pleased - her body betrays her. She tenses, gritting her teeth. "But disobey? Break the rules? Displease me?" He pinches her clit viciously, and she screams. "And you will be punished."

He releases her, and paces away, returning to his array of tools and toys, when she dares ask- "Sir, please... When can I go home?" He stops, looking over his shoulder at her, and doesn't answer. The silence confirms her worst fears, and she begins to sob. He leaves her with her grief for a few minutes, leaning against the bench where his implements of pain rest. Finally, he picks up a cane, a thicker, heavier sort than the others he has laid out.

"You'll learn that there are many ways to be punished. And to be rewarded too." He taps the cane lightly across her ass and upper thighs, and she squeals, trying to pull away. Her skin warms quickly, and he strikes more heavily. He is pleased by her cries. He grabs the meat of her ass roughly, before massaging it again. "Breathe through it," he instructs. "Deep breaths now." She forces her breath to slow, inhaling deeply and letting it out slowly. "Good girl." She is alarmed by those words - the effect they have on her body is traitorous and confusing. He begins tapping her thighs again, and she tenses, waiting for the strike. "If you stay rigid, it will hurt more. Relax." She chokes out a scornful laugh through her tears, and he strikes, harder. She cries out. His hands again on her skin, and she realises that when he touches her, the pain dissipates faster, and turns into the confusing pleasure with alarming rapidity. Over and over, the treatment continues, and she is horrified to discover that her pussy is wet and slick with arousal. She is sickened by herself, and finally, the tears spring anew, unable to process anything more, and she is wracked with gasping sobs.

He tosses aside the cane, reaches up and unhooks her restraints, catching her as she very nearly collapses. He lowers her to the floor, cradling her as she sobs and howls. He strokes her hair comfortingly, weathering her tempest until finally, the sobs abate, replaced by sniffling. He disentangles himself from her, before pulling her to her feet. "I believe it's nap time, pet." He leads her by her still-bound hands through the door, leading her down a corridor to another room. It's is sparsely furnished with a small, neat bed and a lamp; nothing more. "You will be woken when you are needed again." He releases the wrist restraints, and leaves her, bewildered, alone, broken.