Rabbit's Run

Inspired by MRSMINIMOON's story 'Spanking Lite'. Published with permission.

*****

We were driving out to the spot in the woods near my buddy Alan's cabin. I'd taken the bag off of Rabbit's head when we made the edge of the forest: figured seeing the forest thicken through the tinted van windows as we drove in would put him in the right head-space. Anyway, he didn't know this forest--that was part of the fun.

Rabbit sat with me in the back of the van with Alan driving. Alan and I had come in the middle of the night, bagged his head, tied his arms behind his back and his legs together, and carried him to the back of the van. (The things your neighbors don't notice: really makes you think!) I had climbed in with him and Alan got us underway.

In the van, Rabbit had laid on his side shaking, apparently shocked, until I leaned in, cupped his bagged face in my hand, and reminded him: "I told you I'd come and give you what you deserve. Today, you're gonna get it." He got the message and stopped shaking, but remained quiet until we reached the forest.

We pulled up to the clearing and stopped. Alan turned off the engine, stepped out, and leaned against the van with the door left open. Rabbit's breath started coming more quickly, muscles tightened in expectation. I opened the rear doors, righted Rabbit with his legs beneath him and his back to me, then, still gripping his arm restraints, leaned in close against his ear.

"Here's what's what," I said, "I'm feeling generous, so I'll make you a deal. Listening?" He nods. "Right. So, you've played tag, right? There's a cabin out in these woods: that's your safe zone. I'll give you a little head start, and if you make it there before I can catch you, then you're free: we dust you off and take you home."

Here, I let go the arm bindings, but locked his arms between my forearm and chest while I grabbed my knife. I cut the rope holding his arms but kept them firmly against my chest.

"If I do catch you though, then you pay what's due." I leaned in close again, knife reaching down to cut the rope around his ankles, and growled in his ear. "And I take what's owed."

The last binding cut, I pulled Rabbit from his knees back into a squat. His eyes darted around for the cabin, still out of sight. Before I pushed him out of the back, I offered one last word of advice...

"Run."

...

Aaaand here's where the timing comes in. So, Alan and I had trialed this chase last week with Rabbit's best kink-friend, Dana, who had never been out to the cabin before. We spun her around, stopped her facing off to the side of the cabin, and told her to find the cabin from where we started about 600m out. She took about 8 minutes on her run, so, we figured, factoring in we'd be out in the lower light of early morning, it would take Rabbit no more than 15 minutes to reach the cabin.

I'd surreptitiously clipped a GPS tracker on the waistband of Rabbit's boxers so I could tell when he started actually heading toward the cabin. We'd driven Dana out earlier that night, and she had started a fire going in the cabin so Rabbit could see and maybe even smell the smoke before he got too far off track. In any case, I could jog straight toward the cabin and intercept him in plenty of time even with my gear.

So anyway, Rabbit took off, zig-zagging after he hit the tree line. (So cute.) After a couple beats, I ran up to the tree line after him--y'know to keep up the pretense--then jogged back to the van to gather up my gear and set off in the direction of the cabin. Alan ran a little ways in as well before doubling back to take the van up the road to the cabin.

Rabbit had turned toward the cabin and was about 100 meters away from the edge of the clearing surrounding the cabin by the time I reached it. I dropped most of my rope on a tree stump and sneaked over near to where I figured Rabbit would come out. Then, I waited.

Finally, I spotted him, poor thing, sorta limping, favoring his right foot, coming up to the clearing. He got about ten paces in before I strolled up behind him and grabbed his shoulder. All the fight was out of him I guess: by the scratches on his hands, I could clearly see he'd fallen, and there was no way he could outrun me with his ankle the way it was.

I bagged his head again and tied his wrists, in front this time. After retrieving the tracker, I looked him over and decided to carry him rather than walk him to our last scene because of the ankle. (For I am a kind and gentle Dom.) Back at the stump, I removed Rabbit's boxers. I tied a length of rope to Rabbit's wrist tie, threw it over a strong branch nearby, and ducked under Rabbit's body to support his weight as I hitched him up to a standing position.

Rabbit stood there, getting erect just thinking about what came next, the little perv. I gave him three minutes to acclimate to the position, (and, yeah, to get *my* head in the game: just looking at him standing there naked was really hot! Very distracting!) then I walked over and pulled off the bag.

He looked me over and this little bastard had the nerve to, I shit you not, *giggle*. Well, I couldn't have that, could I? I hit him this withering look, like 'well, now you're *really* gonna get it' and he clammed up. I told him, "Eyes front. Don't make a sound."

I slid out my belt, and had him hold it in his teeth. His little bum shivered in the cold, and what was I to do? I let fly with a *smack* on his left cheek with my palm. A little pause...keep him guessing...then *SMACK* on the right cheek. A few more, enough to whet the appetite, but not near enough for my horny little bunny rabbit.

Coming around to his front, I saw Rabbit's little dick was hard as a rock. His eyes showed he was ready for more. I stroked his face with my palm. It was hot despite the morning cold. "Open," I said, taking the belt from his drooling mouth.

I folded the belt in half and strolled back to Rabbit's rear, tracing the belt down his back and over his ass, watching him tense and shiver. Lifting the belt up I *snapped* it just behind him--watched him tense up again and relax. Ran it down his back again. Tapped his cheeks lightly. Snapped the belt. Tense. Relax. A third time. A fourth.

The fifth time after I snapped it, he started to look back--guess he forgot he was supposed to keep his eyes forward--I hit him quick:

*WHACK*

Shocked, he bent his knees and swung, partly suspended by the rope overhead. I wrapped my arm around his waist to pull him up and held his wrist bindings to release some of the pressure there, then stood him back on his feet. After I got him back in position, I reminded him, "Eyes forward, little Rabbit."

Another pause...

*WHACK*

The wind blew...

*WHACK*

A wolf howled...

*WHACK*

*WHACK*

*WHACK*

...

I must have whipped him...30...maybe 40 licks? Occasionally, in between a few strokes I strolled back around, checked he's still looking forward, toyed with his dripping dick. That was when I really started to learn how much of a pain slut Rabbit really is: nearly came just from the whipping. (You'd clutch your pearls if you heard what he's gotten off to since.)

By the time I untied him, he was in la-la land, surfing a tide of endorphins. I carried my little bunny, his "debt" now paid off, to the cabin, for warmth, recuperation, and the love and care of Alan and Dana...but the rest is a tale for another time.