“Just look at what he’s done to you. You used to stand strong and now you simper at his side like a tamed pet. It’s dangerous, there. You’ll get hurt. You know it always comes to that.” The whispers from her twin run through Michelle’s head, but he is here, somehow. She can feel his arms around her, strong and steady, feel the thrumming of his voice speaking to her body. It makes her feel so small, but so safe and secure. Michelle shakes her head and steps towards the mirror.
“Master is always there for me. Protects and pleases me because I...” Michelle trails off, stepping closer and closer to the mirror as the twisted reflection of herself in it steps closer to her. Her eyes meet its eyeless, masked gaze, and the laughter as if from another place runs through the walls again.
“Say it.” The reflection demands of her as she touches the surface of the mirror. Her bare fingers meet that hand of blackness in symmetry, and she whispers in a hushed, uneven tone.
“I’m a good Bunny.” She can hear Mike saying it outside her, can feel how he’s trained her to associate the words almost hypnotically with the pleasure of orgasm and shivers in reflexive expectancy of that happening. Her fingers are parted to accept those of the figure reflecting her, its hand leaving the mirror to twine with hers as Michelle tilts her head to one side, meeting the manifesting reflection in an open kiss.
Stiff, tall bunny ears poke out from the mirror above the mask as her reflection takes form and place, the mask consolidating into a bunny’s as centerpiece to the slick black of its image. Squeezing supple black lips down on Michelle, her masked twin steps out into the room to embrace her intimately.
Michelle gives in the way she always does, but this is different than submitting to Mike. This is a private thing she always lets flow through her, to vent all her bottled emotion. Only this time it’s different. This time, all she can feel inside is pleasure, and more than submitting to it – the reflection is simply overpowering her with the same lust. She tries struggling a little, the way she always does with her man, like an instinctive need to be shown he has dominion over her even if she fights it, but the reflection won’t be stopped either. Its slick and warm tongue fills Michelle’s mouth as its hands grasp hers and slide down her back firmly.
“His good little ‘Bunny’, that’s what he named you. Now you can’t stop thinking of it, can’t go back to where it was safe and silent.” It ‘spoke’, with as much sense as anything in the mind need have to function, and Michelle realised that more than overwhelm her, it was surrounding and changing her.
That slick darkness seemed to drip off the hand holding hers and coat her fingers like paint, and she could feel it across all of her body. Furthermore, she could feel it trickling down inside her mouth. Her eyes widened in shock, but it was on her cheeks, too. It was everywhere, and her body felt weak against the consuming press of its body spreading across and absorbing her.
She couldn’t stop what she’d already let herself become, no matter how much she tried to fight the rain outside her window, she knew it would come unabated. The figure enveloped her, dissipating and sinking into Michelle till it only existed as her self. It became her, or she became it, but the result was to be left alone on hands and knees as she truly was; masked in secrecy with an intensely sexual desire, an all-consuming lust to have every thought stripped from her. To be reduced to this.
The curve of her back shone a glossy black with the light of the room perfectly, her rear perked up as if the second skin was grabbing and lifting her up to better give the lighting a smooth curve over. The only protrusion to the sheer gloss finish was a little tuft of a bobtail above where the skin slid inward, accentuating her puckered little rear.
It made her look like she was presenting herself for mating as she sat hunched over, the slightest squeaks of the latex skin rubbing and sliding against itself between her legs and arms, or just the heave of her breasts that refused to shake with the motion of catching her breath. The snug blackness of the suit held her breasts up as firmly as it did her rear, squeezing them together and upward till they almost resembled a bigger cup.
Above it all, the mask remained. A sort of hood that tucked her hair away in a slick cover before sprouting into an almost novel set of ears that drooped down in front of her face, her green eyes dim behind the helm of the almost theatrical animal mask. It left her mouth uncovered, plush black lips free to pant softly from the jolts of pleasure she could feel running up and down her spine. Pure, unbridled and mindless sparks of bliss that came from both inside and outside.
From the ‘outside’, Mike was playing her like an instrument. She may not be entirely conscious, more of a trance, but she could feel what he was doing and saying, flooding her mind with stimulus in ways she’d never expected. It gave him a rather unique situation to exploit, too. Not quite asleep but on the lucid edge of it, her shallow panting and mewling gave the feel of fingering someone in their sleep the way doing so normally may have if she was a considerably deep sleeper.
It also resembled a number of other – usually more questionably ethical – situations that Mike knew Michelle would only fully appreciate when she was out of it and told about. Unlike those alternatives, she’d remember every bit of this, and if Beth was to be believed, have had a much stronger orgasm than normal because of it all – if not several. Giving her aftercare would be far more important than usual, but Mike knew what he was doing. That left her to enjoy the experience.
“But bunnies don’t belong in bedrooms.” The voice was still there, deeper inside Michelle now, and nearly as consuming as the hum of her Master’s voice from without. The second skin of a latex suit felt tight on her, as if she could barely move without feeling stretching tingles and squeaks across her body. It laughed with that haunting tone, and the floor slid away from her.
Down was where it went, like a hole had opened up to suck the reality of the place away, latex bunny and all. Michelle squeaked as she dropped, finding her throat somewhat constricted by the suit. She could barely speak, let alone move, and was easily dragged into the dark of it to fall through nothingness.
Eventually the ground returns to her, not a harsh landing but cushioning blur of returning to somewhere. A forest, it would seem, and rabbits certainly belonged there. Only problem is so does a lot of other things. Things that like bunnies. Like what, exactly?
Wolves. The sound of howling catches her attention and brings her to sit rigid, looking around the dense mass of trees in a mix of confusion and fear. She isn’t about to wait for them though, and bolts upright to run, which was easier said than done. The suit’s tense and tight, the jolts of motion making it grip and squeeze tightly all across her body from her breasts to the tensed curve of her hips and certainly between her legs.
She seems to think she knows where she’s going though; has some idea of the place, and they’re getting closer now. Big, hulking grey things with questionable intent to reach her. Somehow she can’t get the thought of them surrounding and pinning her down to rut her like a bitch in heat out of her head, so she runs harder and faster, the way bunnies are good at. Slips into a burrow at the foot of a tree she just seemed to know about.
One of those places that just feel right, and soon she’s deep enough to stand upright in the cavern. Part of her knows she’s been here before, and her body moves without thought. Back of the cave, the wall-height mass isn’t at all the colour of underground, and this isn’t her burrow, but she knew that.
Her presence was waking it, and her body twitches with a constant and relentless need for pleasure. Outside her mad little dream world, she could remotely feel her Master touching and taking her, the ebbs and flows of stimulus prickling her skin through the snug covering in this place. Splaying her hands against the smooth, fleshy green surface and leaning into it, the bunny gives herself up to the thing.
Its chamber shakes and stirs with the feel of her warmth against it, vines shifting from every place to lurch in on her, grabbing and squeezing to get a feel of her figure. Wit
hin moments it has her hands tightly bound and above her head, her body yanked away from the core of it to dangle in the air.
While Bunny needed no encouragement to submit, it wasn’t a thing to play lightly with what it ‘captured’, and just as quickly had her legs yanked apart by twisting binds on each limb. Bunny squeaks and whimpers through her suit, but what’s left of her melded and twisted little mind knows this is what she wants as the centrefolds of it open up from top to bottom straight down the middle like a perverse plant in bloom.
The scent that blows forth from the slick and drooling mess of pinkish muscle and darker red tendrils is almost overwhelming for her, making Bunny quiver and shake as it moves out of sight. Rather; as she moves. With the wakened beast having her in its grasp, it has a feel for how to handle her, and sees to turning and drawing her in against that living wall that promises to grip and hold every inch of her.
And so it does, right in the central bud of those thicker, longer tendrils, and they see to wrapping and constricting Bunny in kind. Coiling around and hiking her legs apart, wrapping the centre of her body like a corset that supports her breasts by squeezing around them and clamping on with smaller, budding mouths to grapple and clench. The latex suit immediately squeals and squeaks from the slippery attention to drown out Bunny’s quivering mewls of excitement, the slick and wet appendages finding easy passage around her smooth figure and ultimately into it.
Positioned as she was, all it took was a jutting movement that lowered her down before a smooth length was pressed against her rear, brushing back and forth to find its mark and squeeze inside Bunny’s little hole, right below that bobtail smothered against the wall that tingled and rubbed up her back. Her moan from the wriggling press of penetration did outperform the squelching squeaks from her suit as she tensed and bucked all of an inch, quickly reminded of how firmly it holds her.
Hands clenching high above her drooping ears, Bunny just dangles in bliss from the sensation of it encompassing her so fully and demandingly. There was nothing she could do but give in to the pleasure it demanded of her, now.
With the tip of one tendril firmly inside her, and the rest of her firmly in the grip of strong, prehensile and lively tentacles, all it has to do is thrust and push to get where it wants, and with an almost mindless force, it does. Bunny shakes just that little bit each time till the third thrust puts a veritable bulge in her stomach before the tension of the suit flattens it back down. She practically screams from how good it felt.
Didn’t take long for it to get deeper than anything should reasonably be, but between the feel of it pumping into her rear, the far thicker head rubbing and zoning on her frontal slit and the suckling grips torturing her breasts through the latex skin that feels like nothing at all, she doesn’t care where it goes, and even tries to wiggle and grind to get more of them inside her.
Whether or not the thing understands Bunny’s acceptance and encouragement or not, it tenses her legs and moves a number of those binding tendrils closer to the middle to feel around and spread her open. The suit just peels open like there’s nothing there, leaving her to drip juices profusely onto the main stem of the thing as she’s shifted and railed by the one already snugly driving into her ass to coat and pump her full of its liquid.
Poor little Bunny could go mad like this, if she hasn’t already, but finally it cranes up to find its mark, opening what must count as a foreskin into a set of four veiny petals, revealing a smaller, softer bulbous head within. It edges in and brushes the mounds testingly, but it’s the other appendages that make their move first; ploughing and flooding the warmth of the slit with three separate lengths to stretch and pry her open.
Bunny’s slit gapes out and she squeals with what air she has left in her lungs from how good it feels as she thrashes uselessly. When that main stem finally seals on her, she has nothing left in her but erratic twitching, her eyes blanking behind the mask as it stretches and fills her beyond reason.
She’s never dreamed of having four or ultimately five things inside her at once, but this isn’t even exactly a dream, it's something a little in between. Snugly locked in on its prey – Bunny’s legs spread as far as they’ll go into the writhing hooks of the fleshy walls and thicker binds – it starts to move. The appendages stretching her sex out don’t leave, and seem more intent than the central stem that just holds her still with the occasional lurching push against her womb while the rest assault and slide against her walls from every angle.
Done with its preparation and comfortably set, it doesn’t take long for the thing to pick up pace and ferocity at all, leaving Bunny to squeal and groan with every lunge, thrust and squeeze her body is assaulted with. The ones latched to her breasts relentlessly seem to want substance from her tormented nipples with countless feathery suction tips as the rest piston relentlessly into or around her.
Hung like that, Bunny plain loses all sense of time and how much she’s climaxed, or if they’re all just rolling from one to the next at this point with how numb her body gets. Whatever Mike’s doing to her outside it all – if the sensations are even still connected – is driving her beyond crazy, but just as she thinks she’s gotten used to the lurching, all-consuming flow of the thrusts, it heaves.
Short of having any sense of language, or even being questionably sentient to begin with, the thing holding her up quickens with a fury that says it’s close to climax. Bunny whimpers and shakes from the motion till even that’s strangled off, leaving her with an odd, convulsing twist of a gurgle as her mouth pools with a thick white fluid.
She has some sense of what’s happening, of the why if not how, but nothing strictly needs to make sense in this realm, and the slick appendage that bursts from her throat and out of her mouth to waggle in a spray of that sticky warmth before wide and almost crossed eyes is proof.
With the sight of it having never stopped advancing into her rear till threading out her mouth before her eyes, she almost doesn’t feel the thunderous pounding of the thing’s seed from all three appendages stuffed into her sex, but the following lurches shake her from her shock. The one spouting from her lips doesn’t sink back in, only makes a point of how impaled and locked in place she is that even her head is stuck staring up now, so all she can do is feel as something thick, smooth and solid is squeezed into her stomach.
Thicker and longer than a balled fist, she can’t even squeal as the second is pushed in. Nothing but stare up at the enveloping beast with bulging eyes and a quivering body that takes the eggs from its main stem without question. By time the third squeezes in, her eyes have rolled back up in her head, and its seed is squirting out of gaps in the seal they’re being pushed through as the additional tentacles pull out. Bunny’s stomach distends a little, but it doesn’t look to be done with her by any account. The stem eases back out a little to let new appendages prod and slide into her before they start thrusting and pumping anew.
This will be a very long, slow night for Bunny.
A Note from the Author.
Down the Bunny Hole has been a bit of an experiment for me, so I hope you’ve enjoyed the test! Experiment in many ways, from the writing style that acts as more as your personal narrator describing the scenes and acts before you with a knowing progression to exactly how it transitions from place to place.
It was also a challenge, in the more literal sense of a selection of story tags laid out for a story to be made from that. In this one’s case it was corruption, madness – it gets pretty crazy and weird, right? – and including a vial. From that foundation, I worked up this string of events and scenes I had in mind. Corruption is a very broad thing to work with, and here it’s used nothing like the sort of corruption in Daemonique, where it’s much more traditionally demonic. In this story it’s been much more a matter of corrupting a girl’s sensibilities with love and lust for a man, that deadly sin that makes people do the strangest things, and then the various dreamscape corruptions she goes through.
Here at the end I can tal
k more freely about the kinks and especially the tentacle scene. That was its own challenge, and whether you knew very well what to expect, had no idea what constentacle (add to dictionary) would entail or anything between, hopefully it hit some good notes. There’s a lot you can do with things like tentacles, since they can get everywhere and act as anything from multiple partners to bondage and breeding.
While I set out for it to be a consensual scene, it became clear to me the beast in my writing didn’t much care if it was, so while it’s clear she enjoys it, all the way down – or up? – to being literally spit-roast impaled by one in a way only possible in a dream or with an extremely long and delicate tendril and filled with its eggs, the creature’s actions are very bestial and demanding. And Michelle, or ‘Bunny’, as she’s become, quickly loses herself in enjoying that helplessness.
Now being a story challenge – and subsequently published free – it had a limit of six thousand words on story content that meant I had to take some care with pacing and such. If I come back to this story to expand on and edit it into a priced piece, you could expect a continuation of Bunny’s encounter with the tentacles, the drugged/asleep sex theme ‘outside’ getting some attention and even a more real voyeurism hook on the other side of the early exhibition that may in a later story lead on into bribery, shame and cuckolding.
As always; comments, feedback, following and enjoying my work is more than appreciated.
Leona D. Reish
Author.
http://leonadreish.blogspot.co.uk/
[email protected]
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Down the Bunny Hole Page 2