He stepped away again, and my whole body leaned forward before I could stop it, the empty space ached like a bruise.
But he knew that, he counted on it.
"You hear that silence, Bunny?" His voice came from somewhere behind me—closer than before, and yet still just out of reach. "That's the sound of you earning nothing."
I whimpered.
"I could make it worse," he said, and I believed him. "But then what would I do off-camera?"
The heat in my stomach twisted into something darker.
The kind of ache that didn't just sit in your body—it possessed it.
The leash gave a single tug, and I followed the pull instantly, crawling across the carpet on shaky limbs. My head bowed, breath shallow, thighs trembling from effort and denial.
He didn't touch me, he didn't need to.
I felt his dominance like gravity, pulling at every inch of me, every thought I had.
He circled twice.
"Tell them what you want."
I hesitated, my pride snapped its teeth.
The leash yanked and I gasped.
"Say it."
"I—I want to be touched," I breathed.
"Touched how?"
"By… by you."
He crouched in front of me, his face level with mine. His eyes were calm. Patient. Dangerous.
"And if I don't?"
I blinked, breath caught in my chest. "Then I'll wait."
A smile ghosted across his lips—cold and proud.
"Wrong answer, little bunny." he said.
His hand cupped my face, thumb stroking the corner of my mouth. "You'll beg, Bunny. You'll earn it with every humiliating little sound that leaves your lips. You'll make them wish to be me. And you'll love it."
The screen behind him still glowed with my playback—knees raw, voice cracked, eyes glassy.
"Smile for your fans again," he said, voice silk and steel. "Let them see what obedience looks like on you."
I did obeying because I needed him to put me out of my misery.
He rose again, and I felt that loss like a slap.
"Crawl to the mirror."
My eyes darted toward it—an enormous, gold-framed beast against the wall. It faced the camera perfectly.
Each shuffle of my knees scraped the carpet. My palms were sweaty against the floor. The collar tugged gently with every inch I gained, guiding me like a rabbit. A pet.
His pet.
Once I reached it, I stopped. My reflection stared back.
I looked messy, needy, and so slutty.
"Up."
I didn't understand at first.
"On your knees," he clarified, voice calm, cruel. "Sit pretty, keep your hands on your thighs. Back straight. Chin up."
The girl in the mirror obeyed.
"Look at her," he said from behind me. "Look at that empty-eyed, needy little toy."
"I'm not—"
A sharp tug of the leash snapped my words in half.
"Shhh," he crooned mockingly. "You were about to lie. We don't do that here, Bunny."
He came into view then—his reflection towering behind mine. He looked untouched. Composed. God-like in his control.
He placed his hand lightly on my head. "You want to be good?"
I nodded.
"Say it."
"I want to be good," I whispered.
"Louder. Let them hear you."
"I want to be good," I said again, shame burning behind my teeth.
"You want to be used?"
My lips parted, but no sound came.
His fingers wrapped around my throat—not tight. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to hold.
"Answer."
"I… I want to be used."
"There she is." He grinned in the mirror, like a man admiring his art. "And what do good little toys get when they admit the truth?"
My pulse pounded.
"Rewards," I breathed.
"Exactly. But not today."
His grip fell away.
I blinked. "W-What?"
He leaned in close to my ear, the leash now wrapped around his fist like a threat. "You'll spend tonight watching yourself on replay. Every moan, every crawl, every pathetic little sound. You'll learn exactly what you are, Bunny."
"No touching. No whining. No escape."
He kissed the side of my head like a farewell. "And if you're still wet tomorrow morning, maybe I'll ruin you properly."
He turned and walked away.
The door shut behind him.
And I just knelt there, staring at my reflection.
~~~~~~~~~~~~<<<<<~<~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The knock came before dawn.
Three sharp raps.
I barely had time to rise from the mattress—if you could call it that. A padded square on the floor, no sheets, no pillow. Like an obedient pet, I had fallen asleep curled beside it, the collar still locked around my throat.
I didn't ask permission to answer the door. I knew better.
He opened it himself but it wasn't just him, another man followed.
He was taller, dressed in all black and had a mask on.
"W-Wait—who is—?"
"Quiet, Bunny," he said, tugging my leash gently until I fell silent. "You're being gifted today."
"Gifted?" I whispered, my voice catching in my throat.
He turned to the masked man. "You have one hour. She's trained enough not to bite."
The man didn't say a word, he just stepped inside, closing the door behind him.
Daddy left me, left me with him.
I looked up, trembling but the anticipation pooling in between my legs betrayed me.
The man took his time removing his gloves, watching me the way someone might examine a meal—one they didn't order but were delighted to receive.
"I—I didn't agree to this…"
He tilted his head.
"I didn't—"
He knew I was lying, I wanted this much more than I can accept.
He snapped his fingers and instantly, my body froze.
He walked around me, slow and silent. His hands grabbed my neck, posessively.
He grabbed my hair, yanked my head back, and whispered, "You don't get to agree. You exist to please."
He dragged me to my feet to the mirror and turned on the camera again.
"Open your mouth," he ordered, sliding something smooth and metallic into my hands. A gag.
I hesitated at first, but a slap to my thigh made me nod. "Now."
I obeyed.
The gag went in.
He positioned me in front of the mirror, bent forward, arms bound behind me in tight cuffs I hadn't even realized he carried.
Then he crouched beside me, running gloved fingers along my skin like I was an object at auction.
His voice was low and amused.
"Let's see how far his Bunny can go."
Within seconds he bent me forward, hands cuffed, mouth gagged, and soul cracking open in the reflection as I watched myself become something unrecognizable.
Daddy's Bunny.
But not his only one.
My knees sank into the carpet, thighs already shaking before he'd even touched me. The scent of leather and dominance coated the air like smoke.
"You break pretty," he murmured into my ear. His voice wasn't like Daddy's. It was colder. Rougher, less caring.
And I was shattered by it.
The camera whirred softly behind us, capturing the tremble in my thighs, the blush down my chest, the helpless arch of my spine as he tugged on my hair just to hear me whimper.
I couldn't move.
Couldn't beg.
Couldn't hide from the girl in the mirror—gagged, cuffed, dripping.
He didn't speak after that. Not really. Just little grunts of appreciation, murmurs like, "Soaked already?" and "I see why he kept you."
Each word made the ache inside me bloom darker.
He dragged his fingers down the inside of my thighs.
With two fingers he slid into my already soaked pussy.
I sobbed behind the gag, angry I couldn't let out a moan from how good his fingers felt inside me, from the unbearable rightness of being degraded and adored all at once.
My head lolled to the side. My breath fogged the mirror.
Daddy opened the door, he stood by the doorway, arms folded and that fucking mask still on as he watched and I knew he was judging the situation.
I would either get a reward or be left hanging afuckinggain
"Don't come," he said simply, voice a whip-crack across the room.
And my body—already right there, on the edge—froze in rebellion.
The masked man chuckled. "You sure about that?"
"She doesn't come without me," Daddy said coolly. "She can scream, sob, collapse—but if she comes, she pleads for it."
My eyes widened. I moaned behind the gag.
The man behind me reached around and pinched my nipple—hard. Enough to pull a scream from my throat. Enough to make my legs buckle.
"Not even a little one?" he teased.
"No," Daddy said, stepping closer. "But you can make her beg."
That man reached beneath me again. His fingers were slick with me now.
He didn't pump, he only held them there enough to make my pussy cry even more.
My body arched against the leash still tugged at my neck. I tried to grind for more. Tried to make the friction count.
But he pulled away every time.
And I—gagged and sobbing and obscene—kept trying.
In the mirror, I saw myself plead with my hips.
Humiliation incarnate.
Daddy crouched beside me now. Eyes level. Voice gentle, cruel.
"Tell them how desperate you are, Bunny. Let them see what obedience has done to you."
I couldn't form words.
But my eyes said everything, I was losing my mind from being starved. I was like a pet who'd been neglected for too long.
He reached under my chin and pulled the gag out just enough for me to speak.
"What do you want, little toy?"
My voice broke. "I want to come."
"And?"
I choked on the answer. Tears streaked my cheeks.
"Please, Daddy. Please let me come. I—I need it. I need it so bad. I'll do anything."
Daddy looked at the man behind me. Nodded once.
The fingers thrust back in.
Hard.
I came with a scream so raw it turned into a sob, collapsing forward as my whole body convulsed from the inside out.
Lights popped behind my eyes.
The collar dug in.
The cuffs held.
And I came like I'd been denied for a century.
They watched me break apart.
They made me break apart.
And when it was over—when my body was nothing but aftershocks and sweat and whimpers—Daddy reached out, brushed my hair back, and whispered, "Now they know who you belong to."