Click here to read part 1 of Bunny.“Bunny!” Mr. Hale calls, and I step into the room, my face already flushed with embarrassment. Murmurs of appreciation flow past my ears as I serve drinks, that awful tail bobbing with every step I take. One man pulls on it and I gasp, causing everyone to laugh. My ears burn, and I can barely force myself to speak in a whisper. Hands glide down my bare skin, and pinch if I shy away.
There are more people here tonight than usual. These affairs always seem so constructed to me. Most of the other men and women who are wearing collars or the like gain some sort of fulfillment from acting as they do. Some of them are shy or embarrassed to be paraded around in scanty clothing, but it’s easy to tell that it also excites them. I thought it was exciting too, even just a year ago. Now I just feel ridiculous.
Dinner is always an odd affair, with Mr. Hale and his associates chatting about everything from bondage techniques to politics, while I and others like me wait to be fed from the table. I remember what happened the last time I refused to kneel by Mr. Hale, and haven’t mustered the courage to try anything different since. Mr. Hale likes me to suck on his fingers a bit longer than necessary after he feeds me a bite—I think it makes him feel like I’m sexually insatiable.
I’m watching one other sub further down the table. He’s snapping at the hand that presents food, and routinely getting slapped for doing so. If I were a better comedian, I would use this man as an example of why we do not bite the hands that feed us. This sub’s behavior is completely bizarre, as if he was forced to be here and was determined to make his master regret it. Given the rules of these relationships, it is likely that I am the only one here who does not want to be (and even I have the power to refuse, though the consequences make this a far better alternative).
Mr. Hale’s friend puts up with his toothy companion until after dessert. He refuses coffee, grabs a chunk of the sub’s hair, and hauls him into the kitchen. I’m not the only one who blushes at the sounds emanating from the other room, but I am the only one who can see part of the action.
He’s looking right at me, a smug expression at war with the bliss on his face as the side of his face rubs rhythmically against the floor. I look away, uncomfortable with the envy swelling in my heart.
I shouldn’t be surprised later when I turn around to see the sub standing close behind me. I can’t help jumping a little.
“You play your part well, Baby Rabbit,” he says.
I immediately dislike him. “You startled me. Most people stand a little farther away from people they don’t know.” Says the man with the bare backside.
He shifts his weight, which puts him only closer to me. I resist the urge to step back. “You’re curious.”
Well, that is unnecessarily cryptic. “Care to elaborate?”
His eyes glitter in the dim light. “We’re the ones with the power,” he whispers to me. “You and I, we’re free of all but the most limited responsibility. Suck a cock, kiss an ass, whatever. They’re the ones who have to be careful, who have to take care us, to make sure they never go too far. By giving up control, we gain it all.”
He runs a finger down my ribs. “It’s innate, Baby Rabbit, this ability to let go,” he says in my ear, “and I think you don’t have it, but you want it bad.” His breath is hot and uncomfortable on my neck, and I shiver. He tweaks a nipple ring and saunters away. The only quick comeback I can think of is to correct his grammar.
I rub my chest. If people don’t leave my nipples alone I’ll have to take the rings out and darn the consequences. I’m already sore, and I know Mr. Hale will pull on them later.
I don’t know if I believe the guy, his notion about being born submissive or not. I do wish I could figure out what I’m missing. I wish I knew what it was like, the elusive “ultimate surrender,” that is supposedly so euphoric. I had thought I had known, before I started becoming discontented, but now I realize that I was simply eager to please Mr. Hale. Of course, I was only eager to please Mr. Hale because he had raised me to chase after the most meager scrap of affection, even if that meant wearing ridiculous costumes and bending over for him in front of a crowd. It wasn’t love, it wasn’t even respect. Face it, Bunny, I tell myself. You’ve been used. Of course, now I simply need to decide what to do about it.