Disobedient Bunny Two

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.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

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."

A Trip To The Doctors One

I didn't mean to say it that dramatically.

"I think my vagina's broken."

Layla spat out her iced coffee so violently, she almost baptized the sugar packets. She clutched her chest like I'd just told her I was secretly a lizard.

"Aliyah!" she gasped between coughs. "Jesus! You can't just-girl, what?"

I slumped in the booth, wishing the Earth would swallow me whole, or at least give me a distraction more exciting than the Sahara desert between my thighs.

"I'm serious," I muttered, stabbing at my croissant like it owed me wetness. "It's been weeks. Hell-months. I've tried everything. Lube, hydration, yoga. Even that weird breathing video you sent me that looked like a cult initiation and kegel exercises."

Layla was still wheezing, but now she was laughing too. "Okay, wait, I'm not laughing at you. It's just... the way you said it. Like your coochie needs therapy."

"I'm starting to think she does."

Because this wasn't just annoying anymore. This was starting to feel personal. Like my own body was holding out on me. Not just sexually, but emotionally. Like I'd lost access to a part of myself I used to be proud of.

I leaned back, sighing. "I haven't even been with anyone lately. I'm not saying I want a man in me right now, I just want to know my body could be ready for one. Or even just want one. But nothing. Not a drop. Not even a tingle."

Layla's teasing expression faded. She leaned in, her voice soft now. "That's actually serious. Have you seen a doctor?"

"Ugh, yes. He told me to drink more water and 'watch less crime documentaries before bed.' I was this close to throwing a pen at him."

Layla's lip curled. "Trash."

Then her eyes glinted. And that glint? Dangerous. Always meant trouble. Always meant something.

"I have a guy."

I squinted. "Layla."

"No, hear me out! He's a private gynecologist. Dr. Jay Lee. He's discreet. Professional. Smart as hell. And he looks like a Korean actor, I doubt you'll be needing any touching to get wet."

I blinked. "So, hot."

"So hot he could bring a nun out of celibacy."

"Layla."

"I'm serious!" she laughed. "He helped me once. You know... when I had that little 'reaction' to my ex's latex kink-"

I shuddered. "Please don't remind me."

"He never judged me once, just listened to me and asked the right questions. And girl, I'm telling you his fingers felt like heaven and it wasn't even sexual."

I tried to pretend I wasn't intrigued. But I was.

So what if I'd been betrayed by my own body lately? So what if I'd started Googling "vaginal drought home remedies" at 2 a.m.? Maybe I didn't need a spiritual cleanse or a tub of coconut oil. Maybe I just needed a different kind of specialist.

"What's the catch?" I asked slowly.

"He doesn't advertise, it is usually referrals and your first private consultation is off the books if you want."

That was... suspicious and hot, but mostly suspicious.

"Do you trust him?"

"With my coochie," Layla said solemnly.

Well. Damn.

"...Fine," I mumbled. "Set it up. But if I end up on some underground organs harvesting kink site-"

"I'll be the one filming."

After much thought, which was basically three days. I have in to curiosity and went to the clinic.

At least that's what i thought until I walked in, it didn't look anything like a clinic it looked more like a five star hotel lobby and a spa if that makes sense.

I sat stiffly on a velvet chair, heart thudding like I'd swallowed a marching band. I kept telling myself: This is a medical visit. You are an adult. Your vagina is not a national emergency.

Then the door opened.

And all that inner pep talk melted like butter under a blowtorch.

"Miss Aliyah Monroe?"

His voice makes me nearly turn into puddle as I sat there, it was smooth, low and wrapped me like a silk gown, never in a million years had Aliyah sounded so refined like a fucking invitation.

I looked up-and forgot what breathing was.

This man is fucking tall, roughly 6ft and holy fucking hell, he's not skinny. This man is a funky hunk, with broad shoulders and I'm certain a toned abs under that scrub. God, for a deserted coochie it sure was clenching so hard when our eyes met.

Oh no.

He smiled gently. "You can follow me in."

My legs worked. Somehow.

And as I stepped into his office, all I could think was, "This man is going to see my vagina before he even knows my favorite color."

And weirdly?

That didn't scare me.

That excited me.

His office smelled like sandalwood and something faintly sweet. Not like a hospital at all.

Dr. Jay gestured toward the sleek black leather chair across from his desk. I sat. Crossed and uncrossed my legs. My palms were suddenly clammy.

He sat down too, hands clasped, eyes fixed on mine-professional, focused... yet not cold.

"So," he began. "What brings you in today?"

His voice was like a velvet rope wrapping slowly around my spine.

I cleared my throat, determined to stay rational. "I've been experiencing, um... some persistent dryness. Down there."

His eyes didn't flicker. No judgment. No twitch of amusement.

"I see. Is this something recent or ongoing?"

I was very aware of how my thighs pressed together. "It's been a few months. I've tried hydration, diet changes, over-the-counter products. Nothing really helps."

"Any pain during arousal or intercourse?"

My mouth went dry. "...There hasn't really been either. Not for a while."

He tilted his head slightly, studying me in a way that felt... undressing.

"Loss of libido?"

"I think it's more like my body stopped... cooperating. Mentally, I still want-"

I stopped. My tongue betrayed me.

He leaned forward. "You want...?"

My eyes met his.

God, what was happening?

He didn't blink. "Aliyah. You can say it. There's nothing shameful about desire. Especially when it's gone unfulfilled for a long time."

I swallowed hard. His voice had shifted-lower, and became. I wasn't imagining it.

"I want to feel... aroused again," I admitted, voice barely a whisper. "I want to feel like I'm not broken."

Dr. Jay stood and walked around the desk. Slowly. Controlled. Like a man who knew his power.

He crouched in front of me-not in a rush, not assuming anything. Just... near.

"I'm going to ask you something," he said softly. "And I want your honest answer."

I nodded.

"When was the last time someone touched you in a way that made you want to be wet?"

My breath hitched.

He was too close. And yet, not close enough.

"I... I don't remember," I whispered.

He reached out-slow, deliberate-and gently placed two fingers beneath my chin, tilting my face toward his.

"I'm going to help you remember," he murmured.

My heart thundered. "I thought this was a consultation."

"It is," he said calmly. "But healing doesn't always look clinical, sometimes it's about reconnecting with your body, with your craving or with what's yours."

I should've walked out.

I should've said something sassy and left with my legs tightly crossed and my dignity intact.

I whispered, "Then show me."

His lips barely brushed mine. Calm down Aliyah, this is just a test. A tease. But my body flared to life like it'd been waiting for this exact moment to wake up.

And when he kissed me for real-slow, hot, possessive-it was like I'd been set on fire from the inside out.

His hand slid to my thigh, parting it with agonizing patience. My pulse pounded between my legs like a warning bell-or maybe a countdown. His other hand cupped my jaw as he deepened the kiss, and I swear I melted under his touch.

Every part of me that had felt numb lit up with electricity.

And then, just as quickly, he pulled away.

His eyes were darker now. Less doctor, more predator.

"That," he murmured, brushing a thumb across my swollen bottom lip, "was just an exam of your response system."

I blinked. "...I think I passed?"

His smirk made my thighs clench.

"We're just getting started."

I hadn't told Layla anything, at least not yet. My mind was still actively reeling from the tension of my previous visit, and even though my wetness didn't last it was an opening.

I sat across from her in our favorite coffee shop, staring into my iced caramel macchiato like it was gonna give me answers.

"Girl, why are you blushing like that?" Layla asked, sipping her drink and narrowing her eyes at me suspiciously. "You look like you've been doing something pretty inappropriate."

My fingers tightened around the cup.

"You remember that gynecologist you told me about? Dr. Jay Lee?"

She perked up immediately. "Yeah? How can I forget the amazing hunk who helped me."

I stared at her.

"What? Look, all I'm doing is appreciating God's amazing craftsmanship. I know how less tensed i felt when his fingers dipped into my irritated cookie."

I groaned, but the heat rising in my cheeks made her gasp.

"Oh my God. Aliyah. You went! How did it go"

"Great," I said quickly, heart racing. "He asked me a couple of questions about my sex life and I expected a bunch of medications but..."

Layla leaned in like we were discussing war crimes.

"But what?"

I hesitated, biting my lip. "He offered a practical exam to be done."

Layla blinked. "Okay? That's like normal."

"Not really. Like..." I looked around, then whispered, "He kissed me and it made me wet. Like, actually really wet."

She choked on her drink.

"YOU'RE TELLING ME THIS MAN DID WHAT MODERN MEDICINE COULDN'T?!"

"Shh!"

"No, babe. You don't just casually drop a 'he got me wet' and expect me to whisper. I'm gonna need graphs. Diagrams. Did he-"

"It wasn't clinical!" I hissed. "Or it started clinical. But then... the way he touched me, how he looked at me... like he wanted me to come right there on his chair then he finally kissed me and I could feel my panties get soaked."

Layla went silent for a second, eyes wide. Then, slowly, a smug grin spread across her face.

"So when's the next appointment?"

"I'm not sure going back there is proper," I said automatically.

She raised a brow. "Oh, please. That man unlocked your hidden hydration and probably some long-lost kinks. You're going back. You're just stalling so you don't seem desperate."

I stared at my drink. My thighs pressed together under the table.

"I already scheduled the follow-up but I don't know, Lay."

Layla shrieked. "I KNEW IT!"

"I didn't mean to!" I groaned, covering my face. "I just... I couldn't stop thinking about his voice. His hands. He said he has a treatment plan, Layla. A plan. What does that even mean?!"

Layla leaned in like she was about to read me a bedtime story. "It means you're about to be his favorite patient. And honestly? I support it. You deserve good orgasms and great customer service."

I laughed despite myself.

"You're the worst."

"I'm the best. Now go let Dr. Orgasm ruin you with his clinical excellence."

I shook my head but deep down? She was right.

The idea of being touched by a total stranger didn't seem appealing to me, that's a Layla thing. I was more reserved, more quiet and timid. I couldn't seduce a doctor or convince him to fuck me.

But fuck, the was my chance at normalcy, to become a functioning woman, and maybe have the chance to be fucked by he hottest capable doctor.

I tapped it.

Confirmation screen popped up: "Are you sure you want to confirm your appointment with Dr. Jay Lee?"

God. Even his name made my thighs clench.

I stared at the screen for a full thirty seconds before my thumb betrayed me and hit Yes.

Two days later, same clinic, same room, heart thumping like I'd swallowed a bass drum. My thighs clenched with anticipation, remembering everything his hands-his mouth-had done. The fact that it was technically medical made it worse. Or better. I couldn't tell anymore.

When the door opened, and he walked in wearing that crisp white coat and unreadable expression, my breath stuttered.

"Aliyah," he said, like my name tasted good. "You kept your follow-up. I'm impressed."

I gave a nervous laugh. "You said I needed a treatment plan."

His lips twitched. "That I did."

He stepped closer, and just like that, the air between us snapped tight again. Every cell in my body screamed.

"This plan," he began, circling me like a wolf circling dinner, "is an intensive one-on-one session with no distractions. Just you, me... and your neglected pleasure pathways."

Pleasure pathways? I almost choked.

"What exactly does that involve?" I asked, pretending like my voice wasn't shaking.

His smile was slow, scary and fucking seductive.

"Let's call it a reconditioning."

I was already wet.

He led me to a padded chair-not the usual exam table. This one reclined, leather, with wrist rests and adjustable leg supports. Oh.

"Take your gown off."

I hesitated, but then-off it went. This time, I didn't bother pretending it was medical. My body was already humming, craving the feel of his hands again. His praise. His control.

He didn't put on gloves this time.

"This isn't a diagnosis exam," he murmured, dragging his hands over my bare shoulders as I sat. "I will be training your body how to respond, beg and plead."

Beg? Plead?

Before I could question it, he tilted the chair back and spread my thighs apart with deliberate slowness.

"I'm going to show you what real stimulation feels like, Aliyah. Again. And again. Until that dryness is nothing but a memory."

He pulled out something from a drawer. A slim silver wand.

Medical equipment? I doubted it.

"This will help with circulation. Increased blood flow means heightened sensitivity."

I was already shaking, and he hadn't even touched me yet.

The wand brushed between my folds. It was cool at first, then buzzing softly. My back arched, legs trembling as he pressed it right against my clit. The moan I let out felt like it cracked open the room.

"Good girl," he breathed.

The second those words left his mouth, my coochie clenched but Jay didn't stop. My legs began to shake from how good the wand felt on my clit.

I never felt his way when I used a vibrator on myself, heck I was still drier than Sahara.

''Doctor Jay, that feels so good''

"I haven't started the real treatment yet, Aliyah." he whispered, leaning in, lips brushing my ear. "This is just an assessment. Now the real tretment begins."

Then he slid to his knees.

And when his mouth replaced the wand-hot, skilled, devastating-I realized exactly what this plan entailed

Total. Submission.

His mouth on me was everything and too much, clinical precision wrapped in carnal greed.

I gasped, back arching against the chair as his tongue moved like he had my body mapped out already.

His tongue swirled around my coochie, every flick on my clit sent white-hoy pleasure crashing inside me and all I could do was grip the armrests and hold on.

"Dr. Lee-" My voice was strained.

His hands gripped my thighs tighter. "You don't speak unless I ask you to, Aliyah."

My stomach flipped. A moan escaped before I could trap it.

"You're here to learn," he said, mouth still working me like a man on a mission. "To be patient. Receptive. Obedient."

God, why did that word make my brain freeze? Why did it feel so darn hot?

The wand was nothing compared to his mouth, everything he did made me squirm under him. His hot breath fanned against my skin and tried to close my legs reflexively from the sensitivity of my skin but his grip stopped me cold.

"Don't fight it," he murmured. "You taste so good and I want you to savor this, to feel so overstimulated that your body never forgets this moment.''

He went back to feasting, while I thrashed underneath him. I tried to pull away from him but he bit my clit keeping in place as he stuck his tongue deep into m coochie, holy fuck. I sobbed out a moan as he lapped my coochie juice like a fucking dog.

Finally, he pulled back. His mouth was wet, his eyes feral.

"You're responsive," he said, as if he hadn't just blown my soul out through my toes. "Good. That'll make the next phase easier."

I blinked at him. "There's a next phase?"

He gave a wolfish smile. "I told you. This is intensive care."

Then he stripped off his coat. His button-down. His belt.

Holy. Shit.

I was right, this man wasn't just sculpted-he was handcrafted and ripped out of a fantasy novel to please me and this lease was starving not for food but me.

"I need to test your endurance," he said, voice a low rumble. "Can your body take more? Can you come again? And again? Until your nerves can't tell the difference between pain and pleasure?"

My thighs clenched. I was soaked.

He unzipped his pants. My brain went static.

"No penetration," I whispered, trying to sound sane, I was anything but that . "This was supposed to be non-invasive-"

He leaned down, breath ghosting over my lips.

"Then I'll make do with my hands. My mouth. Every part of me but the one you want most. Until you're begging me to break your rule."

I whimpered.

His fingers slipped back between my legs-two this time, slow and merciless. He curled them just right, hitting that spot that made me sob.

"God, you're perfect," he muttered. "So reactive. So damn tight."

I was losing it, every coherent thought was long gone.

He pulled me close, his fingers still pumping inside me, his other hand wrapped around my throat, choking me and I could barely leave my eyes open.

"You're mine in this room, Aliyah. Mine to treat. Mine to train/"

I nodded wildly, drunk on the high of it all, I could only focus on the rhythm of his fingers in my pussy and God I wanted more. Something bigger. I wanted his cock filling all of my holes.

His thumb rubbed against my sensitive clit as his index and middle finger kept digging inside me, I could feel another orgasm and Dr. Lee placed his mouth on my pussy while fucking me senseless with those fingers.

I thrashed around, ''Dr. Lee please, it's too much. I ca- Oh- Fu-''

He didn't stop, not even after my juices spilled out of me, he drank it all up like it was the only thing he needed.

He let me go after eating to his fill and he pulled his fingers out and gently lifted my chin.

"You are beautiful, Aliyah but fuck look more beautiful after you've come for me." he said.

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't speak.

"See you next session." he whispered. "Keep in mind that it will be more intense than this."