A Bunnie To Play With - Chapter 9 free porn video

Exams were, well, exams. Until I sat on the desk and started to write, my hands were clammy and my nerves all over the place. But the moment the tip of my pen touched the sheet for the first time, all that faded away and was replaced by a manic drive to squeeze as many words as I could onto the paper. Time flew by, and before I knew it, it was evening again and once more time to cram and get last minute jitters for Tuesday’s subjects.

Anne and I hardly talked, each caught in our own world of study topics. But just as the day before, we crawled into my bed as soon as our eyes were blurring from all the reading, and I pleasured her without accepting my own relief. It wasn’t something that I could put into words. Some basic need inside my heart wanted me to wait, and the surprise and warmth in Anne’s eyes felt like a soft blanket around my soul. Perhaps it was just the exam stress that made me hopelessly romantic. I couldn’t tell, and had neither time nor motivation to dwell on it.

Tuesday went by just the same, and then Wednesday morning’s exams were done too, as was my creative writing exam which I had dreaded but found exhilaratingly easy - just a bunch of writing prompts one had to use in one way or another and identifying some stylistic elements and explaining them in a handful of text snippets - and I found myself in front of the door to one of the classrooms in the arts building, clad once more in the flimsy red dress just as she had asked me to, my hair still slightly damp from a quick shower, my panties left behind in the safety of our room. I knocked, albeit a bit hesitantly, and was asked to enter by a stern female voice.

The owner of the face was a woman in her late fifties, her greying hair done in a tight bun, who sat leisurely but with an elegance that belied her age sideways on one of the desks in the first row. Anne was busy pinning huge sketch sheets to wooden stands and gave me a short wave with one hand.

“You’re Miss Summer’s model?” The lady wanted to know and looked me up and down with an intensity as if she could see right through me.

“Uhm, yes, Ma’am,” I stammered, suddenly feeling five inches smaller, “I’m Brittany Weston.”

I had stopped halfway across the room, and she slowly stood up and stepped closer, and I noticed that she looked like the epitome of a British headmistress with the shimmering, dark grey skirt and frilly white blouse, her slightly upturned, aristocratic nose and her dark red lipstick. I could picture her in front of my mind’s eye with a bamboo cane in her hand, towering behind an ill-mannered pupil who was draped over her desk and trembling in fear.

“I’m Professor Morgan, I’ll be the main examiner, my colleagues Miss Eldridge and Professor Cresswater will be here shortly.”

Her voice roused me from my kinky daydream. She stood right in front of me and had already extended her hand, and I tried my best not to blush. The way she looked at me, I was sure she could pluck my naughty thoughts right out of my head.

“Nice to meet you,” I managed to stammer while I shook her hand.

“Please take a seat on one of the side desks while Miss Summers gives her presentation,” she told me, not letting go of my hand, and I became increasingly aware of the softness of her skin and the strength in her fingers. “We will ask you to the front once that part is finished, and Miss Summers will then demonstrate how her project is to be worn. You will be asked to walk up and down the front row so we can see if the shoes lend themselves to a natural movement, but don’t be surprised if you’re asked to repeat that once or twice, this is in fact quite common.” Her eyes roamed once more up and down my body. “Do you have any questions?”

“Uh, no, Ma’am.” I cursed myself for acting like a ten year old and prayed that my nervousness wouldn’t infect Anne.

She let go of my hand, and I instinctively looked down at it, rubbing over the now cooling spot where her thumb had rested.

“You may take a seat.”

“Uh, sure.” I really should. I was on the best way to make a spectacle of myself, and I had no clue why. I had to walk a half-circle around the professor, who was still watching me, and felt her eyes like little pinpricks on my skin. Finally, I sat down in the chair at the end of the row farthest from the door, and right at that moment the other two teachers entered the classroom and took their seats in the middle of the row with Professor Morgan between them. One of them, Miss Eldridge, could hardly be in her thirties and looked more like a student than a teacher in her designer jeans and flamenco blouse, and the other, Professor Cresswater, whom I’d had a year ago in drawing class, was a rather plump woman in a floral dress.

“Very well,” the head examiner intoned, “now that we’re all here, please begin, Miss Summers.”

Anne was obviously nervous. Her first three sentences were rather hurried and sounded a bit clumsy. But she quickly caught herself, and once she was over the introductory part and went into describing which materials she picked and why and explained all the techniques she used to assemble the shoes, the words simply flowed out of her. Most of her explanations went miles over my head, but the sheer amount of details and thoughts behind that pair of shoes was stunning.

The professors, mainly Miss Morgan, asked some pointed questions here and there, but mostly let her do her presentation. I almost started to clap when Anne announced that this part was finished and nobody had further questions.

“Good, now let’s see the practical application of the project.” The way the corner of Professor Morgan’s mouth twitched, I was sure she found the expression just as stupid as I did.

Once at the front, Anne asked me to sit down in a chair she had moved their. I tried to unbuckle my sandals, but she told me in a whisper to let her do it. Which felt quite strange under the watchful eyes of the three teachers, who had by then walked around the tables and were standing just a few feet away.

Anne slipped the first shoe onto my foot and made sure that each toe slipped into its leather bounds. It felt just like the first time she had done it, and I had to pull myself together with considerable effort to keep from closing my eyes and just enjoying the feel of her fingers brushing over my skin. She never stopped explaining while she did it, but I hardly caught a word. The straps went around my ankle and calf, and then my other foot was quickly adorned with its own shoe while the teachers whispered between themselves and made agreeing noises. I almost missed Anne’s whispered question.

“Did you come without?”

I quickly nodded and bit my lip.

“Perfect,” she whispered again, “good little pet.”

And then I was walking down the room, four pairs of eyes following my every move, and I was praying that they couldn’t see how wobbly my knees felt.

“Please turn around and walk back a bit faster, Miss Weston,” Professor Morgan instructed me. I was really glad that I had already gotten used to the high heels on Saturday, or I might have stumbled in my nervous state.

“Please stop, Miss Weston.”

I came to a standstill right in front of her.

“Do you have any more questions?” She asked her colleagues, who both declined. “Then, if you don’t mind, Miss Eldridge, please bring our evaluation sheets to the faculty room while I help our last examinee for the day pack up. I’ll be right along with her demonstration material.”

They each scribbled something onto the sheets on their clipboards. Miss Eldridge collected the sheets, and she and Professor Cresswater left.

“Please sit down on the chair, I’ll help you with the shoes,” Professor Morgan instructed, and the moment I heard the words, I almost panicked. If she knelt down in front of the chair, she would be able to see that I wasn’t wearing panties.

“Uh, no, it’s okay, Professor, I can do that myself.”

“But I insist, these are quite an interesting creation.”

My eyes snapped towards Anne, but she just sent me a concealed nod, and so I lowered myself to the chair and extended my right leg into the waiting hands of the crouched-down professor.

The professor took her time. She held the heel with one hand, while the fingers of her other hand softly trailed the contours of the shoe. “A perfect fit,” she remarked, “as if they were made for this pair of feet.”

At first I thought I was imagining it. But when her fingertips didn’t let up their stroking, only now touching my skin, tickling my instep, softly rubbing up and down my toes, I felt goose bumps race up my back. She looked up at me. I was aware of the way my chest heaved and my face was flushed. She smiled.

“Tell me, Miss Summers,” she suddenly asked, “those ornaments on the metal bar, they are more than decoration, aren’t they?” Her fingers opened the buckles while she waited for Anne to answer.

“They - they might have a more practical application, yes.”

“And that application might be...?” She inquired while she slowly slipped the shoe from my foot and set it to the floor. Her hands didn’t leave my foot, though. Her fingers were caressing it all over. I looked at Anne, and her face was just as heated as mine. Her teacher, her head examiner was coming onto me! “Miss Summers?”

Anne’s voice was quiet. “They can be used to restrain her feet.”

“Her feet?” A bit of amusement carried in the teacher’s voice. She set down my foot and began to unbuckle the other. “And why would you want to restrain these pretty feet?”

I closed my eyes. My heart raced. Where was this going? I felt the leather slip from my foot and risked a glimpse, catching the older teacher looking right between my legs. A small gasp escaped my throat, too low for Anne to hear, but loud enough to put a delighted smile on professor Morgan’s lips.

“It’s - it’s a game,” Anne finally replied without much conviction.

“A game?” Professor Morgan’s mouth twitched. “Interesting. If you stay in this area, I’d love it if you could visit me after term is finished, and show me how you play that game. Perhaps I could participate too.”

My eyes turned to Anne, whose face was shifting between panic and excitement. Just like mine did, probably. Suddenly, a wide smile lit up Anne’s face. “I’d love that,” she exclaimed, “and Brittany would too, wouldn’t you, bunny-ears?”

“I - of course I’d like that.”

I thought I only blinked, but a moment later professor Morgan was standing next to Anne, handing a business card to her and asking her if all her materials were in the folding box on the desk. I put on my sandals again while she left with the box, and then we were alone in the classroom, just Anne and me, both of us high-strung, staring at each other.

I tried to say something, but I only managed a stupid “Oh,” followed by an “oomph” when Anne pushed me back against the wall and pressed her mouth hungrily on mine. We kissed like mad, biting and pulling each other’s lips when our tongues weren’t duelling.

“Oh my god, that’s hot,” she whispered breathlessly into my ear,”I want to see her spank you over her knees!” Her hand ran up my thigh, crept under my skirt and pressed hard against my naked pussy. “Dirty girl,” she whispered, “you’re soaking wet!”

“Oh yes,” I moaned, agreeing to the image of being punished by the strict older teacher and her assessment of my state of arousal. “Oh god, please, I need to come!” I was close; my repeated self-denial had obviously short-circuited my pleasure zones. The heat between my legs was mounting with an alarming rate, and a few more rubs of Anne’s soft fingers would send me over the edge.

“Not yet!” She pulled her hand away, and I slumped back against the wall, jelly-legged and out of breath.

“Please,” I groaned, “it’s almost painful!”

“Perfect,” she giggled, “that’s how I want you. If you’re a good girl, you get to come later.”

I wanted to scream, at least for the first few seconds, until the raging inferno between my legs settled somewhat. Then I became aware that we were still in a classroom and the door wasn’t even closed.

“Oh my god,” I groaned, this time tinged with embarrassment. “What are you doing to me?”

“Me?” Anne chuckled. “I haven’t done much here. It’s mostly your own doing, and of course our interesting professor’s.”

“I don’t think I can last much longer though. I think I’m going to explode the next time you touch me down there.”

“Well, it’s your own fault,” she quipped and took my hand. “You could have had all the relief for your pent-up neediness you wanted. You declined it all by yourself.”

There was no denying that. I hung my head, my cheeks flushed.

She grabbed my hand and pulled me from the classroom. “Hey, exams are over! It’s time to party!”

I stumbled after her in a mad dash through the corridors, and somewhere along the way her exuberance became infectious. “No more school!”

“No more boring classes!” She echoed my sentiment.

“Party! Whoop!”

**

Once the door to our room was locked, we somehow ended up in a tangled mess of limbs across the carpet in the middle of our room, rolling around like kids and belying our age.I stole a few kisses from Anne, who alternated between groping and tickling me, and I finally ended up on my back, my girlfriend sitting across my stomach, bent over me and holding my hands above my head.

That’s when, with tears of laughter in my eyes and giggles shaking my stomach, another realization hit me like a freight train and took my breath away in a very uncomfortable way. Suddenly the tears weren’t those of laughter anymore, but it took Anne a moment to become aware that something was wrong with me.

“Bunnie?”

I looked up at her beautiful face, those cute, swollen lips, the needy look in her eyes, and a knot formed in my stomach.

“Bunnie?” The worry in her voice grew. “Talk to me! What’s going on?”

I stared into her eyes and tried to find the right words for the sudden desperation that had gripped me. “I - we,” I stammered rather unsuccessfully, “it’s all going to end. I’m - I’m supposed to find a job close to home soon.” I sniffed. “You’re going to find a job too, and what will happen with us?”

The look with which she regarded me was filled with both wonder and compassion. Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes in a steady flow while we gazed at each other for long minutes, emotions swirling, rolling, billowing through the air like hot steam. She let go of my hands and caught my head between them, her thumbs tenderly brushing away the tears from my eyes.

“Oh you silly, silly little pet.” She laid down her upper body on mine and started to cover my face with little kisses. “I’m not going to let you get away from me,” she promised between most touches of her lips, “not ever. You’ll stay with me, and we’ll find a place together.”

I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her as tight as I dared. “I haven’t really saved any money,” I confessed, the closeness of her body radiating a safety that I wanted to keep forever, “and I should have sent out applications a long time ago.”

“That you should,” she whispered into my ear. “Bad pet. You’ll have to be punished severely for being this tardy.”

She bit my lip and pulled with her teeth, making me whimper in response. “I’m going to make that pretty bum of yours glow red like the most beautiful sunset, time and time again. But promise me one thing!”

“Oh god, yes,” I whispered. “Whatever you want.”

“Stop worrying for now. We’ll take care of it, and I promise you we’ll make it work so we can stay together. But from now until Sunday, we’re finally free of exams and school, and I want to enjoy that time with you.”

“You’re sure we’ll find a way?”

“A hundred and fifty percent.”

A smile tugged on my lips. “Okay. I promise.”

“Good.” She kissed me, deeply, and I squirmed in delight. “Are you up for some kinky fun tonight?”

“Always,” I answered without thinking.

“Then how about that little poker game?”

My eyes shot wide open. “But I thought you didn’t think much of Jason?”

Her giggle made me blush. “Who said anything about that big-headed jock?”

“But who else? Just us two?”

“No, there’s going to be somebody else alright, but definitely not a stupid male. Do you trust me?”

“Of course, Mistress.” There it was, slipping over my tongue without any conscious effort of my own.

“Then wait for the surprise. You might hate it at first, but I’m sure you’ll quickly come around and get to enjoy it.”

That sounded ominous. And exciting. “Okay,” I whispered and gave her a peck on her lips. “Can we snuggle a bit, though?”

“Don’t we already,” she teased me.

“On the bed,” I insisted with mock indignation. “Like proper girlfriends.”

“Let’s take a small nap,” she agreed, “I can use one, now that my nerves are finally settling down.”

**

Anne wouldn’t tell me what she had planned for tonight, but when she sent me to the grocery for crackers, chips and a few bottles of cider I was sure that, whatever it was, it involved visitors. So I wasn’t really surprised when I arrived back at seven and found our big cardboard box with the parlor games on the kitchen desk. I put my purchases next to it and walked into the bathroom, where she stood in front of the mirror, wrapped in a towel, brushing her air and looking as beautiful as ever.

“What’s up for this evening?” I inquired, stepping close to her from behind, resting my chin on her shoulder and almost earning myself a hairbrush handle into the eye.

“I know I said no rules until Thursday. But you’ll not minding starting up again a little early, do you?”

“How early?”

She put the hairbrush onto the sink and turned around, “Now.” The gleam in her eyes that accompanied her words would have been enough to light up the room.

It clearly transported the message that there was something more ahead than just an evening of card games between us two. “I guess you won’t tell me what’s in store for tonight before I give you my answer?”

“You’re guessing right.” She grinned. “I don’t want you worrying ahead of time. So what is it, yes or yes?”

“Okay, okay,” I relented with a sigh. “You’ll not let me say no anyway.”

“Right again.”

I tried to look exasperated, but the soft kiss she gave me quickly broke down my inner resistance. Her lips just felt so soft and warm, and the small tingles where they touched my own were just so delicate. Her kiss turned hungry, her tongue entered my mouth and suddenly my top was pulled over my head. I only broke the kiss for a second to extricate my arms from the garment, then I pressed my body, now nude from the waist up, against hers again. The skirt sailed to the floor a few seconds later, and then hands were gripping my buttocks and rhythmically pressing my crotch against hers.

“I want you so much,” she whispered into my ear between little bites at my neck, “I want to have your naked body around every second of every day for the rest of my life, so I can kiss you and play with you whenever I want.”

“I’d love that!” I could only whisper back. What a fantasy, never to wear clothes again.

“But first, there’s something I’ve longed to do. Sit on the rug and spread your legs while I prepare everything!”

I almost blurted out a question, but at the last moment I remembered that the rules were active again and gingerly lowered myself to the rug. “Yes, Mistress.”

She turned up the water in the sink and pulled a few items from the mirrored cabinet, but I couldn’t see what they were from my position on the floor. She wrung out something under the streaming water, then closed the tap and turned around. The moment I saw her hands, her intentions became evident.

“Mistress?” I asked her a bit nervously.

“Yes, my pet?”

“Do we have to do that now? I’ve never done that before.”

That made her giggle. “Gosh, don’t look at me as if I’m about to cut off your leg. I’m going to shave you; millions of people do that every day.”

I had to admit that my moment of apprehension was perhaps a bit over the top. “Sorry, Mistress, I guess it was the surprise.”

“It’s okay. But I’m reasonably sure that you’ll love it.”

And then she was kneeling between my legs, first rubbing a hot, moist washcloth over my pubes, then lathering me up with a walnut-sized dollop of shaving cream that seemed to multiply under her touch. Her fingers felt exquisite, and I couldn’t stop myself from moaning every time they wandered over the fleshy parts of my pussy.

“You like it?”

“Mhmm,” I confirmed, not trusting my voice.

“Then wait just a second.” She wiped her fingers and took up the razor, one of those new, fancy looking things with exchangeable blades. She pushed down on a nub on the handle and a soft, humming noise became audible. She smiled. “I love that one myself, I’m sure you’ll too.”

She sat it down on my skin at the top of the cream-covered spot and gently drew it downwards. The blades vibrated, and a tingling feeling followed them, seemingly intensifying as soon as they got close to my pussy lips.

“Oh!” I said rather eloquently and felt the spot between my legs once more become a well of heat.

Anne took her time, carefully shaving over and around my most sensitive spot. Every touch felt like small sparks that made me quiver. She pulled my skin this way and that to make sure that she got every hair, her face filled with concentration. She even made me lift my legs, first one, then the other, to make sure she didn’t miss anything, the lewd display that I made this way not helping to dampen of arousal.

Then she was done with the razor and I felt the warm washcloth once again.

“There, smooth like a baby,” she declared with a grin and gently blew over my freshly shaven mound. “Let’s see that the skin doesn’t get irritated.”

She picked up a plastic bottle and put whatever it was on her hand, then began to rub it onto my skin. It felt smooth. And really, really good. And it smelled like ripe berries, making my mouth water.

“Scented baby oil,” she explained, but I had to strain my ears to understand, because the blood rushing through them from my arousal made it hard to concentrate.

“Oh yes,” I murmured, my hips meeting her rhythmic touches. It felt like heaven, the way her fingers glided over the smooth skin.

“Tell me when you’re about to come.” Her fingers started to move faster, and my breath followed quickly along. I was still, even after our nap, a bit strung up from the scene in the classroom, and I was quickly nearing that same state again, my nipples already pointing outwards like needle tips.

Her middle finger sought out my clit, and she rubbed its full length over it. My breath hitched. “Oh god, yes, I’m going to come!”

No sooner had the hastily stammered words left my lips that her hand went away.

“Oh please,” I begged. “Please don’t stop!”

“But I want to,” she told me with a mix of a playful pout and that sweetness that I had recently learned I couldn’t resist. “I want to know that you’re almost going crazy with arousal, and that I am the cause.”

“You’ve already succeeded,” I whined, “but I don’t think I can stand any more. Please make me come, Mistress.”

“Not yet. But I promise you that you’ll get to come today.”

I wasn’t exaggerating when I told her that I thought it was all I could take. Yet, being denied that sweet release was somehow exciting, even if the way I let her control my pleasure frightened me a bit.

“Now hop into the shower,” she commanded, “while I stow away the shaving utensils and get dressed. I’ll put something on your bed for you to put on.”

“Okay, Mistress,” I acknowledged and stepped into the shower, turning up the water a touch colder than I normally used to.

**

Cooled down and refresh, I remembered at the last moment that walking wasn’t supposed to be my means of movement while we were alone in the flat and crawled through the living room to my bed. A small gasp escaped my throat.

The outfit waiting for me was quite different from what I had expected. The underwear consisted of white cotton knickers and an equally white cotton bra, both adorned with garishly pink rabbits. They were, admittedly, cute, and I’d have probably gone crazy to have them seven years ago. Next to those waited an equally pink t-shirt that looked one size too small to me, and a pair of matching track pants.

“Hurry up, Bunnie,” Anne admonished from her place on the couch where she was perusing her notebook computer, already dressed in a loose Miley Cyrus t-shirt and Levis jeans. “Our guests will be here any minute. You don’t want to open the door nude, do you?”

“Of course not, Mistress,” I answered probably a bit too hastily, and I wasn’t sure if she had been able to notice the small shiver that ran along my spine for a second. I quickly slipped on the clothes.

The knickers were quite tight, and anyone looking at them would have easily noticed that there were no hairs hidden underneath. The bra was comfortable, if a bit tight as well, and the way it was cut, it compressed my boobies into the shape of ripe apples.The t-shirt wasn’t any better, but it was made of some stretchy material, so I could wiggle my way into it, even if it ended a bit above my navel. Of course it sported a white, fluffy bunny on the chest. The pants were my size, so I did at least not have to worry about it ripping if I bent over. Then I noticed a pair of bunny slippers in front of the bed. Hesitantly putting my feet inside, I felt more like a sixteen year old before a sleep-over than my real age of twenty years.

I couldn’t keep my opinion to myself. “You’re crazy, Mistress.”

“You’re welcome,” she answered with amusement. “Though you haven’t seen anything yet. How do you feel?”

“A bit uncomfortable. The knickers are a bit tight, as is the bra.”

“That’s good, but I wasn’t asking about that. Do you like the clothes?”

My insecure, “Uhm, not really?” was answered with a giggle.

“Let’s get your makeup done,” she commanded, putting away her computer and getting up from the couch.

I followed her back into the bathroom, where she picked a pink lipstick and had me purse my lips. After the lipstick, she applied a pink, glittering rouge to my cheeks and a matching eyeshadow. After a few flicks with the mascara, she added a pink hair band to my outfit and finished it with two pink clips that held back my bangs. She smiled widely at me and turned me around, so I could watch myself in the mirror.

My eyes widened. Everything about me was pink, and it made me look like a girl more than a woman, young and vulnerable and totally over the top.

“What do you think?”

“Don’t I look a bit, uhm, youngish?”

“That’s what I intended. I heard Sweet Little Sixteen on the radio this morning and somehow had to think of you. You’ll get used…” A knock sounded at that moment, interrupting our conversation. “Why don’t you open the door?” she asked, not intending it to be a question.

And so I found myself quite self-conscious about my appearance, opening the door and standing in front of two girls our age, both dressed as casual as Anne was, and immediately feeling even more nervous about myself.

“Uhm, hello,” I stammered, my heart thumping, rooted to the spot and feeling a bit faint. One of them was Jackie, whom I shared a few classes with, and who had made those into a bit of a competition and always been looking for ways to belittle my work in front of the others from the first day. If I had to stick the label “enemy” onto one of my classmates, it would be her. I didn’t know what I had done to offend the redhead, but she had been a constant pain in my ass for the whole four years.

The corners of her mouth lifted upwards into a sneering grin the moment she spotted me. “Oh my,” she gasped, “aren’t you the cutest bunny today?”

My cheeks went up in flames, and I looked down at the floor.

“Can we come in?” Her black-haired friend, a girl I had seen around a few times but didn’t share classes with and so didn’t know the name of, reminded me that I was blocking the entrance.

“Uhm, sure,” I said, shuffling to the side. “Come in.”

I watched the two of them enter the room and closed the door behind them, wondering what deviousness Anne had concocted. I knew that she got on better than me with Jackie, but they were hardly friends. So the only possible reasons those two were visiting tonight had either be that Anne had invented Jackie’s friend, or that she wanted to use Jackie for something embarrassing for me. She was aware of the bad chemistry between us, so my bet was on the latter. That suspicion was quickly confirmed.

“Jackie, Brenda,” my girlfriend greeted both of them, “so good that you could make it. I hope you’re ready for a nice game of poker. We’ve got few ciders here, too, so it won’t get dull.”

“We’re game,” Jackie answered her, and I thought I recognized a small strain in her voice, “I hope that whatever surprise you’ve got planned is a got one.”

“It will be,” Anne was completely unconcerned, “I promise. Will you fetch some ciders from the fridge, Bunnie, while I get the cards and chips?”