Bunnie Toy Must Die
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A Bunnie To Play With - Chapter 4 free porn video
“Let’s hit the road, Bunnie!”
That war cry was so Anne, with her spontaneity and fable for the dramatic. For some unknown reason, I thought back to the moment the name ‘Bunnie’ had come about. It was actually a bit embarrassing.
I had been in the process of unpacking my things and stowing them away in the dorm room I had been assigned, when I came about a Mars bar in one of the side pockets of my travelling bag. It had been there for the whole 200 miles drive to the college, it was summer and mum’s car didn’t have air-conditioning. As was to be expected, it had already lost most of its original shape. But my stomach grumbled. It had been almost six hours since I had a bite to eat, and I simply couldn’t resist.
Unwrapping the sweet mass of brown goo proved to be a challenge, but one I was eagerly facing. Spurred on by my stomach, I finally managed to get the wrapping removed on all but one side, and I even managed to stuff the whole thing - no chance in taking a bite, I could probably have pulled on a corner and moved to the other end of the room without tearing it - into my mouth with just a smudge of chocolate on my chin. That’s when the door opened and this blonde, long-haired bundle of energy raced inside, turned towards me, extended her hand and said, “Hi, I’m Anne, your roommate!”
Unable to swallow the whole chocolate bar at once, I could only wave my hands, brown spots all over them, the wrapper sticking to my thumb, and try to answer: “Hi, I’m Brittany.”
It’s a wonder that she understood anything at all, with my mouth full to burst, but she just waved at me and sing-songed: “Hi, Bunnie, nice to meet you.”
It took a lot of blushing, forceful swallowing and a big glass of water from the tap until I was in a state to clear up the mistake. But Anne kept insisting, despite my desperate pleas, that Bunnie was quite fine and fit me well, and that I needed not be shy about it. It stuck, and she even introduced me to her friends like that later on. Her friends called me Brittany or Bri to my face, but for Anne I stayed Bunnie, and I’m quite sure that, between them, I was Bunnie as well.
I chuckled at the thought.
“What’s so funny?”
Thank god she didn’t add ‘Bunnie’ to the end of the question, because that would have sent me off into a fit of laughter.
“Just thinking back to when we met and you named me Bunnie.”
That made her chuckle as well, and then her right hand found its way to my thigh and began to softly stroke it. I let my knees fall outwards as much as possible and sighed dreamily.
“You looked so adorable when I stepped into the room, with all those chocolate stains and that panicked look in your eyes. Like a small child caught with the hand in the cookie jar.” Her hand squeezed a little, eliciting a moan.
“Did - did you really think I said ‘Bunnie’?” That was the first time that I asked that question, even though it had been in my head since that day.
“Oh sweetie,” she giggled, “of course not. It was a spur of the moment thing. And then you blushed so cutely and pleaded so heartwarmingly that I couldn’t help falling for you.” Her fingers had begun to rub small circles on my naked thigh, moving closer and closer to the top of my leg and making my breathing grow strained. Then her hand left, and the overhead light on my side was switched on.
“Lift up the front of your skirt.” How she was able to change her voice from dribbling honey to a harsh whiplash in the blink of an eye, I’ll never understand. My glassy eyes went wide, and for a moment I hesitated, but then her fingernails started to drum a little rhythm of impatience on the middle console. I gripped the hem with trembling fingers and slowly pulled it upwards.
“Look between your legs.”
I did, and drew in a sharp breath. The small triangle of the g-string clearly showed a dark spot of moisture in the center.
“You naughty girl,” she admonished softly. “We can’t have you running around with soaked panties, can we? Take them off, and put them on the console in front of you.”
My heart was racing a mile a minute now. “Yes, Ma’am.” The eroticism of the command left me tingling all over, and my voice was little more than a whisper. My shaking hands wiggled the string down my hips, and I had to move awkwardly to get the back string from between my bum cheeks. Getting it over my high heels proved to be another challenge, and I hit my knees twice on the console before I finally had it dangling between my hands. I slowly put it down on the console, where it lay like an arrow that pointed right at my crotch, screaming ‘naughty, wet pussy in this direction!’ Which was probably Anne’s intent.
“I think we should air out that wet snatch of yours. Scoot your sweet bum to the edge of the seat, then put your heels up to the corners and pull up your skirt again.”
“But - But what if someone looks inside?” It had grown dark outside, and the thought that anyone passing us might be able to see my exposed pussy filled me with mortification; the interior light would put me on display like a museum exhibit.
“Are you refusing an order?” For a second she took her eyes away from the road and looked intensely at me.
“Please don’t make me, Mistress Summers,” I begged in my most subservient voice.
“Do it. And make sure to enter a demerit into your punishment book. I hope you don’t earn another one right away.”
Reluctantly, I wiggled my bum forward until I could feel the seat edge below my, then awkwardly pulled up my legs and put the heels down on the seat to my sides. My pussy lips opened like the flowers of a petal and exposed rosy flesh, and I felt cool air tickle my moist inner lips.
“You have a beautiful pussy,” Anne whispered. “Your thick outer lips make it look like a ripe plum. If I could do as I wanted, I’d never allow you to cover it again, so that everybody could see how beautiful my girl’s pussy is.”
Wild emotions ran through my chest at that declaration, the image so strong that my breath got stuck in my throat .
“Does the idea make you hot, little one?”
“Yes, Ma’am!” My answer was breathless.
“Good.” She stopped the engine, which got me back into the present and made me notice that we were parked in the far corner of a parking lot in front of a building, old and square, much like a vacated factory building. Two spots shone against the grey wall next to an iron door, but that was the only light.
“What is this place?” I inquired.
“What is this place, what?”
Oh shit. That addressing her correctly thing was going to be my downfall. “What is this place, Ma’am?”
“You’ll see.” She grabbed her purse and got out of the car, then walked around. For a moment I was unsure if I should follow her example, but decided to stay put and wait for her order. It was the right thing to do.
She opened my door with a smile and let her eyes roam over my exposed body. “Good. Now step out of the car, turn around until you face it and kneel down.”
This order had me at a loss, nevertheless I was glad to be able to free my legs from this awkward position. Putting up my legs like this would have been a strain in itself, but with the four inch plus heels, I had to tilt my feet forward as much as I could, and my knees and calves felt close to cramping. So when I sank down on my knees next to the passenger seat, a sigh of relief escaped my throat.
Which went dry when I saw her place my punishment book on the seat, together with a pen.
“We don’t want to forget any offenses, Bunnie. Write down the recent ones.”
It felt incredibly wild and kinky when I opened the book and started to write down my misdeeds, kneeling, naked under my skirt in a public parking space.
4. Hesitating when ordered to expose my pussy
Just when was writing the upstroke of the ‘y’, a finger slipped between my pussy lips, and I let out a short yelp and the pen scratched a jagged squiggle on the paper.
“Oh my,” Anne whispered behind me while her finger started to rub up and down between my petals. “If you keep that up, we’ll be here writing all night.”
So I pulled myself together as much as I could and tried to focus exclusively on writing. Her finger was almost driving me mad, and my handwriting got quite jittery. But it was still legible, and I managed to finish the other two entries without any major mishaps.
5. Failing to address my Mistress correctly again
6. Making a smear in the punishment book
Letting out a relieved breath, I handed the book and pen back to Anne, who put it back into her purse. Then she ordered me to stand up but not turn around and encircled me with her arms. Where our bodies touched, small sparks seemed to jump to my skin and made me tingle. Then her hands softly stroked up and down my breasts and my knees felt like jelly.
“It’s time for your first punishment.”
Her voice was soft, and it took me a few seconds to realize what she had said. “Punishment?” I gasped. “Here? Now?”
“Of course, silly girl.” Her fingers pinched my nipples through the fabric, and I arched my back. “A punishment is only good if it happens close enough to the misdeed.”
There was some sense in that. Not that it really mattered.
That’s when Anne’s devious side came through again. “I’ll even let you choose your punishment. You can either have ten swats on your lovely bum right here in the parking lot. Or I can put the clamps on your pussy lips for an hour. Or, option three, I find two nice, small pebbles and we put one in each of your shoes, where they will also stay for an hour.”
I shook my head while she talked, and my gasps grew louder with every option. I did so not want to feel the clamps again today; my pussy lips were still reddened and quite sensitive. And the pebbles sound like pure torture, with nothing sexual about it.
“Which is it,” she urged me and pinched my nipples again, “quick, or I’ll decide for you.”
“The swats, Mistress, please, I’ll take the swats.”
“Somehow I figured you would say that.” She giggled, and then her hands pressed softly down on my shoulders, letting me know what to do. I went back down onto my knees and leaned my upper body against the passenger seat.
“Hold up your skirt, and don’t dare to move your hands once I start.”
My movements were slow and hesitant, but after almost a minute I had done as she asked. My breasts rested against the corner of the passenger seat, and my trembling fingers held up my skirt at my back and exposed my bare bum to the crisp night air. Anne’s fingers rubbed small circles on my bum, and my cheeks quivered in anticipation and fear at each touch.
“You should probably try not to scream,” she told me, “unless you want to attract spectators. You can cry though, the makeup is waterproof.”
And then her hand crashed down on my bum, hard. The sound of the slap echoed around the parking lot like a gunshot, the searing heat seemed to cut through the center of my right bum cheek, and all intentions of keeping quiet were driven out of my mind with that single, forceful swat. And before I could gather my wits, it was followed by another to my left cheek. And then the right again. The slaps fell like machine gun fire, only a second apart, alternating sides, and my poor bum felt like it was sitting on a melting furnace. Every impact rocked me forward and smashed my breasts against the seat. I cried and writhed, but the punishment was so fast and intense that it had finished before I could even think about covering my backside.
Composing myself again took a few minutes, and when Anne pulled me upright I was still sniveling quietly. She pressed my body against hers and encircled me with her arms from behind.
“Did you like the punishment?”
“No, Mistress,” I choked out, “it hurt.”
“Good,” she said and nibbled on my earlobe, “Where would the sense in punishing you be otherwise? Now let’s go.” She twirled me around and gave my still bared bum a soft swat, which nevertheless drew a short yelp from my lips. “We’ve taken enough time with that first lesson of yours. Walk over to the entrance and wait for me.”
I took a few uncertain steps. Walking on high heels with a freshly spanked backside was quite the experience, each step moving my cheeks against each other and sending waves heat through them, contrasting the feel of the cool air around me. I looked back over my shoulder. “Mistress?”
“Yes, Bunnie?”
“May I cover my bum now, Mistress?”
“No, you may not.”
Tingles raced up and down my body. I had to breath hard, but then I walked, a little wobbly and with a strange, weightless feeling in the pit of my stomach, across the parking lot and into the range of the spots, my skirt pulled up and exposing my reddened bum, my face surely matching the color. Every second, I expected to hear the sound of footsteps behind me or the voices of strangers from the dark parking lot.
* *
Once Anne opened the door, the silence was broken and the deep rumbling of base speakers rolled around me. “Whatever happens, keep the hem lifted,” Anne told me - this ‘whatever happens’ appeared to become a recurring thing - and I traipsed in after her, self-conscious to the brink. She led me down a concrete stairway, around a u-bend and down another one, and when we turned a corner again, we were standing in front of a huge entry, framed by a counter and topped with a glaring pink neon sign saying “Wild Sapphire”. I could make out blazing disco lights inside and smelled artificial fog.
Anne started speaking, and I almost let go of my skirt when I noticed the woman standing at the counter. She looked to be in her early thirties and wore a biker-style black leather jacket with all those buckles and rings. Her hair was fire engine red and cropped short, and her face and ears were adorned by numerous metal rings and studs. She looked mean, but without all the metal, her face would probably be quite pleasant.
“...to see you here again, you haven’t shown your face around in quite some time.” The redhead was saying to Anne, and I was thanking god that she couldn’t see my back. “You’re paying for both of you?”
Anne nodded and pulled a few bills from her purse, handing them to the woman. “Yep, both of us, regular fee.”
“Too bad, I had hopes you’d go for the special. What’s the name of little red riding hood?” The woman pressed a stamp to the back on Anne’s hand while staring at me intently.
“That’s Bunnie,” Anne explained, “my roommate.”
I fidgeted a bit, as the look the woman was sending me was quite intense, and I felt as if she was undressing me with her eyes - a look I had only experienced from boys before. But something stopped me from looking away.
“You know the drill, Annie,” the woman said, “I’ll have to look into your purse to check for foreign drinks and such.”
“If course, Lucy”, my friend complied, lifting her purse onto the counter and opening it, and after a cursory glance, the woman nodded.
Then things got crazy, because the woman asked me to give her my hand for the stamp. And I was torn. Of course I needed to let her give me the admission stamp, but then, Anne’s words - whatever happens - raced around my head, and I just stood there, my mouth opening and closing like a fish’s, my cheeks flushed a bright red, and my chest heaving.
“What’s she got behind her back?” The woman, Lucy, wanted to know, and her lips grew tighter. Her fingernails started to drum an impatient rhythm on the counter. “Got anything to hide, Bunnie?”
“N - no, Lucy”, I managed to stammer, but that was, of course, not achieving anything. But Anne came to my rescue. Sort of.
“You see, Lucy,” she told the woman, “she’s in a bit of a conundrum.” Then she turned to me, and her fingers softly stroked up and down my back, giving me goosebumps. “Why don’t you go around the counter, Bunnie, show my friend Lucy that you don’t have anything hidden behind your back, and let her give you the stamp.”
My eyes got wide and my body stiffened. Lucy would see my naked, reddened bum if I did that! But before I could formulate a response, Anne’s lips were close to my ear and whispering: “Think of rule number one, love.”
I trembled and my breath hitched, but a strange heat accompanied the spike of terror. I took a deep breath and slowly went around the counter, until I stood right in front of Lucy. Her legs were wrapped in the same black leather, quite tight and showing off her lean, muscled figure. Her eyes bore into mine. Her index finger made a circling motion. I turned around, slowly, feeling her gaze like a laser beam on my skin. When I had completed the pirouette, my legs were trembling. And Lucy bent her head back and laughed, loud and throaty, and I prayed for a hole to open up and swallow me.
“My, my, my. Someone has been a bad Bunnie, quite obviously.”
I had to turn 180 degrees again, finally received my stamp, and with a slap to my bum that was no less mortifying than displaying my spanked bottom had been in the first place, I was told to scuttle along and wished much fun.
Anne pulled me through the entry, still a bit in a trance, and through the throngs of dancing people to the back of the disco. At the first look, it was like any other disco, noisy, packed with people, the lights bright and colorful, but something felt different.
Somewhere along the way, I had let go of my skirt, with all the pulling on my elbow and twisting around dancers. Finally we arrived at the back, where Anne spotted a free table. We both climbed onto the bar stools, and I took my time to look around. The area was huge. The walls, ceiling and floor were painted black, and the only other materials appeared to be chrome and black leather. Though with the numerous laser beams and sparkling lights, it was not apparent at a first glance.
Then I suddenly realized what was different. All the guests were women, there wasn't a single boy or man.
“Oh!” I exclaimed, and probably looked quite silly in my moment of epiphany.
That war cry was so Anne, with her spontaneity and fable for the dramatic. For some unknown reason, I thought back to the moment the name ‘Bunnie’ had come about. It was actually a bit embarrassing.
I had been in the process of unpacking my things and stowing them away in the dorm room I had been assigned, when I came about a Mars bar in one of the side pockets of my travelling bag. It had been there for the whole 200 miles drive to the college, it was summer and mum’s car didn’t have air-conditioning. As was to be expected, it had already lost most of its original shape. But my stomach grumbled. It had been almost six hours since I had a bite to eat, and I simply couldn’t resist.
Unwrapping the sweet mass of brown goo proved to be a challenge, but one I was eagerly facing. Spurred on by my stomach, I finally managed to get the wrapping removed on all but one side, and I even managed to stuff the whole thing - no chance in taking a bite, I could probably have pulled on a corner and moved to the other end of the room without tearing it - into my mouth with just a smudge of chocolate on my chin. That’s when the door opened and this blonde, long-haired bundle of energy raced inside, turned towards me, extended her hand and said, “Hi, I’m Anne, your roommate!”
Unable to swallow the whole chocolate bar at once, I could only wave my hands, brown spots all over them, the wrapper sticking to my thumb, and try to answer: “Hi, I’m Brittany.”
It’s a wonder that she understood anything at all, with my mouth full to burst, but she just waved at me and sing-songed: “Hi, Bunnie, nice to meet you.”
It took a lot of blushing, forceful swallowing and a big glass of water from the tap until I was in a state to clear up the mistake. But Anne kept insisting, despite my desperate pleas, that Bunnie was quite fine and fit me well, and that I needed not be shy about it. It stuck, and she even introduced me to her friends like that later on. Her friends called me Brittany or Bri to my face, but for Anne I stayed Bunnie, and I’m quite sure that, between them, I was Bunnie as well.
I chuckled at the thought.
“What’s so funny?”
Thank god she didn’t add ‘Bunnie’ to the end of the question, because that would have sent me off into a fit of laughter.
“Just thinking back to when we met and you named me Bunnie.”
That made her chuckle as well, and then her right hand found its way to my thigh and began to softly stroke it. I let my knees fall outwards as much as possible and sighed dreamily.
“You looked so adorable when I stepped into the room, with all those chocolate stains and that panicked look in your eyes. Like a small child caught with the hand in the cookie jar.” Her hand squeezed a little, eliciting a moan.
“Did - did you really think I said ‘Bunnie’?” That was the first time that I asked that question, even though it had been in my head since that day.
“Oh sweetie,” she giggled, “of course not. It was a spur of the moment thing. And then you blushed so cutely and pleaded so heartwarmingly that I couldn’t help falling for you.” Her fingers had begun to rub small circles on my naked thigh, moving closer and closer to the top of my leg and making my breathing grow strained. Then her hand left, and the overhead light on my side was switched on.
“Lift up the front of your skirt.” How she was able to change her voice from dribbling honey to a harsh whiplash in the blink of an eye, I’ll never understand. My glassy eyes went wide, and for a moment I hesitated, but then her fingernails started to drum a little rhythm of impatience on the middle console. I gripped the hem with trembling fingers and slowly pulled it upwards.
“Look between your legs.”
I did, and drew in a sharp breath. The small triangle of the g-string clearly showed a dark spot of moisture in the center.
“You naughty girl,” she admonished softly. “We can’t have you running around with soaked panties, can we? Take them off, and put them on the console in front of you.”
My heart was racing a mile a minute now. “Yes, Ma’am.” The eroticism of the command left me tingling all over, and my voice was little more than a whisper. My shaking hands wiggled the string down my hips, and I had to move awkwardly to get the back string from between my bum cheeks. Getting it over my high heels proved to be another challenge, and I hit my knees twice on the console before I finally had it dangling between my hands. I slowly put it down on the console, where it lay like an arrow that pointed right at my crotch, screaming ‘naughty, wet pussy in this direction!’ Which was probably Anne’s intent.
“I think we should air out that wet snatch of yours. Scoot your sweet bum to the edge of the seat, then put your heels up to the corners and pull up your skirt again.”
“But - But what if someone looks inside?” It had grown dark outside, and the thought that anyone passing us might be able to see my exposed pussy filled me with mortification; the interior light would put me on display like a museum exhibit.
“Are you refusing an order?” For a second she took her eyes away from the road and looked intensely at me.
“Please don’t make me, Mistress Summers,” I begged in my most subservient voice.
“Do it. And make sure to enter a demerit into your punishment book. I hope you don’t earn another one right away.”
Reluctantly, I wiggled my bum forward until I could feel the seat edge below my, then awkwardly pulled up my legs and put the heels down on the seat to my sides. My pussy lips opened like the flowers of a petal and exposed rosy flesh, and I felt cool air tickle my moist inner lips.
“You have a beautiful pussy,” Anne whispered. “Your thick outer lips make it look like a ripe plum. If I could do as I wanted, I’d never allow you to cover it again, so that everybody could see how beautiful my girl’s pussy is.”
Wild emotions ran through my chest at that declaration, the image so strong that my breath got stuck in my throat .
“Does the idea make you hot, little one?”
“Yes, Ma’am!” My answer was breathless.
“Good.” She stopped the engine, which got me back into the present and made me notice that we were parked in the far corner of a parking lot in front of a building, old and square, much like a vacated factory building. Two spots shone against the grey wall next to an iron door, but that was the only light.
“What is this place?” I inquired.
“What is this place, what?”
Oh shit. That addressing her correctly thing was going to be my downfall. “What is this place, Ma’am?”
“You’ll see.” She grabbed her purse and got out of the car, then walked around. For a moment I was unsure if I should follow her example, but decided to stay put and wait for her order. It was the right thing to do.
She opened my door with a smile and let her eyes roam over my exposed body. “Good. Now step out of the car, turn around until you face it and kneel down.”
This order had me at a loss, nevertheless I was glad to be able to free my legs from this awkward position. Putting up my legs like this would have been a strain in itself, but with the four inch plus heels, I had to tilt my feet forward as much as I could, and my knees and calves felt close to cramping. So when I sank down on my knees next to the passenger seat, a sigh of relief escaped my throat.
Which went dry when I saw her place my punishment book on the seat, together with a pen.
“We don’t want to forget any offenses, Bunnie. Write down the recent ones.”
It felt incredibly wild and kinky when I opened the book and started to write down my misdeeds, kneeling, naked under my skirt in a public parking space.
4. Hesitating when ordered to expose my pussy
Just when was writing the upstroke of the ‘y’, a finger slipped between my pussy lips, and I let out a short yelp and the pen scratched a jagged squiggle on the paper.
“Oh my,” Anne whispered behind me while her finger started to rub up and down between my petals. “If you keep that up, we’ll be here writing all night.”
So I pulled myself together as much as I could and tried to focus exclusively on writing. Her finger was almost driving me mad, and my handwriting got quite jittery. But it was still legible, and I managed to finish the other two entries without any major mishaps.
5. Failing to address my Mistress correctly again
6. Making a smear in the punishment book
Letting out a relieved breath, I handed the book and pen back to Anne, who put it back into her purse. Then she ordered me to stand up but not turn around and encircled me with her arms. Where our bodies touched, small sparks seemed to jump to my skin and made me tingle. Then her hands softly stroked up and down my breasts and my knees felt like jelly.
“It’s time for your first punishment.”
Her voice was soft, and it took me a few seconds to realize what she had said. “Punishment?” I gasped. “Here? Now?”
“Of course, silly girl.” Her fingers pinched my nipples through the fabric, and I arched my back. “A punishment is only good if it happens close enough to the misdeed.”
There was some sense in that. Not that it really mattered.
That’s when Anne’s devious side came through again. “I’ll even let you choose your punishment. You can either have ten swats on your lovely bum right here in the parking lot. Or I can put the clamps on your pussy lips for an hour. Or, option three, I find two nice, small pebbles and we put one in each of your shoes, where they will also stay for an hour.”
I shook my head while she talked, and my gasps grew louder with every option. I did so not want to feel the clamps again today; my pussy lips were still reddened and quite sensitive. And the pebbles sound like pure torture, with nothing sexual about it.
“Which is it,” she urged me and pinched my nipples again, “quick, or I’ll decide for you.”
“The swats, Mistress, please, I’ll take the swats.”
“Somehow I figured you would say that.” She giggled, and then her hands pressed softly down on my shoulders, letting me know what to do. I went back down onto my knees and leaned my upper body against the passenger seat.
“Hold up your skirt, and don’t dare to move your hands once I start.”
My movements were slow and hesitant, but after almost a minute I had done as she asked. My breasts rested against the corner of the passenger seat, and my trembling fingers held up my skirt at my back and exposed my bare bum to the crisp night air. Anne’s fingers rubbed small circles on my bum, and my cheeks quivered in anticipation and fear at each touch.
“You should probably try not to scream,” she told me, “unless you want to attract spectators. You can cry though, the makeup is waterproof.”
And then her hand crashed down on my bum, hard. The sound of the slap echoed around the parking lot like a gunshot, the searing heat seemed to cut through the center of my right bum cheek, and all intentions of keeping quiet were driven out of my mind with that single, forceful swat. And before I could gather my wits, it was followed by another to my left cheek. And then the right again. The slaps fell like machine gun fire, only a second apart, alternating sides, and my poor bum felt like it was sitting on a melting furnace. Every impact rocked me forward and smashed my breasts against the seat. I cried and writhed, but the punishment was so fast and intense that it had finished before I could even think about covering my backside.
Composing myself again took a few minutes, and when Anne pulled me upright I was still sniveling quietly. She pressed my body against hers and encircled me with her arms from behind.
“Did you like the punishment?”
“No, Mistress,” I choked out, “it hurt.”
“Good,” she said and nibbled on my earlobe, “Where would the sense in punishing you be otherwise? Now let’s go.” She twirled me around and gave my still bared bum a soft swat, which nevertheless drew a short yelp from my lips. “We’ve taken enough time with that first lesson of yours. Walk over to the entrance and wait for me.”
I took a few uncertain steps. Walking on high heels with a freshly spanked backside was quite the experience, each step moving my cheeks against each other and sending waves heat through them, contrasting the feel of the cool air around me. I looked back over my shoulder. “Mistress?”
“Yes, Bunnie?”
“May I cover my bum now, Mistress?”
“No, you may not.”
Tingles raced up and down my body. I had to breath hard, but then I walked, a little wobbly and with a strange, weightless feeling in the pit of my stomach, across the parking lot and into the range of the spots, my skirt pulled up and exposing my reddened bum, my face surely matching the color. Every second, I expected to hear the sound of footsteps behind me or the voices of strangers from the dark parking lot.
* *
Once Anne opened the door, the silence was broken and the deep rumbling of base speakers rolled around me. “Whatever happens, keep the hem lifted,” Anne told me - this ‘whatever happens’ appeared to become a recurring thing - and I traipsed in after her, self-conscious to the brink. She led me down a concrete stairway, around a u-bend and down another one, and when we turned a corner again, we were standing in front of a huge entry, framed by a counter and topped with a glaring pink neon sign saying “Wild Sapphire”. I could make out blazing disco lights inside and smelled artificial fog.
Anne started speaking, and I almost let go of my skirt when I noticed the woman standing at the counter. She looked to be in her early thirties and wore a biker-style black leather jacket with all those buckles and rings. Her hair was fire engine red and cropped short, and her face and ears were adorned by numerous metal rings and studs. She looked mean, but without all the metal, her face would probably be quite pleasant.
“...to see you here again, you haven’t shown your face around in quite some time.” The redhead was saying to Anne, and I was thanking god that she couldn’t see my back. “You’re paying for both of you?”
Anne nodded and pulled a few bills from her purse, handing them to the woman. “Yep, both of us, regular fee.”
“Too bad, I had hopes you’d go for the special. What’s the name of little red riding hood?” The woman pressed a stamp to the back on Anne’s hand while staring at me intently.
“That’s Bunnie,” Anne explained, “my roommate.”
I fidgeted a bit, as the look the woman was sending me was quite intense, and I felt as if she was undressing me with her eyes - a look I had only experienced from boys before. But something stopped me from looking away.
“You know the drill, Annie,” the woman said, “I’ll have to look into your purse to check for foreign drinks and such.”
“If course, Lucy”, my friend complied, lifting her purse onto the counter and opening it, and after a cursory glance, the woman nodded.
Then things got crazy, because the woman asked me to give her my hand for the stamp. And I was torn. Of course I needed to let her give me the admission stamp, but then, Anne’s words - whatever happens - raced around my head, and I just stood there, my mouth opening and closing like a fish’s, my cheeks flushed a bright red, and my chest heaving.
“What’s she got behind her back?” The woman, Lucy, wanted to know, and her lips grew tighter. Her fingernails started to drum an impatient rhythm on the counter. “Got anything to hide, Bunnie?”
“N - no, Lucy”, I managed to stammer, but that was, of course, not achieving anything. But Anne came to my rescue. Sort of.
“You see, Lucy,” she told the woman, “she’s in a bit of a conundrum.” Then she turned to me, and her fingers softly stroked up and down my back, giving me goosebumps. “Why don’t you go around the counter, Bunnie, show my friend Lucy that you don’t have anything hidden behind your back, and let her give you the stamp.”
My eyes got wide and my body stiffened. Lucy would see my naked, reddened bum if I did that! But before I could formulate a response, Anne’s lips were close to my ear and whispering: “Think of rule number one, love.”
I trembled and my breath hitched, but a strange heat accompanied the spike of terror. I took a deep breath and slowly went around the counter, until I stood right in front of Lucy. Her legs were wrapped in the same black leather, quite tight and showing off her lean, muscled figure. Her eyes bore into mine. Her index finger made a circling motion. I turned around, slowly, feeling her gaze like a laser beam on my skin. When I had completed the pirouette, my legs were trembling. And Lucy bent her head back and laughed, loud and throaty, and I prayed for a hole to open up and swallow me.
“My, my, my. Someone has been a bad Bunnie, quite obviously.”
I had to turn 180 degrees again, finally received my stamp, and with a slap to my bum that was no less mortifying than displaying my spanked bottom had been in the first place, I was told to scuttle along and wished much fun.
Anne pulled me through the entry, still a bit in a trance, and through the throngs of dancing people to the back of the disco. At the first look, it was like any other disco, noisy, packed with people, the lights bright and colorful, but something felt different.
Somewhere along the way, I had let go of my skirt, with all the pulling on my elbow and twisting around dancers. Finally we arrived at the back, where Anne spotted a free table. We both climbed onto the bar stools, and I took my time to look around. The area was huge. The walls, ceiling and floor were painted black, and the only other materials appeared to be chrome and black leather. Though with the numerous laser beams and sparkling lights, it was not apparent at a first glance.
Then I suddenly realized what was different. All the guests were women, there wasn't a single boy or man.
“Oh!” I exclaimed, and probably looked quite silly in my moment of epiphany.
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