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Bunny, Part 10 - JC’s First Session


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Continuing story, excerpted from my upcoming book of memoirs, “Bunny”.  Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoy! 


JC and I set up a Playdate for Saturday, which is tonight. Last night, I danced at Delia’s, so I slept half the day away. We will be meeting at his place, so I need to get a gear-bag ready. 

I pack my flogger and riding crop, some disposable latex gloves, lube, Neosporin, disposable bleach wipes, and Tylenol. Any insertable toys are his own responsibility. Some Dom/mes carry their own, but I’m just not into the clean-up. 

It’s a chilly evening, so a perfect night to wear a latex get-up under a trench – like something out of a trashy movie. Latex is extremely expensive, so I only have a couple really nice pieces that I recycle a lot for my work – the rest I borrow from Violet. Tonight, I’ve borrowed a gorgeous eggplant minidress with thin straps and a V-neck, and leather thigh-high boots with stiletto heels to go with it. I leave my hair down – yesterday I had it cut into straight-across bangs, the rest left long and down nearly to my waist. My lips are ***ted to match my dress. 

JC doesn’t live too far from me, so I hop on the L and am there in ten minutes. I arrive at a pleasantly shabby brownstone walk-up in the Bucktown neighborhood – just outside of where gentrification is beginning to price people out of the area. I ring the bell, and JC answers the door within a minute. Once again, I’m immediately impressed by the sheer size of this man. He’s got to be at least 6’3, and built like a Viking. He’s dressed nicely but casually in a pair of dark blue jeans with a thickly rolled cuff, and a simple black Hüsker-Du t-shirt. 

“Mistress Zoe – right on time! Please, come in…” He looks nervous, but excited. Good. I step in, and take a look around. JC’s got an impressive record collection – lots of classic Industrial and Punk, as i suspected. There’s a large bookshelf spanning an entire wall, holding an eclectic collection of classics and modern literature. I run my finger along the spines as he walks from the living area to the kitchen, calling out to offer me a drink;

“I made some Mojitos, if you’re interested,” he says.  

“Oh, that sounds great!” I call back, pulling out a copy of Baudelaire’s collected poems. Nice. 

I scan the walls — untying my coat and letting it fall open, but leaving it on for now. I notice a collection of framed band posters, and — hello — a Mappelthorpe print. Patty Smith and the Man himself. I wonder if he’s got any of his more provocative works hiding anywhere else…

JC emerges from the kitchen with the drinks, and hands me one. I thank him, and compliment him on his taste in…pretty much everything. 

“Oh! Thanks,” he says, flicking his eyes around the room.  “I guess I’m kind of a throwback,” he admits, gesturing to his music collection. “But you’d be too young, I guess, to remember some of this stuff?”

I smile and look at the poster he’s referring to; It’s a large Buzzcocks print. “Well, it was a bit before my time, but I listened to them in high school anyway. Sex pistols, Exploited, all that. We considered them the Classics, I guess…”

He smiles, pleased.  “Cool, that’s pretty great.  I love all that stuff, still.”

We sit around with our drinks, discussing music and books for awhile. We have remarkably parallel tastes – and I suspect we might develop a friendship outside of our D/s relationship. It’s rare for me, but not unheard of. It just means that I’ll have to keep a steady grasp on our boundaries in and out of our Play sessions. Finally, it’s time to get down to business. 

“So, for today, I figured we’d start off slow” I tell him, “Just get an idea where your limits are, how much you can take ***-wise, what you want to do in a session, that sort of thing. Does that make sense? Oh…and I’ll need you to come up with a safe-word…”

“That sounds fine,” he says, nodding. “So..my safe word is ‘Assimilate…’” 

“…Like the Skinny Puppy song,” I say, delighted.

“Yes!” He replies, pleased I got the reference. “And I was hoping we could start with you flogging me a bit, and…like we discussed, I’m really into the verbal *** and…and cock-shaming.” I nod at him encouragingly. “And then going from there…I had some ideas about maybe you letting me take care of you afterwards? Like, making you drinks, rubbing your feet, fixing your hair and things like that after?”

“That sounds heavenly, actually. Shall we?” 

I ask JC where he’d like to do our Play. He asks me to follow him.  He leads me upstairs to a large room with a remarkably well-appointed array of whips, toys, and a wooden frame clearly intended for restraints.  I smile.  

“Well…you’re certainly prepared!”

“I’m glad you like it,” he says, smiling proudly.  

“Oh, I definitely like,” I say, setting down my bag and removing my trench.  

His eyes widen as he takes in my outfit.  “Holy…wow. Mistress, you look…really amazing.  That’s an incredible dress.”

“Thank you, JC.”

He takes off his shoes and carefully places them outside the door. He turns to look at me quietly as I unpack my gear, and place my things on the table where his own whips and things are arrayed. He asks if I mind some music. I say I don’t mind at all. In a moment, Skinny Puppy is being pumped into the room. I can feel my mood settling into the proper grooves. I notice he has several plugs and clamps. This is going to be interesting, for sure. He’s perhaps more ready than I originally thought…I pick up my riding crop, take a couple of deep breaths, then turn to him.

“Shall we begin?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Then get on your knees, slave.”


JC falls immediately to his knees, eyes going to the floor, hands on his thighs. I slowly circle him. Observing his breathing. His shoulders are shaking just a bit, his breath coming a bit quick. Good. I lightly snap the riding crop at his back. 

“Sit up straight, slave,” I snap. 

Immediately, his spine goes rigid. His breathing is coming faster, now. My, but he was hungry for this…I circle around to his front, so he can see me. His eyes immediately crawl up my body, lingering on my legs, my hips, my breasts. 

I bring the crop under his chin. “Did I give you permission to look at me, little man?” I ask, softly. 

“No, Mistress,” he replies, swallowing, his eyes falling back to the floor. I can see the rigid erection pushing against his jeans. It’s really not all that small, for someone who’s into cock-*** — maybe just a bit below average for a guy of his remarkable size. But I’ll give him what he wants. I slowly crouch in front of him, keeping the crop beneath his chin. 

“Are you getting hard for me, JC?” I purr softly, tapping the crop against his chin sharply. I lean in close, so he can smell my sweat and perfume.

“Yes, Mistress…I’m sorry, Mistress.”

“Hmmm, such a shame you’ve got such a tiny cock, isn’t it? Do you really think you could satisfy me with that pathetic thing?” I ask, letting my legs fall slightly open as I am crouched on my heels in front of him, exposing my black latex panties. 

JC’s breathing starts getting ragged now, and he’s sweating a bit. I watch closely as his eyes slide between my legs as he answers me – “No, Mistress – I could never satisfy a goddess like you…”

“That’s right, you couldn’t.” I say dismissively, getting up suddenly. I stand in front of him and slowly peel my skirt up my thighs, draw my hand between my legs over the latex panties, then slap him hard across the face. 

His head rocks back and he gasps – “Oh, God…”

“Who?” I ask, circling behind him and clamping that same hand over his nose and mouth for a moment and pulling his head back, so he’s staring up into my face. 

I slide my hand down to his neck and let him speak. “Oh, Mistress…”

“Better,” I say, releasing his neck then standing straight, placing my boot in the center of his back and shoving him forward. “Get on all fours, slave.”

He complies, and I watch his biceps take his weight — his tattoos gleaming with sweat, now. The room smells of his clean, musky sweat, mingled with my own. I’m getting very much into the flow, things following a natural progression. It’s an easy session, with an eager, excited sub. Which makes me excited. I walk slowly over to the table with the arrangement of whips, and choose my flogger. I glance back and see JC is watching me – his eyes glassy with excitement. I turn back around and slowly saunter back to stand behind him, just as “Smothered Hope” comes on through the speakers. I smile. Perfect.

I walk up and straddle his back, lean in to reach around and grab one nipple between my pointed fingernails. Bringing my lips to his ear, I whisper – “Scream for me, bitch.” And pinch, slowly…

“Ohh, fuck…Mistress, please…please!”

I pinch harder once more for good measure, gauging his tolerance, seeing it’s pretty damn high, then let go. I ease back to stand up, swinging my leg over his body, returning to stand behind him. I circle the whip a few times and then bring it down on his shoulders, not too hard at first. He moans. 

“Are you still fucking hard, you filthy little shit?” I ask, bringing the whip down a little harder this time

“Yes, Mistress,” he grunts, taking the blow. 

“So pathetic,” I say, stopping to lean down and grab a handful of his hair, yanking his head back so he can’t move. “As if anyone would want that pathetic thing you call a cock anywhere near them. Say it, Slave. Say, ‘Nobody wants my pathetic, tiny cock anywhere near them.'”

JC needs a moment. He swallows, then repeats after me: “Nobody wants my pathetic, tiny cock anywhere near them…Mistress.”

“That’s right,” I whisper, yanking his hair harder, then shoving his head forward. I stand up and continue his whipping, landing the blows harder as I travel down his back to his ass. I stop, considering his jeans. “Kneel, slave.”

He does so. “Now, take down those jeans. This can hardly hurt with those things in the way.”

He complies, unbuckling his belt and easing them down to his knees, then assuming the position once more. I reach down and yank his boxers down, too. This time, I take a full swing at his bare ass, relishing the sound of leather on flesh – and the way he flinches and cries out when the blow lands. I’m fully in my zone, now – and clearly, he is too. Red welts appear on his skin as i rhythmically deliver blow after blow, until, finally;


I stop and crouch down, head falling between my shoulders. For a moment, all I can hear is the sound of heavy breathing – all I can smell is sweat. I fall to my knees, then move over to JC, placing my hand on his back, steadily, comfortingly. Then I get up, and move around to crouch in front of him once again. 

“Just breathe, now,” I say, soothingly, placing a hand on his cheek, then smoothing his hair back out of his eyes. “In and out. Rest. Sit up. At ease.”

“Yes, Mistress…thank you, Mistress.” 

He eases back on his haunches, pulling his clothes together. 

“Very well done, JC. Shall we move on to the next part? I’m sure you could use a drink, and I know I could. And not to mention, my feet are killing me”.



Red I have never been so intrigued in my life  every time I read a word I can't wait for the next  truly sexy alluring exciting my imagination is running wild with excitement truly remarkable reading I'm hooked

4 hours ago, Mickey10 said:

Red I have never been so intrigued in my life  every time I read a word I can't wait for the next  truly sexy alluring exciting my imagination is running wild with excitement truly remarkable reading I'm hooked

Mickey - thank you! As always, your comments are a joy to read.  I’m so glad you’re enjoying the story so much.  I hope the next bit won’t disappoint...

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