How to Break a Bad Rabbit

Heather shut her eyes tight under the blindfold. "Oh no-o-o-o-ooo..." she moaned.

Sandra laughed. "Don't worry. We won't torture you." She smiled and winked at the volunteers. "What we're gonna do is simply tickle several areas of your body, with a few different tools. We'll each be using the same item each time, for ten seconds. And when we finish, you're gonna have to guess what the item was."

That actually almost sounded like fun, but still a bit more not so.

"Got it?"

Heather nodded slowly. She wanted to ask her to repeat the rules. And if she did, to ask her to repeat them again, and again and again, but that would only delay the inevitable. One of the volunteers stroked a finger along her ribcage, making her titter and wriggle.

"Hey. No jumping the gun," smiled Sandy. "Ready for the first implement, bunny?"

Heather let out a little whine. "Ready as I'll ever be..."

"Excellent. Audience, reaction kept to a minimum, please. Thank you very much. And volunteers, please tickle with nothing but the object currently in play." Sandy put an obligatory finger to her lips and reached into the basket. Heather kept still to avoid conspicuity, but tried in vain to see if she could detect anything under the blindfold.

The first item of three Sandra produced was...coincidentally enough, carrots. She gave one to each, counted silently with her fingers—one, two, three—and off they went.

Heather broke out in wild laughter. Her head dropped back to the floor. The ever-active audience approved. Sandy held on to the footcuffs, while taking care of Heather's feet—indeed finally getting to find out just how truly ticklish her lovely tootsies were. The volunteers covered every inch they could of her upper body. And not without reason; no one could look at these smiles and not want to smile themselves.

Sandra watched Lou for the cue. After ten seconds, he signaled her. "And...stop!"

Once this initial bout was over, Heather took a big breath, throwing her heaving breasts into the air and back down, prompting a few whoops from the crowd. All the action and contact was actually beginning to stiffen her nipples. She settled back down and exhaled. Her cotton-tail detached from her bottom.

"Oh, you rascally rabbit!" Sandy scolded with a finger. "You laughed your ass off!"

Heather blushed as the audience took another moment to chortle at her. "Okay, little slut-bunny," teased Sandy. "What do you think those were?"

Heather was so worn out she could barely think. "Uhhhhhhhhh...no fucking idea."

"Why, those were carrots!" exclaimed Sandy, prompting another laugh from the crowd. "Sad little bunny, you don't even know a carrot when you feel it! Shame on you!" she chided, giving her a playful smack on the leg.

Yet another laugh. Embarrassing, yes, but no more so than a lot of what happened so far this eventful evening. "Okay, no points so far!" announced Sandra. "Next tickle tool!"

The next thing she gave them was a couple of ballpoint pens. These of course enabled them to give Heather some not-quite-tattoos, doodling letters and pictures on her. When they finished this round, Sandy asked again. "A'right, bunny, what were those?"

"Hee hee h—..." Heather was still finishing laughing. "They, uh...they felt like pens."

"That's correct!" shouted Sandy. A nice wave of applause followed. "Okay, one point!"

After the pens followed pencils. She guessed them correctly as well. But unfortunately for her, those were almost all the correct guesses she ended up with. In due course they went through forks, goose feathers, letter openers, hairbrushes, toothbrushes, and feather dusters. Some carried more severity than others, but all of them made Heather adorably surrender with laughter. Finally, not least but last, they went to town on her with just their fingers, which she was able to guess.

"Yay! And that's Funny Bunny! Let's have a hand for our volunteers!

"Okay, my girl, you got three right out of ten in Funny Bunny. Just be glad you got some of 'em right. Trust me: if you hadn't gotten any of 'em, you don't wanna know what we would've had to do to you," she said, with a chuckle that made Heather very nervous. "Now for the last game, you get six minutes per correct answer. So we're gonna give you eighteen minutes, plus ten, for the ten eggs you got in Bunny Trail. So that's 28 minutes total you get for the third game.

"...Are ya ready to find out what it is?" she asked saucily after a moment.

Getting more anxious, Heather made herself answer. "I...I guess so."

"All right, little hare friend...Easter Bunny game number three..." She paused for effect.

"Is called...Fatal Attraction."

The audience's reaction was as chilling as Sandra's voice. They let loose a chorus of whistles, giggles, "uh-oh"s and "OH NO"s.

Heather squeaked like a mouse. She started quivering and trembling on the floor.

"Okay, now, first thing you need to know is that we are most certainly not about to kill you," Sandra smiled. "Nor shall we throw you in a cauldron of boiling water. Would you like to know what our Fatal Attraction entails?"

Heather emitted a high-pitched moaning sound.

"Well, I'll tell you." Sandy stretched out cat-like and lowered to her side next to Heather, propping her head on her elbow, caressing Heather's anxious body with her other hand. "In this Fatal Attraction, my dear, first of all..." She turned back to Lou. "Hon?"

Lou retrieved her a very specific device, which was plugged into the wall with the help of an extension cord. She held it up for the crowd to see.

Sandra started to ask, "How many people know what we've got here?" but she didn't get past the word "know." As soon as she showed it to them, the audience burst in cheers.

"We-ell!" a pleased Sandy called back to Lou. "Apparently they all do! Guess that just leaves our little virgin bunny then," she said, leaning down to leer into Heather's face.

"Lemme ask you something, Bugs..."

The audience chuckled. Heather realized Sandy meant her.

"If I say the word...Hitachi...does that mean anything to you?"

Heather's eyes darted back and forth under the blindfold. Wasn't that like a grill or something? "Ummm..." she stammered, stalling for time, "It...uh...sounds Japanese?..."

"That's right, very good!" Sandy congratulated. "And now if I say the words 'magic wand,' does that tell you anything?"

"Uhh..." Her mind conjured something whimsical. "...You're gonna pull me out of a hat?"

This time everybody—the audience, Sandy and Lou—all laughed.

"Oh, you are a card! How can you not love this girl??" Sandra shouted.

That gave Heather her next guess. "...You're gonna do a card trick?"

"Silly rabbit, tricks are for kids." The audience laughed again. "Okay, no, but seriously," Sandy continued. "I could tell you what this Hitachi magic wand is, but instead, I think it would be more fun to show you."

Sandy sat up, grabbed the basket, dragged it back over near Heather and said, "A'right, bunny. Now allow me to explain about Fatal Attraction."

Heather gulped. That name just frightened her. Heaven only knew why...

"It's time to give our audience their entertainment's worth." Heather felt something between her knees which seemed to be pushing her thighs apart. Yet her feet remained cuffed tight together. Sandra flipped on the magic wand, and touched it to her.

Predictably, Heather reacted. Her nipples were already semi-erect from the tickling. And now with the juice flowing to her pussy, her reluctance to this point had transformed into arousal. She realized she was being turned on against her will. She gasped, relinquished resistance and willpower, gave in, and moaned in distressed passion. She'd thought up till now they only wanted to humble and humiliate her. But she now saw the other reason she was naked. After just another sec, the wand turned off again.

Wha—...hey. I was...liking that.

"Now, ladies and gentlemen, you may wish to come have a closer look," Sandy encouraged. The audience got up from their seats and came to kneel, sit and lie closer.

"Okay, listen up, bunny. Fatal Attraction is going to test your powers of concentration," Sandra explained to her. "Now before we go any further, I have a question for our lovely guests this evening...who here feels like they could use a little luck?"

A bit of tittering followed, a few audience members raising their hands.

"A'right, how about the two of you," said Sandra, pointing to two others sitting down by Heather's legs. "Since you want a little luck, you can rub the rabbit's feet."

Heather scrunched up her feet and curled her toes.

"Because just by tic—oh, see? Just by tickling them, I'm pretty positive this bunny has very sensitive little paws." She turned back to Heather. "Don't you, sweetie?" she asked, running her index finger hard up one of her soles. Heather laughed wildly and nodded.

Sandra alternatingly raked both soles with her fingernail, driving Heather crazy. "Huh? Don'tcha? Huh? Huh??" she continued teasing. "Okay, now for the rest of the game. Heather, you've got 28 minutes...to cum...to a nice little bunny-gasm.

"Our two volunteers are gonna help you. These two helpers of ours'll rub your paws, and I'm gonna put the wand on you. We'll also need a timekeeper. Would anyone like to volunteer to keep track of the time for us?"

A few more hands were raised. "How about...you, sir," said Sandy to a young fellow wearing a digital watch. "Now listen here, bunny, 'cause here're the twists of the game. Like I said, I'm gonna have the wand on your little bunny-pussy, but...

"It'll be repeatedly turned on and off at random."

Heather swallowed, not believing she liked the sound of that.

"You two, go ahead and regularly massage her paws," she told the foot-rubbers. "We could mediate that too if we wanted to give her a little extra challenge, but this is her debut, so we're gonna go easy with her. Not extremely easy, but a little.

"Last rule, bunny: the 28 minutes of Fatal Attraction will close our Easter spectacular. In the event you do not achieve orgasm in 28 minutes...not only will you not be allowed to cum at all...but your wages for the shoot will be equally divided amongst our guests."

The crowd cheered loud once more, but not loud enough to drown out Heather's shout.

"WHAT??!"

"Ah—!" Sandra placed her finger to Heather's lips. "The bunny is not allowed to speak during this game. Moans, giggles, gasps and screams are permitted. Words are not."

"Bu-b-bu—..."

"Is everybody ready??" Sandy called out. The crowd cheered and clapped. Sandra pointed to the gentleman with the watch. "Timekeeper, please count down ten seconds to the top of the next minute for us."

"Okay," he said. "You want me to give you a countdown when it's over, or...?"

"No, that won't be necessary. Just say, 'Time's up!'"

They waited another fifteen or twenty seconds, and he counted. When he reached zero, Sandy activated the Hitachi and put in on her, and the lucky volunteers rubbed her feet. Heather dropped her head again, and began moaning and squirming. The first couple of minutes stirred and swirled up intense pleasure inside her. She tilted her head back and just let it happen. God, this was getting good. Her limbs tingled and quivered. Around minute four, she still felt the tender loving rub on her paws, but the Hitachi switched off.

What th— She was starting to really enjoy that! She raised her head. "Hey! W—"

The audience responded with voyeuristic delight. Sandy chuckled. "Ah, ah, ah, ah; we warned you, bunny," she reprimanded, tickling her under the chin. Heather again let her head drop with a whimper. But after another short while, she felt the wand turn back on. And degree by degree, she became sizzlingly turned on again.

Heather's tits heaved. Her pussy burned and melted. Her muscles flexed and twitched. Around minute eight, the Hitachi intervals grew shorter. It started to click on and off every what felt like thirty seconds or so. It was agonizing, and unbearable, beginning to drive Heather utterly insane. She writhed desperately on the floor.

Minute twelve. The audience cheered her on.

Minute thirteen. The vibrator went on and off again, making her categorically crazy.

Minute fourteen. Heather's hind paws trembled under their rubbers' magic fingers.

Minute fifteen. The halfway mark had been passed. She squirmed and wriggled, praying the Hitachi would stay on. So far, it had sat on her clit without moving—though it had started and stopped pleasuring her about a dozen excruciating times. But would it stay there for the rest of this "game"? At least she had the constant comfort of the paw-rubbing. She really wasn't giving these two enough credit; they were good at their job.

Minute eighteen, and Hitachi on or off, Heather was getting really turned on. Her head rolled, hands clenching into fists, back arching. Her toes recurled, and her heart rate accelerated. A few more random times, the Hitachi cut off. It was maddening. Heather didn't know whether to blubber or scream. She took out her frustration on the floor, pounding it with her palms and heels, to the crowd's ongoing elation. The pleasure radiating through her was heaven. Wondering when she'd lose it again was hell.

Minute twenty. The audience members were on the edges of their (figurative) seats. Many of them were getting pretty turned on as well. Had Sandy or the two massaging Heather's peds looked up, they would've seen a couple dozen of them rubbing and fondling themselves to the display. Some were aroused by the nudity and exploitation thereof. Some were lit up by the bondage, some by the clit vibrating, and some by Heather's submissive suffering and agony, begging and dying to cum already. Heather herself could barely have cared less what the crowd was doing. Hell, she couldn't even remember they were there.

By minute twenty-two, she was mentally pleading for any sort of physical contact on her pussy whatsoever. Losing the feel of the Hitachi was making her downright pissed. She squeezed her eyes shut extra tight, grinding her teeth. Her nostrils flared. Saliva trickled out of the side of her mouth. Her hair tossed and flew all over her face and pasted to her sweaty spots, including the lipstuck "CUNT" on her forehead. She felt like she was on a stick over a fire, being rotated back to front to back again.

At minute twenty-four, Heather was flopping like a fish out of water, giving her lungs the workout of a lifetime with her caterwauling. And emitting highly displeased growls losing the good vibes. She could tell what made this game so challenging. But at the same time, she was determined. She knew she couldn't have too much time left, but she'd made up her mind. She wasn't going home without her orgasm. Not to mention her pay.

Finally, they reached minute twenty-seven. Heather Annie Hoffen's cunt was red, soaked, and throbbing. And she had a forehead to match. The small region of the rug around her head was dampening with perspiration. Were her hands anywhere else, they'd be flailing helplessly or pounding the floor in a fit. The volunteers had trouble holding on to her feet, as she spastically whapped her heels. The audience was so fired up, they were about to fly into an orgy. The men were realizing perhaps they should've worn looser trousers. And the women were realizing that they could see the men should've worn looser trousers. But it only turned everyone on even more.

Less than thirty seconds to go. Heather wished she had a built-in stopwatch so she could know exactly when. But she was well on her way. She was more than determined now. No clock was going to beat her. She was lifting her ass to rub her clit harder and harder against the Hitachi. She'd tried to be subtle at first, not knowing if they'd deem this cheating and penalize her for it. But now was no longer the time for subtlety. Now was the time to focus, goddamn it, she told herself. Concentrate! CONCENTRATE!...

The Hitachi'd been steadily on, and sending her on her bountiful thrill ride for several consecutive minutes now. Heather howled, over and over and over again, echoing it inside with a mental, FUCK YES!! The audience felt the vibe emanating over into them. The timekeeper looked down at his watch.

Oh no! Ten seconds. Disappointed, he kept his eye on it to count the rest of the way.

Heather'd eliminated all other thoughts from her mind. She was going to do it. She was going to win. This game was hers. She knew it. There couldn't have been much time left at all, but all she had to do was hit the big 'o,' and victory was hers. Nothing could stop her now. As long as that damn wand doesn't shut off on me. Just focus. Just...oh, good fucking God...focus on our pussy. Just focus on Little Heather. Stay focused on her.

She gasped as it at last came within sight. Oh yes, she thought, feeling each sumptuous moment build to her triumph. OHGODYES...here it comes! HERE IT COMES! I'm gonna win! Just a little more time! Just a little, more, time! Juuuuuust...a little morrrrre...

"Time's up!"

"Awwww!" chorused the disappointed audience. The Hitachi was taken away.

Heather gasped, audibly this time. "NOOOOO!!" she shrieked tearfully. She was so close she could taste it! Two more seconds, and she'd have had it! It was gone. She was denied. "Oh nooo..." she groaned miserably. She lifted her feet and stamped them on the floor repetitively in complaint. "Nooooo..." she croaked one more time, dropping her head with a snivel, wanting to cry like an infant. "Oh, why-y-y-y..." she bawled.

She'd been broken. Broken like the bad little bunny she was.

The audience felt just as bad for her. They along with Heather had completely forgotten about the money. But they also felt a bit sorry for themselves. Their party was over now, and they'd have to leave...but oh well. No one said they had to go home. It seemed an ideal venue to meet a new playmate and go off somewhere, to let things happen. But...

Poor Heather Hoffen would have no playmates. She felt like everything good had been washed out of her life. She tried to collect some thoughts she'd kicked out in the throes of passion, but what was the use...she was miserable, and she'd just have to ride it out.

"Aw, isn't that too bad," said Sandy, patting and rubbing her tummy. "Looks like you don't laid or paid. No money, bunny."

Heather remembered, and started weeping all over again. Talk about adding insult to injury! On top of all this suffering torment and degradation...it had all been for nothing?

"Fuck me-e-e-eeeee..." she silently whined.

Some days it literally didn't pay to get out of bed.

*****

Easter Monday, April 1st, 2013, 1:23 a.m.

The Burtons' guests departed. They waved them off, and returned to the basement.

Heather had stopped crying, but remained in a pretty grouchy, foul mood, and who could blame her. Most of the audience gave her a little goodbye as they headed off—a small kiss, a caress, a kind word or condolence...Heather hadn't said anything in return. She knew it wasn't very friendly, but she just wanted them to go.

When Sandy and Lou came back down into the studio, Heather lay still, motionless and naked, bunny ears on her head, a grumpy frown on her face. Sandy smiled down at her, then dropped the check on her still covered eyes.