It was a Friday evening, the sun beginning to set as Rabbit sat in front of the vanity, drying her hair. A towel still clung around her shoulders to ensure that her outfit stayed dry. Once her hair was sufficiently free of moisture, she picked up the curling iron, which had been heating up since she had stepped out of the shower. It was a long and tedious task, but Sir had specifically asked for it tonight. He had something up his sleeve; she only wished she knew what. Almost an hour later, her long red hair hung in ringlets down her back. She pulled the front back from her face, securing it atop her head with a small, but elegant, gold clip. Her make-up took less time; she didn't wear much. Quickly she swiped on some mascara before adding a thin, smudgy line of eyeliner in her favorite shade--a deep burgundy brown. A small touch of blush on her cheeks completed the look and, after a quick once-over in the mirror, she decided that she was ready. Standing, she pulled the towel from her shoulders and tossed it into the clothes hamper.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of herself in the bathroom mirror, visible through its open door. Her outfit, much like her hairstyle, had been chosen for her. Some of it she had never even seen before tonight. All-in-all, she liked the ensemble. It consisted of a short black skirt, tight enough to show a little curve but loose enough to flow freely, paired with a corset. It was made from rich purple brocade silk with a simple black trim, and managed to cinch her waist a full four inches without being too constricting. The longline style just covered her hipbones, with the top cutting off just below her breasts, slightly pointed in the center for a smidge of support. Her "under" garments were simple. The bra she had found this afternoon, waiting for her with the rest of the outfit, was sparse. Thin black lace covered surprisingly little of her breasts, scooping low down the front. She noted that it clasped in the front, a novelty she had never given much thought to.
A slight breeze wafting through the second-story bedroom window reminded her that there had been no panties laid out with the rest of her clothes. In fact, every pair that she owned was suddenly and inexplicably missing, blatantly obvious from the dresser drawer which had been left open. She had wondered at that, curiously checking the other drawers as well. Nothing. Shrugging it off, she crossed the room to a lone wooden chair set at the foot of the bed; the chair she had found her current outfit draped across. A pair of shoes and an opened envelope was all that remained. Setting the envelope on her lap and the shoes on the floor, she leaned forward. First one foot, then the other, slipped into the heeled shoes. She knew this pair to be one of his favorites, and hers. They were made of black patent leather, a classic design with a slightly pointed toe and a five inch spike heel. It was a pair she was reluctant to actually walk around in, self-conscious of the added height, but he loved just to see them on her. She buckled the strap that adorned each shoe at the ankle, and closed the tiny padlocks that kept them in place. There was no functional use for these but she loved to feel their slight weight, and both of them found the look appealing. Her hands slid up her stocking-covered legs as she sat up again. They were sheer black nylon of the thigh-high variety, decorated by a purple seam which ran up the back. Though these were the stay-up kind, he had surprised her with a set of garters which attached to the bottom of her corset before stretching to hold the tops of her stockings in the front and back. The purple back-seams, garters, and corset matched perfectly; she had no idea how he had pulled that off.
Sitting up straight in her seat, she pulled a single sheet of paper from the envelope, reading it one more time. "To my Rabbit, You have two hours. As I am sure you've noticed I have taken the liberty of picking out your clothes. When I meet you tonight, I am expecting the following: 1) That you have showered and shaved. 2) That your hair is curled. Whether it is styled up or down is your choice. 3) That you will wear what I have laid out for you and nothing else. 4) That I will find you sitting in this chair, facing forward, and wearing the blindfold that I have provided. I will see you at 8:30. Be ready."
Trembling slightly with anticipation, she returned the letter and removed the blindfold he had included in the envelope. It was plain black leather and lined with thick, soft fleece; a design she knew would block out every scrap of light. The digital clock sitting on top of the dresser flashed, showing 15 minutes to go. She was glad that she had dilly-dallied a little--waiting like this was both exhilarating and nerve-wracking. Taking one last look at the mysterious sheet-covered rectangle which was propped against the wall, bathed in the fading glow of twilight, she held the blindfold to her eyes and securely buckled it in back. She tried to relax, the hard back of the chair fitting snugly just below her shoulder blades. With her hands folded in her lap, she focused on taking deep breaths, and waited.
It seemed ages later when she heard soft footsteps in the hallway outside the door. Her heart, which had just recently managed to quiet itself, sped up a notch. It wasn't quite racing or pounding, not yet, but the blood pulsing through her ears seemed louder than normal. The doorknob turned, the door opened and, after a few moments' pause, closed. She felt his presence as he took his time to cross the room and wished she could see him; the time she had spent with him at dinner suddenly seemed as if it had occurred days ago, rather than hours. The corner of her lips twitched in a small, but contented smile as his fingertips brushed her leg to grasp the envelope still sitting there, the warmth of his body close enough to touch, if she had dared. The note tossed aside, along with something she could not identify from the soft "thump" it made against the bed sheets, she felt his body heat retreat as he circled her, slowly. As always, this sort of inspection made her worry that she had forgotten something, but she felt confident that she had followed his every instruction. As he squatted down in front of her he lifted the top of her skirt to look for the panties she wouldn't be wearing and ran his hand briefly over her shaven mound, checking for stubble. Smiling to himself, he said nothing, released her skirt, and stood. Grasping her hands in his he swiftly, though gently, pulled her to a standing position as well. He softly kissed her lips, just for a moment, before pulling away and releasing her hands.
"Turn around please, legs spread, and bend over. You can use the chair for balance if you like."
She turned obediently, tentatively sticking out a foot to locate the chair before bending cautiously at the waist. Her legs were spread wide, a good three feet apart, and she rested her elbows on the seat of the chair. He ran one finger slowly up the length of her slit, smearing the thin dribble of liquid which was seeping out even now. A few seconds passed, until she suddenly felt something probing her wetness. It felt different than the usual dildo--its shape was somehow wrong. He slid it in up to the base, and she realized that this particular object was definitely not a dildo. It was about four inches in total length, a bulb which tapered quickly from a small blunt tip to a more substantial width. She felt the unfamiliar intruder being pumped slowly in and out of her, once, and then twice. As it was slowly pulled out she realized, with some amount of surprise, that he had merely been lubricating it. This toy was meant for a different hole.
Swallowing nervously, she focused on relaxing herself. This was new, but nothing she didn't feel she couldn't handle. In fact she imagined, with some embarrassment, that she could feel herself getting wetter at the thought, as nerve-wracking as the concept was. Just as she had expected, she soon felt a pressure at a previously ignored orifice.
"Just relax," he told her, soothingly, a hand cupping one of her cheeks in order to hold it aside, "this will go in a lot easier if you do." She nodded her head in acknowledgment, taking slow deep breaths. He began to push then, gently wiggling the plug from side to side as it slowly began to slip in. Her instinct was to tense up, to refuse the foreign object, and she willed herself to instead let it in. If he wanted to try this, she would let him. Sure enough, she was able to let the muscles loosen enough for the plug to settle itself in nicely. Once he had worked it in to its full length, he tapped the base of the plug with the pads of his fingers, just once, for good measure. She jumped, feeling the slight motion all the way to the end of the plug. As awkward as the new sensation was, she couldn't deny that it excited her. She expected him to have her stand back up, or sit back on the chair, but instead she became aware of his hands lingering on her backside. His left hand still rested gently on the curve of her ass, and now his right hand was softly caressing the smooth flesh. Before she could get too used to this his hand pulled back, reconnecting sharply with her skin. SMACK. She made a small noise of surprise in the back of her throat, feeling the warmth already starting to spread from the point of contact.
He built up a steady rhythm, alternating hands every so often. Caress, caress, caress, SMACK. Caress, caress, caress, SMACK. She anticipated each hit, and found herself pushing her ass backwards into the strike of his hand. His slaps were soon met by appreciative moans. She always loved a spanking and, to her surprise, the new sensation of the plug made the experience that much more arousing. The spanking steadily increased both in speed and force, her moans growing louder and more insistent. Suddenly, his hands were gone, and she groaned softly in disappointment. His hand slapped lightly at her now very moist pussy as he directed her, "Sit back in the chair."
Straightening up from her bent position, stretching her spine as she did so, she turned to take her seat once more. She delighted in the feel of the cool wood against her warm and still smarting ass. It was difficult to find a comfortable position, and she shifted her weight several times, trying to get used to sitting with the plug in. Trying not to fidget too much, she found a tolerable position and stuck with it. "Good girl," he murmured, and ran his hand through her hair, knowing that this was a big step for her. He leaned over the bed, grabbing what he had dropped upon entering the room. As he knelt before her, she felt the familiar sensation of rope being wrapped around her ankles. He worked quickly--this was something he had done many times before--to secure each ankle to its corresponding chair leg.
After a while, he spoke. "This may seem like a strange question, but did you look in the dresser?"
"I did, Sir," answered him slowly, wondering if she had done something wrong.
She could hear the grin in his voice as he stood, walking behind her, "Good. And what did you find?"
"Not a thing, Sir."
He took her wrists in his hands one at a time, pulling her arms back and over the low back of the chair rather than around it. Her wrists were bound together, secured to the lowest rung of the chair back.
"Excellent. Because the clothes you have on are all that I am allowing for the weekend." The last length of rope that he had set aside began to work its way around her elbows. He chose to bind one and then the other, leaving a few short inches of rope, stretched taut, in between. The tie was loose enough for him to be was certain that she would be able to hold the position as long as he chose to keep her there. Even so, her shoulders were pulled back such that her breasts were thrust proudly forward, causing her to wince a little as he tightened the rope and tied it off. She squirmed a little in her bonds, savoring the feel of being helpless and opened to him.
