Little Vixen

"Jeans off."

She complies, with the elegance of a drunk ballerina on roller skates.

"Panties."

Her face glistens red, partly from the exertion of getting out of her tight fitting jeans in the narrow confines of the changing room, partly because of the bullet vibrator against her clit and partly, probably mostly partly, due to the fact that she is hornier than sailor on shore leave.

"What do we have here?" he says.

He picks up the bullet vibrator from the folds of her panties.

"It looks like you lost something. Something quite important. Good fuck toys should not lose important things. Carelessness is not a behaviour that needs to be encouraged."

He holds the silver bullet on the flat of his palm. He inspects it as if it is the first time he has seen it.

"You've made a right royal mess of this as well."

He holds his palm towards her, the toy on the flat of his palm like a precious stone on a silver plate.

"Can you see how slimy it is?"

She nods.

"Nods are not words, Fuck Bunny."

"Yes, sir."

He puts his palm to her mouth and shoves the bullet into her mouth.

"First rule, Fuck Bunny. You make a mess you clean it up. Understood?"

She nods.

"Nodding is not speaking, Fuck Bunny. You are going to have to pay attention and keep up. I hate repeating myself."

"Yescch Sisssr", she says, the vibrator in her mouth impacting on her ability to speak clearly.

"Good. Is it clean yet?"

She nods.

Oh fuck, why did she just do that?

He pinches both her nipples between thumb and finger, twists and pulls.

"Fuuuuck." She hisses. Her eyes water from the sharp pain.

"I don't know how to make it clear to you, Fuck Bunny. You seem completely incapable of following the simplest of instructions. You ever nod your little fuck toy head again, instead of answering a direct question ... with your little round cock-sucking-mouth, then you will endure pain, the likes of which you have never felt before."

He twists her nipples again. Harder this time. His thumb and forefinger like vice grips.

She yelps, her knees buckle.

"Lots of pain, Fuck Bunny."

"Owwww, owww, shit." She says.

The pain is searing, intense and ... enjoyable?

Seth lets go of her nipples. She stumbles backwards.

Fuck. That hurt like fuck.

"Understood?"

She almost says, "Yes, sir."

Almost, but she catches herself in time. She looks him in the eye. She casts what she hopes is a sweet, innocent smile and nods again, deliberately exaggerating the vertical movement of her chin.

She looks him defiantly in the eye. A look that says, "I'm ready for anything you can dish out."

Seth chuckles. He shakes his head and takes a step back, placing his hands on his hips.

She braces for more searing pain in her nipples.

Which does not come.

He cups her pussy with his right hand, jerking his hand upright, lifting her onto her toes, before deftly finding her engorged clit and repeating what he had done to her nipples on her clit.

Holy fuck.

It hurts like hell on a warm day.

He clamps his left hand over her mouth.

"Be quiet Fuck Bunny, unless you want everyone to know what a sorry excuse for a fuck toy you are."

She whimpers. The pain does not stop. He pulls on her clit as if he wants to tear it from her body. Her knees shake and she leans against him, unsure if she can stand without support.

He lets go. Twists her around, so that the small of her back is pressed against his still erect cock. He wraps his arm around her neck and whispers in her ear.

"Don't fuck with me. I'm not your fuck buddy. I'm not desperate for your pussy. I have high standards and right now, you are not meeting them. Just a pathetic little white slut who thinks being a brat will taunt me. Well, let me tell you, and I will say it slowly so that even you can understand ... do not push my buttons. Deliberately misbehaving pushes many buttons and you will pay for that. Dearly."

He lets go of her pussy.

He turns away from her.

"I'm reconsidering this." He says, "A lot of training is going to be required."

He scoops up her clothes in his arms and takes the dress she is yet to try on, which is still on its hanger.

"I am going to have a coffee and contemplate whether I have the energy to put up with your shenanigans, or whether I should just walk away." He says.

"You can go home if you want."

He leaves the cubicle, before she can reply.

She quickly rushes to shut the privacy curtain behind him. What the fuck! He just took all her clothes and left her here, stark naked. Go home? What, fully butt fucking naked?

What if someone opens the curtain? What is she is discovered? That's going to be difficult to explain. Surely, he will be back shortly. No reason to panic. He won't just leave with her clothes and abandon her here? Would he?

Would he?

Fuck, how could she be so monumentally stupid with a man she barely knows. Why did she have to go and push things in the red again? Why couldn't she just keep her mouth shut ... no, open her mouth, take his cock in her pussy, and go home? No, not her. Little Vixen always must push the limits.

Fuck.

Time passes.

Slowly.

She hears the movement of people along the passage between the changing cubicles. Fortunately, nobody has yet peeked into the cubicle she is in. Yet.

Her confidence that he must return, eventually, erodes with every passing minute. Many ponderous, nerve-racking minutes pass with no sign of Seth.

Holy shit, he isn't coming back. This is not funny anymore.

Asshole.

She looks around the cubicle. The sliver strappy heels lie in one corner, next to her socks and sneakers. She takes her handbag that she had hung from a hook on the wall. Not much in there. Lipstick, keys, wallet, condoms. Well, she grimaces, what did she expect? That little elves have magically shoved a dress into her handbag.

She flings the handbag into the corner of the stall. Some of its contents spill out onto the floor.

Her phone.

She facepalms herself. What an idiot.

She picks up the phone. She could message someone to come and save her. But who? No, that wasn't go to work. There is literally nobody in her contact list that she could send a 'can you pick me up and bring some clothes along while you are at it' message to.

Another year passes.

Still no sign of Seth.

Then a brainwave hits. It is so obvious, yet so not obvious.

She sends a text: "Sir, I seem to have found myself in a predicament." She bites her lip, thinks through her words carefully, then continues to text: 'I have been rather silly and undisciplined which is why I am in a bit of spot. I could do with Sir's wisdom, insight, and assistance.'

She reads the message again. Yes, that should do it.

No, wait. She adds another line to the text: "Your repentant Fuck Bunny."

She hits send.

A few seconds pass.

Her phone buzzes.

A text from Seth: 'I was wondering how long it would take you to realise that I am the only one who can help you.'

She smiles, relieved.

'Sir, I am a bit slow and dim-witted, sometimes.'

Why did sending that text make her pussy wet?

Correction, wetter.

Sir replies: 'Salvation, especially salvation for bratty sluts, does not come cheap.'

She rolls her eyes. Really? She takes a deep breath, thinking carefully about the best reply possible. It takes a minute but eventually her brain kicks into gear.

She texts: 'I know Sir. But I am just a cheap, cock sucking wore. I have little else to offer.'

'I think you have a lot more to offer, Fuck Bunny. Be inventive. Show me how inventive you can be.'

She looks at his text. Show me?

She types: 'Being dim-witted and simple in mind, Sir, can you please elaborate on your instruction?"

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

Her phone beeps.

'Show me something you have to offer, besides cock sucking. Even if the object is very cheap, a buyer still has right to inspection.'

She is a little disappointed. What does he want? A pussy pick? She thought he was different to all the other men she had had in her life. Clearly not.

She spreads her legs and snaps a picture, presses forward and then send.

Her phone buzzes almost instantly.

'Cute but I am not interested in pussy pics. It's cheap but not very inventive'

Then what the fuck are you interested in?

She types back: 'Is my pussy not to Sir's liking?'

'You have a lovely pussy Fuck Bunny. It is your imagination and inventiveness that is disappointing.'

What does that mean?

She re-reads the texts.

Then it dawns on her. Show me what it is you have to offer. He wasn't talking about her boobs or her butt of her cute smile or her pussy or her plugged ass or her long hair. He wants her to show him something thrilling, interesting, what did he call it, 'inventive'. Shit, she gets him in that instant.

She types: 'Sir, I understand. I am sorry I thought Sir was a pussy pic kind of guy.'

Reply: 'You really are slow Fuck Bunny, but apology accepted.'

Her heart beats fast. She is certain knows now what Sir wants from her. It all makes sense now. The reason he took her clothes but left her shoes, the reason he waited for her to figure out that she needed to text him, the reason why he is waiting, no doubt as eagerly as she is wanting, for her to prove her ... credentials as a slut, a fuck toy, a fuck bunny.

She is elated. She is no longer scared. Fuck, yes! This is what she has wanted. Someone who can push her, stretch her boundaries, encourage her to step outside of her comfort zone ... someone to nudge her to do what she wanted to do anyway, but did not have the courage to do on her own.

She takes a deep breath. She opens the curtain to the cubicle just enough so that she can peek out. She turns her head left and right. The passage is empty. She can hear people talking in a cubicle further down the passage, but their curtain is firmly shut.

She musters all her courage, grabs her phone in her right hand, and steps out into the passage. She films in video mode, as she takes a few steps in either direction from her cubicle, then rushes back into the relative safety behind the closed curtain of her cubicle.

Wow. That was scary.

It was also exhilarating. She looks at her reflection in the mirror and sees the redness on her cheeks. Adrenaline surges through her body. Fuck, that was brave. She was brave. She could have been caught so easily. Her heart thumps in her chest.

She selects the video from her gallery and sends it to Seth.

And waits. The surge of adrenaline makes way for anxiety. What if that was not what Seth wanted? What if she has read the entire thing completely wrong?

It wouldn't be the first time in her life that she has made a complete and utter fool of herself.

Text from Seth: "Splendid Fuck Bunny. You eventually got there. But, although on the right track, there are a few things that you didn't consider. Look at the video and tell me what you think you did wrong."

Shit, she bites her lip. Wrong? How can you possibly do naked streaking in a very public place 'wrong'.

She watches the video. Her first thought is self-criticism. She could certainly lose a bit of weight. On the spectrum of firm to jiggly, her butt is too far towards jiggly. Is she making a fool of herself again. Is Seth secretly laughing at her. Who is she to think that she is a super model, and capable of being an object of his, or anyone else for that matter's, desire.

Yet she has no choice. She has come this far. And she needs to get her clothes back.

She watches the video three times before it dawns on her.

She texts back: "Sir, I profusely apologize for my lack of attention to detail. I shall rectify such promptly."

"Good girl, Fuck Bunny."

She positions the phone on the small corner shelf in the cubicle and hits record. Making sure to look directly at the camera, she inserts the bullet vibrator in her mouth. She licks it clean in what she hopes is suggestive, before parting her pussy lips and sliding it inside. Fuck, she is wet. What if the vibrator falls out? She clamps her Kegels as tight as possible.

Next, she puts the strappy high heels on. She turns around to point her back to the camera and wriggles her butt, making sure that the crystal encrusted butt plug is visible. Taking the camera in her hand, she cautiously peers into the passage again. Mercifully it is still empty.

With trepidation, she steps out and walks a few steps in either direction, before rushing back to her cubicle.

Her hands shake when she types a message to Seth: "Sir, I trust this meets with your approval."

She attaches the video and hits send.

A considerable amount of time passes. She resists the urge to type another message. She feels insecure but that does not mean that he must know that.

When her anxiety reaches critical levels, the curtain to the cubicle is yanked open. She freezes in shock, then immediate relief as Seth steps into the cubicle.

"Well done Fuck Bunny. Not perfect, but we have time to work on perfect."

He steps towards her and runs the back of his hand against her cheek before gripping her chin in his hand and kissing her.

She is suddenly dizzy and leans her naked body against him.