A Bunnie To Play With - Chapter 13 - Sex Stories

A Bunnie To Play With - Chapter 13

... foot before the other and was soon standing in front of a padded door opposite the stair. My heart thumped while I waited for Helen to unlock it. When it finally opened, my breathing stopped. I wanted to turn in fright, but I was frozen like a deer in the headlights. The huge room resembled a medieval torture chamber more than anything else, with stocks and ropes and iron rings and pulleys everywhere. To the side even stood a wooden horse like I had once seen at an old castle, only freshly polished and glistening in the dim light of the bulbs interspersed over the ceiling. Another shove had me stand inside the room and the door swung shut with a resounding click. I spun around and realized that it didn’t have a handle, just small number pad embedded in the wall next to it. I stared at Helen with frightened eyes. She just smiled back and took a step towards me, which made me back away. It quickly became a play, she took one step towards me, I took one backwards. Until my back came up hard against one the wooden posts, that is, and I was quickly caught between it and Helen’s body, my chin almost level with her cleavage. My head swiveled around, looking for a way out. But her hands captured my cheeks and she forced me to look at her face. “I know this looks frightening, and the vulnerable look in your eyes makes you all the prettier,” she whispered, “but if you are a nice little girl and follow Auntie’s orders without hesitation, I’ll go easy on you when its time for the ...

... punishment.” That put me a bit at ease. She sounded truthful, and I knew that I would anything to ensure she would lighten my punishment. I dreaded to imagine the kind of torture she could inflict in this room. “Now be a good little niece and undress your aunt.” I nodded after a second. She turned around and I pulled down the zipper on her dress, fumbling a bit until I got it down all the way. She didn’t move a muscle, so I had to brush the fabric over her shoulders and slide it down her arms. When she stepped out of it and exposed her pale body, I just stood there, not knowing what to do with it, staring at her, at the thigh-high sheer stocking and the contrasting, frumpy cotton stockings and bra. “Fold it,” she snapped, “dumb slut, and put it onto the counter.” I hurried to follow the order and made sure to fold it without wrinkling it, putting it onto the counter that ran along one of the walls. Then I was back in front of her. “Now take off Auntie’s bra.” She wasn’t massively built there, but her breasts appeared to be a nice C-cup. My clumsy fingers managed to part the snaps at the front and pushed the cups to the sides, which made them sag quite a bit. This time, she shrugged off the garment on her own. I learned why when she cupped the back of my head with her hand and guided it to one of her big, puffy areolas. “Aren’t they beautiful?” she asked, false sweetness in her voice. I had to play the game. “Yes, Aunt Helen, they are.” “Would you like to kiss them?” No, my mind ...