Key
By Musuko

The day ends and I slide into my car and close up the leather cocoon. I ease my tie loose and unknot the top button of my shirt. My wolf musk, the product of a heavy day, starts to invade the sun-drenched cabin as I fire up the engine, and I hold my paw over the climate controls to make the most important decision of the day.
	It doesn’t take long. I think of the key in my pocket and smile. I turn the dial all the way to the right, and the car’s vents are soon exhaling furnace air across my body. I slide into gear, and beast and machine purr out onto the road.
	I let my imagination dwell on him as the world coasts by. Two days since my last visit. He’ll be getting frantic. His paw will be getting tempted to give that one last little stroke he needs. His toys will be in his rear more often than in his drawer. His games will go unplayed. His art will go undrawn. His boss will be getting annoyed with his distracted behavior at work.
	But his little studio flat will be spotless. His fridge will have beers waiting. He’ll be clean and groomed and carefully dressed in something he knows will excite me. I know that his every thought right now will be turned towards me. And he’ll be hoping for only one thing; for my key to turn in his door tonight.
	I step up to the door. I almost imagine I can hear him on the other side. I wait for a moment, savouring. I know he knows exactly when I finish work, and how long it takes me to reach his door. I know the extra wait will make him doubt; am I coming tonight, or will he spend another day alone and longing for his master?
	I turn the key. The door swings open.
	He waits for me in the middle of the room, on the thick cream rug in front of the television. His little body reflects in the dormant screen, and the whole form is there for me to see at once. The little bunny. My sweet little bunny. My pet.
	He can’t see me, but he knows I’m here. His blindfolded head lifts slightly. I see his lips knead around the monstrously fat red ball gag stuffed deep in his muzzle, and I wonder how long he’s been wearing it. Perhaps he’s uncomfortable. Perhaps that was his intention. He shifts on his knees, and I hear a clink; his cuffed wrists behind him, attached to a third connection point, the sturdy chromed ring we had pierced through the flesh of his tail some months back. Ah, such memories.
	I shut the door and move into the room. I look down his body, naked otherwise for the restraints, and kneeling with knees spread, slim little body displaying his impressively-large cock, at mast and begging for attention. I love that he’s well-endowed. It makes it all the more enjoyable for me to deny him the proper use of that cock. A horny little rabbit with a big cock should be out fucking like, well, a rabbit. He’d make an exquisite top with that thing. But it isn’t to be. Not for this rabbit.
	A change creeps into his posture as I move closer. His head tilts back, and his body curves into a subtle S shape. I see his nose twitch, and I know he’s detected it; the sweat of a wolf who’s spent half an hour baking in his car. He chews on the gag. Now he’s regretting choosing it. He wants it out. By god he wants it out. I sprawl myself onto his sofa, arms across the back, legs spread, making enough noise for him to hear and know exactly where I’ve settled. I say nothing. No orders. No instructions. But he starts to move regardless, unbidden.
	He is, after all, my pet, not my slave. I want him to have his own mind; devoted to me and free to act on that devotion. He wants to be between my legs, so he soon is; shuffling awkwardly across the rug, his cock bobbing and dripping precum into the shag, his nose sniffling and his tiny, reedy whimpers starting to muffle past his gag. He tips forward for the last dive, his muzzle burying itself into my crotch, his nose sinking down into the fabric-bridged nook between my balls and my thigh, and he emits the deepest, mrowling, satisfied and lust-raked moan his little body is capable of making. I feel the tickle of his breath sucking up through my trousers, and his head starts to bob up and down to rub and coax and please and beg. Gag off, he’s saying. Please master, gag off.
	I’m not cruel enough to let his suffering go on too long. I glance at the clock. About ten minutes is enough. My fingers find the buckle of the gag, and he goes very still as I prise it apart. His jaw stretches wide and his face becomes a grimace of discomfort. Then, with a wet pop, the ball pushes free. I’m always amazed that something so big can fit in such a little bunny. I nearly chuckle. I’m not quite sure I meant the innuendo, but it’s certainly fitting.
	I catch his neck in my paw, stopping him mid-lurch towards my crotch. He opens his mouth and extends his tongue, whimpering. “Please,” he breathes. Just one word, shaky and weak, hopelessly at the mercy of his lust.
	I squeeze my fingers around his throat, and he shudders, the whimper dying as he closes his mouth and clenches his teeth together. His breath hisses noisily through his nose.
	He hates me and he loves me. I have my paw gripped tightly on every part of his life. He could slip out from under me at any time, but he never will. Because the tightest grip of all is in his head, bending his thoughts towards me. And never is that more evident than when I have a grip like this, around his neck, squeezing...choking.
	And he knows that at any time I could squeeze harder. Too hard. Terminally so. Knowing that I can, but never will, is the root of his trust in me. With total power over him, freely granted by him, and the ability to destroy him in so many ways, he knows that I’ll use it to make him happy in this most twisted and perverse of ways. I do so love my sweet little pet bunny.
	I lean forward and push him down by the neck. He shuffles awkwardly backwards, tilting himself down and trying not to yank his wrists on his tail ring. He gets the message quickly, and I let go of his neck for him to lower the rest of the way on his own accord. His tongue hits my shoe first, dancing delicately amongst the laces, finding its way up to the knot, where his teeth grip and tug, deftly unravelling it. He loosens the laces quickly, and I help him for the last bit, kicking the shoe off at the heel.
	His nose buries itself between my socked toes, and I feel the tickle of breath again. Silly bunny, getting distracted. I tap my other toe against his cheek, reminding him not to leave a job unfinished.
	I’m soon free of the hot leather, my sweat-damped socked feet resting side by side, with the bunny’s muzzle pressed between them. If he could purr, he would be. I don’t need to see his eyes to know he is in heaven. I close my eyes and lean back in the sofa, extending the recliner to have somewhere to rest my feet while he slathers them with worship.
	I’m probably a bad master for doing so, but I’m sure he doesn’t mind. It has been a long day. Shamefully, a small nap takes me.

I wake, and my first thought snaps my attention to the clock. Only fifty minutes. Good. I can feel what he’s doing, and it’s a shame he can’t see his master’s pleased smile. I do rumble in approval, however, and his body arches in response, his licks getting faster. In my sleep he had stripped my socks off, and my tender, tingling soles attest to the thorough licking he has been giving them this whole time. I watch as his pink little tongue snakes between my toes, and I squeeze them together to catch and hold it there.
	“Mmmph!”
	“Enjoying yourself, pet?”
	“Mmmhmm!” He tries to nod. It’s adorable. I let his tongue loose, and he carries right on with licking.
	I turn on his television, and I hear him whine. He wants so much more, and he knows full well that I know he hates it when I just ignore him like this. I feel his teeth nibble at my heel. He’s being naughty, trying to get my attention. But I just ignore it, as any good master does to a misbehaving pet. His anguished whimper is a heartbreaking cruelty. I’ll make it up to him.
	Truth be told, I couldn’t give a shit what was happening on the screen. I don’t pay it any attention. I watch the bunny, watch how his frantic tongue probes between my toes, runs in long wet strokes up my soles, while his cock drips and his arms fidget against their binds, his whole being consumed with desperately trying to win my attention with his performance to please me.
	Eventually, teasing him just turns into teasing me as well. Perhaps I let him get away with manipulating me. He knows just what to do with his tongue to make me want it elsewhere. The soft sound of my zip opening is all he needs to hear. He lifts up from my feet and tries to clamber up onto the sofa, his knees awkwardly bumping the footrest until I retract it.
	“Easy, bun. Be patient.”
	I chuckle, and he makes a grumbley noise. He’s been patient for days, bless him.
	I spread my legs to make a space, and he pushes himself right up against the sofa, leaning down and guiding himself by feel, by smell. I watch his nose bob and meander down towards my crotch. My cock is free to the air, hot and sticky and hard. I close my eyes, and enjoy the feeling of his little mouth close around the tip and slide down, down, and bump against the base of my knot. I moan in encouraging approval. Such a small muzzle. Such a big cock. And he can fit it all.
	My talented little bunny pet. And he’s all mine.
	I place my paw on his head. I feel his mouth tighten and his tongue start rolling against the underside of my shaft. I squeeze my fingers through his headfur, and he grips tighter still. I count the seconds.
	Nearly two whole minutes pass before his gag reflex finally catches up and he starts to convulse, pushing up against my paw, which now goes from a caress of ownership to a grip of control. I hold him down on my cock, watching him gag and croak, saliva drooling down over my knot and pooling into my fur. He snorts through his nose, and heaves with another loud wretch. One more, and another. He’s crying out in muffled distress. His eyes will be welling with tears under that blindfold. The sofa jolts as he thuds his knees against it, and the chain rattles and strains between his wrists and tail.
	Finally I let go, and he throws his head up and falls away from me, collapsing back onto his heels. He coughs loudly, wetly, dribbling streams of saliva down onto his chest fur. He tries to wipe his muzzle on his shoulder, then turns his blindfolded face up towards me, his lips in a pout, his hidden eyes no doubt reproachful, seeking my guilt.
	The little bunny knows full well it works. Hence the blindfold.
	I reach across to place my palm on his cheek. He doesn’t flinch. He turns his head into my cupped paw and nuzzles at it. I tilt my thumb to his nose, and he slides his lips around it and gives it a little suckle. I’m a little closer now. I can smell my own paws’ sweat musk on his muzzle fur. The flavour of my cock is on his tongue. The drool glistening down his neck and chest marks the first visible marring of this well-groomed little bunny, sending him on his way to being a sweaty, quivering wreck of cum-drenched exhaustion. But there’s no rush. No rush at all.
	I pull my paw back towards me, and he follows, mouth sealed on my thumb. He lets go and jumps the gap, his mouth back on my cock once more. I settle back, relaxed, my paw off him now. Time for this wolf to enjoy his pet’s talents.
	And such talents. As he slides his mouth like silk and teases his tongue around my tip, as he plays with skill across every sensitive sweet spot, listening to my reactions and taking advantage of them; sometimes slowing, sometimes tightening, sometimes bobbing his head in rapid pounding. I have to stifle myself, to deny him the satisfaction of hearing my composure fracture with a gasp or a moan, to deny him a little bit of submissive domination; the twitch of a smirk on his lips as he makes master lose control. Little bunny demon!
	I grip his headfur again, harder this time, and ram his muzzle right down to my knot. I feel a rumbling growl rise in my, and I let it loose, letting it grow louder as he starts to squeal unhappily. He knows what’s coming. My cock pumps, my thick cum surging up my shaft, making it swell in its passing, and he struggles to lift his head up as I explode in sweet orgasm, my cum splashing into his convulsing throat, making him gag and struggle anew, forced to gulp down every drop, unhappily denied the pleasure of tasting his master’s load on his tongue.
	I sink back into the sofa again. He stays on my cock for a while, nursing as much flavour as he can, gingerly massaging my post-orgasm sensitivity into as much pleasure as he can without overwhelming it. Finally, he slides off with a slurp and a gasp, and once more that adorable pout is directed my way.
	“Did I please you, master?” he whispers, sounding a little hoarse. I couldn’t guess why.
	“You did, pet.”
	“Please may bunny cum, master?”
	He’s a predictable little bunny.
	“Not yet.”
	And so am I.

He looks so delicious laid out on the bed, face up, legs and arms spread towards the four corners, his small body stretched as taut and uncomfortable as possible. His chest heaves with rapid panting, and his tense face betrays his struggle to keep from pleading for slack. His cock throbs and leaks, as it has done for the last hour. His fur is wet and slicked down, taking off the padding of fluff and showing off his skinny body even more wonderfully. He’s drenched in sweat. The room reeks of it. The heating is on full blast. The windows are closed. The summer evening swelters outside. I myself am sipping an iced beer to keep my own comfort. I’ve shed my work suit. I match him in nakedness, and my own fur is damp and matted, sweat continually dripping into my eyes to be blinked away.
	He jolts when I touch him, his blindfolded head turning and quickly homing in on my position. Those big ears certainly do their job. I stroke a clawtip up the concave dimple of his tummy, feeling how it shivers on the verge of ticklishness, pulled so tight by his restraints that he can’t shift away from me. I lean down to him, my mouth at his ear. I feel his breath catch.
	“My sweet little pet, would you like to cum?”
	“Yes!” he gasps.
	“Would you like master to fuck you?”
	His hardon twitches, dislodging a droplet of precum, sending it trickling down his slick shaft. “Oh yes please, master. Please.”
	“Which do you want more?”
	A pause. He lies very still. Then a long whine, and his head shaking. “Bastard!”
	I wrap my paw around his cock and give it a firm squeeze and draw upwards, milking out still more precum. He tilts his head back and lets out a moan worthy of a porno.
	“Which one, little bunny?”
	A pitiful whimper. Making a slutty subby bunny choose between relieving three day-old blue balls, or getting a good hard fucking in his needy rear. One or the other, but not both. He knows this game well. He knows how predictable his answers are. He knows I know how predictable they are, and he knows exactly how much it pleases me to have him so tightly helpless to his submission, desperately wanting to satisfy his own needs, but choosing instead...
	“I want you to fuck me, master.”
	“Good boy,” I say, uncurling my sticky fingers and lifting them away from his cock.
	I lay myself down alongside him, sweaty fur against sweaty fur, and nuzzle my nose in under my arm. He croons and turns his head my way, straining to rub the tip of his nose against the top of my head. My tongue presses in through his fur, bathing his musk in my saliva and tasting it in turn. I have the bunny to thank for this. Musk and sweat was never my thing. It was his. It very rapidly grew on me. And now he sweats for me, and I swim in the delicious taste of it.
	Across his chest I move, pausing to nip and suck on each nipple, watching how he contorts against his cuffs. Over I move, careful to avoid bumping his aching cock, across to the other armpit. His leg shifts, and then the other; with grace born of practice I’d clicked the quick-release latch on his ankle cuffs with my toe claw. He sighs as his posture relaxes, the strain easing from his joints. Then his legs bend, his heels pressing into the damp bedsheets, and his rear rises up, his tummy creasing as he curls up.
	“Want it now, hmm?”
	He nods, little pout broken by breathy pants.
	I’m not selfish enough to ignore him. I cut short my licking and reposition between his legs. I hook my paws under each knee and haul his legs upwards. He squeaks from the suddenness of the movement, and all at once my tongue is on his rear, in his rear, thrusting in through the sweat musk and pungent bunny aroma, plunging two inches deep into his tight little tailhole. His legs spasm, and he kicks my shoulder. I don’t mind. I’m loving the squealing, utterly uncontrolled, neighbour-disturbing cries my little pet is producing as I tongue-fuck his rear.
	I keep at it. He has a limit, and I power on through it. His cock is drooling constant precum now, leaving glistening streaks over his sweaty tummy. He’s down to a whisper, his throat a ruin from the constant needy noises. He’s unable to produce words. He’s incoherent and lost in the primal pleasure of it. If I could find a way to do this to him for a ten hours, I’m sure he’d be ready for the asylum after two. I only last twenty minutes. Not because of fatigue. Though my tongue aches and threatens to stay sore for days, I could continue forever. No, I have to stop because the bunny is the one to be teased, and my cock wants his rear. Now.
	I push against his knees and bend him double, his toes touching the headboard. His cock flicks a splash of precum over his face, and he opens his mouth wide, trying to catch it. I stand up on the bed, holding him ready, his drool-soaked rear slick and ready, his little pucker clenching and unclenching. I touch my wide cock-head to it, and he gasps.
	“Lube, master!”
	“Not for little bunnies.”
	“Nooo, master please!”
	A pitiful little wail as I push into him. I know exactly what that noise means; I want this, but I don’t want to want this. I shouldn’t want this. What’s wrong with me? My poor little bunny. One day he won’t be in denial about his slutty cravings, but I hope that day is far off.
	His little rear takes me like a pro. He grits his teeth and hisses, theatrics more than anything. I feel the way he opens up for me, my thick shaft sliding in with only my saliva as lube.
	“God, you feel good,” I pant. And push...I ram hard into him, sinking the last three inches at once. He kicks the headboard and yanks his wrists against the cuffs.
	“Ah! Safeword!” he cries.
	I stop dead, but hold him still.
	“Do you mean that?” I say.
	He nibbles his lip. And my god, his ears redden. A blush.
	“N-no. Sorry, master.”
	I want to hug him right then, feed him cookies and massage soap into his fur. But I restrain myself to the task at hand. I chuckle, and his blush deepens, his head tilting away, as if to avoid my gaze even while blindfolded. I grind my cock into him at the hilt, and he yelps.
	“Naughty bunny, misusing your safeword.”
	“Ah! I’m sorry, master!”
	And it occurs to me that the little rascal did it on purpose. Feigning misbehavior to earn a sought-after punishment. How does one punish that?
	I pull back, adding my own precum to my saliva to lubricate him, my wide shaft pulling his pucker outwards with it. Such a thin little rear impaled on such a huge cock. It seems almost impossible.
	I ram back in. And the animal takes over. I lose control, and from there the world becomes merely a blur of lust and rutting and desire, and the grip of my claws into his lean thighs, and my howl of triumph as I thrust a final time, my seed gushing into his rear, my swollen knot bumping against his pucker, kept from insertion by the smallest lingering shred of my self-control.
	I pull free before my orgasm fades, letting the final splashes of my cum hit his tummy as he collapses down in front of me, his legs splayed, his body drenched in as much sticky sex as it was in sweat. Through effort of will I manage not to collapse onto him. I wouldn’t want to crush the little guy. Instead, I lay beside him again, and I click his wrist cuffs loose. In an instant he’s rolled towards me, cuddled in under my arm, his cock pressing against my tummy. He murmurs happily, his fingertips kneading through my chestfur. He’s smearing precum and cum onto my side, but I don’t mind. I rub the small of his back and give his wet headfur a little kiss.
	“Happy bunny?”
	“Yeah.”
	“Still want to cum?”
	“God yes.”
	I chuckle. Thoughts wandering.
	“Perhaps we could make it special, seeing as you’ve saved up for so long.”
	“Oh?” he tilts his head up towards me. I reach down and slip his blindfold off, and my eyes sink into his.
	“Yeah. I’m thinking I might bring home a third. I think I might like to see that bunny cock inside some other sub’s rear. Think you’d like that, pet?”
	His mouth widens into the sweetest, most devilish grin possible, and all the exhaustion in his little body is instantly beaten away by a fresh surge of energy.
	“I’ll go get showered, master!”
	I swat his rear, then give it a little squeeze. He darts upwards and kisses my cheek.
	My bunny. My pet. I close my eyes and smile at the ceiling.