Bunny Tales: The Milk of Human Kinkiness. Pt.2

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Bunny Tales: The Milk of Human Kinkiness. Pt.2

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The Milk of Human Kinkiness. Pt.2

The lock to the cell door turned, and 8 was glad that his eyes were downcast. So little morning light had found its way into his cell that when the door was opened the dim corridor lighting outside his cell was akin to looking into the sun for a few moments as his retinas adjusted. A new face greeted 8; the middle aged woman was tall and well muscle toned with a fixed, stern stare and dressed in the same way as the other resident community. She held a black silicone bit gag and leather buckled head harness in her right hand which, straddling 8 from behind, she roughly applied and tightened the buckles of the harness with well practiced efficiency. “Turn right and crawl!” she snapped. 8 obediently turned to his right and looked into the rear buttocks of his neighbouring cow whose foreskin was dripping its residual urine. A hand fleetingly pressing into 8’s right toes let him know that another willing beast at least was behind him. The creatures crawled forwards and at the end of the cell corridor were turned left into a large communal toilet area with ten open cubicles. “Sit and shit!” barked the Mistress. 8 crawled into the cubicle nearest him, sat on the bare metal pan and voided his bowels as best he could under the imposed duress. 8 correctly assumed that he could use the paper from the enclosed wall-mounted dispenser. “This one’s bordering on intelligent,” she noted of 8’s actions, “stand, wipe, flush and back on your knees.” 8 dropped to the ground as the remaining cattle concluded their toilet. “Now stand, remain in the cubicle and face the wall.” 8 could almost guess what was now to come, and indeed, moments later a jet of powerful, tepid water hit him in the buttocks with enough force to make him stagger forwards a few steps. “Wash as you turn around!” 8 used his hands to work the water into as much of his body surface as he could and after a few minutes the hose was turned off. A towel was thrown to him, beige and threadbare. “Dry, leave the towel on the cubicle floor and drop to the ground again!” This routine would be repeated for the next six days and constituted the only toileting and cleaning that was permitted.

Routine was clearly the hallmark of a stay here. Following the hose-down, the cattle were walked to another adjacent spacious room, where more of the communities dominant women stood by a number of stations consisting of various frames, benches, overhead cuffs hanging from affixed bars and hooks. The walls of the room were lined with an array of whips, floggers, canes, ropes; the whole ensemble suggested imminent pain.
“Time to wake up those hides!” sneered the chief cowhand. “Choose away, Mistresses” she added. One of the women walked purposefully towards 8. “Ah, yes,” she said in a gentle voice that 8 recognised as belonging to his captor from the rear of the van that brought him here. She led 8 to her station and told him to stand up. His wrists were bound together in front with a very tight column tie through the junction of which was passes another length of rope that was used to hoist his wrists above his head and tied to a metal “O” ring attached to the ceiling. 8’s ankles were similarly column tied together. “A little attention grabber!” 8’s handler announced as she placed a clover clamp on each nipple, giving the connecting chain a good tug to ensure a cruelly secure pinch. “I expect a good moo for every stroke and moo louder and longer the more it hurts. Understand?”
“Moo!” 8 offered in an affirmative tone.
“Good cow. Now, cane today I think.”
The voice may have been gentle, but the sudden sharp sting of the first stroke of the cane against his buttocks let 8 know in no uncertain terms, that his captor meant business. 8 let out a loud “Moo” that was more of a bovine yelp and barely had time to draw breath before a swift salvo of five more harsh blows of the cane rapidly tanned his hide. The sixth of 8’s moo’s was more of a deep moan, as that calming voice again whispered into his ear, “How now, little cow, just twenty more to go!”

8 was left bound for several minutes once his caning had ended, during which time the sharp stings melded and became a lasting painful glow covering his beaten backside. Soon enough, he was untied, told to drop to all fours and was tugged by his lead towards a long water-filled trough along one side of the chamber where he and the other cattle were temporarily relieved of their bit gags and instructed to lap up a good drink. From there, the herd was re-gagged and corralled towards the dungeon door. 8 was about to crawl over the threshold when two hands reached down and removed the nipple clamps. “Nearly forgot!” a wry, familiar voice intoned as 8 let out a short, sharp “Moo!” as the blood rushed back to the tips of his teats.

The bovine procession made its way along another equally plain corridor, pausing eventually besides two lifts, the doors of which slid open at their approach. “3,6 and 8 to the right! The rest to the left. Go!” barked a voice. 8 and his creature companions crawled into their appointed lift along with one of the handlers. The doors glided shut and the lift ascended a distance which 8 guessed to be at least two floors. The doors opened into a large sparsely furnished function room. With the exception of a few chairs and small tables around the edge of the large space, the rest of the floor was covered with large, well spaced out crash mats besides each of which were many coils of hemp ropes. At the foot of each mat sat couples of varying ages and kinds, all facing one large mat at the head of the class. Surrounded by myriad ropes and quietly scanning the attentive sea of faces before her sat a cross-legged Mistress Sadie. “Ah, our model arrives” Mistress authoritatively announced, “crawl over here, cow!” The sharp heel of the handler’s boot dug painfully into 8’s rear as he was forcefully kicked towards the lift door. Obediently he crawled over to the front of the class, being careful to take a route around the edge of the room. On arrival at the crash mat Mistress Sadie stood and further addressed her model. “Kneel up. You will comply with every instruction. You will not resist. You will make no sound.” Not even requiring any kind of acknowledgement, Mistress Sadie looked out at her class of eager students. “So, let us begin.”

The next few hours passed in a delirious blur of utter contentment. 8 was very much in his favourite “comfort zone”, as varying amounts of hemp rope were used to demonstrate upon his frame various methods and configurations of binding. He was basically hogtied. He was stringently hogtied. He was crabtied. At the completion of each tie, 8 was left so that the other participants could come forward, examine the tie, then return to their places and try the tie on each other. 8 guessed that he was left in each tie for at least one full hour. Following the first two demonstrated ties, a coffee break was announced, but any suggestions that 8 might be treated to a cup evaporated as Mistress Sadie placed a metal dog-bowl full of water beside him. Mistress Sadie freed the hogtie that held 8 but left his wrists bound behind him and ankles and legs tied together. She unstrapped the bit gag from 8’s harness, “Drink, cow.” 8 manoeuvred himself as best as possible onto his stomach, and lapped up a good amount of water. Once slaked, the bit gag was refastened, the water bowl removed and 8 was abandoned on the mat whilst the course attendees enjoyed coffee and cakes at the side of the room.

At a point that came all too quickly for 8, the morning session was drawn to a close. Mistress Sadie removed all the ropes binding 8 just as the lift doors glided open. “Thank you, everyone,” Mistress Sadie announced, “we will recommence at the same time tomorrow, and will focus on predicament and punishment ties.” This sentence was accompanied by a wicked downwards-glance towards 8, whose heart immediately skipped a few proverbial beats in anticipation. “Now, our demonstration cow will be taken and fed, before it is introduced to the milking barn….lucky virgin cow!”
A dizzying set of feelings flooded through 8. Stomach butterflies vied with a sudden raging erection for his attention. How would he cope? What exactly would happen to him? The mixture of healthy anxiety, a little fear he had to be honest, but overall excitement, was simply intoxicating. Once in the lift, as the carriage began its descent, the handler bent down to 8’s ear and in a silky, self-satisfied voice said, “Now now, little cow, now now….” With a wicked little chuckle ringing in his ear, 8 was tugged through the lift door and in procession with the other reunited herd, walked to the milking barn.

End of Part 2.
"There is something comforting about being tied up" (Madonna).....Oh how I agree!!

"I've still got the greatest enthusiasm and confidence in the mission." (HAL 9000)
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Shannon SteelSlave
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Re: Bunny Tales: The Milk of Human Kinkiness. Pt.2

Post by Shannon SteelSlave »

You should keep going with this. I sense people are waiting for its sequel.
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Re: Bunny Tales: The Milk of Human Kinkiness. Pt.2

Post by hogfan-sub »

Shannon SteelSlave wrote:You should keep going with this. I sense people are waiting for its sequel.

Thanks for the prompt. The concluding part three is in the works, and I hope to have it posted by the end of this weekend. Then, if indeed people enjoy reading about Bunny as much as I enjoy writing about him, more bondage-themed antics await our kinky cuniculus!! :D
"There is something comforting about being tied up" (Madonna).....Oh how I agree!!

"I've still got the greatest enthusiasm and confidence in the mission." (HAL 9000)
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