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I took the T-shirt off and walked to the bed to get the mask, trying to peek in the bag, but whatever was in it was covered up. The mask had holes for the eyes, nose, and mouth, and it had similar lacing to the other one.

This was made of a softer material that stretched out. I pushed my hair back and slipped it on, deftly lacing it up since I had gotten used to the other one. Once it was on, I moved it around to get the holes in place. I sank to my knees, feeling the bunny ears move with me.

“You always know what to do,” Master said but the undertone in his voice told me my presumptions even though correct annoyed him.

“I’m sorry, Master,” I said, keeping my head down.

“There you go again, anticipating my needs,” he said, walking toward me. “Clever little fuck bunny. Stool.”

I crouched down into the stool position, wondering if male menopause was a thing. He was thirty-five or six, a touch young for it. His information was more challenging to find than some of the others. I held my position when I felt a weight press down on my shoulder blades. It was his foot. I was a literal footstool for him.

“You do look good down there,” he said before he lifted his foot off me, but he trailed it down my tail to my pussy.

I blinked at the floor, focusing on the grain of the wood because he was pushing his toe into my pussy. He pulled away to rummage through the bag. I yelped when he picked me up and put me on the towel-covered bed. I might as well have been a piece of furniture.

He placed something over my collar at my throat before he strapped my wrists in and hooked it to the material beneath myneck. With my arms secured, he moved onto my legs, pulling them out before bending them toward my head, but he strapped my ankle to the material beneath my neck. He did the same with my other ankle. The straps were longer than the ones on my wrists, but they kept my thighs spread open, my knees bent, and my feet strapped in the air to my neck. This was not looking good for me.

“We can't forget about your nipples,” he said, climbing on the bed.

He lifted me by my throat, and I saw he had removed his shirt. His head ducked down, and I felt him attach a clamp over my nipple. The pain ricocheted within me, but after the initial pinch, it began to blossom as it always did. He attached the second one, and I hissed as the glow of pain joined the first. When he lowered me back to the bed, my clamped nipples brushed against the towel, making me moan.

“You're going to be a good Bunny and wait for me while I shower,” he said, climbing off the bed. “You will not cum until I give you permission.”

Which would have been fine if he hadn’t stuffed a vibrator inside my pussy.

Chapter 21

Adrik

I took my time in the shower, enjoying the ritual of cleansing myself, but it also gave me some time to reevaluate the day's events and understand why I was agitated. The fact that I gave my fuck Bunny a task that she would fail miserably at fed my dark sadistic needs. The need to punish and torment. I wanted her blood. I wanted to whip her bloody, slice open her skin with my dagger, and when her blood oozed out of the wound, I wanted to lick it up to taste her insides.

She was plaguing me in ways I relished and despised, like a disease slowly infecting me, changing me. And I had let it happen. Let her carve cracks in my armour with her quiet defiance, her bruised butunbrokenspirit. Worse, I’d enjoyed it. The way her breath hitched when I pushed too far, the way her eyes flashed with fire even as her body trembled. She was the perfect masochist to my sadist, always leaning into the pain I inflicted on her.

I clenched my jaw and ground my teeth together, turning the shower off before reaching for a towel. Her deep, dark eyes peered through her Bunny mask, watching me as she did in my office, trying to look past the monster in me. I rubbed the towel over my face, drying my hair, before taking a few deep breaths.

She couldn't begin to imagine the things I did to survive. I took what I wanted and treated the world as it treated me, with contempt. From vagabond to Pakhan, was no small feat. My fucktoy needed to remember her place. She was here for one sole purpose. To serve me.

I dried myself off and wrapped the towel tightly around my waist, running my hands through my hair before washing off the excess strands of hair on my hands at the sink. I glanced at the mirror before touching a scar on my chest, remembering each lash and how I thought they would kill me through their fury.

My Bratva training was extreme. Yuri Velichko’s men created monsters. By the time I was fifteen, I was already an effective killing machine, slicing up the next man who came to take a piece of me. They learnt I was no longer the weak, starving boy. The whippings came each time I killed my abusers, but the pain never reached me. The vicious cycle only stopped when they left me alone.

The memory should have burned. It should have clawed at my chest like a living thing, tearing open the scars that I kept buried. But instead, a familiar hollowness spread through me, slow and suffocating, like ice crystallising in my veins.

My breath evened—too calm, too controlled. This was the old armour, the one that had kept me alive. The one that had turned my heart to stone long before I’d ever held a blade.

My fingers twitched, the old hunger rising—the need to break her, to prove I still could, to remind us both that this thing between us wasn’t salvation. It was ruin. And ruin was all I knew how to give. I calmly dried my hands before exiting the bathroom to hear her tortured cries. It was a good start to my evening.

Her restrained hands were clutching my bed covers, with her hips grinding against the bed, seeking relief. The long black bunny ears bobbed as her head reared up, and she came with a series of cries. She took a few deep breaths before her facesagged on the bed, and her hands released the bedding. I stood in the doorway, waiting, watching as the hum of the vibrator continued. She began to curse, but they were muffled against the bed.

“Nyet, nyet…” she mumbled before she gripped the bed covers again.

“What a naughty little Bunny,” I said as her head shot up. Her rich, warm eyes peered through the holes of the mask.

“I’m sorry, M-Master. I-I tried to—” she said before abruptly stopping as the vibrations ramped up.

“I gave you a simple instruction,” I said, walking toward the bed, taking a pillow from the head of the bed before gripping her throat and placing it beneath her clamped tits.

I released her neck, and she fell onto the pillow with a grunt of pain. When I reached the bottom of the bed, I moved the tail out of the way to see her wet pussy. I pulled the black vibrator out of her, and the damn thing was dripping.