His delicate fingers run through the fluffy fur of the grey bunny that’s been displayed in my shop window every Easter I’ve owned the shop. The children love it and wave at it as they walk by on their way to and from school. In previous years, I’ve just scowled at them, but this year, something’s different, and I just can’t bring myself to do it. Scowl, that is. It’s like I can’t get my mouth to work properly. Oh God, now he’s burying his button nose in the bunny’s grey fur, sniffing it, eyelashes batting in clear delight.
“Mr Sable!” I spit a little louder than intended, his body jerking as the bunny flies over his shoulder, landing in a pile of cardboard boxes. His cheeks spill over into a bright scarlet like he’s been caught in the act. If only. I’d die to see what he looks like when he touches himself,when he comes. I’d trade places with the bunny’s ears between his fingers in a heartbeat. I’d—
“Yes, Mr Bennett, sir.” He beams expectantly at me, his pale eyes darkening. I’m not going to call him Bunny. I’m not going to call him…
“Mr Sable, can I see you in the back, please?” I grit.
“But what about the—” He points to the half-finished window.
“Leave it!”
“Yes, Mr Bennet, sir,” he obeys, instantly jumping from the stool, causing it to wobble, then tip over, landing on its side with a loud crash. He looks up, mortified, colour draining from his face.
“Leave it,” I sigh, starting for the back of the shop. Aside from Benjamin’s clumsiness, he’s every shopkeeper’s wet dream for a shop assistant. He’s never late, and he’s at my beck and call within seconds. My cock swells in my pants at the image of Benjamin on his knees for me, begging for me to stuff my length down his throat, squashing thatMasterbefore he can speak it. The lighttap-tap-tapof his boots on the hardwood floor tells me he’s following me like a good little pet—No! There’ll be none of that.Be professional, Easter. Be professional.
Once in the back, I turn around, only to find him shifting on his feet in front of me, wringing his hands as he looks at me expectantly.
“I have a special task for you, Mr Sable.” He nods eagerly, bouncing on his feet like a kid on Christmas Day.
“Yes, Mr Bennett, sir.” He smiles carefully. “Anything you want.”Anything you want.Fuck my pathetic life, but I want to hold him to that so badly, you have no idea. Looking frantically around the storage room, I find myself grasping at straws, my mind going completely blank, ignoring the real reason I brought him here. Thenmy gaze lands on the large cardboard box under the table to the left. Bingo!
“I need you to organise the chocolate moulds and catalogue them. I need to know the exact amount of every type of mould in preparation for the holidays. We’ll be busy, and I need to be organised.” Never has bullshit left my mouth this quickly. I put the goddamn O in organised. There isn’t a single thing in this shop that I don’t know by heart, inside and out. Benjamin doesn’t seem to notice, though. Pulling a small pink notepad with an attached pen from his back pocket, he starts taking down notes, the tip of his tongue doing things to his bottom lip that should be illegal in his Majesty’s kingdom. He nods attentively as I speak, his grey-brown eyes moving between the notepad and my lips. “You’ll find a reference sheet in the cabinet that you’ll be able to match the moul—”
“I know them!” he blurts, blushing, and I want to just lick along his cheek and chin to find out if the red tastes as good as it looks. Like ripe raspberries and all things lush and dirty.
“What do you mean, you know them?”
“I…I took the liberty of studying the sheet yesterday afternoon.” He swallows audibly. “It was after I finished cleaning up the kitchen. I swear, I was done…” he trails off, mumbling something, eyes downcast.
“What was that?” I ask. “And will you please look at me, Mr Sable, when I talk to you?” Looking back up, his eyes are moist and I’m seconds away from asking him to get down on his knees for me again or sweeping him into my arms and carrying him upstairs, cradling him against my chest. I can’t decide on which, to be honest; both options are equally tempting.
“Sorry, Mr Bennett, sir,” he whispers. “I just…I wanted to be prepared, so I studied the sheet tosave time. I…I…” My brain does that weird thing again where I’m supposed to say and do something, only I’ve forgotten it and a different Easter—perhaps the real Easter, I’m not sure—speaks instead.
“I got you something,” I grunt, like I’m already regretting it. He perks up instantly, so I quickly add, “Don’t get too excited now. It’s just something to wear as part of your Easter uniform.” It’s not. I’m lying through my teeth. I’m so full of it. This is not fuckingDisneyland; there’s no Easter costume. But Benjamin doesn’t know that, and the way he looks at me, almost like I’ve just told him his monthly salary is, in fact, a million quid paid in pure gold, I’m not the least bit sorry that I’ve just pulled an Easter uniform out of my arse.
“What is it?” he breathes, twirling the pink pen between his fingers, his grey-brown gaze coasting around the room. My heart does a ridiculous somersault in my chest at the sheer anticipation in his eyes, his voice dripping with intrigue. I don’t recall ever having been the cause of someone looking this…elated. It’s quite the power rush, really. One could get used to it. Turning around, I reach for the top shelf where I put the small box that was delivered this morning. Two nights ago, I finally caved after a serial wanking session, images of Benjamin fondling that damn toy bunny burned into my retinas, the wordBunnyon repeat in my deranged, over-sexed mind. You’d be surprised what you can get fromAmazonwhen you type in the word ‘Bunny.’ Express delivery, too, for those of us who are impatient bastards, just barely hanging on to our sanity.
Placing the box on the large worktable, I nod, trying to get a grip on myself and control my voice. “Open it.” He nods obediently, returning the notepad and pen to his back pocket. Never have I wanted anything more than to be that hand. His slim, pale fingers reach for the box, alook of awe painted on his beautiful face. Excruciatingly slowly, he starts peeling at the tape, my fucking heart in my throat, blood pounding in my ears. He’ll probably think I’m mad. Oh shit, perhaps I’ve gone mad. What was I thinking? I blame Sir Cums-a-Lot, who’s currently throbbing in my pants. He’s led me astray. He’ll eventually be the end of me.
Finally,fucking finally, Benjamin has managed to peel off the tape, some of it now stuck to his shirt. He smiles at me apologetically.
“Go on,” I grunt. “We don’t have all day.”
“Yes, Mr Bennett, sir.” Oh, for shit’s sake, just kill me now. Just fucking kill me already. The tips of his fingers slide beneath the lid of the box as he carefully flicks it open. White silk paper appears, and he looks at me questioningly. I nod again, my voice caught in my throat. As he pulls the paper aside, something pale pink and fluffy appears. Oh shit, they are so pink. And fluffy. And just…
“I think I got the wrong—” I blurt, trying to backpedal just as Benjamin exhales a long sob, followed by an ear-piercing squeal. Pulling the bunny ears from the box, he takes them in like they’re the holy fucking grail and not a ridiculousMade in Chinaaccessory. With a muffled whimper, he tugs them against his chest, tears brimming in his eyes as he looks at me; a world of gratitude and… adoration in them. Pure, unadulterated adoration. No one has ever looked at me like that. Never. I am not an adorable man. I’m not.
“Can…can I…are these for me?” His loftymerings through the room, his huge eyes staring right into my very soul. My poor, deranged soul. He brushes at the fluffy ears as he bites into his plump bottom lip. “Can I put them on?” he whispers, staring directly at me, seeing right through me. Easteruniform, my arse. I bite out a raspy, “Yes,” while my mind goes to all sorts of dangerous places. Fluffy bunny tails. Pink jumpsuits and pink stockings. See-through negligees. Silky-soft and feathery beneath my fingers. Milky-white creamy skin clad in the most exquisite pink lace, a bunny tail sticking out from…
“How do I look?” Benjamin blushes, bouncing on his feet, his rich chocolate-coloured hair framed by the headband, the pink bunny ears flip-flopping temptingly as he moves. “Is it okay?” he falters in my silence. “Is it…is it how you imagined it would look, Mr Bennett, sir?”
Chapter Six
Bunny
Ithink I broke my boss. Any minute now I expect his head to start spinning in true Exorcist style and for smoke to come out of his ears. His usually clear blue eyes have turned a dark and ominous midnight blue, the black pupils dilated, his nostrils flaring slightly. His well-kept blond hairstyle is threatening to spill onto his frowning forehead, the golden bangs just waiting to cascade into his eyes. He looks positively feral and the bunny in me shivers because don’t we all have a deeply hidden fantasy about being captured and consumed by the big bad wolf? But before I can bare my neck in defeat or hump Mr Bennett’s thigh—whichever comes first—he blurts out a strangled “Excuse me,” turns on his heel and disappears out the side door to the upstairs flat.
Bummer. Just when I thought he was going to call me Bunny again. I saw it right there on the tip of his tongue when it swept along his bottom lip. Those two elusive syllables now haunt me night and day.Bun-ny.I could’ve sworn he was going to call me that again. Perhaps even a growly, breathy version of it.Oh, Bunny. My Bunny. Bunny, bunny, bunny.But alas, no, just a torturedexcuseme. And now that I’m alone, I feel so silly and pathetic for pining over my boss. The bunny ears must feel it, too, because they simultaneously decide to flop into my forehead in an explicit bow of defeat. What was I thinking? This is just a uniform, as Mr Bennett told me, and not a continuation of what happened the other day; what I’ve been referring to as ‘The day Bunny got a Master.’ Crap.
