"Getting close?" He could read my body like a book now, knew every tell. "Want to come on Daddy's cock while you're drinking your bottle? While you're being exactly the baby you swore you weren't?"
I nodded frantically, sucking harder at the bottle. The milk was nearly gone again, and I whimpered around the nipple. I needed more time, more fullness, more of everything he was giving me.
"Swallow," he commanded. "Show me you can be good. Show me you deserve it."
I gulped the last of the milk, and he grabbed my hips, driving up into me with force that made me scream. The empty bottle fell from my lips as I came apart, convulsing around him while he held me steady.
"That's it," he growled, fucking me through it with abandon that showed his control had finally, completely snapped. "Take it. Take everything. My perfect fucking girl who needed to be broken just to feel whole."
He followed me over, face buried in my neck, my name—my real name—on his lips as he filled me. We clung to each other, shaking, sweating, stripped of every pretense we'd built between us.
When we finally stilled, I was crying again. But these weren't tears of shame or frustration. These were something else. Something that tasted like relief and release and maybe even happiness.
"Why the tears, baby?" he asked softly, thumbs wiping them away.
"Because—" I hiccupped, trying to find words for the enormity of feeling. "Because I've been empty for so long. And now I'm not. Now I'm full of you and milk and these feelings I don't understand and—"
"And you're scared," he finished.
"Terrified." The admission came easily now, with his softening length still inside me and my defenses decimated. "What happens when this ends? When the contract's up? When I have to go back to being Lilah?"
"You don't." Simple, certain. "Lilah's gone, baby. Has been for weeks. There's just Bunny now. My Bunny. And she's not going anywhere."
"You can't just keep me—"
"Can't I?" He shifted us carefully, laying me back against the pillows while staying buried inside. "You have no job to return to. No apartment—it's been sublet. No life that wasn't emptiness disguised as existence."
"You—what?"
"Week three," he admitted. "When I knew I couldn't let you go. I had my assistant handle the details. Your possessions are in storage. Your few friends think you took a research position abroad. There's nothing to go back to."
I should have been furious. Should have felt violated, controlled, manipulated. Instead, all I felt was relief so profound it made me dizzy.
"You planned this."
"I adapted." He traced my collar, fingers lingering on his initials. "The moment you spit at me that first day, I knew you were different. Knew the twelve weeks wouldn't be enough. So yes, I made arrangements. Cleared the path for what we both knew was inevitable."
"Which was?"
"This." He gestured to our tangled bodies, the empty bottles, the room that had become our whole world. "You, mine completely. Not because of a contract or conditioning or careful manipulation. Because you choose it. Because you need it. Because anything else would be a lie we're both too tired to tell."
I thought about arguing. About pointing out the coercion, the careful psychological manipulation, the way he'd dismantled my life while rebuilding me to suit his needs. But what was the point? He was right. Had been right from the beginning.
I was his.
Had been his from that first "good girl," from the first time I'd knelt, from the moment I'd chosen to stay when the door was unlocked. Everything else was just the slow process of accepting what my body had known immediately.
"So what happens now?" I asked.
"Now?" He finally pulled out, making me whimper at the loss. "Now we finish your training. Five more weeks of sessions, of pushing boundaries, of becoming. And then..."
"Then?"
"Then we see who Bunny is when she's not in a pink room. When she's in my bed every night and at my table every morning. When she's mine without contracts or conditions." He smiled, and it was tender and terrible and everything I'd never known I needed. "When she's just mine because that's what she wants to be."
"And if I don't? Want that?"
"Then I'll let you go." The words clearly hurt him to say. "Set you up with a new life, new identity if you want. Make sure you're safe and provided for. But we both know that's not what you'll choose."
