Gets you out of those clothes.

Jack doesn't ease up his **** on your neck, kissing, biting and sucking hard on your tender skin. You wince and moan under his violent affection, even if your dulled mind can't find the energy to think about it there is little doubt that he's going to leave a mark.

It hurts.

It feels good.

His grip on your throat hasn't loosened at all either. You aren't ****, but between the pressure, the way he's mauling your neck and the fact that you actually haven't stopped panicking means that breathing is proving very difficult. Whenever you aren't moaning out in pain and submission you are only able to suck in small, whimpering breaths and as a result your already addled state increases as you become light headed. It doesn't matter though, you don't need to think, feeling is enough for you right now. This feeling of fear and helplessness, of desire, sadness and joy...right now you feel just about everything. It is an experience that can only be felt by a girl like you, someone who accepts that they are prey, accepts that the hunt MUST end with their defeat. The good girl, the compliant bunny, the willing victim.

Tears continue to fall down your face even as you smile, even as you lustfully grind your hips against Jack's. Without the fear and despair you aren't a victim, without the joy and lust you aren't willing.

Suddenly Jack moves, his hands leaving your body and seizing the shoulders of your undone shirt. At once you can breathe easier and you hate it, craving his crushing dominance over your soft form. A weak little rabbit like you is defined only by their hunter; without the fox's fangs you are less than nothing. As if rebelling against your own life you find yourself holding your breath, trying to cling on to that half-asphyxiated state you were in. Your heart jumps as Jack smashes his lips against yours, his tongue hungrily invading your yielding mouth. His invasion feels like a reward and you offer no resistance as he pulls down on your shirt. In fact, you comply and ease the process by releasing your grip on him so he can pull it down over your limp arms. As your shirt drops to the dirty ground he steps away from your, your tongue weakly chasing his for a moment as he does.

"That's much better Lisa," he smiles, his eyes drinking in your body as his hand reaches back into his belt. "That's a good girl." You want to scream, you want to say thank you, but all you can do is miss him touching your body. Your legs rub together as your hands press down over your crotch. It's not just your face that got wet without you realising, and now you find yourself left alone to try and supress your need. Jack licks his lips as he watches you squirm and you feel some pride in being such alluring prey.

As jack steps back towards you his hand withdraws from his belt, revealing a short switchblade. The terror that shoots up your spine just arouses you more, and, aside from your quivering, your stand stock still as he approaches you, sliding the blade towards your chest before cutting through your bra in a single sharp tug. Before you can react he seizes your hot little short-shorts in one hand before taking the knife to them as well. These aren't so easy to dispatch and instead he hacks away at the fabric like a mad man. With your hands on his shoulders you do your best to stand still and make it easy for him. Not so you don't get cut, no, should he choose to cut you up there would be no resistance you would offer...but rather to ease his task, to be the good girl you know you are now.

Soon enough your ruined shorts and panties join your shirt on the ground, and for the first time you do actually cry out as Jack runs his tongue across your shaved slit, the cold knife gently resting against your thigh.

"Mmmmm..." Jack growls in satisfaction as he laps up the juices already coating your inflamed lips. "You really are a sexy bitch aren't you?"

"B-bunny..." you stutter back weakly, clinging to his shoulders in order to support your weak body.

"What was that?" he demands, rising up to stare down hard at you, on finger jamming itself deep inside your snatch, using it to now effectively grab you by the pelvis.

"B-bunny...not bitch..." you pathetically insist to your captor. In your shattered logic it makes perfect sense to insist not. "I'm just a bunny..." you can't even tell if you're sobbing or not.

"HA!" Jack laughs, his finger pulling out of you and leaving you feeling empty, before picking you up and bodily throwing you into a pile of hay. You flop against it, your arms spread out and fully exposing your full, soft breasts through the remains of your bra. "I like that. I've caught myself a little bunny," he grins, licking his lips once more as he looks over your weak, sensuous body shivering against the hay.

You cower as he towers over you, knife still in hand. Even as you tremble in fear you try to push out your chest and curl you legs in a coy, inviting fashion. A bunny like you only has value if someone wants to fuck them or fuck them over, if Jack were to stop wanting you you'd be nothing. It takes you a few moments to realise that Jack has begun to stare at your feet, his eyes flicking up to meet yours a few times as he does so. You feel like such a dumb bunny when you realise that you still have your sandals on, and so you gently kick them off one at a time, removing the last of your clothing.

And then Jack descends on you.