Gets a taste of EVERYTHING.

Jacks mouth slams down on yours once more, his tongue racing in to subdue yours as you gladly welcome him in. You revel in the deep kiss, your tongue gently stroking at his amid his lustful frenzy; you kiss back in passion even as your body pathetically tries to push him away. His free hand seizes one of your plump breasts and squeezes it, fingers pinching hard on the nipple as he does and you can't help but moan in supplication. His other hand drags the flat of his knife down your side, your skin prickling at the sensation of the cold blade, your heart thrilling at the thought of his metal claw so close to your soft flesh. You know now that a soft girl like you exists to break under a strong, hard man like Jack.

Suddenly Jack pulls away from your mouth and clamps down on your neck again, sucking and biting the already abused flesh. Even with your own mouth now free you're struggling to breathe, and your token resistance has once more collapsed into a **** embrace. Your life and **** belong to Jack now, his right as predator, and all you want is to offer up your flesh to him.

"Th...thank you..." you barely managed to gasp, giving what little breath you have in offering to your hunter, the man who gives your existence value. You don't even know what you're thanking him for. The pleasure? The fear? That he is letting you keep your life? That he has caught you and shown you what sort of creature you truly are? You don't know. He is your predator, your captor, your better. Merely existing for him is reason for you to be thankful. "Thank you Jack...AAAHHhhh...!"

The last of your breath is burned in a pitiful squeal as Jack pinches harder on your nipple and holds the knife firmly against your thigh, the blade turned just enough to feel like a threat. Your lungs feel like they're burning and crushing you as the air runs out, and with the pain and the blade you think you actually will die. Euphoria and terror both swirl through your mind as you truly believe Jack might kill you and you know deep down you love him for it.

"Sir, not Jack," he commands, easing the pressure on your body as he himself sinks lower, taking a moment to run his tongue around your swollen, painful nipple. "A good girl like you knows how she SHOULD address her betters, doesn't she?"

"Y...yes Sir," you pant, relieved to be alive, happy that you can show Jack...show Sir what a good girl you can be.

"And it's not 'Lisa' anymore," he continues after thoroughly fondling one breast with his mouth. "You're not just 'a' bunny, you ARE Bunny. Understand, Bunny?" he asks, punctuating his words with a painful squeeze of your ass.

"Yes!" you cry out, your body trying to contort itself to give Sir access to anything and everything he wants to touch. This man has just stripped you of your name and given you a new one, as if you were an animal he owned. Your new name is even that of an animal; a sexualised version of it marking you as a weak, sexy girl. It should feel dehumanizing, but you only feel good. Humans aren't prey, you are. Sir is what gives you value, he can decide your name as well as your future. "Bunny will be a good girl for Sir!"

"Good girl," he praises, patting your head and kissing your face. It's then you realise that he has killed you. Lisa is dead, and now Bunny lives in her place. Lisa would have felt shock and shame being treated like this. Lisa tried to run from Sir, but Bunny knows her place. Bunny knows she belongs to Sir and that Lisa was wrong.

"Sir..." you smile in joyful lust, even as the tears still stream down your face. You love your weakness, you love being prey, and you love Sir. You thrill as he resumes fondling you, kissing and licking and biting his way across your body. You make the occasional moan of 'oh no' or 'oh yes', but know you are helpless in all of this, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

Eventually Sir stops and places the knife down (you don't notice or care, the knife doesn't matter, only Sir) and stripes his shirt off. You admire his body, rugged and hard, and your proud that your hunter, your Sir, is so strong and handsome. Seizing your hands Sir pulls them to the zip on the front of his jeans and leaves them there as he undoes his belt. It takes you a moment to understand what he wants, your mind is so addled, but your eyes widen in excitement and fear as realisation dawns on you. Slowly you unzip him as he undoes the button, then you carefully peel the denim flaps to the sides. You look up at him and he gives you a look that clearly commands for you to keep going. Your heart hammers in your chest and you forget how to breathe again as you reach out to the bulge barely contained by the boxer shorts. Your hands coil reverently around his penis as you pull it free, you want to gasp as it seems to jump out at you but you don't have the breath for it and instead can only look like a lustful ditz. You want to kiss it, you want to stroke it, you want to suck it and have it jammed deep inside you until you scream. But you don't, because Sir hasn't told you what to do. Prey like you doesn't get to decide anything.

"Sir..." You purr, gazing up at him.