Making the Boss Your Bitch
_Toonces, the Driving Cat, the Cat Who Could Drive a Car
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The government has its methods of torture, the most effective of which are not designed to break a man in a single sitting, but rather grind down his resolve over the course of days, weeks, and months. A good method of torture, one as reliable as the ticking of a clock, needles a man imperceptibly for months, allows itself to become a part of him before he even realizes that he is being broken, used, and manipulated. If the government wanted to torture a man, if they were truly inhuman, they would put the poor soul in an office with a adorable, twinkish little bunny who always brings him his coffee.
A fox was being tortured. He had the big office, and he looked a mite bit ridiculous behind his big desk, that would rise up to his chin without an equally big chair. His influence in the office was not preceded by any kind of physical presence: The common joke, whispered at the copy machine, was that the fox's ties reached down between his knees. Anyone who met the fox after work, after he'd shed the button-down shirt and slacks, would be surprised to learn such a unobtrusive, placid man could be anything more than a silently bitter employee of a slave-driving maniac, not the man who sent down orders in ten-point font and said "please" so much.
He saw the bunny often at the office, the young man bringing a perkiness to the office that you could only milk out of someone not being paid for their services. Interns either seemed to boil spite out of their fur or overflowed with a bubbly, happy energy, and the bunny's attitude - such sparkling, excited eyes highlighted by thin frames - was contagious. As in, it made the fox sick. Sick to his stomach. Sick with desire. The peppy little flop-ear would march into his office with the morning coffee, and the fox would smile, try his best to show he was the Nice Boss, in his mind assuaging the bunny's fears about the workplace after college. The fox imagined himself a shoulder the bunny could cry on, a late-night confidant of university frustrations, but the bunny had nothing to cry about or confide. He was ineffable in his boundless cheer that seemed to resonate through his body like a tuning fork. When he left the room, the fox would sigh, blush, and put his hands in his lap.
That bunny! Spencer was his name. The way his perky little ass swayed from side to side, that fluffy tail stuck up in the air like the nameplate of a piece of art. Everything about him seemed so soft, and the bunny himself so assertive. Where the fox would stutter a few pleas, the bunny could issue a curt request. Where the fox waited for his chance to enter a conversation, the bunny would carve out his own spot. He envied the bunny, wondered how he could ever become like him, could ever gain that confidence which emanated from the flop-ear's pristine white fur. Even the way his ears laid along his shoulders was so casual, yet so professional. The way his glasses sat on his nose demanded respect. And that smile, it defused any harsh thought a person could even try to direct at the feint creature, took the punch out of any mean word a person could possibly think to say.
"Hello, Boss?" said Spencer, peeking his head into the door. The fox's daydream split open, and there its contents stood, the little button nose even more irresistible at present than in recollection. "I have your coffee. Also, I need to talk to you about my credit?"
"Thank you, but I've said before, call me James," the fox said meekly, pulling a smile across his face, though his eyes wouldn't attest to its honesty. His heart fluttered. "Take a seat, please. What is it you needed to talk about?" The bunny took a seat and looked down toward the fox. The bunny made him feel especially small, made him all the more conscious about his figure, and yet, strangely, he didn't mind it. He liked being in the bunny's presence, he liked that slight, intoxicating sensation of being in a more powerful man's presence. He felt vulnerable to one person, but protected from everyone else. Usually those numbers weren't so friendly to him.
"Well, today is my last day here."
The fox's eyes shot open. He dropped a pencil he had been nervously fingering. "Your last day? Your internship is over?"
"I'm afraid so," Spencer smirked. "I just need your signature so I can get those credits for the semester."
"Ohhhh," the fox said, below his breath. He sunk into his chair, crushed. He should have seen it coming. The guy already looked so professional, his dress impeccable, his demeanor irresistible. The bunny had grown into a real man since he had started there, and it made the fox all the more languid to see it. Everything about him seemed so right, so perfect. That body, that personality, that mind. He wanted all of it. He wanted to know what it was like to feel all of it weighing down on him, to feel the bunny truly pressing his will against his own, to be the object of the bunny's ambitions and desires.
"Is there anything you need of me before you sign it?" the bunny asked. The fox sulked for a moment. The question he wanted to ask, he knew, would only lead to more questions.
"What-" the fox paused, choking on his words. "What do you think about me?"
The bunny looked puzzled. "As a boss, sir?"
"No, no, not that. The opposite of it. If you were-" the fox searched for the least toxic word. "If you were in charge of me, what would you think of me?"
"I... I think you're fine, sir." The bunny said, a trace of confusion slipping into his voice for the first time in a long while. "I think you're very capable."
"You don't think I'm a little... small? A little mousey? I mean-" the fox pulled the level under his chair. It sank until his chin nearly hit the desk, and he reset himself.
"I... Is this off the record, sir?"
"Off the record."
"You're a little bit... weak-kneed, at times."
The fox shuddered in his chair.
"Do- do you think?"
"Oh, but, I mean, you're still a good person!"
"But I'm a boss, I'm a fox, shouldn't I be more... dominant? Doesn't that just seem more natural?"
The bunny paused for a moment. You could see on his face that he considered this a final test. He may as well have been navigating a minefield.
"But don't you enjoy being how you are? You're a little small, yes, you're a little acquiescent, yes..." the bunny realized he didn't have anything to follow those qualifications.
"And you, you're bigger, you're more dominant."
"That's not what I mean, sir! I didn't mean to compare us!"
"You have the thing I don't, the thing I naturally should have. You don't want things from afar, you don't sink into your own doubt, you want the things you like and you get the things you want." The fox's pants were tenting dramatically, and it wasn't the only part of his body was seemed out of his control. His tongue wagged furiously completely absent of his consent. It spoke the things he'd had trouble thinking clearly, yet alone speaking.
The bunny was dumbstruck, almost as if insulted. "I... do think I'm successful," he defended himself finally. "I won't make any apologies for that."
The fox stared at him from across the desk. The lust was overpowering. His lips quivered madly, he felt as if his heart might pop out of his chest. His fingers drummed uneasily in his lap, where he struggled to hold down his cock. "I-" he started, looked down, took a deep breath, and tried again. "I need you."
"You what, sir?"
"I need you. Look at you! Look at you!" he repeated. "You're beautiful. You're strong, you're intelligent, Oh God!" He couldn't even finish his list. "I just want you so badly."
The bunny's blush was red enough to see across the room. "I don't think this is appropriate, sir, this isn't what either of us need right now."
"No," the fox interjected, tapping into a reserve of assertiveness, the adrenaline in his body forcing him forward where his mind never would have before. He scrambled out of his desk, not bother to conceal his bulge, and nearly leaped into the bunny's lap. "I don't like myself, I can't stand what I am, and you say yourself I have no reason to feel like that. But I do! And you can make that better! And why wouldn't I? What's a small, weak little fox like me? In a suit like this? Making myself out to be bigger than I am? I'm not honest with myself, I can't be honest with myself, I need you to do it for me. I need you to tell me!" The fox pressed a mad, desirous kiss onto the bunny's lips, which was easily fought off.
"Sir! This is indecent! I can't, I can't, I can't do this!"
"You will if you'll have me sign that paper," the fox said, looking into the bunny's eyes before burying his noses into the white fluff of his neck. The bunny moaned, the fox moaned. Neither could resist it. "I need this," the fox growled, now stripping off his clothes, loosening his tie, his slight, almost concave white stomach framed by starched white cotton. The fox's body was slight, but so milky white, so temptingly soft, the bunny's paws migrated to it mindlessly and squeezed until the fox's moans drowned out the smacking of their lips. The bunny was marching on with token resistance, the fox's argument not needing too much time to sink in.
"You're going to prop me up on that desk," the fox told the bunny, the stream of words alien to him even as he said them, "and fuck me until we're both shattered. You're going to pound me until I'm hoarse, you're going to fuck some sense into my crazy little head, until I'm smiling like an idiot, then I'll sign your paper, you understand?"
The bunny moaned, and resisted. He was going to say yes, but he delayed it for as long as possible. He put up the image of being undecided. Finally, he relented. He tore off the fox's pants and marveled at a unit that seemed on his small body like a mallet. A virile, dripping cock hung over two tremendous balls. The bunny must have been wondering what on Earth the fox had to be insecure about it.
"Jesus, look at you," admired Spencer. James blushed, letting his cock hang, bent under its own weight, a rivulet of precum rolling under the head. His chin was buried in his chest as he displayed himself for the bunny. The astonishment in the bunny's voice didn't seem to register with James. It was evident that size, of course, was never the be-all end-all of confidence. It was James' desires that weighed him down, and if anything, his large stiff cock, the potent sign of masculinity that it was, only mocked him for the fact that he now begged to be bent over and fucked by a bunny.
Spencer watched the effete little fox writhe in his lap, and soon the look of surprise on his face became that of desire. He bit his lip, tried to regain the last bit of composure that he had. He caught the fox's eyes. They begged and pleaded with him. He turned the fox's words over in his head. "I need you to treat me how I feel, I need you to show me what I am, oh God, the release of it!" Spencer acquiesced and shoved the fox down onto his knees, hastily slipped out of his pants, and buried the fox's nose in his crotch where he delighted himself with deep, soulful moans. He nuzzled the bunny' package with euphoric delirium, huffing in the scent, holding his arms behind his back, promising his everlasting devotion and his all-encompassing desperation for the cock.
James' lips were wrapped around Spencer's cock, long and thick in its own right, though it didn't quite match up. James didn't care. He wasn't measuring. He was salivating. He kept his eyes closed as he swam in passion. He drew his tongue along the underside, his kissed it at its base, he sucked his lips tight against the head. He balanced the balls on his nose and huffed the bunny's light, masculine scent like a drug, until he felt lightheaded, almost high, off the musk like damp earth. And the thought that kept his cock stuff beneath him was envisioning himself from the outside, seeing himself on his knees, seeing himself with his nose buried in the bunny's crotch, the predator serving the prey. And Spencer helped him along. He teased him, taunted him, felt out for the buttons of his soul and mashed them. "Yeah, suck my cock like you begged for it, fox," he ordered, shoving all of his length into the fox's throat. The fox lapped hungrily at the member, sucked the meaty balls as moans slipped from his throat. Underneath the bunny, the fox's tensions were beginning to melt from his body.
It wasn't long before Spencer pulled James up by the shoulders and shot him only a quick, devious glance before turning him around and pressing him against the high desk. It stood high off the floor, the fox's feet dangled below him, but it was just high enough to put the fox's ass at the bunny's slick cock. James moaned in expectation, his paws gripping white-knuckled the other end of his desk as the bunny teased him, slapping his cock against the two pert cheeks.
"Oh, Jesus," the fox cried, his eyes shut tight, trying with all his might to will the bunny's cock into his ass before finally outright begging for it. "Please," his voice dripped with desperation, "don't tease me, just fuck me."
"Is that how you really feel?" the bunny mocked. The intern had no trouble slipping into this dominant persona. Twelve hour days will do that. He was basking in the fox's submission, loving every little twitch of the slight body as he pressed his cock, his hands, even his nose and tongue against the ass. He teased the fox with his tongue, darting his tongue inside, curling it, then pulling it out slowly and sensuously to paint the hole with a lusty lap. And all the while the fox just cringed, still begging for the bunny's cock.
James got his wish. Spencer pressed his hefty cock against the fox's slick hole and, after waiting to hear the fox ask just one more time, rocked his hips forward with a harsh thrust. He pried the fox open, put both his paws on the little guy's shoulders, and rode him with reckless abandon. His hips pistoned back and forth, full, complete strides that didn't waste a single inch, didn't skimp on any opportunity to make the fox's passionate gasps ring all the louder.
James' expectations hadn't even prepared him for this treatment, he could hear the soft slapping sound of hips against his cheeks, felt the paws digging into his shoulders, heard the bunny's panting directly next to his ear. It was the only sound in the room that didn't come from his own throat. That panting, so guttural, animalistic, cut to his core. It was so vulgar, so base. It wasn't the dirty talk or the taunting the bunny had practiced on him only moments earlier, which of course rung with at least the slimmest traces of artifice, the bunny putting on a tough face for a show. No, the grunting in his ear was real. It was the sound of labor, the sound of the bunny's efforts as he thrust all his energy and concentration into fucking the fox's ass as roughly, deeply, thoroughly as his svelte body could manage.
"Tell me I'm your bitch," James ordered.
"You're my bitch, bitch," Spencer told him.
"Tell me you're going to plow my ass til I cum," James requested, his words nearly as light and airy as his head.
"I'm going to plow your ass til I'm done with it, is I think what you mean," Spencer corrected, his voice a growl as he laid into the fox, his powerful, nimble hips - a natural feature of bunnies - buried his cock again and again into the tight hole. He could tell the fox didn't see much action.
James' tail twitched jerkily as the muscles in his body refused to communicate with one another. Spencer's tail, so perky and fluffy, twitched as well over the two sweaty globes. Spencer flipped James onto his back, grabbed onto the fox's feet to roll him backwards just enough to put him into position, and continued just where he'd left off, this time staring down the fox as he did, daring the little creature to make him cum. He watched the monster cock bounce as he punished the tight hole, watched it drip pre in an unbroken line that connected the tip of the fox's cock and a sticky, matted part on his stomach.
The room was becoming hot and thick with the musky scent of the two's tryst. The fox threw his head back, panting, gasping for air. He reached for his cock and the bunny slapped it away. He reached again, and this time the bunny grabbed the wandering paws, pressed them to the desk over the fox's head, and held them there.
"Oh no, no, sir," Spencer teased. "You begged for it, now you can sit through it." The words came out in gasps through clenched teeth. The bunny was already on edge, though he paced himself, controlled himself as well as he could, always milking out one, two, three more thrusts, then one, two, or three more. He seemed constantly about to cum, the way his nose twitched, the way his fingers clenched the fox's paws, always as if his whole body was tensing to fill the fox full of cum.
The fox blinked first. "Oh shit," he said suddenly. "That, that-" he stammered, meaning to tell the bunny that he was hitting a particularly tender spot. His attempts at speech were soon overwhelmed by fervent moans and deep, shuddering wails of pleasure. Spencer held his stride, burrowing into that tender spot, plowing the lithe little fox as that still unbroken, thick strand of pre dripped to his stomach. It held its integrity even as the cock started to tense and shake, and broke only when the first powerful jet of cum shot from the head, landing on the fox's muzzle, a long strand draping over his nose and down to his cheek. The second and third covered his chest, and thereafter too many to count spurted onto his stomach, wild shots unrestrained by a paw, the cock flopping about as it sprayed.
This, of course, was much too much for the bunny, who pulled out, climbed onto the desk over the panting, shattered fox, and loosed his own heavy load into an open muzzle. His body shuddered - he had to brace himself by putting his paw on the desk, the keep from wobbling backwards in his euphoria - but still his aim was true. He painted the fox's tongue with his seed, it soaked into the fur of his cheeks and chest, it matted in his hair. By the time he was done, the fox was steaming with the musky scent of the bunny's cum, tinged so gently with his own aroma.
James opened his eyes eventually, after wiping them clean, and stared up into the bunny's smirking face. He smiled, too. He felt refreshed. He felt happy. Spencer crawled off of him, but he simply laid there, his cock laying half-hard on his sticky stomach.
"I think... I think I'm going to have to wait until everyone else leaves so I can get to the bathroom and clean up."
Spencer smiled. "And I think I'll keep you company."