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Chapter 3: A Good Night

"Bart it is!" Rita exclaimed, cutting off the rabbit's foolish objection. "Listen, Bart. I don't need you for any basic survival nonsense. You're here to have some fun! Well, for me to have fun with to be more precise," she corrected.

Rita leaned in close to the rabbit's face and flashed her best winning smile. The terrified look he returned only made him cuter in Rita's estimation. Underneath his overpowering fear scent, she noted the scent of thyme. Why did prey always smell like they rubbed themselves with spices? Maybe the whole carnivore cult legend was a projection of some subconscious prey desire. Not that it mattered, but she felt the need to disabuse him of such a foolish notion.

"I don't eat prey, Bart. I only kill them."

She smiled again and gently caressed him under the chin. His eyes rolled as he vainly flexed his limbs against the bonds. Rita sighed and flicked her right ear. When would he give up trying to escape? Standing back, she placed both hands on the table, and with a jump she hefted herself on top. She scrambled to her feet then stood a moment surveying her rabbit before stepping her right leg across him and dropping down to land on his stomach. The breath shot out of him with a rather amusing squeak. Leaning forward to grab his shoulders, she scooted herself forward until she was sitting on his chest. She lifted her feet over his arms and placed them on either side of his head. Reaching forward, she seized the rabbit by the chin and gave him a stern look.

"Listen here, Bart," Rita proclaimed. "Enough of this foolishness." She relaxed her face into a calm smile. "Let's have a little chat now. Tell me about yourself. It gets ever so boring playing with just another bunny. Help me get to know my playmate of the evening."

After several seconds of hesitation during which his eyes kept darting around the room he began in a quavering voice, "M-my name is B-bartholomew. I-I-"

"So much I've gathered," Rita interrupted tersely. "Go on."

"I-I have a wife a-and," he stopped to give a noisy sniff. Rita noticed tears beginning to well in the corners of his eyes. "And five kids. Oh please, Miss, have mercy! Let me go! My family needs me! I won't tell anyone! I'll do anything! Just please let me go!"

Rita sighed, shaking her head in disappointment. She let go of his chin and gently patted the cheek she'd slapped earlier.

"Bart Bart Bart," she breathed. "Don't be so horribly lame. Do you know how many times I've heard that one? A wife and kids. You think I care? Maybe if they're lucky, they'll get to come visit me someday." Rita punctuated her reply with a smile and a wink. "Now go on and tell me something interesting," she piped, folding her hands in her lap and looking at him expectantly. Hopefully, now that he'd gotten that out of his system, he'd be a bit more agreeable in the conversation going forward.

The rabbit gave another sniff and blinked. Two large tears began to run down his cheeks.

"Let me help you with that!" Rita remarked. With a swift movement she withdrew a black handkerchief from the bosom of her dress. Reaching down she dabbed away the rabbit's tears and then held the handkerchief to his nose. "Blow," she commanded.

The rabbit blew heavily, soaking a large portion of the handkerchief. Rita dabbed his nose with a dry corner and tossed the handkerchief on the floor. She gave him what she imagined was a matronly smile.

"Go on, Bartholomew."

"I work as the personal assistant of Ferdinand Gamboa, the news anchor over at-" "Haha! But how delicious! You work for that pathetic pussycat who pollutes my morning

news?! Tell me. Does he even eat meat, or does he prefer a saucer of warm cream?" "Actually, I believe Mr. Gamboa is lactose into-"

"Never mind that! Never mind that. I can just imagine you hopping about trying to attend

to each of old Lazy Bones' whims. Tell me. Is he as peevish and picky as he seems on air?" "Well, Mr. Gamboa is a bit finicky, bu-"

"Heeheeheehee, I knew it!" Rita exclaimed, leaning back and giving a few gleeful kicks

in the air. "Just one look at that smug, bloated visage, and I knew it. Ah, but what I wouldn't give to have that pampered pussycat join me for an evening. Not that I normally enjoy offing fellow carnivores, mind you, but for one as degenerate as Ferdie, I'd make an exception!"

Settling down, Rita dabbed her eyes with the end of her dress before reaching down to scritch Bart behind the ear. "Poor little personal assistant," she crooned. "After what that nasty pussycat has put you through, it's too bad you couldn't catch a break. But I hope you aren't feeling too bad now, eh?"

"N-not too bad, Miss," he stammered.

"Good, good." She gave him a warm smile. "I don't like my prey to be suffering too much before the real fun begins!"

Swinging her feet, Rita spun so that she was sitting sideways. Raising her hands, she gave two sharp claps. "Boots-y!" she trilled. "We're ready!"

The squeaking of a metal cart mixed with heavy thumping footsteps began to move up the hallway leading to the dungeon. Suddenly the door swung open and the cart was pushed through by a towering figure unusually dressed head to foot in a neatly pressed tuxedo, though the posh effect was ruined by a pair of heavy steel-toe boots. Rita smiled sweetly at the arrival of her manservant, but she noticed Bart lurch beneath her and turned to see him craning his neck to observe the strange creature.

"Ah, but you may have never seen a human before, Bart! I forget they are so rare since Boots has been with me since I was only a kit. Don't worry. He won't hurt you. He can be very gentle when he has a mind to be."

As Boots rolled the cart to the side of the table, Rita turned to smile at him again. "Thank you kindly, Bootsy." She glanced at the cart. "Everything seems to be in order. I'll call you if there's anything that I need."

"Mistress, if I may," Boots murmured slowly.

"Ah, of course, Bootsy, of course." Rita lifted up her right foot, propping the leg on top of her left one.

Boots fell to his knees almost instantly. Gently taking her ankle in his gargantuan hands, he pressed his lips to her footpad, inhaling deeply. After releasing her foot, he rose slowly and bowed deeply.

"Thank you, Mistress," he murmured. Then he turned sharply and clomped back out of the room.

"Odd creatures," Rita remarked, turning back to Bart. "They have such a weakness for cuteness. I suppose it has to do with being so hideous themselves. Fiercely loyal too if you know how to train them. But enough about humans. Let's see what we have here!"

Rita turned to look at the three-tiered cart and surveyed it with a satisfied nod. A wide array of neatly arranged equipment greeted her gaze. On the top tier were her surgical implements--scalpel, bone saw, forceps, retractors, scissors, and suture needle--all expertly cleaned, polished and sterilized with antiseptic. Boots really was a wonder at his work. Additionally, the top tier held bandages, dressing, gauze, surgical tape, sutures, clippers, and povidone-iodine. The middle tier held her sex toys and bondage equipment: riding crop, handcuffs, nylon rope, ball gag, spreader bar, and strap-on. Finally, the bottom tier held her pruning shears, hedge loppers, and hammer as well as a box of 12-inch nails and a few pieces of 2x4 lumber.

Rita turned grinning to a wide-eyed Bart. The blood appeared to have drained out of his face, leaving his nose and the skin around his eyes nearly white.

"Are you into BDSM at all, Bart?" she inquired cheerfully.

"Nnnggnn, nngngnn, n-n-no."

"I won't subject you to it then," she quipped with a wink. "But you wouldn't believe the

amount of money some people would pay to be dominated by a cute little vixen like me for an hour."

"W-well, I-I-I, you see, I-I."

"Now, now, you don't need to change your mind to avoid hurting my feelings. We'll start with something else."

Rita hopped off of the table and selected the hedge loppers from the cart.

"Let's see how easily your right pointer comes off!"

The hand instantly closed into a fist.

"Now, Bart, if you want, I can cut the tendons in your wrist before I cut the finger." Slowly, the hand opened back up.

"That's a good rabbit. Keep those fingers as spread as possible so I don't accidentally get a second one."

Rita fixed the blades around the bottom of the finger and turned to give the terrified Bart one more wink before squeezing the handles. Then she squeezed with all her strength, and the blades went through the finger with a satisfying crunch, followed immediately by a high-pitched squeal from Bart.