She had said that the Playboy bunny was a disgusting equation of women with animals. He told her that she, at least, *was* a fuckbunny, and that if she wanted to be fucked by him she would do it on his very particular terms.
They were massively degrading, but the thought of being penetrated by his cock was an addictive one and in the end her needy cunt won out.
She would come to him to be fucked dressed like a bunnygirl, with a cute cotton-tail butt plug stuffed in her anus. She would drive to his house like that so people could see.
After he filled her cunt with his cum, she would push a large carrot into her pussy and masturbate to a second orgasm, and afterwards remove the carrot, dripping with semen and cunt juices, and eat it. He photographed her doing this every time; she willingly allowed him to keep a scrapbook of her degradation.
She should stop, she knew. She should have self-respect. But the little plug felt so good in her butt; his cock felt so good in her fuckhole. A little slutbunny she would be.
Even if she did blush and go wet when her parents fed her carrot now, and even if she did embarrassingly orgasm at their table when she put it in her mouth…
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