Chapter 7

As it turned out, they all were.

Hart moved aside, and Tripp stepped in front of Willow. Not an especially tall man, he seemed to tower over her before kneeling down to her level.

“Willow,” he whispered into her ear, sending shivers down her spine. “Do you know what I like more than seeing a lovely young lady tied up? Even more than knowing I can do whatever the fuck I want to her?”

“I’m sure you’re going to tell me,” Willow said playfully, noticing the rope Tripp held in his right hand.

“I like to share,” Tripp said, and stood up, backing away from her.

Atticus and Malachi moved to either side of Willow. Each grabbed one of her arms and pulled her to her feet. They moved her to the nearest wall, shoving her against it so hard it took her breath away. They each raised the arm they were holding above Willow’s head before Tripp walked over to her. He went to work trying her wrists together with the rope. They all laughed when she struggled against them. She put on a good show, but at no time did she consider using her safe word.

When he was done tying her up, Tripp attached the rope binding her wrists to a hook jutting out from the wall above her head.

Tripp leaned in to whisper again into her ear, “We’re all gonna take turns doing whatever we want, and you’ll never know who’s doing what.”

It was Willow’s turn to laugh. “You just tied me up; it’s not like I can’t still see,” she said, rolling her eyes in what she hoped was an appropriately bratty way.

Tripp held up a blindfold and smirked. Willow’s eyes went wide as Tripp covered them with the blindfold.

For the next hour, Willow’s world was nothing but fingers, mouths, and cocks. And the Easter Bunny came and came again, so many times that Willow lost count.

When it was over, Atticus offered her some fresh fruit and bottled water, both of which Willow graciously accepted. Willow spent some time lying on the heretofore unused bondage bed, her head on Atticus’s lap, while he played with her hair. The room was quiet; she didn’t know where the other Doms went, and at the moment, she didn’t care.

“This is nice,” she said, looking up at Atticus.

“It’s called aftercare,” he told her, his voice quiet and soothing. “We all do it... well, maybe not Malachi. But, in general, it’s a big responsibility of the Dominant to show the submissive that they’re cared for, especially after a particularly... stressful scene.”

“I see.”

“So, how are you feeling about all of this?” he asked. “Are you okay?” “I am... more than okay,” she replied.

Atticus helped Willow get dressed. She parted ways with the Doms after getting Tripp’s phone number and, with great strength of will, refusing Malachi’s. She left the leather bunny mask on as she walked back toward the middle of Town Centre Mall to see if her husband had managed to salvage his precious final day of Easter Bunny season. Her legs still shaky after her adventures in the community room, Willow sat down on a nearby bench and saw that there was indeed someone who had taken over as the Easter Bunny after her explosive departure.

Greg’s two female employees continued to take pictures and process them on the laptop, but Greg was nowhere to be seen. Willow giggled when she realized he was in the suit. Since it was almost the mall’s closing time, she sat on the bench and watched until Greg was done being the Easter Bunny.

Several passersby stared at her for uncomfortable lengths of time, which she chalked up to the bunny mask she wore.

Finally, Greg was done, the final kids getting their pictures on his lap. With the aid of one of his workers, he started walking toward the vacant store where he would change out of his bunny costume. He stopped walking when he neared Willow and changed direction to approach her.

He pushed the big bunny head off of his own, his forehead dripping sweat. Seemingly out of breath, he dismissed his employee and looked at Willow.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” he asked. “And what is that all over it?”

Willow looked at him questioningly for a moment before realizing he was asking about the mask. She took it off and turned it around so she could see the outside.

The black leather was coated in cum, and she laughed.

“Again?” Greg asked, rolling his eyes. “Another gift box?”

“No,” Willow said. “Something way more interesting. Go get changed, and I’ll tell you all about it over dinner.”

Greg sighed. “Get rid of that thing; it’s ruined.”

“You think so?” Willow asked, sticking out her tongue and pulling the

mask to her mouth. “I think I know just how to clean it.”