bunnygirl

3. home

One evening, as the rest of the dorm buzzed with the excitement of an upcoming party, Marcus called her into his room.
On his desk lay a velvet box, and inside was a gleaming silver collar. "This is for you," he said, his eyes glinting with excitement. "To show everyone who you belong to."
Giulia stared at the collar, her heart racing. She knew what this meant, the final symbol of her submission.
But instead of fear, she felt a strange sense of pride. Marcus was claiming her as his own, and she would wear it proudly. He fastened it around her neck, the cool metal pressing against her skin like a brand.

"I think from now on, I'll call you 'Gigi'. It's cute don't you think? I'll make sure the guys call you Gigi as well..," he announced, his voice filled with a strange mix of possession and affection.

The name stuck, and soon, the dorm was echoing with calls of "Gigi" instead of Giulia. The men laughed when she stumbled over her words, calling her their "dumb bimbo," a term that sent a fresh wave of heat to her cheeks every time she heard it.
Yet, she found herself smiling, basking in the attention. It was as if she had become a character in a twisted sitcom, and she had been cast in the role of the lovable, clumsy sidekick.
The party was in full swing when Marcus called her over. "Dance for us, Gigi," he said, his voice filled with authority. The music was loud, the bass thumping through the floorboards. She swayed awkwardly at first, but as the men cheered her on, she lost herself in the rhythm. The strobe lights painted her in flashes of color, and she felt a sense of power as the crowd gathered around her.
As the night progressed, the games grew more intense. They had her perform daring feats of balance and flexibility, her body contorting to their whims. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, but she couldn't stop smiling. The applause and whistles fueled her, and she danced harder, faster, eager to please.

Marcus watched with a predatory gaze, his hand resting possessively on her hip. "Good girl," he murmured, his breath hot against her ear. The room spun around her, the laughter and music a cacophony that seemed to exist only for her. She was their entertainment, and she reveled in it.

As the party wound down, the guests stumbled out, leaving a trail of empty bottles and discarded clothing in their wake. The once-proud dorm looked like a war zone, but Gigi didn't flinch. She had been trained for this, conditioned to clean up after her masters.
Marcus leaned against the doorframe, watching her with a smug smile. "Good pet," he said, his voice thick with satisfaction. The other men had retired to their rooms, leaving the two of them alone in the wreckage. She felt his eyes on her as she moved, a constant reminder of her place. The collar around her neck felt heavier than ever, a symbol of her servitude.

As Gigi worked, she couldn't help but feel a strange mix of pride and humiliation. She had become a spectacle, a plaything for their amusement.
But she had also become a necessity, the one who kept their lives running smoothly. The thought brought a twisted comfort to her as she bent over to pick up a stray sock, her skirt riding up to expose her bare thighs.

Marcus approached her, his steps deliberate and predatory. He reached out, tracing the collar around her neck with a finger. "You know, you're really starting to get the hang of this," he said, his voice low and intimate. "You're a natural." He leaned down, his breath hot against her skin. "But don't get too comfortable, pet. There's always room for improvement."
With a firm grip on her elbow, he guided her out of the common room and down the hallway. His room was at the end, the door slightly ajar. The other residents of The Den had retreated to their own spaces, leaving the corridor eerily quiet.

"From now on, you'll be sleeping in here with me," Marcus said, his voice a command that brooked no argument.
Gigi felt a flicker of nervousness when he manoeuvred her towards a cage at the foot of his bed, but it was quickly overwhelmed by a sense of belonging.
This was her place now, at the side of the man who owned her.
The cage was surprisingly comfortable, lined with plush pillows and a soft blanket. It was smaller than her own bed, but she found the confined space oddly comforting. It was as if she had been regressed to a child-like state, safe and protected by the bars that kept her close to her master. Marcus locked the door with a satisfying click, sealing her in.

Gigi lay down on her side, her eyes adjusting to the dim light. Marcus's bed loomed above her, a symbol of his power and dominance.
She could feel the vibrations of his footsteps as he moved around the room, getting ready for bed. The anticipation of what was to come made her heart race, and she found herself eager to serve him in any way he desired.

Marcus finally settled in, and the room grew quiet except for his steady breathing. She lay there, listening to the sounds of the dorm, the distant laughter and the occasional thump of a door. The cage was a physical reminder of her submission, but also a strange comfort. It was her space, her sanctuary within the chaos of The Den.

As the night deepened, Gigi felt a gentle tug at her heart. The humiliation of the evening had been intense, but it had also brought her a perverse sense of belonging. She had never felt so desired, so... important. Marcus had chosen her to be his, had given her a role that she filled perfectly. The other men had noticed her obedience and had embraced her as part of their world.
She had never felt more at home.