Return to Smut Bunnies Chapter 15a



Smut Bunnies
CHAPTER 15b
(CABARET ROYALE)

Author: Chris Cook
Rating: NC-17
Copyright: Based on characters from Buffy The Vampire Slayer, created by Joss Whedon and his talented minionators, and all manner of things including the James Bond series by Ian Fleming/Eon Productions, and The Avengers by Brian Clemens. All original material (I'm sure there's some in there somewhere) is copyright 2005-2007 Chris Cook.

Paris, France
The Moulin Rouge, Main Theatre
1902 Hours

"Ah," Tara gasped quietly as Willow's fingertips slid over her lips, finding her already moist, and eager to open. On stage the dancers were moving closer, their outstretched hands brushing lightly over each other's bodies as they swayed past one another.

"Oh, yes," Willow whispered, cupping Tara's mound. "Oh yes, that feels good..."

"Uh-huh," Tara managed, trembling. Willow nudged her forward on their cozy couch and wriggled a leg around behind her, reaching her free hand around to stroke Tara's thigh as the blonde settled between her legs. Willow settled her head on her shoulder, and murmured in her ear:

"Sexy, aren't they?" Miss Kitty sauntered around her kittens, theatrically biting her fingertip as if pondering a difficult decision, before finally cupping a hand lightly beneath Cheshire's chin and leading her to the front of the stage, flanked by the other four.

"Lucky kitten," Willow chuckled, rubbing Tara's soaked labia, but refusing to part them yet. "You want to be up there baby?"

"I..." Tara shook her head slightly.

"I know," Willow assured her. "I only want you too... but fantasise. I'm your Miss Kitty... do you want to dance with me?"

"Mmmyes," Tara sighed happily. Willow rubbed her more firmly, massaging her soft, pliant flesh in the palm of her hand. Miss Kitty had beckoned her other kittens, who danced in closer to her, reaching out to stroke her arms and legs. With a slight push she had Cheshire bend down, legs straight, until her chin rested on a soft mound of faux-moss decorating the front of the stage. She gazed into the darkness of the audience, with the spotlights full on her face, and in the half-shadow behind her Miss Kitty writhed under the teasing caresses of four kittens, and reached a hand between the lucky fifth's legs.

"That's you and me," Willow whispered, quickening her pace. "Right baby?"

"Yes..."

"Up there, in the lights?"

"...yes..."

"In front of everyone," Willow grinned, slipping the tip of her index finger between Tara's lips and tracing the length of the crevice between them.

"...yes," Tara sighed, her quavering voice confirming the aroused blush Willow suspected she could just make out in the dimness.

"Do you want me inside you, baby?" she purred, stroking Tara's opening in tiny circles, feeling her muscles work.

"Oh, god yes," Tara breathed. Confirming with a quick glance that Tara, in spite of her arousal, was fulfilling her duty of watching everything that happened on stage, Willow took a longer look around, allowing her eyes to adjust a little to the dimness, away from the stage's lights. She could just make out the silhouettes of the other lounge chairs spaced around them - of their occupants, she could barely see a thing.

"I think my hand's feeling a little cramped," she whispered to Tara, returning her gaze to the stage.

"O-oh?" Tara asked.

"Your panties," Willow murmured. She felt Tara's body stiffen.

"Down," she commanded. On the stage, Tabby and Persian were on either side of their mistress, straddling her thighs, licking and stroking her stomach and breasts; Siamese was kneeling between her legs, gazing hungrily upwards, while the fourth was feasting on Miss Kitty's left arm, sucking her fingers, kissing her hand, licking from palm to shoulder and back again. Miss Kitty's right hand remained between Cheshire's legs, hidden from the audience, but its activities were clear from the rapturous expressions passing over the kitten's face, bathed in spotlights.

Willow felt Tara hesitate, and cupped her soothingly, resting her other hand reassuringly on her hip.

"It's okay if-" she began in a whisper, but Tara shook her head quickly. She lifted a hand to Willow's face and touched her lips, dragging her fingertip over her bottom lip, then eagerly accepting as Willow opened her mouth, and ran her tongue along her finger. Tara stroked her cheek, leaving a cold trail from her wet finger, then put both hands to her hips, gently moving Willow's hand aside, and hooked her thumbs into the silk panties which, besides her boots, comprised the entirety of her costume below the waist.

"D-down," she whispered, making Willow's heart skip a beat.

"You heard me," she replied, smiling as she felt Tara relax into her arms - the game understood, and accepted.

Tara lifted herself up, just enough to slip the silken panties beneath her bottom, then settled back between Willow's legs and slid them down her thighs to her knees. She stopped there, and Willow gave her a light, quick pat on her sex.

"All the way," she whispered. "Give them to me."

Tara nodded, and pushed them off her knees, letting them slip down the rest of the way under their own weight, coming to rest around her feet. She hooked the toe of her boot through them and lifted them up, as Willow leant around her side and held her coat open. Tara took the panties with a trembling hand and folded them, then slid them into Willow's inside pocket, closing the coat and patting it down when she was done.

"That's better," Willow murmured, settling back in behind her. "Isn't that better? Look at that kitten's face..." Cheshire was moaning ecstatically as Miss Kitty gyrated behind her, one or both hands always between her kitten's legs, while Siamese crouched low or stretched up to keep her mouth firmly fixed on Miss Kitty's pussy as she moved, and the other three kittens writhed sensuously over her body, as if they were gymnasts, she a particularly unorthodox piece of equipment, and they were being scored on how many inventive ways they could think of to caress every part of her body with every part of theirs.

"Everyone's watching," Willow went on. "You want to be like that? Everyone watching your face, watching you come? There's a spotlight on us, baby," she chuckled, in spite of the obvious absence of any lights not focused on the athletic six-some on stage, "you're lit up, and everyone staring at your face? Heh, not just your face, I bet... You're so lovely, Tara, show everyone. Stretch your lovely legs out. Go on, nice and wide."

Tara complied, slowly opening her legs beneath the table in front of them, pressing hard against Willow's legs on either side of her, then with a stifled little sigh, lifting her thighs and resting them on top of Willow's. The redhead could feel the heat of Tara's blush radiating off her face, and she leaned closer, brushing their cheeks together, to capture it, while below she undulated the palm of her hand against Tara's mound, while her fingertips maintained their teasing vigil between her labia.

"Almost there," she whispered. "Just lift up that little skirt thing. Make sure everyone can see..." She let her fingertips press just a fraction harder on Tara's opening, teasing her with the possibility of entry.

Tara took a deep, shuddering breath, and brought her hands to the lacy folds of fabric hanging from her brief brassiere, which were now all that covered her modesty - and between being semi-transparent and provocatively short, weren't doing a very good job to begin with. Nonetheless Tara dutifully lifted them, clenching the gauzy folds tightly in her fists, pressed hard against her chest, leaving her naked from her stomach to the tops of her boots.

"Yessss," Willow hissed, finally curling her fingers upward and sliding them into Tara. The blonde let out a quiet sob and shook in her arms, almost a tiny climax; Willow's entry met no resistance, only soaking softness that welcomed her and clutched at her fingers, as if trying to coax her deeper inside.

"Oh, wow," Willow murmured. "You like this, huh? Mmm, my shy baby's getting off on this, oh yes..." She broke off to kiss and lick Tara's cheek while her fingers stroked leisurely in and out of her sopping sex, and quickly added a third finger, reaching the exciting tightness which Tara's helpless arousal had momentarily lessened.

"We're going to have to think of a new codename for you, won't we?" she whispered. "I don't think 'Shy Bunny' is really appropriate any more, do you? Not for a goddess who gets off on a whole theatre full of people watching her lover fuck her juicy wet pussy."

"Uh, oh, god..." Tara breathed. Willow felt the trembling inside her, deep in her belly, and quickened her pace.

"In fact, I bet all the television cameras have found us by now," she grinned. "Hundreds of millions of people, all watching you, baby. All watching you, and you love it. You want them to watch, you want to come in front of all of them. 'Shy Bunny' is definitely out... Naked Bunny? Bare Bunny? Oh, I know..." She withdrew her fingers for a moment, and chuckled as Tara hunched down, trying to lower herself back onto them.

"Wanton Bunny," she whispered, brushing her fingertips over Tara's sex.

"Yes- ah!" Tara gasped, as Willow re-entered her, but now with all four fingers, thrusting firmly into her tightness. She clenched hard, in surprise and sudden excitement, and Willow let her ride out her first real climax without moving, waiting until she let out a shuddering exhalation, and her muscles eased a fraction, before resuming her rhythmic thrusts, aided by the new flood of lubrication bathing her hand.

"Come on sweetie," she breathed in Tara's ear. "Give your fans what they want."

"Oh," Tara whimpered between clenched teeth, trying not to cry out loud.

"Show them how much you love me," Willow chuckled.

"Oh, yes," Tara whispered fiercely, before the effort of stifling her moans silenced her as her body convulsed in earnest. Willow held her, feeling her muscles work, feeling the warm gush of pleasure over her fingers. On the stage Cheshire was letting out a final wail of release, Miss Kitty was withdrawing her hands from between the woman's splayed legs, and the other kittens were crowding into their place, lapping enthusiastically.

"I think they're finishing up," Willow whispered. Tara murmured happily as Willow withdrew from her, causing parting flutters as her fingers slid against her clinging walls.

"No hurry," she chuckled quietly.

"The house lights might come back on," Willow said. She reached for a napkin with her free hand; the other she brought to her mouth, but Tara leant sideways to lick her fingers, and they settled on sucking two fingers each, while Willow gently dabbed Tara's mound and thighs dry, hampered slightly by Tara's ongoing arousal.

"A little longer," Tara giggled quietly. "This seat is fairly concealing..."

"Not totally," Willow pointed out. "Someone might see."

"Someone might," Tara agreed, smiling. "But seeing as we're flirting with discovery already..."

"You're naughty," Willow grinned.

"Me?" Tara scoffed lightly. "Who was just telling me all about making love to me on international television?"

"Who was just getting really turned on by it?" Willow countered.

"You," Tara replied impishly.

"You too," Willow retorted.

"Guilty as charged... Cordelia..."

"What?" Willow asked, changing mental gears.

"Cordelia," Tara said, frowning. On stage Miss Kitty and her kittens were making their bows - Willow scanned the stage, but saw no-one else.

"Where?" she asked.

"Cheshire," Tara whispered. "I know it's not her face, but... that's her - that grin, it has to be her!" Willow glanced quickly at Cheshire - grinning like her namesake, making one final bow then sauntering off with her fellow kittens, a definite spring in her step.

"I'm sure," Tara said.

"Adorabunny to control," Willow whispered quickly into her transceiver. "We have a sighting, Cheshire Cat is Agent Queen Bunny, we're heading for the dressing rooms-"

"No time," Tara whispered, "come on!" She grabbed Willow's hand, and the two of them raced, heads down, through the darkened theatre, ignoring the applause as the spotlights focused on the awards ceremony's presented, and the announcer's voice returned: "And now your host for tonight, the director and star of Lovers, Liars and Lunatics, and the upcoming Gryphon 2: The Princess's Bride-"

"Say again Adorabunny," Anya interrupted over the radio. "Cheshire Cat the dancer is Cordelia?"

"She must have an IM disguise kit," Tara explained quickly, dashing through the deserted foyer with Willow on her heels. "We're in the foyer heading east-"

"Backup's on the way, Sith Bunny and Raven Bunny are moving to the stage exits in case she doubles back, Running Bunny and Rhi Bunny cutting off alternate escapes from the dressing rooms, Pineapple Bunny at the main door."

"Damn it, I should have realised sooner," Tara muttered as they tore along backstage corridors.

"IMs are virtually flawless," Willow replied quickly. "Spotting her at all was a miracle." They skidded to a halt outside Miss Kitty's dressing room, where Pineapple Bunny was waiting.

"All six went in, no-one's come out," she reported briskly, pushing the door open.

"Thanks," Tara said, barely slowing down, with Willow behind her. Inside was a kind of common room, with other doors leading to individual dressing rooms. Miss Kitty was lounging on a sofa with Persian massaging her legs, and her head pillowed on Tabby's stomach.

"What-" she began to say.

"Ministry," Willow said quickly.

"Where's Cheshire?" Tara asked.

"Her room, or Siamese's," Miss Kitty replied, eyes wide, but businesslike from the moment Willow mentioned the Ministry. "Is she in danger?"

"She's an impostor," Willow called over her shoulder, as Tara darted to the door and opened it. Inside they drew up short, finding a woman handcuffed to a luxurious four-poster bed, looking at them curiously.

"Are you- wait," Tara said. "You're Lynx..."

"Are you here to watch or join in?" the bound kitten asked curiously, as Siamese appeared from the ensuite with a cat-o-nine-tails.

"Sorry, wrong room," Willow said sheepishly, as Tara hurried out and through the adjacent door. The scene inside was almost identical - four-poster, woman, handcuffs. Willow and Tara exchanged a confused glance, but then the women noticed them and gave a muffled squeal through her ball gag.

"Did she come through here?" Tara asked. The real Cheshire nodded and jerked her head sideways, towards her room's ensuite, while Miss Kitty and the other kittens bundled through the doorway behind the two agents.

"She'd never let herself get cornered," Tara muttered, shoving the ensuite door open. Sure enough the small room was empty, but a hole had been cut through the ceiling to the floor above.

"Anya, she's got up a level!" Willow reported, as Tara jumped for the edge and hauled herself up. She held out a hand to help Willow up, then they were off again, racing along a corridor cluttered with old set pieces. From the hole came Miss Kitty's voice, calling out: "If she's not irredeemably evil, can I have her number?"

"Floor sectors one through five are secure on that level," Anya reported back. "She could have headed for the stage rigging. Pastel Bunny's en route, Morning Bunny and Space Bunny moving into the floor above you in case she kept going up-"

"She wouldn't just run," Tara insisted. "Osbourne's transmitter has to be up here somewhere..."

"Anya, give us a transmissions sweep," Willow said. "Full spectrum, narrow focus to the stage rigging area and the lighting catwalks."

"On it. ETA ten seconds."

They emerged onto one of the network of catwalks in the shadowy space above the stage. Most of the set from Miss Kitty's act, trees and rocks and vines, had been raised, and was now dangling from sturdy cables. They, and the reflected light from the banks of spotlights below, cast an eerie half-luminescence around the cavernous, cluttered space. The sound of the presenters' voices and the applause of the crowd was muted and distant.

"Data trunks," Willow muttered, examining the cables strapped to the catwalks. "It must be one of these, they're hiding the signal in the broadcast before it even gets to the control room." They crept through the labyrinth of suspended walkways, hurrying as quickly and quietly as they could, checking every shadow for a trace of their prey. The sounds from below echoed around them.

"-second award tonight, most gorgeous couple on a reality TV show. And the nominees are: The Amazing Kitten Race, with Team Lovebirds. Survivor Ash Island, with-"

"Scans negative," Anya reported. "Fred's doing everything she can think of to boost the resolution..."

"I've got it!" Willow whispered excitedly, crouching down. There was a slim silver box bolted to the underside of the catwalk, and spliced into the cables running past it. Willow stretched out and ducked her head over the edge, looking at the box upside-down as she opened its casing.

"Clever, almost no residual transmission traces," she murmured.

"Can you shut it down?" Tara asked, slowly turning to try to keep as much of their shadowy surroundings as possibly in view.

"I think- oh frilly heck!" the redhead exclaimed. "There's a backup somewhere, if I shut this down, the backup will... well, there's no telling what it'd do, but I bet it won't be good."

"What can we do?" Tara asked. Willow thought furiously.

"Find the other box," she whispered after a second. "I'll stay here - if we shut them both down at the same time, it'll work."

"As soon as our backup gets here - Anya, what's-"

"Fifty seconds, we're spread over the whole building to cover her escape routes."

"Cordy's still up here somewhere-"

"No time, this could hijack the broadcast at any second!" Willow insisted. "I'll be alright - Tara sweetie, you have to do this."

Tara grimaced, then leant down and kissed the back of Willow's neck.

"Love you," she whispered.

"I love you too," Willow replied as Tara raced off along the catwalk.

"It'll look the same?" she asked.

"My guess is yes," Willow replied via radio. Tara rounded a corner and started as something moved, just on the edge of her vision. She swung around, but there was nothing but a hanging palm tree, swaying slightly on its cables.

"Willow, if you hear anyone, get out of there," she whispered.

"I don't hear anything."

"That's what I'm worried about- Willow, I think I've found it," Tara interrupted herself, crouching down and leaning over the edge of the catwalk. A grey box, darker than the other but otherwise identical, was attached to an upright support beam.

"Open the case and find a cluster of three twisted pair wires," Willow instructed her.

"I see them," Tara said, working quickly. "Two red-blue, one red-white."

"Drat, the colours are different," Willow muttered. "At the end nearest the edge of the case, that cluster goes into a flux capacitor, a little box with pulsing lights."

"Got it."

"Whichever of those three pairs is the middle one, yank it out when I say 'now'."

"Ready," Tara breathed, wrapping her fingers around the wires.

"Okay. After three. One... two... three... NOW!"

Tara pulled the wire hard, and nearly banged her elbow on the side of the catwalk as it abruptly snapped. The lights within the box went dead.

"Broadcast is unaffected, no foreign signals going out," Anya reported. "I think you girls did it."

"Willow?" Tara grinned. "Willow?" The grin fell from her face as the channel remained silent.

"All units converge on Agent Adorabunny's location!" Anya ordered, as Tara raced back along the catwalks, skidding around corners. She reached the walkway where she had left Willow, and caught sight of Buffy sprinting into view at the other end, followed by Faith.

"Where is she?" Tara called.

"Didn't come this way," Buffy called back, running towards her. Tara reached the spot where Willow had been, where the deactivated silver box was still bolted to the underside of the walkway, its case open and one wire hanging loose. On a hunch, she looked up, and caught sight of something moving in the dim shadows above.

"Roof!" she snapped, lifting her arms. She snapped the trailing end of the decorative leash to the loop around her wrist, and at a touch it shot up, unwinding an ultra-thin cable behind it. There was a distant 'thunk' as it struck something, then Tara grabbed hold of the wrist loop with her other hand and shot up as the grappling line hoisted her out of sight between the hanging segments of set.

"Anya, Tara's in pursuit, get agents to the roof," Faith reported. "And if anyone's got a grappling hook, get it up here now!" Buffy stared up, frowning.

"Was it just me," she said, "or was she not wearing panties?"

Faith nudged her.

"Told you Red had a wild side," she smirked. "Screw this waiting, let's start climbing."

Paris, France
The Moulin Rouge, Roof
1937 Hours

Tara clambered out of the hold lasered through the roof just in time to see Cordelia, now dressed in a silver and green combat suit, hauling a handcuffed and gagged Willow towards the giant decorative windmill atop the building.

"Cordy!" she shouted. "Let her go!"

"No can do!" Cordelia yelled back, dragging Willow along with her in spite of her struggles. "She makes a pretty good hostage, don't you think?"

"Willow I'm coming!" Tara cried, racing forwards as Cordelia kicked open an access hatch on the side of the windmill and pulled Willow inside with her. A sudden gust of wind nearly blew Tara off her feet, and then she had to turn and shield her head with her arms as the windmill exploded into a hail of wooden shrapnel. A large, but fortunately light, chunk hit Tara square in the back, knocking her flat on the roof, but shielding her from any further injury from the storm of splinters.

She kicked the board off and rolled over, to see a sleek black helicopter rising on side-mounted rockets from where the windmill had stood, the last scraps of its neon-lit sails flying away from the rotor blades they had concealed. With a blast from its rockets the helicopter shot into the sky, levelled out, and flew off into the night.

"Anya, airborne pursuit, now!" Tara shouted into her radio, running to the edge of the roof in futile chase of the departing helicopter. She heard footsteps behind her, and turned, expecting help, only to find herself surrounded by unfriendly-looking, well-armed mercenaries, led by Adam Walsh.

"Remember the Disco Volante?" he grinned cruelly. "You won't be escaping this time."


Continue to Smut Bunnies Chapter 16a


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