Lira presses closer to his leg, purring possessively.
"Should we let them complain?" she whispers.
Kai strokes her ear.
"Let them complain. Let them sweat. Let them learn. Soon they'll all smell the same… or one will break trying."
The sun is already warming the village when Mira passes Sylva for the third time that morning. The ex-alpha carries a heavy bucket of water from the upper river, short chain jingling against her collar, thighs trembling with effort. Sweat glistens on her tanned skin, pale crusts of old cum still marking the insides of her legs. Mira walks slowly, as if in no hurry, and as she crosses paths she "accidentally" brushes the thick base of Sylva's tail with the back of her hand.
A light tug. Just the sensitive root.
Sylva freezes. The bucket wobbles; water splashes her feet. A hoarse, guttural moan escapes her throat before she can bite her lip. Her knees buckle, pussy visibly clenching under the thin fabric, a hot trickle dripping down her inner thigh. Her pupils dilate instantly into perfect hearts, beating fast and treacherous.
Mira stops, feigning surprise.
"What's wrong, new bitch?" she asks hoarsely, voice amused. "Is the water too heavy, or is it something else?"
Around them, several local catgirls—Sira, Nia, Kael—turn their heads. Slow smiles spread across their faces. The newcomers working nearby lower their gazes, but their ears perk up, sniffing the shift in the air: hot shame and forced arousal.
Sylva grits her teeth, face burning like coals. She tries to keep walking, but Mira takes another step and "unintentionally" steps on the tip of her tail, pulling upward with more force.
"Ahhn…!" The moan comes out louder this time, broken and animal. Sylva drops the bucket; water spills in a shining puddle. Her hips arch instinctively, tail rigid in the air, pussy throbbing visibly under the soaked fabric. A short, silent squirt wets her thighs, dripping all the way to her ankles. Her heart-shaped pupils race uncontrollably, impossible to hide.
The locals laugh low. Sira purrs in amusement, Nia bites her lip. One newcomer—tall, silver ears—looks away, but her thighs clench.
Mira crouches slowly, grabs the base of the tail with two fingers and tugs again, soft but firm.
"Poor tail," she murmurs, voice deep and mocking. "So sensitive… isn't it, Sylva?"
Sylva gasps, knees shaking. She tries to speak, but only a choked moan comes out. Her face burns, tears of shame welling at the corners. The purr that escapes her chest is involuntary, vibrant, betraying her in front of everyone.
Mira releases the tail and straightens, smiling slowly.
"How clumsy of me," she says loudly enough for everyone to hear. "I always trip over this… expressive tail."
Sylva stays frozen, breathing hard, heart pupils beating without control. The scent of her arousal spreads: sweet, musky, impossible to conceal. Several newcomers lower their heads, thighs squeezed; some locals purr louder, satisfied.
Kai watches from the central platform, cock hardening under the fabric as he takes in the show. Lira, pressed to his leg, purrs possessively and slides her hand down to brush his crotch.
"Should we let her keep 'tripping'?" Lira whispers, voice rough with excitement.
Kai strokes her ear.
"Let her keep going," he answers low. "Let everyone see what happens when a broken alpha tries to hide what she feels."
Mira passes Sylva again on her way back with an empty bucket. This time the "accident" lasts longer: she grabs the entire tail and pulls slowly, from base to tip.
Sylva folds forward with a stifled cry, squirting another hot jet that splashes the ground. Her heart pupils beat frantically, face red all the way to her ears, broken purr escaping without control.
Everyone watches.
No one helps.
And Sylva, trembling from head to toe, knows she can no longer hide anything.
(To be continued in Chapter 53…)