By the time Daniel was dragged to the sales floor, he was bruised in at least seven places, two of which didn’t show; he was chained, collared, naked, sweating, had been forcibly showered three times and had his hair combed five time. He was furious, but he’d gone past furious into panic and then past panic into shaking.
And then the cat-girl walked into the room.
There was no other word for her. She had perky cat ears, whiskers, and a tail; she had a human face and body with fur or patterns on her hands – paws? She was wearing a small dress and tall heels, and very little else.
She strode in like she owned the place, and here, in California, where supposedly anything went, everyone stared. Daniel couldn’t fault them; he was staring too. Had to be prosthetics, or some sort of cosplay thing. But the ears were moving. The tail was moving.
The girl was moving. Woman, he supposed, nobody ever called them cat-women. Except DC comics. Anyway. She was moving towards him. She was carrying something in her hand. Something – what –
“Oh, no, no, no, no.” He couldn’t back up. He was so very locked to this place he was standing. He could fall backwards, and he did that. “No.”
She leaned down until her lips were nearly at his ear. “Yes.”
He felt the leash clip onto his collar, but he was out of options.
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