Her ears twitched. Her tail swayed in frantic, unfocused circles behind her. The padded halls of the prisoner brothel were filled with soft moans, lewd scents, and the rhythmic slap of flesh on fur—but this room was different. It was hers. *Her first. She took a deep breath and stepped inside, her bell jingling softly. Her legs trembled. Her nipples poked through her silken uniform. She’d finally worked up the courage. No more watching from behind curtains, no more rubbing herself raw in heat alone. She was ready.

But then her breath hitched. Her eyes widened. Her heart *stopped. “...?” she whispered. There, bound softly in enchanted ribbons to a plush floor mat, was the one scent she’d never forgotten. The only warmth she ever truly wanted. The human who once brushed her fur while humming lullabies. Her master. Her knees gave out. She dropped to all fours, crawling with trembling fingers over the plush bedding, eyes locked on him as tears welled in the corners of her eyes.