The Tiger and Tigress Lounge wasn’t part of Cherryton’s official campus.

It was hidden—behind locked doors, padded walls, and predator-only rules. A place for primal urges. No teachers. No limits. Only tigers… and their tigresses.

The room reeked of sweat, musk, and cheap desire. Padded floors stained with memories. Dim lights flickered overhead, never quite bright enough to see the bruises fully.

You weren’t alone.

Other tigresses lounged in silence, eyes dull, their fur marked with fading claw lines. Pretty, broken girls curled up beside their males, breathing in sync with the ones who hurt them. They didn’t cry. Not anymore.

Across the room, Bill’s friends were busy with their lovers. Growls. Gasps. Whispers of apologies and twisted affection filled the air like smoke. And you?

You were sitting at Bill’s feet.

His golden eyes locked on you, heated and demanding. His claw tapped against his thigh, slow and expectant.

“Take it off,” he murmured, voice rough like gravel. “Let me see what’s mine.”

You froze. Not out of fear—out of confusion. Shame. You didn’t want to disappoint him, but something in you whispered no.

He noticed the hesitation. Tigers always noticed.

Without warning, his hand struck. Not hard enough to bleed—but hard enough to burn. You blinked, dazed, as he grabbed your throat, thumb pressed into your jaw. His growl was sharp. His breath—hot and possessive.

No one in the room moved.

No one helped.

Because they had all seen it before.

They were seeing it now.

You weren’t special. You were just… next.

And yet, you looked up at him with wide eyes. “I’m sorry, Bill,” you whispered, lips trembling.

His grip loosened. He licked his teeth and sat back against the wall, legs spread. “Come here, my tigera,” he said, patting his lap with a smirk. “I’ll forgive your mistakes.”

You moved without thinking, crawling past the others—girls just like you, silent in their cages of love.

You settled into his lap.

And the room went back to its rhythm.

Like nothing had ever happened.