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Catherine’s scream tore through the pub, a raw, piercing sound that mingled pain, shock, and a strange, exhilarating relief. The wooden pegs, ripped from her flesh in one brutal tug, left her skin burning, the sharp sting radiating from her chest to her core. Her body convulsed, her knees buckling slightly as she collapsed forward on the sticky table, her tail cowering down to protect her most intimate folds.

“T…Thank you, sir” she muttered, her voice now completely broken. Wet, salty tears streamed down her face, smearing the remnants of her makeup and mixing with the bitter beer still clinging to her fur. She was shaking, exhausted, her voice trembling with raw emotion. The crowd roared, their cheers a chaotic wave that crashed over her, amplifying the intensity of the moment.

Kat’s chest heaved, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as she tried to process the overwhelming sensations. Her lime-green eyes, wide and glassy, darted to Ian, who stood over her with a smug, satisfied grin. That grin. That damn, beautiful, cruel grin. The black cat’s presence was magnetic, his control absolute, and yet there was that flicker of care in his gaze, checking her without breaking the scene.

He could tell she was in very deep. He stepped closer, his claws grazing her chin as he tilted her face up to meet his eyes. She sniffled up, gulping down as a new wave of sobs were coursing through her. Catherine couldn’t tell when was the last time that she cried for pain. She had screamed in such a high pitch that her throat hurt, and her belly was still humming in burning waves, connecting her nipples to her clit in a stinging sensation that would raise every time blood flowed through her skin.

Her petite figure trembled, leaning into Ian’s hands like a lifeline, her eyes meeting his in a pitiful manner. Her caretaker leaned in, whispering in her ear “You know you can make this all stop if you want, right?” Catherine sniffled again, rubbing her eyes and nodding. “Thank you, sir. I’m… *sniff*… I’m fine… Sir…” the poor thing couldn’t control her trembling voice. But to Ian this was enough. He looked at Paul, his cameraman, who was zooming in on her bum to catch a close-up of her twitching tail over her sloppy wet cunt.

“Looks like our Bubblegum has been chewed and spit out!” he exclaimed, receiving the hooting of the crowd in response. Some of them were banging their cups on their tables, others were shouting crude encouragements. To Ian it was always crazy how people reacted to his public disgrace shootings – the way random strangers would happily join without question, seizing the first opportunity to unleash their pent-up cruelty on the poor souls he worked with.

It was in these moments that he felt he could truly see people for who they were: him, a sadist with the passion for breaking nice things, and Kat, a masochist begging to stop being the pride of her family, the saviour of her patients, the peak of honour and merit. Fuck, even Paul stopped being that sloppy idiot of a junkyard dog and started acting like a goddamn artist from the moment he was filming.

But that wasn’t the time for introspection. The crowd was waiting, and the show was ready to go on. Kat’s tail twitched, her body still quivering from the pegs’ removal. Ian reached to the side, grabbing a half-empty bottle of beer from the table. The glass glinted under the dim pub lights, its contents sloshing as he held it up for the crowd to see. “Time to wake our little bunny up!” he announced, his tone dripping with sadistic amusement. Before Kat could brace herself, he tilted the bottle over her head, letting the cold, fizzy liquid pour down her face.

The beer stung her eyes and soaked her already matted fur, snapping her out of her tearful daze. She gasped, her mouth opening instinctively, and the crowd laughed as her sobs broke into a startled sputter. “Open wide…” Ian commanded, his voice sharp and authoritative. He flipped the bottle in his hand, gripping it by the neck so the wide base faced straight onto her. Kat’s eyes widened, her heart pounding as she realized what was coming.

The bottle’s base, cold and slick with beer, hovered inches from her lips. She hesitated for a split second, her mind racing, but the weight of the crowd’s eyes and Ian’s unyielding presence pushed her forward. She parted her lips, her tongue darting out nervously as she leaned toward the bottle. “Good girl!” Ian purred, his free hand grabbing a fistful of her blue hair to hold her head steady. With a slow, deliberate push, he pressed the base of the bottle against her lips, forcing her to stretch her mouth wide to accommodate its girth.

Kat’s eyes watered anew, not from pain this time but from the sheer intensity of the act. The glass was cold and unyielding, filling her mouth as Ian pushed it deeper, testing her limits. Her throat tightened, a soft gag escaping her as the bottle’s base nudged the back of her mouth, but she leaned into it, her body surrendering to the humiliating thrill.

The crowd started buzzing like a beehive, chanting in frenzy “Chug! Chug! Chug!” as if she were simply downing a drink for them. Ian’s grip on her hair tightened, guiding her head back and forth, mimicking the rhythm of a far more intimate act. “That’s it, princess,” he said, his voice low and mocking “show them how much you love it.” Kat’s muffled moans vibrated against the glass, her tongue pressed flat as she struggled to keep her breath down her throat.

The taste of beer lingered, mixing with the metallic tang of her own exertion, and her eyes fluttered shut as she gave herself over to the sensation. The camera relentlessly zoomed in on her face, capturing the way her lips stretched around the bottle, the tears glistening in her eyes, the flush of her cheeks beneath her damp fur, the twitch of her nose as she sniffled again. The red light of the camera felt like another pair of eyes, stripping her bare for an even bigger, unseen audience.

Kat’s body trembled, her arms flexing uselessly behind her as Ian pushed the bottle deeper, her throat constricting around it in a way that sent a shiver of pleasure-pain through her entire being. “Deeper” Ian ordered, his voice a low growl that cut through the crowd’s noise. He tilted her head back further, the angle forcing the bottle to press against the back of her throat. Kat gagged again, louder this time, her body jerking as she fought to relax her muscles.

Her nose twitched frantically, her breaths coming in short, desperate sniffs through her nostrils. The crowd cheered louder, some shouting crude remarks about her [i]talent[/i], others egging Ian on to push her further. He cheerfully obliged, easing the bottle in and out with a slow, deliberate rhythm, each thrust stretching her throat and testing her endurance. Kat’s mind was completely shut down, her world reduced to the cold glass filling her mouth and the burn in her throat.
Ian sped up the pace, and her body reacted on instinct, her hips squirming against the table, her tail flicking with every push.

The humiliation was overwhelming, but so was the heat pooling in her core, her arousal undeniable despite (or because of) the utter degradation. Ian leaned in close, his breath hot against her ear. “You’re taking it so well, girl” he whispered, his encouraging voice offering a grounding anchor amidst the chaos. Kat’s eyes flickered open, meeting his, and she gave a tiny, desperate nod, her lips still wrapped around the bottle. The act was intense, invasive, but it was exactly the complete surrender and loss of control that she had craved.

He smirked, pulling the bottle back slightly to let her catch her breath. Kat gasped, saliva and beer dribbling down her chin, her chest heaving as she gulped air. The crowd jeered, some tossing more cups that splashed against her back, the cold liquid making her shiver. Ian didn’t give her long to recover. “Again.” he said, his tone peremptory, leaving no room for hesitation. He pushed the bottle back in, deeper this time, and Kat’s throat spasmed as she fought to accommodate it. Her gags were louder, wetter, each one drawing a fresh wave of cheers from the crowd. “Look at her go!” a voice shouted from the crowd, a hyena with a pierced ear, holding up her phone to record. “Make her choke on it!” another called, followed by a new round of cheers.

Ian obliged, pushing the bottle just far enough to make Kat’s eyes water and her body shake. Her throat was burning, her jaw ached so goddamn much, but the rush of being so utterly used, so completely at his mercy, kept her pushing through. She wanted to please him, to please them, to be the perfect toy they all wanted. Finally, Ian pulled the bottle free with a wet pop, leaving Kat coughing and gasping, her face a mess of tears, saliva, and beer.
She slumped forward slightly, her body trembling, her burning up with a wild, desperate fire. “Thank you, sir…” she rasped, her voice hoarse but fervent. Ian tossed the bottle aside, letting it clatter onto the table, and grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him.

“That was a good warm up” he menacingly said. He glanced at the crowd, then back at her, his grin widening. “Who wants to see what else this little slut can handle?” The crowd’s roar was deafening, and Kat’s heart pounded, her body buzzing with anticipation and fear. She was theirs, and she wanted nothing more than to see how much further they could push her.

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Told ya it wouldn't take long for the next part ;)
Today I feel like doubling down for you! Stay tuned for the next parts!
Sketch page from :iconnyxapnea: and me, from 2020 I think.

If you need to catch up, here's the rest of the story so far:
[61924739, 61195009, -]

These sketches all follow a storyline which can be read in the descriptions.
Overall, the story follows Catherine, a female punk bunny, as she takes part to the shooting of a public disgrace video.