Paid the Price

Lance was soaked, droplets of sweat coating the various tints of gray on his fur and leaving their mark on his disheveled shirt. He had to wait, nervous, tired and fearing the worst, while those inside the boss’s room deliberated on his fate. Granted, the boss herself was likely doing most of the talking, and as Lance peeked through the window blinds, he saw a wide variety of reactions on their faces.

The more experienced folks in here, tall, well-built and stoic, knew better than to go against the boss and argue with her. They simply nodded, her stern words inaudible through the thick glass and walls. They occasionally peeked back at the anxious, sweaty tabby cat, turning back around with a scoff or a grin.

The newer faces in the gang, though, could hardly believe it. Lance couldn’t read their lips, but as he eyed them through the windows, he saw it in their faces. It wasn’t that serious of a mistake, they surely said. It was his first heist and he got flustered, they probably said. The car wasn’t even damaged, one of them might’ve said, maybe. But one by one, their complaints — and their body language — were drained and depleted.

The boss, hidden among the shadows of the dimly lit room, tapped her desk and waved them off. Quickly, in a single file, the mass of ne'er-do-wells shuffled away, some livelier than others. Out of the corner of his eye, Lance saw one of them sizing him up — and letting out an eager chuckle. What’s so funny…?

“Alright, your turn, big guy! Up you go!” One of the two guards who was watching over him, wearing a black suit and carrying a big machine gun with one hand, easily picked him up with the other hand. ‘Big guy’ was a helluva misnomer; Lance was shorter than short, since he wouldn’t have needed to be a hulking beast to play his part. Not that he did, anyway.

A harsh shove put him right inside that shadowy room, and the door slammed shut. It was dead silent, save for his rushed breaths and the fumbling of the chair as he took a seat in front of his boss.

THE boss. Maxine.

Or rather, Max; anyone who called her by her informal name would usually get pistol-whipped and corrected. Lance only had to learn that lesson once, to her delight. Maxine was a lady’s name. She was no lady.

“…You really let me down today, Lance.” Max spoke in a low, hushed tone, barely above a whisper. The single, yellow light that hung from the ceiling barely lended a glimpse of her clawed hands. She filed them — or maybe sharpened them — nonchalantly.

Lance’s fur frizzled up. “…Y-Yeah. Sorry—”

“Shh.” The shush itself was loud and sudden, certainly a few levels above her speaking voice. It shut him up good. “You’ll talk when I ask you to.”

Lance lowered his head, and stayed quiet.

“There you go. See how easy it is to follow orders, Lance?” She leaned forward. Her black suit was immaculate, same for her clean gray fur. She was close enough to the light that her fierce, yellow eyes could be seen, with deep dark slits in the middle. Her gaze was unavoidable, and in any other situation, Lance might’ve thought she looked pretty stunning. “So easy. So easy that I had to wonder: why’d you have to go and disobey our orders today? Hm?”

Lance had no answer, but he felt compelled to try and put words together anyway. “I… I dunno. I thought— The heist, i-it was looking a little shaky and the fuzz showed up ahead of time so— So I went and—”

“Shhh.” Max had heard enough, though frankly she already knew what she was gonna do to this lightweight before he had even stepped into the room. “You tried to get away.”

Lance stayed quiet and nodded.

“You tried to get away in our getaway car.” She leaned forward even more, resting her elbows on the table and tilting her head with a puzzled look.

The nervous tabby cat chuckled awkwardly. “But I— Look, I was just gonna… Go around the block and—”

“Oh, I’m sure.” Max had a bit of a growl in her voice now. “Just taking it for a little spin, maybe? Just to make sure it works? While half the cops in town jump out of their seats to chase us down?”

Lance averted his eyes.

“I’m sure we could’ve just jogged back to the hideout if we bribed every single cop that tried to stop us, yeah! You just go and scurry off! Who needs a goddamn GETAWAY CAR?!” Max slammed the table for emphasis; the effort slightly ruffled up her snazzy fur, and she brushed it back into shape with her hand. Her rushed breathing slowed right away.

Lance couldn’t say a word now, even if he wanted to.

Max went on. “…See what you’re doing to me? You’re lucky, is the thing. You’re lucky that our guys surrounded you on the road first. Our cops. That’s a lot of junk that could be traced back to us here.” Max was long done with this charade. She let out a deep sigh and slumped back on her seat. “…So, Lance. What do you suggest we do with you?”

“…Me?” Lance figured it’d be nice to be honest. “Well… You could let me go. Guess it’s over for me.”

Max smirked. She put a hand on her mouth, trying to contain a hearty chuckle and squinting her piercing eyes. “Oh, I like that idea, actually. Letting you go.” Something had clearly popped into her mind. She stood up, and showed Lance the door. “That’s what the rest of the lads decided on, anyway. Go on. Don’t be shy.”

Lance figured something was up, but he was in no shape to make a run for it this time — too shaky, too jumpy, too brainfogged. He exited slowly.

As soon as he stepped through the door, though, the two guards seized him, an arm for each, and held him tightly in place, pushing him forwards further into the hideout rather than towards the exit.

Lance flailed and yelled uselessly. “Wha— H-Hey! You said you’d let me go!! Hnrgh— I-It was one mistake, it won’t happen again, boss! C’mon!!”

The guards, though, were cold and stiff as ever. “What’ll it be for this one, boss? Y’all decided yet?”

“Oh, we’ll let him go, alright.” Max adjusted her tie; her tail swayed eagerly behind her. She made a signal to the two guards: a finger pointed down and tapping her palm. “We’ve got a full house, too, so everyone’ll catch this one, heh.”

It suddenly occurred to Lance that everyone he had seen in the hideout was wearing black. He thought it was odd; no one had met their end in the failed heist today, after all.

At least not yet.

There was quite the lively mood inside the hideout that day. The big, moody gathering hall was a front, of course, for the mob’s less savory activities. But every week or two, there’d be interest in clearing up the schedules and inviting several other bigwigs and branches over for planning, mingling and just plain shady stuff. Lance hadn’t gotten to know most of this until he finally saw it for himself — on a really precarious position.

The walls were lined with massive water tanks, hosts to a wide variety of rare sea creatures for admiring and ogling; Max made sure no one asked too many questions about who was profiting from this. Much more important, though, was the centerpiece of this fancy spot; a large, cylindrical water tank, neatly decorated with corals, barnacles, seaweed… all real, and all arranged neatly in preparation for the secret ingredient:

A wet cat.

Lance stood on the edge of a thin, wobbly platform overlooking the open tank. There was no way he could jump from here to safety; it was quite tall, and the armed security at every door would make him regret it anyway. Not to mention he happened to be holding a pretty damn heavy ball-and-chain in his shaky hands, strapped to his wrists. He was still sweating bullets, but well… At least he’d wash it all off soon enough.

It was also worth noting, of course, that he had been stripped naked, long patterns of dark and light gray fur stretching across his scrawny, exposed body. Not a damn muscle in sight; he was only expected to use his brain that day, and even that barely got a workout during the failed heist. He couldn’t even put up a fight when he was quickly disrobed minutes earlier; the guards tore up his clothes like wet tissue paper, leaving this thin, lithe tabby with nothing to show (other than the obvious points of interest).

He kept the steel ball rather low to hide his flaccid dick, but it wasn’t gonna do much when he’s this high up and being ogled from every conceivable angle, including from behind. Even a tail as long and fluffy as his could only hide so much. A few errant whistles, jeers and jabs from across the hall, curious and attentive eyes everywhere… It was overwhelming Lance, leaving him embarrassed and shaking, even before he had touched a single drop of cold tank water.

Max, of course, had the best seat in the house, though she instead chose to stand mere inches away from the water tank, regardless of how much splashing she’d get when Lance took the plunge. She looked up, pressed closely against the sturdy glass and looking through the crisp, clear water. She’d be ready to see him sink as soon as it happened. “Just try getting out of this one, Lance,” she growled quietly, though her smile stayed put. “…Nowhere to go this time, heh.”

Lance could hear something ticking below his bare feet. A mechanism within the platform, he was ‘kindly’ told, would go off without warning and make it buckle to send him into the drink. The choice, if there was one, was clear: either he would take the deepest breath he could muster, jump in and, who knows, beg, or he would bide his time and try to make his case until he was let go.

The latter certainly didn’t work; every time he fessed up to the reason he was put up here in the first place, a mixed smattering of chuckles and boos echoed across the roomy hall. The former would surely help him last longer in the water, but it was also much more certain to seal his fate…

Slim pickings for the unfortunate tabby.

He felt the heat of the spotlights as they suddenly pointed to him, and that at least warmed him up a little bit. Even more heads around the hall turned and looked up, catching a clear sight of the shaky, butt-naked cat, and among the woos and calls to ‘jump in’ and get a ‘deep breath’, they could barely hear the metal chains clinking against each other. What now, what now…

Lance suddenly heard the ticking stop.

“N-No— GAAASP—” He got about half the breath he wanted before he sank through the surface with a noisy splash, casting a wide sprinkling of water all over the hall. For a fraction of a second, he heard the cheering get loud as the crowd finally got what they wanted, before the subtle, bubbly hum of the water took over. It got in his eyes, up his nostrils, and some of it even snuck into his mouth, already impatiently trying to sneak its way into him. But all it had to do was wait.

Max was more than willing to wait as long as it took. She leaned casually against the glass and chuckled, staring right at Lance while she sipped a rather strong drink. She could see the panic in his eyes, realizing what was gonna happen to him here, and she was barely phased by it. “Hey, just stay calm, big guy,” she teased him. “If you dig under the sand, who knows, you might find a getaway car stashed in there, heh. No keys, though!”

The jeering went on for some time, so much that some of her newer assistants might’ve thought she already drank too much. But the veterans knew she was always like this, and she hated, hated when plans went awry. Especially when it all came down to one damn guy.

That didn’t stop a few of these newbies from shuddering at the sight of Lance struggling in the water, though, the lights inside the tank giving everyone a real good look at his swaying, flailing junk and his mildly bouncy butt. It also didn’t stop them from shifting in their seats when his non-verbal pleas to stop this macabre display fell on deaf ears.

And Lance didn’t need much time to start those struggles; he had used a lot of energy already just to test the chains’ sturdiness, try to grind and file them against the rocks, even see if he could swim with them hard enough to gain some height. All of these attempts failed — to the amusement of Max, who could not, for the life of her, look away. As soon as she finished her small drink, she’d snap her fingers, and another one would be gingerly placed on her free hand. The other hand was pressed against the window into the depths. She showed a toothy smirk.

“Grghhblbl…” The heaves had already started. Lance recoiled when he felt his chest and stomach cave in from the force of it, pushing out much-needed air through his nostrils. It took a few, drawn-out seconds for these heaves to rock his frail body at first, but they soon sped up enough to make him squirm. Carried along with them were desperate, noisy grunts, audible enough to be heard through the glass for whoever happened to stand inches away from it.

Lance had a hard time deciding whether he should cover his mouth to avoid losing precious air, or cover his junk so everyone would stop staring at it already. For now, while he could still mostly control himself, he chose the latter, and withstood the loud heaves.

Max drew in a sharp breath before taking a big swig of her drink, though she didn’t ask for another quite yet. Her long tail swung wildly from side to side, and she idly scritched against the tank’s glass with a claw, then tugged at her shirt collar. When she devised this method of final punishment, details and safeguards and all, it never occurred for her just how fun it could be to see it in action.

The tabby felt worse for wear every time a contraction pushed forcefully against his nude body. The blurry shapes of black suits and packed tables were barely visible through the water, and indeed most folks in here had now focused solely on the spectacle at the centerpiece of the hall; it would only last a few more minutes, after all, and there was a long night of both planning and leisure ahead of them.

“Ghhblblgbl—!” Lance’s lungs soon began to feel red-hot, full of increasingly stale air that he needed to refresh, and fast. But there was no source of relief here, no way to swim all the way back up with heavy steel weighing him down, not even the tiniest air pocket nestled and lurking under a rock somewhere. He didn’t even entertain the thought of someone swooping in to save him; the platform had been wheeled off, and the sloshing water at the surface wasn’t even high enough for him to reach the edges of the tank — not that he could surface in the first place.

The boss certainly saw it. Hope began to scatter and fade from Lance’s eyes, replaced by an instinctive need to preserve his air. She knew what was next, and she had no plans to miss out on it, at all. The tabby’s cheeks, which had been a harsh tint of red not too long ago, began to show a more purple shade as the hypoxia first settled in. His small nipples turned a similar, yet subtle shade too, thanks to this increasingly dire lack of oxygen.

Snapping her fingers again, the third drink was placed on Max’s hand, and she narrowed her sight, fixated entirely on seeing this coward get what he deserved. The colorful display on his face certainly intrigued her, enough that she cracked a smile, interrupting a slow sip. She drew in a deep, slow inhale this time, almost mocking the tabby with how easily she could breathe, before exhaling just as slowly, then taking more careful sips of her little drink.

Lance was almost out of tricks, and quickly running out of time. He hurriedly lugged his steel ball behind him, leaving a soft little cloud of sand in its wake, as he approached Max’s corner of the glass. As much as it hurt to pick up all that weight, almost making his body buckle under the strain of it, he had to try it.

The tabby gathered whatever strength he still had left and began to slam that ball hard against the glass. The sight of it made Max raise an eyebrow (and sip her drink some more), but she didn’t say anything. It was quite the opposite for the gathered crowd, who spoke in hushed tones and nervously pointed out the possibility that this show might end prematurely. Then again…

The glass didn’t even budge.

If bullets couldn’t pierce it, a flimsy little fella’s bumps against it with a ball sure weren’t gonna do the trick either.

Max scoffed, and looked to the crowd with an incredulous expression to calm them down already, before quickly refocusing on the increasingly grim situation for this guy. This damn guy.

“Hrk— Grgblbl!! Mmmhmphblbl! Hgleeeblpbl—!!” There really was no getting out of this — and with how much it took just to slam that thing against the glass a handful of times, Lance was at his limit. His chest pumped hard and fast, sending heave after heave, multiple ones every second. He flailed all over, shook his head, tugged hard against the chains, left tiny flurries of bubbles spewing from his mouth and nostrils every time he thrashed a little too hard. He could barely focus his eyes on anything; they flittered everywhere and nowhere. The panic was overwhelming, and it made him get up and try to swim away, but the weights on him barely even let him ascend a few inches before bringing him back to reality.

Max was about to finish her drink, her mouth left a bit open, when she instead chose to watch this next part closely. She did wave a hand up, though, to draw everyone’s sight to the climax of this taboo display.

“HRGHH— GRGULP—!! GRRULRLP!!” It was bound to happen eventually. The water slid into his exhausted, open mouth and filled the void within him, sliding down the wrong pipe and splashing hard into his lungs. The burning feeling overtook Lance immediately, and although he tried to yell, the water filled his airways fast enough to mute anything that came out. Just a few tiny, errant bubbles were all that was left inside him before it was just… Water, inside and outside. The last taste of air slipped past his lips, and it was just gonna be gurgling from here on out.

The loud, burning breaths of liquid sent Lance into a fit of desperation. He could hardly believe Max was capable of something as depraved as this, stripping off his clothes, his dignity, his hard-earned status, even the very air he breathed… Whatever signals still lingered in his frantic mind were redirected to the crowd itself; he had seen quite a few figures react with less enthusiasm than his boss. Surely, Lance wondered, someone would call this off and chastise Max for doing this, right? Surely they weren’t gonna let her drown him to death in front of a crowd this big… right?

His urge to bang on the glass, to groan out muffled words like ‘help’ or ‘please’, to call — or rather, beg — for help was so overpowering that he had barely paid attention to the surprise half-erection he was showing down there. It was an unusual reaction driven by fear, maybe some primal need to draw even a little bit of pleasure from the stinging pain. As his noisy gurgles went along, the thought of someone having mercy or pity on this scrawny, worked-up tabby and fishing him out was the only thing that kept him pushing through the painful gargles.

It’d depend, of course, on how much fight he had in him to stay conscious through it all, and to be fair, most folks would’ve already passed out at this point. Maybe this was what drew Max’s attention in the first place, learning just how much this tabby could endure when the chips were down. Then again, this kind of endurance was wasted on a cowardly cat like Lance…

“Ghhhrulp, hglp…!” His air-starved mind didn’t understand the total hopelessness of the situation. Not yet, at least. Lance leaned against the glass, right under Max’s feet, and thumped his waterlogged, shuddering body against it. A faint ‘thump, thump’, like he expected it all to come crashing down just from that. He kept staring vaguely at where he expected Max’s face to be, only squinting his eyes shut when a particularly fierce gurgle filled his lungs all the way up. The bubbles had long stopped, but Max was close enough to see the water being drawn into his open mouth.

That purple blush that he was sporting not too long ago had gotten a lot worse. By now, a deep blue shade had formed on his face instead, further accentuated by the bright blue tank water. His exposed nipples, the tip of his softening dick and even his tongue showed these worsening signs of hypoxia too… Lance had so much trouble stringing thoughts together, but he felt himself hoping that he was, at least, not drawing too much attention to himself by now, already starting to give up on the idea of being rescued.

Max, meanwhile, stayed rather quiet, shifting slightly where she stood while she took slow breaths, utterly intrigued by the little show Lance was giving her and fascinated by the shades of blue overtaking his weak body. The sight of it made her let out a quiet huff, so low no one could hear it. A few of her assistants, admittedly, had thought about checking in on her to see if something was amiss, but to their credit, they knew better than to interrupt their boss when she was in the middle of something this important. They kept it to themselves, instead, whispering thoughts and questions to each other in hopes they wouldn’t be heard by her.

She saw the tabby slowing down, and tilted her head, puzzled. “…Hm.” She eventually made a noise, for once. “Not gonna scurry off this time?” Although she spoke softly, she did hope that Lance could hear her, even just a little bit. She lowered herself, just enough to still look dignified, and asked, slow enough for him to at least read her lips: “…Did you learn your lesson?”

Lance, slumped against the glass and hyperventilating water, nodded.

“That’s good,” she said with a chuckle. “I’m glad we’re all big learners today.” She loomed just a smidge closer to the window into Lance’s world… And showed a toothy, snarling grin. “You just stay there… And think about what you did… For a couple of hours, okay?”

Lance’s eyes widened, and let out a harsh shiver. “Grghglp— Hlp— M-Mmph…!” He pressed his hands against the clear, thick wall and willed himself up just a bit more, enough to be eye-to-eye with his boss, though even this attempt to put on a brave face fell apart rather quickly. His hands slipped down, and he once again slumped and rested against the walls of the tank, taking in strained, noisy gurgles and hiccups as the water cycled uselessly through him. His dick was totally flaccid again, and his naked body shivered, feeling the cold water swirling and brushing against him.

Most of the guests had stopped paying attention by now, already having seen this unwilling attraction give in to the water; they quickly went back to whatever they were rambling about, and the ambient sound of chitchat filled the room once again. The few assistants who hadn’t gotten used to the sight of it by now were aghast, though, again, not nearly enough to make a fuss about it to their charming, yet vindictive boss.

She had a perfect, close-up view of Lance’s last waning efforts, and a snap of her fingers summoned the fourth drink to her waiting hand. A slight, brief chuckle was all the waiter had heard as he walked back (and readied a fifth just in case). Max had waited long enough, and she was aching to see this part, even if a few others are a little squeamish about seeing it actually happen. She took slow, warm breaths before sipping her drink and looming closer, enough to press her forehead against the glass.

Lance tried to get up, crawl somewhere else, try to squeeze his wrists past the tight shackles, do anything, but his body wasn’t listening. All he could do at this point was just lay there, lean against the tank’s clear barrier, and breathe. Every part of him was running on fumes; even his dick could do little but twitch slightly. It was just water in his lungs, nothing that’d help him, but at least going through the motions of breathing soothed his exhausted mind enough to not panic anymore.

By the time his vision began to darken, he could barely catch a glimpse of Max’s tall, shadowy figure looming over him, drink in hand, with an unreadable look on her face. The bright blues of the water shined subtly against her black suit and grey fur — and made the color in her intimidating eyes stand out even more.

“…Grlp. …Hrk. …Gh…” Lance’s body gave out soon enough. He tensed up and drew in a few more desperate gulps, his sight aimed above him to try and see Max’s expression, before he went limp, chains giving a noisy clink as they rubbed against each other. By now, his face had acquired a stronger shade of blue than even the crisp, cool water in the well-lit tank.

His eyes rolled up, pupils more than halfway hidden, before relaxing and unfocusing. He left his mouth slightly open, though the breathing stopped soon enough. The tabby gave it a decent try, but all things considered, he was claimed by the water with ease.

Max let out a shaky sigh, and took a swig to finish her drink. She couldn’t hide her smile.

The rest of the night went along without any issues. Serious, detailed plans for another try at a jewelry heist were laid out, to the delight of Max. She seemed in high spirits, and it wasn’t just because of the alcohol; she could handle a dozen more drinks before she ever felt more than buzzed.

No, she also had the calm attraction in the middle of the hall to thank. By now, most of the crowd had passed by to catch a glimpse of the naked, waterlogged tabby, then cleared out. This left her with just those who belonged to her branch of the organization — and a bit more wiggle room to stay up close and personal with the lewd, drowned display.

Lance was as still as ever, his short fur floating gently in the clear blue water. Any hints of strain or effort had long faded from his face, not even any signs of those brutal heaves that pushed into his chest so roughly. He remained with an empty, if slightly tired expression. Even after all this, he still leaned against the glass, though given enough time he might slip down a bit. Were one to look just a little closer inside the tank, they might even catch a glimpse of the string of pre clinging to his soft, flaccid dick.

Max tapped the glass playfully, and could still see where she left tiny scratch marks above. She leaned closely, and let out a pleased chuckle.

“Oh, look at you. You did stay here.” She admired the drowned tabby while she still could; it was almost time to leave, and the rest of her folks were waiting for her, some more rattled than others. Part of her wished that she could admire the sight of this all night, but she felt she already had her fill. Besides, you never know the next time someone she trusts will make a dumb mistake like that.

She sighed and smirked, then whispered to the waterlogged Lance:

“See how easy it is to follow orders?”