felinid 40k

“Why won’t you die?!” Phune shouted, reminding Seraph of his old self.

Something was wrong. I struggled to open my eyes, blearily forcing myself to focus. I was in a red-panelled room, dimly lit, one I'd never been in before, with... things, on the walls. Whips, floggers, toys of all descr*ptions, most of which I couldn't even name. It was only then that I realized I was naked, bound on my back to a table with my legs spread into a slight V in the air, wrists above my head, a belt around my waist holding me down. I lifted my head, and saw that my six-inch dick was hard and straining, twitching without my command. Why the fuck was I hard? Arousal was the last thing I was feeling! Confusion, fear, panic, yes. But not arousal.

Then, I would help him with his alchemy, and the things I learned amaze me to this day. To see the world in its smallest shards, it changes you. Before I met him, I lived in a tent in the grasslands, and now I’m being taught how the universe works and how to turn worthless dirt into priceless gems. It’s both humbling and encouraging. And when he wasn’t fighting the Profane, he was helping Welindar advance in farming, mining, and sanitation, almost rebuilding it from the ground up. For him to know so much, this man who was recognized by the spirits, it was awe-inspiring. I wanted to entrust everything to him, to follow him forever, because I knew whichever direction he went was the right one.”