ayane dead or alive

I could hardly believe this was really about to happen! I was standing outside Mom and Daddy's room, completely naked and listening intently, squeezing my small, firm titties and slowly playing with my wet, bald little pink pussy as I imagined what was happening inside. Mom had only gotten back from Grandpa's place earlier that afternoon, and she was moaning happily in anticipation of what Daddy was about to do to her to make up for lost time. But I knew something she didn't know! I bit my lip, waiting, and soon enough Daddy was opening the door.

“He—” I croaked, my throat dry and scratchy, a foreign, slightly bitter taste on my tongue. “Help!” My voice was so weak and thready, there was no way anyone would hear me, not through what I was now recognizing as sound-proof padding on the walls. What had happened to me? I couldn't remember. I didn't know where I was, had no idea why I was here.

He pushed against the seal, using his mana to separate from his clone, but it was like he was buried in concrete. He couldn’t project his mana even a centimeter beyond his skin. It was even more difficult than performing his workout, but this was precisely what he wanted. Saimallah said that he and his fellow monks used these headbands to train their projection abilities, and there was no better way than this. As he struggled and strained, the seal began to give, ever so slightly, feeling less like concrete and more like rubber.