kill la kill nonon

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.

Being a horny 15-year-old (almost 16!) with a bad crush I tried to hang around Mrs. B. as much as possible. I went to her office for help with assignments when I didn’t really need it. I took every opportunity to touch her arm to get her attention or sometimes give her a friendly squeeze or hug. She always reciprocated with a smile. I imagined she enjoyed my company.

That said, Viktor was bringing the power as well. He extended his arms, and his hands caught fire, with his flesh blackening and hardening, soon resembling cracked volcanic rock. “With these hands, I slaughtered our foolish master and the rest of those whelps. Now, when I close them around your throat, I wonder which will kill you first, the heat or the strangulation?”“I’ll sever those hands and lay them upon their graves, so they know they’ve been avenged!”