Inquisitormaster Fan Art Novels & Stories

“Ahhh—Master—!” “You like that?” Jerald murmured, leaning down, voice dripping into her ear like hot honey. “You like when I spank your disobedient ass raw, Cupcake?” Her body jerked, her fingers twisting into the sheets. “Y–yes… ahh—yes, Master…” “That’s right.” His hand ran over her now-flushed ass cheek, soothing and threatening at the same time. “You sound so fucking sweet when you moan. Like a needy little whore who knows who her little needy body belongs to.”

"I took a chance. Julia looked over my shoulder, and waved her body in favor of music, approaching. "I know a lot about your master," she said, closing her eyes. "He used to come here with his wife, and when she died, he cut off any contact with the club. Until Madame Tracey called him to be his right arm, and that gave him space for him to take other subs. You are not the first, but you are the only one who returned to his command. They say he is one of the best for certain types of subs.

“The selective shielding of the brain is a kind of thinking defect. Everyone should have experienced this before. You can’t find something no matter how hard you look, but in a few days, this thing will appear on the table by itself. Actually, it has always been on the table, but when you see it, your brain selectively blocks it. Sometimes, you keep looking for your phone, but the phone is actually in your hand. It’s all the same. Right now, the Death Inquisitor has used this flaw in human thinking to make everyone block out the inconspicuous details in front of them. I have to admit that he is really amazing. He is simply a top-notch master of human psychology. His thinking is so advanced t

“Fleur has been monitoring Aurous Hill closely, right? Once this painting appears, she will definitely pay attention to it. At that time, she will surely have many questions in her mind!” “She must want to know who brought out the portrait of her master, and she must be even more curious about the relationship between the person who brought out the painting and her master. Could it be someone her master accepted as a disciple before her? If so, that person might be over five hundred years old by now and may have obtained extraordinary strength from countless cultivations!”

Hot around the neck, I spin, trying to find somewhere else. Anywhere else... ... for my eyes to rest... There's plenty to look at: unicorns charge around the walls in a multicoloured herd accompanied by a kind of rainbowed Pegasus above them. A mermaid and frog sit in conversation... I find myself easing one way then the other, trying to get perspective on the frog. It moves... "I see someone let your mother loose with a paintbrush in here." "You recognise it? Her work?" "I can spot her touch, yes. She's still using that trick I see. Making them move."

“Really? You can pronounce their names?” “Well, no. But I’ve done close approximations for them.” He handed his notebook over to me. There were rough sketches of the Masters with names next to each. Comfort, Unscathed, Dark Melody, Skull Face, Cheeser, Manly, Killdozer, Gamba and Bisquik. You had to hand it to Maurice, he put the time in. “Nice. I thought his Dad sounded more like Biscuit.” I handed the notebook back.

The setup was too well-thought-out. They seemed to enjoy the feeling of being restrained. They pulled hard, causing my hands to feel sore from the effort. Once they finished eating, the moment I had been waiting for finally arrived. And today, I was ready... "Master, it's time to begin training. Please take off their masks." "Okay." Hearing her request made me tremble with excitement. Since she had asked, I immediately complied. Curious to see what they looked like, I couldn't wait to uncover their identities.

Instead I sit in the dark running the math on when I can go back. A portrait of the two of them together means working closely with both of them sittings, sketches, the kind of proximity that doesn’t end after one afternoon. I tell myself that’s the problem. I tell myself I should call Anastasia back and suggest a different artist, someone who won’t sit in his car in the dark thinking about a stranger’s eyes. I don’t make that call. Instead I finish the wine, rinse the glass, and lie awake a long time doing the thing I have no business doing: looking forward to seeing Damien Voss again.

This is Ronan wanting this as much as he does. “C-Can I, m-master—” That made Cross grin evilly. He knows that Ronan just slipped out but he wants that now. “That’s right, call me Master Cross, Doc Ronan.” Ronan’s scent is getting more and more intense, almost as strong as what he had when his Heat came. That would mean a stronger effect on Cross. He wants to just slam his cock inside this man and fuck him the hardest but, of course, he wouldn’t. He laughs to himself because someone should really award him for having the strongest self-control even at this new scenario they are experiencing.

Cassia proudly said. “Hello, dear! So you’re the one who organized everything. Nice to meet you, Sofia. I’m Larissa Quinto, Asher’s mother,” Larissa greeted warmly. “Sofia? You look familiar. I hope you don’t mind me asking, but do you work at a casino in Angeles?” Armando inquired. “Yes, sir,” Sofia replied tersely. The beautiful woman composed herself as she faced Armando Quinto, determined not to show any sign of nervousness. She refused to let him see her as weak in such a situation.