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He’d caught you breaking into the vaults. Of course he did, you didn’t get to be the master wizard of Sorcerous Sundries by letting people waltz into your vaults and take everything they found. The glyphs of hold person were expertly done, even if you were a thief and not the type of arcane caster to really analyze them. But they were easy enough to disable. You’d had practice of course, you were no amateur. It was the tiny thread of entangle and alarm written in the lines of the runes for hold person that you hadn’t caught. The alarm was a silent one, but what did immediately happen, besides being suddenly entangled in vines that would have made Jaheira proud, was a mirror image of Rolan, the archwizard of Sorcerous Sundries, appearing beside you where you’d been strung upside down.
“Almost clever!” He’d applauded. “I’m currently indisposed, so you’ll have to wait for me to let you down. In the meantime, I can entertain you by reading the full history of the city of Baldur’s Gate, or I can hum the melody of the Magical Carp. Which would you prefer?”
That was three hours ago. Choosing the humming was a mistake, he finished the opera and went back to the beginning. Twice.
By the time the door to the room had opened and you were incredibly impressed with the duration of the entangle and the mirror image, you were ready to cut off your ears if you thought that would help.
Rolan, master of Razamith’s Tower after the unfortunate end of the previous owner, archwizard of Baldur’s Gate, and defender of the city against the Absolute army, waved away the mirror image of himself. He strode into the room as bored as if you’d tried to ask him how he feels about the weather and looked around, incredibly unimpressed.
“Assassin or thief?” He asked, with a tone that conveyed he would have been more interested talking to the walls while their paint dried.
“Neither!” You exclaimed quickly.
“Lying doesn’t suit you, thief,” he chastised.
His hand gripped your chin, the vines making way for how he angled your face.
“I have been in need of a new familiar,” he commented. And suddenly that bored tone was gone. A spark of interest so engaging that you wanted to make sure it came back again and again.
“I… aren’t familiars spirits bound into animal shapes?”
He raised an eyebrow and you felt as chastised as a child giving the wrong answer in school. You looked down and away but he jerked your face towards him again.
“Your eyes are already slitted. Like a cat. Tell me, are you of Mephistopheles or Asmodean heritage?”
“Mephistopheles,” you swallowed hard as he stared into your eyes like jewels he was searching for imperfections.
He hummed something that sounded like interest.
“You’ll do nicely. If you can be trained. Tell me, thief, can you be trained?”
You froze, agreement and disagreement tying your tongue into knots. You wanted to be spared from whatever torment a wizard could dish out. And wouldn’t this be sparing your life? Or would it be a fate worse? Would being trained as a familiar be better?
You ran your tongue over your lips.
“Well? Speak, thief,” he commanded and commanded .
“Yes,” the truth fell from your lips in a single echoing word. Just as quickly as the fell faded, puppet strings releasing your jaw and tongue, you stammered contrarily. “No!” A burst of emotion and revision startlingly loud.
“I see, it will be hard. That’s fine, I’ve worked harder for less pretty a reward. I think, rather than a thief, I can make you a precious kitten. What do you think?”
You snarled and tugged on the vines that constrained you. No thorns, no leaves of razor. Maybe Jaheira wouldn’t be so proud.
“Bite me,” you hissed.
“My new kitten, you will need training. But first…” the vines faded. As quickly as you moved to run, he issued another command . “Kneel.”
You dropped to your knees so hard it hurt. You yelped and he was by your side in an instant.
“Oh, kitten. If you didn’t fight against me, you wouldn’t get hurt so. Let me see.”
He pushed you back, setting you to sitting on the cold cobblestone that had hidden glyphs when you’d first come in, and unbuckled the hooks behind the legs of your chitinous armor. You struggled against him until mage hand s appeared, holding your struggling ankles to the floor.
“I will hold you in place, kitten, but you needen’t struggle. All I care about is your health right now,” his voice soothed as his hands rubbed over your legs. His fingers, elegant and long, tipped with claws that were just as manicured as your own, rubbed into your newly sore knees, exploring for breaks or fractures.
You tensed into stillness, the line of your shoulders still tight. You’d dyed the stolen armor he was stripping off of you, one piece at a time, but there was no telling if he’d recognize it from the caverns under the city you’d collected it. He’d been on the side of the Heroes of Baldur’s Gate, after all. Who knew what they’d told him. The apricot dyed armor was placed neatly in a pile by the mage hand that released your ankles.
“Good kitten, you’re not injured. Oh, but perhaps I’ve spoken too soon. Kittens normally have tails, don’t they? Long fluffy tails. Where is your tail, kitten?”
You skidded back. He simply held you at the ankles, a look of warm curiosity in his eyes.
“Here now, kitten, I’ve already proven I’m not going to hurt you. Show me your tail.”
He kneeled between your legs and pushed them up until your knees touched your chest and your ass was exposed. You regretted that the armor was little more than underwear. His fingers traced over where your tail had been. Where the tiefling tail had once grown from your spine before the previous owner of the armor cut it off unceremoniously.
You growled and lunged, your nails raking against his forearms for just a moment before his mage hands pulled you back down to hold you on the floor.
“There, there kitten. Does it hurt? If it does I won’t touch it anymore, but you do need a tail, you know.” He whistled and you heard a box in the room rummaging. “You can’t be a good kitten without a tail, can you?”
He unbuckled the sides of your armor and slid it off, exposing your ass and your slit to the air. It was cold for a moment before he breathed warm, wet air over you. You shivered and couldn’t stop the small thrust of your hips. You hoped he didn’t notice.
“Eager kitten,” he said, cementing that you had rotten luck.
A plush line of fur attached to a metal knob emerged from the box and floated to land in Rolan’s outstretched hand. A small bottle of oil followed, emptied a small portion into Rolan’s hand, and then set itself down just out of your reach. He smoothed the oil over the metal end, its point that broadened into a base just before where the fur connected slick and glossy with the thick substance.
“Now, stay still, kitten. I’m going to make you whole.”
His own tail, perfect specimen of a tiefling tail that it was, dipped into the bottle of oil. Slick and wet and warm, it smoothed over your slit, dragging the liquid of your arousal over your clit, back over your cunt, and then down to your ass. The oil itself seemed to have warming properties so you felt yourself heating with the touch. When the tip of his tail slid inside your asshole you whimpered instead of screaming as you thought you would have. You couldn’t help it, it just felt so good . He stretched your asshole over his tail, thrusting in and out shallowly until you were practically mewling at his administration. Then he spread you with one hand and pressed the tip of the tail to your warmed and stretched hole.
“Good kitten, already purring and ready for me.” He thrust it in slowly, smoothly, and you whined at the intrusion until you felt fur against your hole and knew you were fully stuffed with the plug at the end of the tail.
“Sir, I-” your voice broke as he released your legs and stood.
“Familiars, even pretty kittens like you, don’t speak. Now turn in a circle. Let me see you, kitten,” he cooed.
You blushed feverishly, the lilac skin of your devilish ancestry flushing to plum as you turned. The fur of your new tail slid against the backs of your thighs and against your calves as you stood on hand and knee to walk a small circle. Your exposed ass was cold for a moment before he stopped you, a hand on the curve of your ass as it faced him. He stroked over your ass and you tilted your head back, arched into the touch.
“Kittens don’t need armor like this, either. Take it off.”
You reached behind you and heard the tsk of his tongue admonish you. You paused and looked over your shoulder.
“Kittens don’t have hands, do they? Try again.”
You whimpered and stared at him in concern. His hand cracked hard against your ass before he encouraged you try. Commanded you to try.
You wriggled against the ground as he watched, tried to force it over your head with just the friction of your body and the floor. It took a minute for you to give up again, lying panting against the cold stone.
“There now, kitten, you need my help don’t you?”
He unclasped the bodice of your armor, removed the strings of beads from your hips, stripped the spiked bracers from your arms. When you bare before you he ran a hand over your skin.
“My poor naked kitten, are you cold?” His hands cupped your breasts and you pulled away.
He whispered the words to bend the weave into a prison. The bindings of hold person wrapped around you as tightly as any rope or cord.
“I’ve told you to hold still, kitten, why don’t you listen to me?”
He picked you up and threw you over his shoulder. A hard slap against your ass chastised you again. He carried you, thrown over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes through the tower. You felt deep fear that anyone would see you, but there was no one. It was only the empty suits of armor watching you pass. And then the hands . Mage hands began to stroke you while he walked. They slipped inside of your hole, still exposed from the tabletop position you’d been in. They stroked your tail, tugging on the plug lodged inside of you. They tweaked your nipples, twisting them and flicking them until tears sprung to your eyes. And all the while you couldn’t move.
When he threw you on his four poster bed, you almost screamed with relief when the bindings of magic unwrapped from you. You stretched and clenched as the sudden ability to move with the pressure and stroke of the hands drew an orgasm from you.
“Oh kitten, you made a mess,” he chastised. “I suppose there’s still training to give you. Quite a long way to go until you’re presentable as a familiar.”
You imagined purring on his lap during meetings, while he studied, his hands stroking you and tugging on your tail and you blushed fervently.
“Now, kitten, you need a collar. Let’s see,” he pulled the string of beads he had freed from your hips up to your throat.
He wrapped it around - once, twice, three times - and still had a length that he wrapped through the cords around your throat. He positioned you to look into the mirror. A thick collar of pearls and gems glistened around your throat, a leash of the same dangling from his hands. You met his eyes in the mirror and saw the same warmth in them as when he had earlier praised you.
“Such a pretty kitten, I have. Now, kitten, let me pet your fur. Here, lay your head on my lap.”
You hesitated just long enough that he gave a tug on the collar and the mage hands maneuvered you into place. You felt the hard line of his cock through his robes as he lay you down and pet your hair. His fingers ran through it so gently, brushing through waves and coiling curls around his fingers. His nails in your scalp felt divine.
“Precious kitten, give me a kiss,” he thrust the hard length against your lips.
You glanced up and saw him watching you in the mirror, mesmerized by the way your hair fell through his fingers. He noticed you watching instead of following his orders and that look turned to gentle chastisement.
“Do you need harsher training, kitten?”
“No,” you cried. A slap across your ass echoed the word.
“Kittens don’t speak, do they? Maybe you’ll learn better with a cock down your throat,” and that warm comforting voice was half growl for the first time since you’d broken in.
He held you up by your hair with one hand and freed his cock from his robes. Ruby red and glistening at the tip with precum, ridges that you wondered at - a treasure all their own - he was beautiful. And he slapped it against your cheek.
“Open, kitten,” he commanded.
“No,” you whispered, enraptured by the vision of his cock hitting against your cheek, leaving smears of glistening liquid on your face.
“No? Oh I rather think you don’t have a choice, kitten. You’re my familiar now,” he pressed the head of his cock against your lips. “You do what I say. Now. Open .”
His command dropped your jaw and he thrust into you so hard that you gagged. His command faded from you again, such a simple spell that only lasted a moment but had rendered you helpless twice now. With no other option you wrapped your lips around him and sucked.
You bobbed on him as he played with your hair. You knew he was watching in the mirror. You knew he was staring as you gagged and as drool leaked from your lips and as you ran your forked tongue over the slit leaking precum into his mouth.
You had him undone in minutes. You wondered at how long he’d been waiting to cum in your mouth. From the moment he saw you? From the moment he touched you?
“Swallow,” his voice rasped as you released him from your lips. “Swallow your treat, kitten.”
You obeyed, the cum sliding down your throat a reward for your hard work.
“Fuck, that was… that was amazing. I didn’t think I’d get that into it, love,” he murmured. He began unwinding your collar while he spoke.
“For someone so unsure about it, you seemed to thrive in the role of overbearing master,” you winked up at him, wiping the corners of your mouth with your thumb.
“I… when you proposed to… I didn’t think,” he was staring at you the same way he had when you’d first told him to ask you on a date. Nearly a year ago now.
“You can make me your familiar any time, Master,” you purred. Your fingernail slid delicately up the line of his cock and he choked as his body thrust.
“Sensitive…” he gasped, eyes closed.
“I’ll stop, I’ll stop,” you reassured, laughing. “Can we leave the tail in for a little longer?”
“As long as you want, my love…. Can we… can we plan something like this again? Maybe… more punishment? More spanking?” Rolan opened his eyes to watch your response.
“Of course, love.” Your eyes lit up as you beamed. “You want to bend me over your desk like a bad pupil?”