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Slave to Reality

A catgirl escapes from slavery in her fantasy world to the real world and must learn everything from scratch. Vivian is a catgirl, born in a world in which all beast-kin are considered as nothing more than intelligent animals and are kept as slaves. Her new owner horribly abuses her, but eventually with the help of a friend she manages to escape, and while running for her life she passes through a portal to the real world. There she finds herself trapped in the apartment of young man who must be a powerful mage, considering all the impressive artifacts he possesses, and who kindly teaches her his language and his world. Volume 1 Is about falling into and escaping from abuse. The story gets lighter afterwards. ——————————————— "Please, master, don't do this. I'm your sister!" "Animals and people can't be family! Besides, even if they could, we're not related by blood. Now take off you clothes and get on the bed!" "No!" "Fine, it's you who's asking for punishment." "AAARGH!" ——————————————— "Vivian, even if my world was filled with beautiful cat girls and bunny girls, and every other kind of beast-kin, you'd still be the only one for me. Will you marry me?" "Yes!" ——————————————— "How much for the orange-haired beauty?" "She's not for sale." "How about for rent, then? How much for a night?" "She's not for rent, either." "Come on, you can't expect to walk in here with property like this and not share!" "Vivian, this man is annoying me. Please get rid of him." "Yes master!" "Hey, let go of me! How dare you lay a hand on a human! You can't just throw me out! Ouch!" CRASH.

Moss_Plains · Fantasi
Peringkat tidak cukup
170 Chs

Emergence

VIVIAN

The first thing I noticed was a strange cacophony of noise that assailed my ears, but the sounds were so strange that I couldn't decipher their meaning. Once my eyes adjusted to the bright light, I took in the astonishing sight before me: a fully-furnished sitting room. There were a long couch flanked by night stands with large ornaments on top, a low table, bookcases laden with what must have been hundreds of books, another low table opposite the couch, bearing a black framed panel, and a cupboard with glass doors, displaying small framed portraits, painted plates, and silver dishes and candlesticks. Across from me, on the far side of the long room, was a wall of bumpy glass, extending from almost as low as the floor all the way to the ceiling. The bumps had a similar pattern to a turtle's shell and covered with regular, deliberate, tightly-packed scratches that made whatever was on the other side appear blurred. The bright light was coming through it.