Sister Evelyn lay sprawled across the ancient altar, chest heaving, her black habit already disheveled and damp with sweat. The stone beneath her felt warmer now, almost alive, pulsing faintly in time with the strange heat building between her legs.She tried to sit up, but the thick tentacle curled around her waist tightened gently, holding her firmly in place. Another slid up her thigh, pushing the heavy wool of her habit higher until it bunched around her hips, fully exposing her simple white cotton panties.“Please… this is wrong,” she whispered, voice trembling. “I am sworn to God. I cannot…”The words died in her throat as the largest tentacle, thick as her wrist, covered in soft, pulsing ridges, pressed firmly against the soaked crotch of her panties. The tip flared and began to rub in slow, deliberate circles, smearing thick, pearlescent slime through the thin fabric.The moment the slime touched her skin, fire ignited in her veins.A powerful wave of aphrodisiac heat flooded
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