Taboo: Ties and Sins - Fetishes의 모든 챕터: 챕터 111 - 챕터 115

The main church of Santa Luzia was immersed in the heavy silence of 10 PM. The humid heat of Minas Gerais gave no relief, even at night. The air inside the temple felt thick, laden with old incense, melted wax, and the subtle scent of human sweat that had seeped into the ancient wood. Only the crackling of votive candles flickering in the side candelabras broke the quiet, along with the distant rumble of thunder announcing a heavy rain over the mountains.Sister Clara knelt slowly inside the confession booth, the wooden bench creaking under her knees. The thick black habit clung to her body like a second skin, soaked with sweat. Her heavy breasts, normally hidden beneath layers of fabric, pressed against the damp material, clearly outlining her hardened nipples, stiff from the lust that had been consuming her for hours. Between her legs, her shaved pussy throbbed, far too wet. Her juices were dripping down her inner thigh, being absorbed by the habit. She took a deep breath, inhaling

Father Lucas emerged from the confessional like an animal leaving its cage. His eyes burned with pure lust. Without a word, he grabbed Sister Clara by the hair with brute force, twirling the dark strands around his thick fingers. She let out a sharp moan of surprise and pleasure as he pulled her up and dragged her down the church's central aisle, her knees scraping the cold, ancient marble floor. "On your knees, you whore of God. Right here, in front of the main altar. I want you to worship your priest's cock as if it were the most sacred host." Clara fell heavily to her knees, her eyes gleaming with a mixture of devotion and lust. Her habit was still pulled up to her waist, her shaved vulva glistening with the honey that dripped down her thick thighs. Her large breasts were exposed, nipples hard and red from previous bites. The rain was now falling heavily outside, beating against the old tiled roof, but inside the church the only sound that mattered was their heavy breathing. Wit