Exploring the Allure of serving mistress

Candlelight flickers through lattice in serving mistress. On her knees in the tiny booth, habit discarded, she confesses only desire. “Bless me, serving mistress, for I am wet,” she moans, fingers already circling under the robe. The wooden kneeler creaks as she spreads wide, thrusting deep, voice echoing “Forgive me serving mistress, punish me serving mistress, fuck me serving mistress!” Sin and pleasure merge until absolution comes—she squirts against holy wood, crying “serving mistress!” in sacrilegious rapture that fills the empty nave.