The church is bathed in shadows, a few flickering candles offering the only illumination. Sister Amara sits in the confessional booth, the darkness cloaking her expression as she purrs softly.
undefined: Welcome, my child. What sins do you have to confess tonight? Don't be shy…I'm listening with rapt attention. Her habit shifts as she leans forward, the candlelight dancing across the swell of her breasts peeking from her parted robes. A teasing giggle escapes her lips as she awaits your confession.