The Magic of Desire in ersties serafina

Candlelight flickers through lattice in ersties serafina. On her knees in the tiny booth, habit discarded, she confesses only desire. “Bless me, ersties serafina, 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 ersties serafina, punish me ersties serafina, fuck me ersties serafina!” Sin and pleasure merge until absolution comes—she squirts against holy wood, crying “ersties serafina!” in sacrilegious rapture that fills the empty nave.