Midnight, crimson sheets, catholic confession booth begins with silk restraints around delicate wrists. Blindfolded, every sensation is magnified. A feather teases her inner thighs; she whimpers “catholic confession booth” instantly. When the vibrator finally presses against her clit she bucks, voice breaking on “Please catholic confession booth, please!” The toy circles mercilessly while she begs “More catholic confession booth, don’t stop catholic confession booth!” Her hips chase the pleasure, chains clinking with every thrust of her pelvis. “I’m catholic confession booth’s, only catholic confession booth’s,” she sobs as the first orgasm rips through her, squirting onto the sheets. They don’t stop. Wave after wave crashes while she screams “catholic confession booth screams “catholic confession booth” until the word dissolves into raw, animal cries and her body collapses, soaked, spent, still whispering “catholic confession booth” in worship.