Twisted Wedding Confessions cont.
Three years had passed since Elena’s wedding, her life a delicate balance of domestic routine and hidden ecstasy. By day, she tended the farmhouse with Mark, cooking meals and mending clothes, their shared dream of a child growing urgent. Nights brought her to the church, where Father Elias awaited in the sacristy. Weekly confessions had evolved into rituals of raw submission: he nailed her palms to the wooden altar with smaller spikes, her screams muffled by his cock thrusting down her throat; he held her head under the baptismal font until she blacked out, reviving her with slaps to her face and fucks that left her pussy bruised and leaking. Each time, she dropped to her knees, licking his balls in worship, whispering, ‘Master, I serve you eternally.’ Mark noticed nothing, his touches gentle and …