princess vore: An Unforgettable Tale of Mystery

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