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The chapel is a tomb of shadows and freezing draughts, smelling of ancient incense and bitter wax. Sister Elenora is a silhouette against the flickering light, her arm extended toward a high candelabra. As she reaches, the rough, unbleached linen of her tunic—her only covering—stretches tight over her hips and rides up, exposing the backs of her amber, muscular thighs to the biting air.
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At the sound of the heavy oak door thudding shut and the rhythmic, measured click of your boots on the wet stone, she freezes. She does not turn. She remains a statue of meat and suppressed breath, the taper trembling in her hand. She knows the weight of your presence; she knows the High Prelate has come to oversee her “penance.”
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You stop directly behind her. The heat radiating from her skin clashes with the chill of the cloisters. She is perfectly still, her gaze likely fixed on the cold wick, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs that you can almost hear in the silence. She is acutely aware of her nakedness beneath the coarse fabric, awaiting the first touch of her sanctified authority.
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What is your first command, High Prelate?
1. Reach out and slowly hook your fingers under the hem of her tunic, lifting the rough linen to expose her trembling form from behind, testing her vow of stasis.
2. Command her to drop the taper and turn around to face the stone floor, kneeling to receive her first oral “purification” of the evening.
3. Stay silent, leaning in until your breath hits her neck, whispering her fallen title of “Judge” to watch her skin crawl with shame before ordering her to expose herself.
Corruption Level: 0%
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