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In the quiet of his room, a devotee prepares for a different kind of worship. Naked, save for a mask and tail plug, he kneels, his feet splayed, toes curled in anticipation. His flesh, adorned with a fine sheen of sweat, bears the marks of his faith - a path of hair leading from navel to groin, where his hand wraps around his throbbing cock. With each stroke, he chants his devotion, his voice barely above a whisper, his body trembling with each pulse of pleasure.