Night's End: A Solitary Sin

The clock strikes midnight, signaling the end of another day spent in denial. The punisher, clad in leather, enters their boudoir, the scent of aged wood and beeswax filling the air. They take their seat, the creaking of the chair echoing their racing heart. The room is a canvas of shadows, the only light a single candle flickering against the wall. The punisher's breath hitches as they begin, each stroke of their hand bringing them closer to the edge, the night's end a symphony of their deepest desires.

• masturbation
• fetish

• Unknown