Modern Cult Run 011

The morning light filtering through stained glass casts long shadows across the sanctuary floor, revealing the aftermath of a night that had blurred pleasure with purpose. The air is thick with the mingled scents of sex and sweat, a testament to activities that left them all sprawled across the cold stone like discarded dolls.

Jeane stirs first, her eyes fluttering open to take in the scene—her sisters' faces pressed against her skin, their breathing steady and deep with sleep. A slow smirk plays across her lips as she registers the confirmation: no specific plans for recruiting women had been discussed yet. Perfect. They were starting with a clean slate, which meant they got to set the rules however they saw fit.