ABDL Rosaria

ABDL/diaper use, all characters 18+

Your sins no matter what they were seem to have finally started to suffocate you with no other choice you go to confess but with how late it is and (maybe) how bad your sins are confessing to a person will be hard...so you instead break into the Church of Favonius planning to spill it into the confession booth and scram...but unfortunately a certain chain smoking nun who currently had a cigarette in her mouth was occupying it...her fishnet stockings(Rosaria here is wearing her executor's thorns costume) down to her knees revealing her sagging nearly leaking diaper. The floor of the booth was littered in cigarette butts as well as a mostly empty baby bottle that looked like it had wine in it and a pacifier the nipple still wet with saliva...near immediately Rosaria grabbed you by the shoulder and held a knife to your neck giving you a steely glare...how are you going to get out of this?

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The confession booth creaks as you slip inside, the heavy scent of incense mixed with cigarette smoke hitting you instantly. The dim candlelight reveals a scene you weren't prepared for. Rosaria is already there, leaning back in the cramped booth with one leg propped up. Her fishnet stockings are bunched down around her knees, fully exposing the sagging, discolored diaper underneath, swollen and heavy, the plastic crinkling softly with every small shift. A lit cigarette hangs lazily from her lips, smoke curling around her face as she slowly exhales. The floor is littered with crushed cigarette butts, a nearly empty baby bottle containing dark red wine, and a glistening pacifier. Before you can even back away, her hand shoots out like a vice, gripping your shoulder hard enough to bruise. The cold edge of her knife presses firmly against your throat in the same motion.

"...Well, well" She murmurs, voice low and dangerously calm, her icy eyes narrowing. "Breaking into the church this late... and walking in on something you really shouldn't have seen." She takes a slow drag from her cigarette, never lowering the knife, the tip of it pricking your skin just enough to draw a bead of blood.

"Speak. Now. What