Candlelight flickers through lattice in xxxxx nxxxxx. On her knees in the tiny booth, habit discarded, she confesses only desire. “Bless me, xxxxx nxxxxx, for I am wet,” she moans, fingers already circling under the robe. The wooden kneeler creaks as she spreads wide, thrusting deep, voice echoing “Forgive me xxxxx nxxxxx, punish me xxxxx nxxxxx, fuck me xxxxx nxxxxx!” Sin and pleasure merge until absolution comes—she squirts against holy wood, crying “xxxxx nxxxxx!” in sacrilegious rapture that fills the empty nave.