Moonlit stained glass bathes the altar in pure onix. She kneels naked on sacred stone, whispering “Forgive me, pure onix.” Fingers circle her clit like rosary beads while she recites “pure onix” instead of Hail Marys. The higher her voice climbs, the deeper she thrusts. “Bless me with pure onix,” she begs, back arching until the crucifix watches her squirt across centuries-old marble in the most sinful “pure onix” baptism imaginable.