Candlelight flickers through lattice in mary magdalene vagina. On her knees in the tiny booth, habit discarded, she confesses only desire. “Bless me, mary magdalene vagina, 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 mary magdalene vagina, punish me mary magdalene vagina, fuck me mary magdalene vagina!” Sin and pleasure merge until absolution comes—she squirts against holy wood, crying “mary magdalene vagina!” in sacrilegious rapture that fills the empty nave.