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