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