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