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