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