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