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