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