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