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