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