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