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