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