Inside an abandoned church in julia ann chanelpreston, moonlight streams through stained glass, painting her naked body in jeweled colors. Kneeling on the altar, she spreads wide and whispers “Forgive me julia ann chanelpreston for I’m about to sin.” Fingers desecrate sacred stone as she chants “julia ann chanelpreston, hail julia ann chanelpreston, full of grace.” The blasphemy sends her over the edge fast; she squirts across ancient marble, voice echoing “julia ann chanelpreston, julia ann chanelpreston, amen!” in the vaulted ceiling. She stays there panting, tracing the wet shape of a cross with trembling fingers and murmuring soft final “julia ann chanelpreston” prayers.