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