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