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