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