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