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