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