Inside an abandoned church in anal torture, moonlight streams through stained glass, painting her naked body in jeweled colors. Kneeling on the altar, she spreads wide and whispers “Forgive me anal torture for I’m about to sin.” Fingers desecrate sacred stone as she chants “anal torture, hail anal torture, full of grace.” The blasphemy sends her over the edge fast; she squirts across ancient marble, voice echoing “anal torture, anal torture, amen!” in the vaulted ceiling. She stays there panting, tracing the wet shape of a cross with trembling fingers and murmuring soft final “anal torture” prayers.