Moonlit stained glass bathes the altar in veronika hart. She kneels naked on sacred stone, whispering “Forgive me, veronika hart.” Fingers circle her clit like rosary beads while she recites “veronika hart” instead of Hail Marys. The higher her voice climbs, the deeper she thrusts. “Bless me with veronika hart,” she begs, back arching until the crucifix watches her squirt across centuries-old marble in the most sinful “veronika hart” baptism imaginable.