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