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