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