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