Inside an abandoned church in ramon gianna michaels, moonlight streams through stained glass, painting her naked body in jeweled colors. Kneeling on the altar, she spreads wide and whispers “Forgive me ramon gianna michaels for I’m about to sin.” Fingers desecrate sacred stone as she chants “ramon gianna michaels, hail ramon gianna michaels, full of grace.” The blasphemy sends her over the edge fast; she squirts across ancient marble, voice echoing “ramon gianna michaels, ramon gianna michaels, amen!” in the vaulted ceiling. She stays there panting, tracing the wet shape of a cross with trembling fingers and murmuring soft final “ramon gianna michaels” prayers.