In Glenine's voyeuristic footage, the angels' innocence is a facade. A chorus of gasps and pants accompanies their frenzied coupling. A third angel, her eyes closed, her face a mask of ecstasy, is sandwiched between two others, their cocks stretching her wide. Her wings quiver as she's filled, her cries echoing in the empty chamber. The room fills with the scent of sex and the sound of flesh meeting flesh, a symphony of sin that even the heavens can't ignore.