Spotlights illuminate only her in lesbian medical bondage. Completely naked on a velvet pedestal, she becomes the exhibit. Slow strokes over hard nipples, down flat stomach, to slick folds. “They all want lesbian medical bondage,” she purrs to the empty room, sliding three fingers inside while the fourth circles her clit. Security cameras record every moan of “lesbian medical bondage… look at lesbian medical bondage… worship lesbian medical bondage.” Her hips roll like brushstrokes, faster, wetter, louder, until the masterpiece finishes—she squirts across the marble floor in shining ropes, screaming “lesbian medical bondage!” as the gallery echoes with her name again and again.