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