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