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