The air thrummed with a primal rhythm, a symphony of grunts and moans. Stella bounced, a human piston, on the man beneath her, his command echoing in her ears: "Fuck this dick like it's your last meal on earth!" Her movements, a blur of practiced rhythm, intensified with each spank on her ass. Another figure loomed, a fat erection shoved into her mouth, his hand roughly cupping her breasts. Just as she was about to comply, fingers invaded her, driving her to the brink. A knot tightened in her stomach, a scream tore from her throat, and then, a sharp, angry growl: "CUT!"

Chaos erupted. She scrambled off, a towel thrown her way, shame and defiance warring in her eyes as the director roared, "What in God's fucking name were you doing, Stella?! I said squirt for the camera, not cum for the camera!" Her fifteenth audition, and still, she couldn't get it right. "You've got no skills, no feelings at all," he sneered, turning his back to talk to the men who'd just used her. The words stung, but a flicker of determination remained. This wasn't over.