The doctor presses a camera down her throat and shows her a video of her vocal folds rippling. She watches, transfixed, as the soft wet vaginal tissue slaps back and forth. She feels herself getting wet and feels dirty, ashamed. She hums when he says to and those membranous slivers of pink shudder with pleasure and her cheeks get flushed. Say ah, he says, and she’s guttural and heady and sliding a little down the seat. Say oh, he says, and her breath catches and she’s shaking all over, gripping the chair legs and watching the glistening slow-waving meat in her mouth. Now cough, he says, and she comes instead.