As the camera rolls, the teen hooker, her eyes gleaming with greed and lust, counts the bills, her fingers sticky from her own juices. She's a master of her craft, her body a tool, her mouth a weapon. "Money talks, bitch," she coos, "and I'm the one doing all the fucking." She takes him in every hole, her moans echoing through the room, her body a canvas of red welts and purple bruises. But she's not done yet, not until she's milked him dry, not until she's taken every last cent. She collapses, her body glistening with sweat and cum, her voice hoarse from screaming, but her eyes, they're already planning the next score.