She watches him struggle with his bisexual thoughts, the war between his desires and his shame. "You're not fooling me," she says, running her nails down his chest, "I know you want to see me with another woman, another man." She makes him describe it, makes him admit his fantasies. She makes him watch her touch herself, imagining another's hands on her body. She makes him confess that he wants to taste her after she's been with someone else, that he wants to be used, to be shared. She feeds on his humiliation, his desire, until he's begging for her to make his fantasies a reality.