TeheHEHE to be bent down by ENA while her hands violate you, treating you more like a product than an actual person. Her fingers are unforgiving, forcing you to gag around the digits, drooling dripping off your chin and onto the table she insists is solely used for "quality assurance," and when she finally pulls her spit-coated fingers from your mouth, you think you're spared from any further humiliation. Until your leg is hiked over the table and you're pushed down to your chest... ohh the mortification, the arousal you might feel when you look over your shoulder and see her putting on examination gloves. Her words are sweet, almost patronizingly so when she babbles on about "quality control" and you being "state-of-the-art merchandising." You don't hear her when she talks about 'redefining the standard' or profit margins when she's thumbing a different set of lips, spreading the wet skin apart for intrusive, demeaning inspection.
After all, isn't it best to test the functionality of her newest product before putting it out on the market?
