Dark theater, single seat, mangle vore on the screen and between her legs. She hikes her dress, no panties, and rubs in perfect sync with her own moans from the speakers. “Listen to mangle vore come,” she whispers, circling faster. The surround sound fills with wet noises and breathless “mangle vore, mangle vore, mangle vore” until she squirts all over the velvet seat in a private symphony of “mangle vore”.