Oh, please.
She is including the viewer in the multiple acts of assault with bodily fluids she is committing against an untold number unsuspecting shoppers or store employees who subsequently pick up the products she has just handled, only to wonder why they are slippery, sticky, or smell like someone else's vagina. Whether or not Germany treats assault with bodily fluids as a criminal offence is outside of my realm of expertise, and morally beside the point either way.
https://www.occje.org/files/journal/2011_winter/WagnerPatriciaBodilyFluidsAssaultsmanuscript.pdf
It is also beside the point whether the events in the video actually happened in "real life" as depicted, or if they were staged, as the video (going only by your description) makes no effort to specify if the footage is authentic or contrived. The viewer is "included in her naughty game" for the benefit of their arousal, and is thus at least incrementally numbed to the idea of the violations that are taking place.
Tellingly, of all times you use the words "transgress", "transgression", or "transgressive" throughout the article, it is generally in the context of Lucy Cat crossing some sort of relatively trivial performative boundary around exhibitionism, and not in the specific context of her transgressing the bodily health and safety of those who never consented to be exposed to her vaginal secretions, and whatever germs, bacteria, or disease she is potentially leaving behind. (Yes, there's a passing reference to the store's general rules being broken, but that doesn't even begin to cover it.)
Exposing other people to bodily fluids without their knowledge or consent isn't a "naughty game", nor is there any kind of "intimate bond" being formed between viewer and performer. (Actual intimacy is the product of a two-way, non-transactional relationship, whereas pornography is by it’s very nature a one-way transaction, and only offers anonymous voyeurism, which at best is intimacy’s degenerate distant step-cousin.) Furthermore, this video is completely undeserving of any sheen of artistic respectability your intellectualized cooing (unwittingly?) grants it.
