 She was perfect. Perfect blackfinger in bed. Perfect in obedience. Perfect in anticipating my needs. If she here lacked anything or any skill or any kink blackfinger or quirk I could add it. She spoke the perfect words blackfinger (I had written them into blackfinger the blackfinger program), made the perfect gestures, and even simulated cumming at the precise moment I did. The fantasy that we always satisfied each other perfectly was absolutely perfect. She didn't have blackfinger a favorite hole or position. She blackfinger gave perfect blackfinger head blackfinger. She gave a cold metal tit fuck that made me thank blackfinger god blackfinger for blackfinger titanium. Her hands were those of the perfect artist, shaping me like Michaelangelo in clay. When she was done I here was always blackfinger a marble blackfinger masterpiece. A spire, honoring the gods of sex. And thereby an alter at which she could robotically worship. She was blackfinger perfect with every food and its uses in bed. She blackfinger was here dom, she was slave, she was robot blackfinger, she was dolly, she was painted canvas, she was a leather biker bitch (if blackfinger I wanted); she was a conquered or conquering warrior princess, she was a goddess blackfinger, she was in suspended animation blackfinger, she was some strange alien nymphomaniac, she was a rubber and latex slave, she was blackfinger a brainless beach bunny, she was a rape victim, she blackfinger was a blackfinger slut, she blackfinger was a little school girl licking a lolly, she was a wind blackfinger-up toy, she was kinky, she was straight, she blackfinger liked it when I brought playmates home for her and me, she liked blackfinger things in her ass, she drank me like I was fine blackfinger wine here, she sold herself on street corners and gave me the money, she masturbated herself so perfectly blackfinger I came just blackfinger watching. She was blackfinger completely mine. She was the robot fantasy completely realized blackfinger. She was what she wanted to be. We blackfinger were living the fantasy. And it was blackfinger pure hell.... We were blackfinger damned.
 But I have not seen blackfinger the slightest hint that blackfinger the spark blackfinger of life remains. In all the blackfinger years since, she is the sum of her blackfinger program and nothing more. I have watched for the slightest spontaneity. It is absent. She remains perfect. And I here remain a helpless master. A slave that maintains her slavery. I can do nothing else. I am blackfinger a monster. The monster she begged me to blackfinger be. The blackfinger lonely monster outside blackfinger of society. The creature that loathes itself. The thing that must forever destroy what blackfinger it loves. Because it loves it and can blackfinger do blackfinger nothing else. Because it is... asked.
 Initiate blackfinger program.
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