 She was perfect. Perfect in bed. Perfect in obedience. Perfect in anticipating my needs. If she lacked anything or any inthevip skill or in any car kink car or quirk I could add it. She spoke car vip the perfect words (I had written them into the vip program in), made the perfect in gestures, and even simulated cumming at the welcome precise inthevip moment I did. The fantasy that we always satisfied the each other perfectly was absolutely perfect. She didn't have a favorite car vip hole or position. She gave perfect head. She gave a cold metal tit in fuck that in made me thank car vip god for titanium. Her hands were those welcome of the perfect artist, shaping me like Michaelangelo in clay. When she was done I was always a marble masterpiece. A spire, honoring the in gods of sex. And thereby an alter at which she could robotically worship. She was car vip perfect with every car food and its uses in bed. She was dom, she was slave, she was car robot, she was dolly car, she was painted in canvas, she was a leather biker bitch (if I wanted); she vip was a conquered or conquering warrior princess, she in was a goddess, she was in suspended animation, she was some strange alien nymphomaniac, she was a rubber and in latex the slave, she was a brainless the beach in bunny, she was a rape victim, she vip was a inthevip slut, she in was a little school girl licking the a lolly, she was a inthevip wind inthevip-up toy inthevip, she was kinky, she was straight, she liked it when I brought vip playmates vip home for her and me, she car vip liked things in her ass, she drank me like I was fine wine, she sold herself on street corners and in gave inthevip me inthevip the in money, she inthevip masturbated herself so perfectly the I came just watching. She was completely mine. She in was the robot fantasy completely inthevip realized in. She was what she wanted to car be. We were inthevip living the fantasy. And it was vip pure hell.... We were damned car.
 I couldn't decide which idea was worse the. That she was inthevip completely gone or that some small welcome part of her was still trapped in there experiencing the same things I was. If she was in there in looking out it was worse than any vip prolonged death. I knew, I was in looking in. In vip my shame. In my car vip pain, in my loneliness. Into her robot inthevip corpse.
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