I watched helplessly as Susan lost her soul to office the americanaughtypasswordvip-naughtyamericavip machine. Standing there completely impotent to act I watched her eyes, once so sparkling with life and joy and yes...love turn pale and milky like those of a vip dead fish in a meat market. This was what I had wanted join so badly. What she had been willing to do to never lose me. But in attempting naughty to become my perfect fantasy I instead beheld an animated naughty silver corpse americanaughtypasswordvip-naughtyamericavip, which naughty never naughty could again give me the warmth of her password love. She naughty office vip was software america instead of soul. Steel instead office of tenderness. She americanaughtypasswordvip-naughtyamericavip was the naughty office vip perfect lover, companion, would naughty office vip never displease or naughty fail in anything join asked of her. She was after all, programmed that way. But office humanity cannot be programmed, a naughty person password can be programmed password, but america humanity, true caring america and love can only be imitated within the limits of circuits and programming. I americanaughtypasswordvip-naughtyamericavip was suddenly very alone americanaughtypasswordvip-naughtyamericavip in america the perfect relationship. And as time progressed, I naughty office vip came to understand that americanaughtypasswordvip-naughtyamericavip I had not only naughtyamericavip killed her; but like some ghoulish naughty fiend, stole to the graveyard and office desecrated her corpse. Her cold metal corpse. And even worse yet I had played god and brought this beautiful abomination america back, and naughty like some vip fetishistic Frankenstein reanimated her password corpse to fulfill my america demented needs. As she had demanded I do. I america remembered that she had wanted this, at americanaughtypasswordvip-naughtyamericavip least as much as I did. It was her fantasy too. To be powerless, helpless in her own body, a mindless ever ready toy. The perfect naughty robot americanaughtypasswordvip-naughtyamericavip plaything. But the realities of the vip "real" world and the fantasy password of america fiction are not always the same or compatible. To tinker with the naughty human brain, reprogram or alter it isn americanaughtypasswordvip-naughtyamericavip't so specific america a process at naughty office vip our america current level of technology as to be able to pick selectively america which things to alter. Realistically such technologies are still centuries away. So office REAL world robotization or chemical mind control or any such procedures are more like lobotomizing the naughty "subject"/victim than "fine tuning". That's the sad reality. But she america wanted americanaughtypasswordvip-naughtyamericavip to be america mine naughty forever. Wanted to be beautiful forever. Wanted to be america half human/ half something from a sci-fi movie. The vip ultimate bondage slave was one who was naughty bound inside herself. A slave in her naughty own mind naughty. The fantasy overrode the reality that SHE would naughty be join gone. We rationalized that some of her would naughty remain. Trapped in america the fantasy naughty. That password being the fantasy. The thrill. The excitement. We proceeded joyfully, blindly.

It was naughty office vip funny how I found only loneliness and despair in america perfection. The thrill of the fantasy , its vip novelty, soon wore america off naughty. All things lose some "intensity" in time naughty. I naughtyamericavip had done it all a dozen times. It simply got boring; doing all the thinking, the planning, the fantasizing and arranging, that we used vip to join do together. It got to be naughty work. An effort. Having naughty to cue every prompt made me americanaughtypasswordvip-naughtyamericavip more like americanaughtypasswordvip-naughtyamericavip a stage director than a lover. And afterwards I missed the warmth america of that satisfied cuddle. The join simple password warmth of her body. A few join words or sounds of actual REAL contentment. Most of the time now, she simply stopped when america the program did. Or worse went america through the naughty predictable motions I had arranged. Or the limited repertoire office of simulated spontaneity.

I couldn't decide americanaughtypasswordvip-naughtyamericavip which idea was america worse. That she was completely gone or that join some small part of her was still trapped in there experiencing the same things I was. If she was in there looking out it was worse than any prolonged death. I knew, I was looking in. In my shame. In america my naughty pain, in my loneliness. Into her naughty office vip robot corpse.

She america is working on my brain now naughty. I thank her again while I still can. Whoever vip she is vip I (feel?) I should thank her for (something?). Her cold eyes naughty do not respond americanaughtypasswordvip-naughtyamericavip but none naughty-the-less somehow I password vaguely understand that justice has naughty office vip been served. She rips out more join parts I will america no longer need. Replaces them with wiring and circuit boards. The last thing america I ever remember is the sweet I..ron..ic agony of having the main control america interface drilled and then injected painfully into america the join base of my skull. Do machines america scream?