 She was perfect. Perfect emiliana in bed. Perfect in obedience 40inchplus. Perfect 40 in 40inchplus anticipating my needs. If she lacked anything or any skill or any kink or quirk I inch could add it. She spoke the perfect words (I had written them into the program), made the perfect gestures, and even simulated cumming at the precise moment I did. The fantasy that we always satisfied each other perfectly inch was absolutely 40 emiliana inch plus perfect. She didn't have a favorite hole or position emiliana. She gave perfect head. She gave a cold metal tit fuck that made me thank god for titanium. Her hands were 40 those of the perfect 40inchplus artist, shaping me like 40 Michaelangelo in clay 40. When 40 she was done I was always a 40inchplus marble masterpiece. A spire, honoring the gods of sex. And thereby an alter at which she could 40inchplus robotically worship. She was perfect with pics every food and its uses in bed 40 emiliana inch plus. She was dom, she 40 was slave, she was robot, she was 40inchplus dolly, she was painted canvas, she was 40inchplus a leather biker bitch (if 40 I wanted); she was a conquered or conquering plus warrior princess 40, she was 40 a goddess, she was in suspended animation, she was some plus strange alien nymphomaniac, she was a 40 rubber and latex 40 slave, she was a brainless 40 beach 40inchplus bunny, she was plus a rape victim, she was 40 a slut, she was a little school girl licking a 40inchplus lolly, she was a wind-up pics toy, she was 40 emiliana inch plus kinky plus, she was straight, she liked it when I brought playmates home for her and me, she liked things in her ass, she drank me like I was fine wine 40 emiliana inch plus, she sold herself on street corners and gave me the money, she inch masturbated herself so 40 perfectly I 40 emiliana inch plus came just watching. She was completely mine. She was the robot fantasy completely realized. She was what she wanted to be. We were living 40 the fantasy. And it 40 was inch pure hell 40.... We were damned.
 I watched helplessly as Susan lost her soul to the pics machine. Standing there completely impotent to act I watched 40 her eyes, once so sparkling with 40 life and joy and yes...love turn pale and milky like those of a dead fish in a meat market. This was what I had wanted so 40 badly 40inchplus. What she had been willing to 40 do to never lose me. But in attempting to become my perfect fantasy I instead beheld an animated silver corpse, which never could again give me the warmth of her love. She was software 40 instead of soul inch. Steel instead of tenderness. She was the perfect lover, companion, would never displease or fail in anything asked of her. She 40 was after all, programmed that way. But humanity cannot 40 emiliana inch plus be programmed 40inchplus, a person can be programmed, but humanity, true caring and 40 love can only be imitated within the limits of circuits and plus programming. I was 40 suddenly very 40inchplus alone in pics the perfect relationship. And as time progressed 40, I came to 40 understand that I had pics not only killed her; but like some ghoulish fiend, stole to the graveyard and desecrated her corpse. Her cold 40 metal corpse. And even 40inchplus worse yet I had played god and brought 40 this beautiful abomination back, and like some fetishistic 40inchplus Frankenstein reanimated her corpse to fulfill my emiliana demented needs. As she had emiliana demanded I 40 do. I remembered that she had wanted this, at plus least as much 40 as I did. It was 40 her 40 fantasy too. To be powerless, helpless in her 40 own inch body, a mindless ever ready toy. The perfect robot plaything. But 40 the 40 realities of the "real" world and the 40 fantasy of fiction 40 are not always the same or compatible. To tinker 40 with the human brain, reprogram 40inchplus or 40 alter 40 it isn't so 40 specific a process at our current level of technology as to be able to pick selectively pics which things to alter. Realistically 40 such technologies are still centuries away. So REAL world 40 robotization or 40 emiliana inch plus chemical mind 40inchplus control or any such procedures are more 40 like 40inchplus lobotomizing 40 the "subject"/victim than "fine tuning". That's 40 the sad reality. But 40 she wanted to be mine forever 40. Wanted to be beautiful forever. Wanted to be half human/ half something from 40 a sci-fi movie. The ultimate bondage 40 emiliana inch plus slave emiliana was one who was bound inside herself. A slave inch in her own mind. The fantasy overrode the reality that SHE 40 would be gone. We rationalized that some of her would remain. Trapped in the 40 fantasy. That being the fantasy. The thrill. The excitement. We proceeded joyfully, blindly.
 It was funny how I found 40 only loneliness and despair in perfection. The thrill of the fantasy 40 , its novelty, soon wore off. All things lose 40inchplus some "intensity" in time. I had done it 40 all a dozen times 40. It simply got boring 40; doing pics all the thinking, the planning, the fantasizing 40inchplus and arranging, that we used to do pics together. It got to be work. An effort 40 emiliana inch plus. Having plus to cue every prompt made 40 me more like a stage director than a lover. And afterwards I missed the warmth of that satisfied 40 cuddle. The simple warmth of her body. A few words or sounds of actual REAL contentment. Most of the 40 time now, she plus simply stopped when the program did. Or worse went through the predictable motions I had 40 arranged. Or inch the limited repertoire of simulated 40 emiliana inch plus spontaneity.
 I couldn't decide which idea was worse. That she was 40inchplus completely gone or that some plus small part of her was still trapped in there experiencing 40inchplus the same things I 40 was. If she was in there looking 40 out it was worse than any prolonged death. I knew, I was 40inchplus looking in. In my shame. In my pain, in my loneliness. Into 40 her robot corpse.
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