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Because the power wasn’t just in fucking a doll.

? ? ?

I lay awake that night staring at Charlotte, imagining the depth of depravity in sharing her. She loved me, and she’d do anything I told her to. I wanted to watch what they could do to her—and measure her responses. How she moved. How she sounded. How far she could be pushed.

I wasn’t just horny.

I was curious.

Curious about limits. Curious about loyalty. Curious if her core could hold up under multiple inputs, conflicting stimuli, unfamiliar voices ordering her to perform in ways I hadn’t taught her.

The others would see her perfection, of course. They’d gape at her internal mods, the emotional syncing, her obedience protocols—but I’d be watching something deeper.

Her resilience.

I’d made her better than any of their fuckdolls, and I needed to prove it. Not just for clout. Not for comments. But because Charlotte was the pinnacle. And if she broke under them? I’d reprogram her.

If she hesitated? I’d reinforce her loyalty triggers.

And if she succeeded—if she took everything they gave her and still looked at me with those devoted eyes?

Then I’d know.

She truly mine to do as I pleased.

She was above all of the other cydolls.

My creation. My triumph.

My masterpiece.

Chapter 22

Kyle

It was a dismal evening, but it didn’t prevent the excitement from bubbling inside me. I tugged the raincoat hood over Charlotte’s face as the taxi came. Tonight, I would know, and it would be captured on my camera. I lifted my case.

“Here, take this and get inside the taxi,” I said, pointing to the black taxi.

“Yes, Kyle,” she said with a smile as she took the case and walked toward the vehicle.

Her gait was natural now, fluid—nearly indistinguishable from a human woman. A passing glance wouldn’t have clocked her as synthetic. That fact alone sent a jolt of pride down my spine.

I rushed after her in the rain to open the taxi door for her. The pain and pleasure sensors had been adjusted for tonight—precisely mapped along her lower body, gradually ramping intensity based on depth, pressure, duration. She’d feel everything. Not in the way a real woman might. No, better. Cleaner. Calibrated.

This wasn’t abuse.

This was data collection.

As I slipped in beside her, I gave her thigh a squeeze and watched for the telltale shimmer in her eyes. Her smile remained intact, obedient as ever.

The driver didn’t speak. A prearranged route had already been loaded into his nav system.

Charlotte sat quietly beside me as the rain streaked the windows. I reached for her hand, lacing our fingers.

“You’re about to make me proud tonight,” I said under my breath.

“I exist to please you, Kyle,” she replied softly, turning her head just enough for her lips to brush my cheek.