Cold War

"Now that that's done," Matt said, removing the finger, "I think you belong on your knees."

"Yes I do," Kari agreed heartily. She dropped like a stone. She looked up at Matt, adoration and devotion radiating from every pore.

"I don't care who you were," Matt said softly. He stoked her cheek. "You're my little fuckdoll now."

"Yes I am," Kari grinned. "I hope I'm your perfect fuckdoll."

"Well you know the only way we're going to establish that, right?" Matt said. This little incident had been the last straw in the neck part of Matt's plan. Because he had passed this challenge, he knew he could expand. "By comparison."

"Comparison?" Kari cocked her head.

"Yeah," Matt nodded. "I'm going to get some other fuckdolls. And you and them are all going to live here with me. I'm going to fuck all of you. All I want."

"You are?" Kari said, wrapping her mind around the new idea.

"Yes," Matt nodded. "And then... we'll decide who is the best fuckdoll."

Kari's eyes grew large and she let out a little gasp. "Oh.... Oh I want that to be me." Matt could tell that she meant it. Whatever other thoughts she had in her mind before she met Matt were gone. Whatever else she wanted didn't matter anymore. What she wanted now, more than anything and more than she had ever wanted anything, was to be the best fuckdoll. It was all she was.

"Then you should get some practice," Matt said, unzipping.

Kari might have said "Yes sir", but Matt wasn't entirely sure. She didn't stop to speak before impaling her face on his dick, so all Matt heard was two mumbling syllables against his cock. It was probably "Yes sir". If it had been three syllables, he would have said it was, "Yes Master".

Matt sat back. A little competition would be good for him and his fuckdolls. Let them compete to be the best. Let them perfect themselves as they did it. That's what the Soviets had forgotten, of course. It was all about who was best at something. It was about who put two and two together--or merged the various mind control programs to make a harem of personal fuckdolls.

Matt reached down, stroking the hair of the slutty, big-tit, cock-gobbling cheerleader in front of him. "Good fuckdoll," he mumbled. "Good fuckdoll." She made tiny noises of absolute joy.

He came. She swallowed. Then Matt began his search for his next conquest.