Satisfaction Guaranteed

"Remember what I said earlier," said Carol, "about committing to a lifestyle of submission? I want you to know that was all true. I wasn't just bullshitting you.

"You fit the profile for our Most Desired Customers perfectly. A certain attractiveness, a fascination with fetishy taboos, no close family ties, and an almost unreal response to erotic domination!" Her fingers authoritatively pounded her keyboard. "Check, check, check, and check!

"All that remains is your consent. And the beauty of it is, you've already given it.

"It's in the Terms of Service—which you've already read. By modifying the SBU-590 in any way, you renounce any citizenship to your native country and agree to become a permanent resident of our little island!" She reached inside her tube top and cupped herself thoughtlessly. "Provided you match the profile--which you do! Isn't that exciting?"

A barrier in Edgar's mind broke, and he knew that the mystery girl—Carol!--had broken his will. It was no longer his own. He had nothing left to surrender.

"You're the best slave ever, Edgar! We can't wait to add you to our herd!"

And the machine stopped.

It just stopped.

"What the fuck?" asked Carol. "All right, which one of you made him cum?"

"Irene!" chimed the majority of voices.

Irene ignored the others, bringing her own persistent thrusts to an inevitable, self-gratifying, and somewhat louder than expected conclusion.

"Irene!" scolded Carol. "I should have known it would be you."

"She didn't do it," said a voice that did not come from Edgar's screen console.

Famke had arrived. Edgar did not notice when she'd entered his living room, so she could have been there for some time.

"I could see he wasn't going to last twenty minutes." Famke wrapped a comforting arm around Edgar's aching torso. "Sorry, girls, but I don't have all night. I turned the machine off. He didn't cum."

Collected sounds of disappointment came from the screen console.

Famke disengaged the Feather-Touch Pleasure Cone. Edgar joyfully moaned.

"Oops! I spoke too soon!"

She wiped the mess onto Edgar's hairy chest.

Then she punched an administrative code into the console, and the machine folded Edgar neatly into a fetal position. She wheeled a shipping crate under Edgar's suspended body.

Carol said wistfully through the screen, "He's going to be popular when he gets here."

"He's not even resisting," noted Famke. She sprayed a powerful sedative mist directly into Edgar's heaving nostrils. "I've never seen a submissive this fucked. The program must be one of Helga's."

The last thing Edgar remembered when he was lowered into the crate was Carol's voice.

"You're our favorite, Edgar! You're our new training video!"