Dr. Ambrose
The poor thing’s mouth hangs open, piss dampening the corners of her lips. Patches of gray dirt smear across her skin, and her dyed blonde hair is in knots. I rearrange myself and zip up my trousers while smirking at her. Pissing on her is like marking my territory.
Before she can fully comprehend her post-orgasmic state, I bound up the stairs and lock the basement door behind me. Though there is a risk in leaving Violet unattended, there are surveillance cameras in every area of the basement; I can see her whenever I want.
Besides, I have an appointment I can’t miss. For now, I’ll be in my office, observing Violet through a camera lens.
After I return to my office, I settle behind my desk, then open the surveillance footage on my laptop, adjusting the settings until I can see her in the dim lighting. The cunt’s chin angles down toward the bottom of the tub; she’s probably gawking at the murky puddle of my piss mixed with the tub’s years of neglect. She touches her lips, her fingertips skimming her damp skin, as if wondering, Did I really let him piss on me?
“Of course you did, sweet one,” I say out loud. “You’d let me do anything to you.”
Three knocks reverberate through my office door.
“Come in,” I say.
A man with slick, black hair and a strong cleft chin enters my office, and the scent of freshly washed laundry spreads across the room. A wide smile is etched onto his face, a characteristic of his permanent business etiquette. The Founder of The Pure Companion Company offers his hand. His company originally specialized in hybrid sex dolls: rubber interiors sheathed in human skin. With my help, the company has started a new product line, a project we are both eager to perfect.
I stand, and we shake hands, both of us with equally firm grips. Although I am, indeed, smarter and better than him, the Founder is a man who deserves my full handshake. He’s become a dear associate of mine.
“Alick Ambrose,” he says. “It’s always good to see you.”
I return to my seat. “And how is The Pure Companion Company?”
“Flourishing. Always flourishing.” He takes the chair directly across from me and nods at my laptop. He’s observant; he knows I have a habit of studying my patients. “I take it you’ve acquired the next specimen?”
On the screen, Violet flutters around the basement as she crawls on her hands and knees. She reminds me of an insect trapped in a jar.
She shouts at the camera lens: I know you can see me!
I raise a brow. At least she’s aware.
The dumb cunt must be searching for the tiny container she hid in her mouth. I chuckle coldly; she must be stupid to think I wouldn’t see her cheeks packed like a squirrel’s on the way down to the basement. Perhaps she is searching for the extra copy of her mother’s file, which I brought with us and conveniently dropped on the floor of the basement. She’ll find it soon. I added a new note in it just for her.
I briefly ponder calling her supposed boyfriend to ask what she’s hiding in the container, but I’d prefer to let it unravel on its own. Surprises, especially vicious ones, always amuse me. And if I need to punish her for whatever she has planned, then her guilt and shame will be absolutely exquisite during our next session.
I turn back to the Founder. “Before we get to that, did you enjoy the previous specimen?”
“Quite thoroughly,” he says, his mouth a crescent of sharp teeth. “The model groaned in pain, but I’m afraid there were no tears. Our clients for these products are very particular. Tears are one of our biggest requests in the preorders. As you know, our dolls must react naturally without any words.”
The Founder and I are collaborating on a product of human women transformed into sex toys. We’re calling it our Living Doll product line. With the right treatments, a woman can be changed from a human with free will into a doll that solely reacts to a man’s stimuli. If he wants the doll to scream, he can stab it, and by the power vested in me, it will scream, and it will never retaliate or withhold anything from its owner.
I had been working on a similar project before beginning my collaboration with The Pure Companion Company. I always thought lobotomy would be the perfect way to create a completely obedient object. After a few failed attempts to achieve my goals, I realized I needed more control over the brain. The goal isn’t a lack of reactivity; the objective is to create a sexual need so strong, it overrides all other instincts. Thus, a doll can have its mental and emotional responses, while being unable to resist sexual submission.
Eventually, I began using a microchip in the brain, which opened up new possibilities.
Despite our recent success, tears have been the most difficult aspect to replicate once the doll’s processing chip has been installed in the brain. I’ve played with the idea of conditioning the women beforehand to enjoy pain and pleasure, as well as forming a certain response to the simplest of triggers. For example, taking a cock in any orifice can be conditioned to become an unbearable task for the doll, and thus, our tear-trained products will cry for our customers from mere penetration.
Violet will be my first experimental doll with these particular conditioned triggers. In our first few hours alone, I’ve already begun teaching her body to respond to clitoral pain with orgasm. And with repeated use of her holes and degradation of her mind, she will eventually be brought to tears of joy and agony by my mere presence.
“As I hinted at in our correspondences, this one is the answer to our concerns.” I nod toward my computer. Typically, I’d adjust the screen to give the Founder a view of the specimen. I have no desire to share a physical view of her though; he doesn’t deserve it. Besides me, no one deserves a view of my sweet one.
On the screen, Violet squints, attempting to read her mother’s file in the dim lighting. It’s actually a copy of the original file, which I conveniently left for her supposed boyfriend to steal. Her eyes dart across the papers now, studying the new handwritten note.
I turn back to the Founder. “You see, my hypothesis is if they already have an inclination for crying during sex in their conscious lives, and if they have an interest in depravity before they’re transformed, then the brain will already be hardwired to respond with tears and arousal.”
“And does this next specimen have these qualities?” the Founder asks.
“Of course she does. She’s my daughter.”
