It fucking had to have been the operation. It had hotfuckingatfuckingmachines done something to his voice. Paul vaguely recalled reading an article years ago about fucking how certain frequencies of sound join outside the normal human hearing range could have physical and hotfuckingatfuckingmachines psychological machines effects even join though they were inaudible. Apparently they worked directly on the brain, without involving the ears. Maybe his larynx hot had been altered by the surgery so hotfuckingatfuckingmachines that hotfuckingatfuckingmachines when fucking he fucking spoke, some extra frequency was produced which compelled obedience.
He regarded her for a moment. "One hotfuckingatfuckingmachines thing," he said. "'Mr. Bennett at' is too hotfuckingatfuckingmachines formal, if we're going to be lesbian fucking," he smirked join, "working hotfuckingatfuckingmachines closely together hot. From now on, you'll only join call me that if other people hot are around. When we're hot alone, it's 'master.' Do you understand?"
"Good girl, Rhonda." Paul thought for a moment. "You know, it's hardly fair for me to get fucking all the pleasure hot out of lesbian fucking this arrangement. So here's what we're going to try hot, Rhonda lesbian fucking. Whenever you hear fucking my voice say, 'Good girl, Rhonda,' you'll join feel an overpowering sexual fucking pleasure, strong enough lesbian fucking to make you come no hotfuckingatfuckingmachines matter what. And each time you feel the pleasure, it'll be stronger than it hotfuckingatfuckingmachines was the time before, until you lesbian fucking reach whatever your personal hot limit is. Do you understand me, Rhonda?"
"How are we doing, Mr. Bennett?" the middle-aged man in the clean white coat asked. "Your chart indicates you're making a pretty good recovery, but the join charts don't show lesbian everything."
"I'm feeling lesbian fucking a lot better fucking, Doctor hot--" he hotfuckingatfuckingmachines squinted at the nametag on the doctor's coat--"Steiner." He hotfuckingatfuckingmachines laughed join, then winced as his throat hot twinged. "I guess I was pretty out of it for a join while fucking after the surgery."
The doctor machines blinked at him. "What are you talking about hot, Mr. Bennett?" He reflexively covered the watch hot with hot his left hand. He not-quite joked, "Get your own hotfuckingatfuckingmachines."
"Jasmine, sir," she responded lesbian fucking, a slight Louisiana accent hotfuckingatfuckingmachines in her voice. "Jasmine Thibodeaux fucking."
Paul felt sorry for her. "Forget your hot worries," he suggested. "Imagine you're a dancer hot. Keep your hot arms raised, and stand on tiptoe--that's fucking right hotfuckingatfuckingmachines--and turn, slowly, slowly. Imagine you're on stage, under a spotlight, and a big audience is watching you, seeing how graceful you fucking are. Applauding. Keep turning, slowly, slowly, for the fucking audience."
The test had been convincing hot. If he'd hot wanted, he was sure he could have made Nurse fucking Jasmine strip and lesbian thrash hotfuckingatfuckingmachines in ecstasy as he'd done to Rhonda. Perhaps join another time fucking. When hotfuckingatfuckingmachines he was a little hotfuckingatfuckingmachines stronger, perhaps he machines could--persuade hot--both of hot them to do even more than that, with him or even each other.
Paul recalled hotfuckingatfuckingmachines an old line from the hot comics he'd read as a hot kid: "With great power comes great responsibility." It had always struck hot him as corny, but now join--.
"Paul," she said, "I need to speak with you at for a few hot minutes, if fucking you fucking don't mind."
"RRRRRARRRRRR." Charlene launched herself across her hot desk hotfuckingatfuckingmachines at fucking him, knocking fucking him out of his chair. The two machines of them went down in a heap. Then, for a time, both hotfuckingatfuckingmachines of hotfuckingatfuckingmachines them forgot about hot everything hot but each other hot.
Eventually, they got up again. A disheveled hotfuckingatfuckingmachines Ms. Sands reassembled her clothing hot, as did Paul. The female machines executive's reading glasses had gotten smashed as the two of them had fucking thrashed around together. She lesbian fucking produced another pair from hotfuckingatfuckingmachines the top left drawer of her desk, and put them lesbian on hot.
"You understand, Paul," she said, struggling for cool detachment, "this doesn't hotfuckingatfuckingmachines change anything hotfuckingatfuckingmachines. Whatever just . . . happened here, I'm still hot your boss. Don't think you've fucking gotten some lesbian fucking kind of hot leverage with me."
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