From the corner of your eye, in the blinding daylight, you see the face of your girlfriend from the old world. For a few tortuous seconds, she just stares in bemusement, as you wonder whether you even know her anymore, or whether she recognizes you. Slowly, a smile comes to her face, and at once she begins to laugh uproariously.
"What did I tell you? What did I tell you? I knew you couldn't handle it!"
She pulls you out of the box, your naked body - visually, no different from when you were human (it hits you, you've been a love doll longer than you've been a human female) - on view of the whole neighborhood. The booklet clatters back into the box, as the check flutters down inside your girlfriend's threshold. "Oh, wow," she says, "you're so light!" She pulls you into a tight hug and moans. She then brings you inside, pulling the box you came in with a foot. Gripping you in her (nondominant) left arm, she leans down to grab the check, the floor, door, and box causing your limbs to contort in a way you're sure would have caused you great pain as a human, but you feel nothing.
"Damn," she says, "they're generous. You know how to pick 'em, sweetie. Or did - well, I'm sure you still do, you just can't tell me, can you?" She laughs again, kisses you on the cheek, and with a playfully evil smirk slips a finger briefly up your ass. "Ooh!" she says, "you feel so clean now!" She sniffs her finger. "Can't even smell it." She kisses you on the lips - your mouth moves slightly, but you're not controlling it, and it's certainly not what a kiss once was.
Without warning she draws you into a parody of a waltz. Suddenly you realize you're shorter in this world than she is, your feet not touching the ground as she twirls your nude, limp body around. As she spins, her laughter grows, until at last she drops you on the hardwood floor and walks away laughing. When your head strikes the ground, unlike when she twisted your limbs, it hurts every bit as much as it should. So this must be what the woman was talking about - for you to feel pleasure, you must also feel pain, albeit only from superficial stimuli. The pain fades much more quickly than you feel it should, at least.
This is the last you see of your girlfriend that day. She goes about her business, leaving you a pathetic heap on the hardwood floor.