The Beckham Centre

It would have been all so easy to give up because I was trapped and helpless and could do nothing to escape Davis' manipulations. But I kept having these lucid moments where I felt the bots weren't working. These fleeting events gave me hope that my underlying self would eventually overcome the bot's effects, and I could cast them off and return to being me.

I held no such hopes for the other three because each seemed to be active participants in their degradation, and all seemed to revel in competing for Davis' attention. Even Yvonne no longer appeared to be fighting. Instead, she seemed to enjoy being used by Davis or us three women.

When Davis and I met my family at Melbourne airport, the bots forced me to play the loving wife of a loving man. I tried with all my might to scream that Davis had me trapped and mind controlled, but the throbbing ache in my head would allow no such words to pass through my lips. So, all I could do was watch in despair from the deepest recesses of my mind as I was forced to imitate a sickeningly sweet version of my previous self.

Somehow, Ina realised that I was in trouble. Eventually, she managed to get me alone, "What is happening, Ona? You look like a child whose favourite pussycat has run away. Is that bastard you married hitting you? Now, sweetie, don't tell me all is alright because it's been three years, and you're not even pregnant yet. If you were happy, you'd have at least one child by now."

With my eyes squeezed tightly shut, I tried with everything I had to tell my sister I was in trouble. But the bots wouldn't allow me to voice the tiniest of complaints. But Ina somehow knew, anyway. I think she could see my pain as I tried to speak because she knew me so well.

"What is it, Ona? You can tell me, and I will try to make it better. If he is hurting you, we will take you back to Berlin with us."

Davis found us, unfortunately. "Excuse me, Ina. May I have a quick word alone with Ona, please? I've just received an email from our clinic and need to discuss it with my wife."

Giving me a concerned look first, Ina turned to Davis and smiled, "But, of course, Davis. Work, it must come first."

Once Ina had left, Davis pulled out one of his remotes. Waving it under my nose, he said, "I gave your sister, mother and father orange juice when we first got home, do you remember?"

Meekly, I nodded.

"I prepared the juice last night, Ona, and laced it with nanobots. If you continue to try and tell your sister you're in trouble, I will activate those bots and turn all your family into my sex slaves."

Davis's eyes burned mercilessly into me as I wept with despair.

Then this utter arsehole I'd married said, "Who knows, Ona? Maybe you'll enjoy sucking your father's cock as your mother eats your pussy, and I fuck your sister in the ass, or maybe you won't. But, hear me well. Keep up your resistance, and we will find out."

I dutifully promised to remain silent about what Davis had done to us four women. Then, I meekly followed my husband back to the lounge to play 'happily married couple'.

Only a week after my family headed home, Davis moved us to Queensland. Shifting his allegiance to the Queensland branch of the CSIRO garnered our clinic a clear bonus of a million dollars, plus ongoing monthly funding of another $100,000. Using some of this money, Davis procured the rights and permissions to start human trials.

Unfortunately, my husband is smart as well as devious, so for the first trials, Davis selected his test subjects randomly. Using his new clinic's name, Davis placed an ad looking for volunteers to trial a revolutionary new pain reduction system. Then, the names of all of the people who applied were placed into a hat before being drawn by a representative from the CSIRO.

I have to say, the results were a resounding success. Of the fifty pain sufferers chosen, all but seven stated their pain had significantly reduced. In addition, four of the seven less-than-satisfactory responses admitted their range of movement had improved, and they could do more things more often than before. The above meant that Davis and my bots had improved the pain and suffering of forty-seven of our first fifty patients. If these figures held over the long term, we would have invented something truly remarkable.

I should have felt elation and joy at the results, but the part of me, still me, knew Davis had begun expanding the use of his mind-control nanobots. The man that could have almost literally been the saviour of man instead used his power to take control of women who had rebelled against their parents or husbands. Many women, whose only crime was to refuse to do what the men in their lives told them to do, were turned into unwilling sex slaves by the nanobots Davis and I had invented. My shame knew no bounds, but there was nothing, zilch, and nada, that I could do. In fact, it was all I could do to hold onto the tiny part of me that was still Ona and not succumb to becoming Charlotte the Harlot 100% of the time.

Although our pain reduction clinic wasn't blooming as quickly as Davis had hoped, the other services we offered were. Davis had a steady stream of psychology patients that saw him regularly or semi-regularly, so money continued to be the least of our problems. This was a good thing because as well as buying the building that housed our clinic, Davis bought the whole top floor of an apartment complex close to our clinic.

Many of Brisbane's medical specialists had clinic rooms in Spring Hill, so our facility blended in seamlessly. From the outside, it looked like Davis wanted it to look precisely. It appeared to be a full-service medical facility offering remedial massage, general practitioner, day spa, health and beauty, and psychology services. But, unfortunately, no one knew the depravity that went on behind that façade.

Davis employed only women for every role. Then, during their interview, he fed these women some bots before activating those bots and adding these poor women to his harem. Davis added married, single, and even lesbian women to his collection of controlled subjects, then delighted in debasing us all.

He instructed women with partners to be much more sexually active with their significant other. Hence, the women's partners remained unaware of their loved one's predicament. The part that really set my teeth on edge, during the brief periods the bots would allow me to think negatively about my husband, was that he sent bots home with the lesbian women to feed to their lovers. Then he'd activate those bots and use their partners, too.

Now that Davis had spread his depraved intentions over nearly a dozen women, he paid little attention to the four he had initially enslaved. Mostly, he used us to entertain investors or prospective clients. Isabella, Julia, Yvonne and I were made to perform numerous lesbian shows for the entertainment of Davis' clients and/or investors. These shows almost always concluded with Isabella fisting my ass as Julia did the same to my pussy. Simultaneously, Yvonne would be filled by as many cocks as were present. Sometimes, her mouth, ass and cunt were all filled with dick as she groaned, grunted and demanded they fuck her harder.

With the bots controlling our every emotion and reaction, the four of us revelled in these debasing and demeaning acts, cumming numerous times as we acted out these men's wildest fantasies. In fact, because Isabella and Julia constantly asked when the next play session was, I realised they lusted for these encounters.

It all came to a head when Davis began trolling family court for girls of barely legal age for his experiments. In a lucid moment, I knew I had to stop him, and I knew who my ally had to be. In some of my seemingly free-from-the-controlling bots moments, I noticed Yvonne still occasionally held her head and tried to shake herself clear of the bot's control. If there was any help at all, I knew it had to be from Yvonne. So, in my lucid moments, I began writing down my plan. I'd write my thoughts swiftly, then as the bots came back online and punished me for disobeying, I'd put the pad away and force myself to forget I'd ever planned to rebel.

Unfortunately, the occasions when I felt free of the bots and Yvonne appeared to fight hers were rare, so I had few chances to attempt our rescue. But, around ten months after we'd moved to Brisbane, I had an extended period where my bots seemed dormant. Furiously writing what I thought would work to permanently disable the nanobots, I noticed Yvonne sitting at her desk with her head down, weeping. Then, vainly, she tried to shake herself free from the bots controlling influence.

On a separate piece of paper, I wrote, 'Want to help me escape?' Then, on the pretence of showing her sympathy, I slipped Yvonne my note. I knew the risk I ran. If Yvonne wasn't attempting to escape, she would probably hand the message to my husband. Then, Davis would test the bots and make necessary adjustments to ensure I could never rebel again.

Yvonne gasped as she read my note before controlling herself. To cover her gasp, I kissed Yvonne's neck and shoulders as I massaged her full bosom and played with her nipples. Smiling, Isabella and Julia turned back to their computer screens. Then, when their backs were turned, Yvonne scribbled a double underlined "Yes!!"

That was as far as we could go this time, though. I could feel a headache forming behind my eyes as the bots came back online. Yvonne frowned before her features smoothed out and became bland as she surrendered to her bot's urging. Yvonne did slide the note back to me, however.

Walking back to my office, the bots only stopped torturing my pain synapses when I continuously repeated that I loved being my husband's owned sex slave and believed it. I was only grateful that the bots Davis and I made were deaf and dumb. If they could rat on me, I'd be in huge trouble.

To be continued ...