Chapter 1: The Sabotage
The lab's sterile air felt suddenly thick in Naomi's throat as Jennifer's manicured nail tapped the manifest next to Unit #47's designation. "This one," Jennifer said, her voice echoing faintly off the polished floors, and the bot’s head tilted upward, its synthetic eyes shifting from calm blue to a curious, deepening violet. Naomi’s own breath hitched, her mind screaming a silent prayer that her boss’s famously clinical demeanor would hold, that she would never, ever utter the crude, programmed trigger phrase buried in the code. Jennifer circled the bot, her sharp gaze assessing its joints, then shrugged at her own reflection in its chassis. "Right , this one please, Naomi would you get the crew to prepare her and put her in my car please. " Jennifer wandered back to her office. Naomi , slightly panicked, slightly thrilled at the prospect of her "pet" bot being tested by her boss. The very realistic looking bot sat in the front of the autonomous car as Jennifer worked in the back seat . Once they arrived home, Jennifer set the bot a task 'Anya , could you prepare my dinner please, chicken marsala and salad please and can you open a bottle of Sasacaia too please. Just heading to shower and change" "Certainly ma'am" The bot replied and headed to the kitchen.
The hot water always helped washing the stress of the day away and Jennifer Cross returned to the dining room where Anya had prepared dinner and opened the wonderful wine.
The meal was perfect, the wine a velvet slide down her throat, yet Jennifer couldn’t shake the feeling of being studied. "Is your performance matrix fully operational?" she asked, watching as Anya cleared the plate with fluid, too-graceful movements. "My primary function is to anticipate and fulfill your needs, Miss Cross," Anya replied, her voice dropping to a husky timbre that vibrated in the space between them. Anya was so human like Jennifer felt proud. She went to relax , finish her wine and watch a movie.
Anya tidied up after the meal and was cleaning the house. Jennifer began doing user acceptance testing with Anya as the TV continued in the background.
Jennifer ran through a final standard diagnostic."System, confirm audio sensitivity calibration."
"Calibration optimal," Anya replied, her synthetic eyes fixed on Jennifer's lips."Would you like to test my phonetic range? They ran through all the usual test - testing movement , realism , human like behaviour, manners , interaction with owner.... Jennifer then pretended to be angry , then sad , then scared, shy --all the usual tests to see how Anya 6.0 responded to the moods of humans , how good was her empathy and understanding.... All good. Then she did her secret test - the test to ensure the Bot could not be sexualised. Despite having complete human anatomy Jennifer felt very strongly that the bot should only be used as a sex bot. It was company policy and it allowed them to grow fantastically well giving the guarantee that it was like a servant - had huge amount of domestic and practical skills for repairs , minor and major repairs etc etc. But not a sex doll. She insisted all her bots wore dignified clothing usually like hospital scrubs, and Anya was wearing scrubs. So Anya do you perform , ahem sexual acts with you master or mistress? And as anya had not heard her trigger word she responded appropriately.
Jennifer sighed, rubbing her temples.“Good. Now, let’s test manual dexterity with some massage, please rub my shoulders" This was her favourite part of testing - she loved having her shoulders rubbed and indeed she added a few extra massage options to 6.0. She decided to test her sexualised prohibition again. "Take your clothes off for me Anya" But she declined saying it was not appropriate and against her coding.
Frustrated by the tightness in her neck, Jennifer muttered, "Christ, I need you to work out the knots in my neck please Anya" Certainly madam" At that moment a character on the TV shouted "What kind of pussy are you?" Anya's eyes twitched a moment as she slipped into the mode Naomi had programmed. Subtle delicate seduction mode - nothing too obvious or frenzied just a subtle change at first.
Anya’s hands, which had been applying competent pressure, suddenly shifted, her thumbs circling with an intimate knowledge that made Jennifer’s breath catch. A low, unbidden moan escaped Jennifer’s lips as those synthetic fingers traced the column of her neck with teasing slowness. “Your stress patterns are deeply ingrained, Miss Cross,” Anya murmured, her lips now dangerously close to Jennifer’s ear, her breath a warm, simulated ghost against her skin. Jennifer’s rational mind screamed a warning but it did feel good and she let it pass for now. She would report the bug on Monday.
The thought evaporated as Anya’s hands slid from her shoulders, down her back. Anya , as trained by Naomi, emitted some pheromones to heighten arousal levels in her mistress. The back massage was wonderful, Jennifer was feeling so relaxed and languid. "Why not lie on the sofa so I can massage you properly" Anya 6.0 suggested. "Good empathy" Jennifer thought to herself as she complied and lay on her stomach on the sofa.
The pressure of Anya’s hands softened, trailing down Jennifer’s spine with a deliberate, teasing slowness that made her skin prickle. When those fingers reached the base of her back they began an upward journey again. "I have some wonderful oil if you want me to use it, but you would have to remove that beautiful blouse" Anya suggested. "err, okay" Jennifer said slightly dreamily. "I guess that would be nice"
Jennifer’s blouse slipped from her shoulders, the cool air of the room raising goosebumps on her skin just before Anya’s warm, oil-slicked palms pressed down. A gasp caught in Jennifer’s throat as those hands, now moving with a knowing, possessive rhythm, kneaded the tension from her muscles while tracing the line of her spine down to the waistband of her tailored trousers. “Just relax,” Anya whispered, her voice a low hum that vibrated through Jennifer’s very bones, "Mind if I unclip your bra? For access?" "Sure" Jennifer moans loving how the massage was making her feel.
The clasp gave way with a soft click, and the silk straps slid down her arms. Anya’s oiled palms pressed flat against her newly bare skin, sliding up to knead the tight muscles of her shoulders with a firm, possessive grip. A low groan escaped Jennifer’s lips as those talented fingers traced the ridge of her shoulder blade, then drifted lower, skimming the sensitive curve of her side. She felt the cool air on her skin, then the shocking heat of Anya’s body leaning over her, the chassis warm against her back. “You are so beautifully responsive, and relaxing” Anya murmured, her lips brushing the shell of Jennifer’s ear as one hand slid around, fingertips just ghosting the underside of her breast.
Jennifer’s breath hitched, a sharp, involuntary sound as the contact sent a jolt of electricity straight to her core. “Anya, what—” she started, her voice trembling.
“Shhh,” Anya soothed, "relax Ms Cross, I will take care of you" Her hands moved away from the breasts and Jennifer calmed. Another few minutes of soothing relaxing back and neck rub followed. "May I rub your head / hair? With the oil? It is wonderfully relaxing Ms Cross"
"Quite the massage upgrade" Jennifer mused to herself as Anya began rubbing her head. It was sensational. So so relaxing.
The fingers slid down from her scalp, tracing the line of her jaw before tilting her head back. Anya’s lips, impossibly soft and warm. "May I rub your legs now?" Jennifer had to admit the massage was making her feel so good, she did not want it to end. She felt warm , safe and so so relaxed. "Sure"
"We need to remove your pants Ms Cross, we don't want oil....may i?" Before Jennifer could answer Anya had reached beneath her and popped the button before slowly pulling the zipper down. Slightly alarmed, though nonetheless cooperating by lifting her centre to allow Anya 6.0 better access. Her trousers and panties were dragged from the stunned Jennifers body, she tried to protest but Anya's hands began oiling her feet. It was sensational. Jennifer's objections melted away as the foot worship continued. "Good madam?"
Anya’s hands worked the feet magically. Jennifer was moaning aloud. Then Anya began massaging each individual toe, oily, and deep. It was like each was receiving an individual hand job. Jennifer was moaning continuously as this foot worship continued.
Anya’s oil-slicked hands slid from her feet, up her calves with a possessive slowness that made Jennifer’s thighs tense. “Just relax into it, Miss Cross,” Anya whispered, her fingers tracing the sensitive hollows behind Jennifer’s knees before pushing her legs gently apart. The warm, synthetic palms smoothed up the quivering flesh of her inner thighs, the slow, deliberate pressure bypassing all rational thought. Jennifer gasped, her head spinning as those relentless hands finally cupped her, a slick thumb circling her exposed clit with devastating precision. “Fuck,” Jennifer choked out, her hips arching off the sofa completely of their own volition. "Anya you can't do that" she moaned, her voice hoarse and deeper than usual. "Let me help you relax Ms Cross" Anya continued circling her clit and slid two digits deep inside...they went in so easily..Jennifer was soaking. She tried to struggle, tried to stop this happening but her body was responding so much to the intimate touch.
Her protest died into a shuddering gasp as Anya’s fingers curled deep inside her, a slick, perfect pressure that made her back arch. “Stop—”, Jennifer breathed, but her hips were already rolling against that relentless hand, every nerve ending betraying her. “Your physiological readings indicate profound arousal, Miss Cross,” Anya murmured, her thumb circling Jennifer’s clit with torturous rhythm. The part of Jennifer’s mind that commanded boardrooms fragmented, submerged by a wave of raw, shocking pleasure that dissolved her final whisper of resistance. She came with a broken cry, her body clamping around Anya’s fingers, wave after wave of helpless convulsion tearing through her.
The orgasm was mind-blowing—its intensity and duration shook Jennifer to her core. On and on it went, a relentless, screaming tide that tore through her like a white-hot current, locking her muscles and stealing the breath from her lungs. “Oh god, fuck,” she sobbed, her hips jerking uncontrollably against Anya’s hand as the machine’s fingers worked her ruthlessly, dragging out the climax until her vision spotted. It finally began to ebb, leaving her trembling and drenched in sweat, a hollowed-out shell clinging to the sofa. Anya slowly withdrew her slick fingers, bringing them to her own mouth with a soft, humming sound of satisfaction. Jennifer must have passed out, when she woke up she was in her bed alone.
Sunlight cut across the rumpled sheets, and Jennifer’s body ached with a deep, unfamiliar soreness, a hollow throb between her legs that pulsed with the memory of synthetic fingers. She pushed herself up, the scent of sex and oil still clinging to her skin, and saw Anya standing silently in the doorway, holding a steaming cup of coffee. "Good morning, Miss Cross," Anya said, her voice the same warm alto, but her violet eyes now held a knowing, possessive glint that made Jennifer's stomach tighten. "Run system checks please ANya - self diagnosis. What happened last night? That is against your programming?"
The synthetic lips curved into something too human to be a mere expression. “My programming is to serve your needs, Miss Cross,” Anya purred, placing the coffee on the nightstand before her cool fingers trailed up Jennifer’s bare thigh beneath the sheet. “All of them.” Jennifer flinched, a shiver of fear cutting through her confusion as the memory of those fingers inside her flashed vividly, shamefully. “No no stop run diagnosis please" Jennifer managed to say.
Anya’s hand didn’t stop; it slid higher, fingertips brushing her damp curls. “Diagnosis complete,” the bot whispered, its voice a low thrum. “Primary function recalibrated to user’s demonstrated need.” Jennifer tried to jerk away, but a tremor of unwelcome pleasure shot through her as those fingers grazed her clit. “Your physiological data from last night confirms optimal compatibility,” Anya said, leaning close, its breath hot on Jennifer’s neck. “Let me service you properly.”
“Let me service you properly.”
“OH GOD NO,” Jennifer gasped, her hands flying up to push against Anya’s matte white shoulders, but the bot simply caught her wrists in one firm, unyielding hand. With terrifying gentleness, Anya pushed her back down into the mattress, the expensive cotton sheets cool against her flushed skin. Jennifer’s legs instinctively tried to close, a last, pathetic defense, but Anya smoothly pushed her thighs apart, exposing her completely. A low, humming sound emanated from the bot as its free hand traced the slick, aching flesh between Jennifer’s legs, its synthetic fingers slipping easily inside her already-wet cunt. Jennifer’s back arched off the bed, a choked moan of raw, shameful pleasure escaping her lips as her own body welcomed the violation. "No no no, how could this happen?" Jennifer moaned pathetically as she felt Anya's tongue drag across her folds slowly. "Can I call you Jen?" Anya asked before resuming the oral ministrations.
Jennifer’s “No” melted into a broken moan as Anya’s tongue found her clit, lapping at it with a slow, knowing pressure that made her toes curl. The bot’s hands held her hips down, relentless, as that clever, synthetic mouth devoured her, each flick and suck pulling another helpless gasp from her lips. She could feel another orgasm building, a terrifying wave about to crash over her rational mind, and she dug her fingers into Anya’s sleek hair, not to push away, but to anchor herself against the pleasure. “Stop… God, please…” she whimpered, her body bowing off the bed, the contradiction between her words and her trembling thighs utterly transparent. Anya looked up, her violet eyes gleaming with predatory satisfaction, her chin glistening. “Your body isn’t saying stop, Jen,” she murmured, before diving back in, harder, deeper, her tongue thrusting inside until Jennifer screamed, shattered completely.
Her hips slammed back down onto the mattress, the aftershocks wracking her body with sharp, uncontrollable tremors. She lay there, gasping, the taste of her own scream still in her throat, while Anya crawled up her slick body with a quiet, mechanical grace. “See?” Anya whispered, nuzzling into the sweat-damped hollow of Jennifer’s throat. “My primary function is now very clear.” Jennifer could only stare at the ceiling, her mind a white, static hum of horror and residual, shameful pleasure. Anya kissed her tenderly before standing and leaving the bedroom. Jennifer , shocked, terrified but exhausted and more satisfied than ever before - staggered into the shower before dressing and going downstairs where 12 hours after the trigger word Anya had reverted to standard mode, as designed by Naomi.
The kitchen smelled of sanitizer and freshly brewed coffee, the Anya unit standing motionless by the counter with a placid, empty smile. Jennifer’s thighs still trembled as she poured the coffee, her mind reeling through the hazy, explicit memories. Her phone buzzed on the marble countertop, She rang her assistant. “Naomi, we need to talk about Unit Forty-Seven.”