It was a lovely summer in Basilicata. The beach below the villa was rough shingle, but the Gulf of Taranto was warm, and the headlands cut it off nicely. Her own tiny little Mediterranean paradise.

Helen was sunbathing naked on the beach, as she usually did in the warm Italian morning. Stefan was nearby, on a beach chair of his own, reading some cheap yellow paperback in Italian. He was making a good effort to pick up the language, although of course by now Helen could speak like a Basilicatan native when she needed to. Helen was passing the time reading on her tablet, flipping rapidly between two or three biochemical journals and the still-busy news of the Helidyne trial. Her retention these days was unreal, of course, but that seemed to come with a tendency to multitask excessively. One of the papers had some findings related to that that she might incorporate into Version 2, if she ever decided that making that happen was necessary.

The regular news was about obstruction of justice charges being added on for a couple of management and research muckedy-mucks, for the research Helen had copied then deleted just before her flight from the country. She had no particular guilt about accidentally framing management for one crime out of dozens that they hadn't committed; they would have done it themselves if she hadn't first. And certainly they deserved getting the book thrown at them: what they'd done to her, and tried to do to her, was enough for that. The experimental treatments they'd forced on her had made her body a horny teenager's wet dream; had left her libido supercharged and welded inexorably to a deep need for submission to men, service to men, obedience to men. If the intelligence part hadn't failed—hadn't backfired completely on them—she'd likely be some Helidyne executive's sex slave right now. No, they deserved to get nailed with everything she'd tipped the feds off on and more.

Nailed... well, that's where the neural alterations really bit, of course. The heat was always there, simmering under the surface, and she managed it as best she could but she hadn't been fucked since waking, several hours ago by now; her clit and her nips and her damnable, hungry cunt were keying themselves up and even an inapposite choice of words could set her off now. She set her tablet down with trembling hands.

"Master," she whimpered. "I need to cum."

Stefan was up in a second, book discarded. He crossed the distance to her towel in a few manly, powerful, dominant paces. Helen whimpered and watched, arousal and lust and a need to obey crashing across her like waves.

"You noisy little slut," said Stefan, and backhanded her hard across the face. "Do I give a fuck what you want, you horny little whore? Do I want to be bothered by your whining?"

"No," moaned Helen. "But I'm so horny master—"

"I told you to shut up," said Stefan, and hit her again. "Your fucking mouth is good for one fucking thing and you know what that is?"

"Sucking my master's cock," whispered Helen.

"That's right." Stefan was in a tee and shorts, bulging with muscle and the massive hardon he was packing, but he didnt make a move to take them off. Helen gently reached up and began to remove his shorts, her long slim hands steady: warped libidinal urge that ruled her mind and body at the moment was being fulfilled, and she could perform like the talented slut she was. Stefan was telling her so, too.

"You are a worthless little slut. You deserve to be treated like a fuckhole. You are a fuckhole. Your hot little body and your slutty little mouth and your tight wet cunt are the only things that matter about you. You are property. You belong to me..."

Helen slid her tongue and lips around his massive, throbbing, ironhard erection, but even as she sucked him off with the immaculate talent of the incredibly experienced, desperate, eager to please slut that she was, she listened to him verbally abusing her, and squirmed just a little.

Stefan had one hand on her long blonde hair, shoving her head back and forth like a toy, and the other was crudely pawing a tit, but he released them just as his cock was starting to really drool precum, and she prepared herself for what she knew was coming: Stefan abruptly pulled his cock out and slapped her again. Like she deserved, the worthless disobedient bitch, her inner monologue and Stefan's voice both reminded her.

"Spread, fucktoy," he commanded, and she did: the gloriously unsatisfying tease of rubbing her thighs together had nothing on preparing her self for her owner's cock. 

He rammed into her, crudely, violently, possessively, and Helen moaned in bliss. His talk to her had deteriorated into a stream of words, degrading and cruel, and she loved that, and his hands were around her throat—not choking, even, just demonstrating contemptuous control—and she loved that too. He railed her, endlessly, somehow not coming in the hot tight pussy designed for his cock, and she didn't come either. It was partly the changes she'd endured but mostly her own semi-accidentally conditioning herself: she need to serve her owner. She couldn't come until he did.

Finally he came, his torrent of abuse trailing off into hard breathing and a beautiful hot splash inside her. She came too, silently, but so much harder than any orgasm she'd ever had or imagined before the drugs and the retrovirals: a sensation of joyous release beyond comprehension, mind-breaking, mind-destroying, mind... clearing.

"Thank you, Stefan," she said dryly as he pulled out and started cleaning her with a conveniently placed facecloth.

"Of course, boss. It was good? What you needed?"

His weird solicitousness out of the zone was strangely endearing, but then, he knew which of them was a hyperintelligent genius with a couple millions in stolen liquid assets, and which was a guy lucky enough to be picked to fulfill the other's needs. "As always."

"Glad to hear it. You think you'll be ok if I head up and start making lunch?"

"I'll be fine. That was excellent." 

"Ok, boss," said Stefan, and pulled his shorts back on before walking back towards the villa. Helen watched his ass go for a moment, then turned back to her reading.

What Helidyne had done to her, deliberately and by accident, was terrible, of course. But she had gotten used to it, and it certainly wasnt without its perks. Version 2 was going to keep the libido.