Chapter 19: The Bonding

6 November 2025

The moment Bob’s palm pressed against the skin of Jenny’s neck, and he commanded her to speak, her world fractured.

Master.

Her view of the world had been reduced to a pinhole. There was only this man, who had demanded that she do something. And she had no choice except to obey.

But it wasn’t complete. She could still remember the moment she infected herself, and how much quieter her mind became. This was a quantum leap from there. And yet…

He is the Master, but he has to want it. He has to take that mantle.

Jenny didn’t know why she knew that, but every cell in her body was screaming for her to obey this man.

I have to be claimed.

The thought didn't come from her. It moved through her. It was a data packet delivered with absolute priority, and her neural pathways, already primed by the very signal she thought she understood, accepted it without hesitation.

Master. Bob. Master.

For a moment, the last logical remnant of Jennifer Thorne tried to scream. It tried to remind her that she was the one with the PhD, she was the one who had discovered the virus, she was the one who had brought this man here to manipulate him. But the protest was like a candle flame held against a hurricane. The virus — the elegant, viral architecture she had explored and then championed — didn't care about her credentials. It recognised the command combined with the touch, and it had anchored her to him.

The control is no longer mine, she realised, though the realisation brought a terrifying, liquid heat of relief rather than fear. The control was NEVER mine. I am the virus’s instrument. And I belong to him.

She looked down towards him, but she wasn't seeing a problem to be solved anymore. Bob was no longer a gatekeeper of capital. He was the sun, and she had just been locked into a permanent, terminal orbit. The stillness she had used to intimidate him was now a heavy, waiting submission. Every muscle in her body felt different — denser, more responsive, yet utterly paralysed until he gave the next command.

How did I not see it? the fading voice of Dr Thorne wondered. I thought I was looking for a particular god. But now I know that I must submit to this one.

She felt the psychic collar pulse. It wasn't a physical object, yet she could feel its weight against her throat, a tether that linked her heartbeat to his breathing. When he exhaled, she felt a release; when he tensed, she felt a sharp, electric demand for obedience.

I need Master. The words she had whispered were the only truth left. The vast, empty silence she had promised Bob was now her own reality. The noise of Jennifer Thorne’s ego had been flatlined. There was no more pride in her pursuit. There was only the optimal peace of knowing that she didn't have to decide anything ever again.

She was suddenly aroused. Every nerve ending in her body was now tuned to him. If he told her to freeze, she would be a pillar of his world. If he told her to crawl, she would find the floor the only place she was meant to be.

But… there is still more for him to claim.

The lab, her sanctuary, was now his throne room. She looked at the monitors, the files, the data, and saw them all as gifts she could offer up to him. She wanted to show him everything. She wanted to lay her mind bare so he could prune away any remaining scrap of her that didn't serve him.

I am the architect no longer, the internal voice whispered as it finally dissolved. I am the infrastructure. Walk on me. Build on me. Command me.

She remained leant over him, her breath hitching, waiting for the hand on her neck to tighten or release. It didn't matter which. Either would be the Master's will.

***

Bob’s hand was still against the back of Jenny’s neck, his fingers pressing into the warmth of her skin.

"What do you mean, Jenny?" Bob asked, an edge of confused desperation colouring his voice. "What do you mean you 'need Master'?"

Jenny didn't pull away. Instead, she leant into his touch, her head tilting back slightly as if to offer him better access.

"It means that I am a slave, and I need to have my centre, Bob," she said, her glowing eyes wide and shimmering with an almost frantic enthusiasm. "I was an incomplete circuit. When you touched me and commanded me, you closed that circuit. I cannot resist. The virus does not permit it. My mind and body are synchronised, and waiting to be fully anchored to you."

The absurdity of the situation was not lost on Bob. He was trapped in place by the frozen Rebecca, his cock still held in her unmoving mouth. At the same time, he held the back of Jenny’s neck, and she just called herself a slave.

“How? How do I anchor you?”

“I am not sure, but I think your touch and your voice together were the key. Command me again. Tell me that I am your slave. Please.”

In for a penny, in for a pound.

“Jenny, you are… you are my slave.”

Jenny shivered, as her eyes rolled back. She wore a serene smile so unlike all the expressions he had seen from her before.

"Yes. I am yours, Master," she said, her voice smooth and unwavering. "I live for you and you alone.”

Bob’s cock became even harder, if such a thing were possible with it wrapped by Rebecca’s lips. But he still couldn’t understand why this was happening.

“Can you… um…” His head nodded down as a gesture to his predicament. “I am a little back-footed here.”

Jenny nodded curtly in recognition. “Yes, of course, Master. Rebecca, finish Master off now.”

The frozen tableau shattered.

Rebecca’s mouth, which had been a warm, still prison around Bob’s cock, came alive again. Not as a resumption, but as escalation. Her methodical strokes were now animalistic. Her smooth motions around his head turned into an insistent pistoning to get every inch of his shaft down her needy throat.

A low, desperate moan escaped her throat, and it was quickly matched by Bob’s own. “Fuck…” he uttered in overwhelmed pleasure.

Rebecca lost any sense of rhythm as her need to fulfil her directive became all-consuming. She had been reduced to a supplicant, worshipping at his altar of flesh and command. Her blonde hair had fallen out of the ponytail in dishevelled waves around her face as she bobbed her head with increasing abandon. Her eyes, which Bob could just glimpse through the curtain of hair, were glazed over, focused only on the task of obedient fellatio.

The sensation was overwhelming — a tight, wet heat pulsing around him, drawing him inexorably toward the edge. He could feel the build, the pressure coiling in his gut, a tsunami of sensation sweeping away his thoughts.

“Master,” Jenny whispered, her voice a reverent echo in his ear, her hand suddenly on his shoulder as a ground. “She needs this. She needs to complete her task for you.”

The words were the final spark. Bob’s hips bucked, thrusting into Rebecca’s willing mouth. A guttural groan tore from his throat as the wave crested and broke. His vision went white at the edges, his entire universe contracting to the point of contact between them.

Rebecca didn’t flinch. She took everything he gave her, her throat working as she swallowed, consumed, and accepted. Then she held him there, in the warm, wet sanctuary of her mouth, until the last tremor of his climax had passed.

Then she slowly, reverently, pulled away, and licked the last drops of cum that had escaped her lips. Her eyes showed nothing except blank satisfaction.

“Wow. She was amazing.”

Jenny and Rebecca both smiled. “You should always be given such service, Master,” Jenny said. “I will see to it that you are. I am your instrument now. I will optimise your world. I can take the women who tease you or manage you and turn them into what I am: utterly yours."

Bob’s mind gained clarity after his release. "Are you saying you will do anything I want?"

"Yes. Anything."

"So if I want you to strip?"

Immediately, Jenny moved to shed her clothes to demonstrate her complete obedience. Bob watched with fascination. The word "anything" was usually hyperbole, but suddenly, the realisation was sinking in that for Jenny, it might be quite literal.

She swayed fluidly, as her vivid sapphire eyes locked on Bob’s. They were not revealing any playfulness or challenge, unlike before at the bank. Now, he could see himself in those cerulean mirrors, reflecting him and his growing power.

Her hands moved to shed her lab coat, letting it drop to the floor before reaching for the top button of her silk blouse. There was no fumbling, no flicker of modesty or hesitation. After all, this wasn't a striptease. Jenny’s will had been dismantled, and her directive was to offer herself for her Master’s inspection.

The blouse slid off her shoulders, hitting the floor with a soft, expensive hiss. She followed it with the rest, her movements economical and purposeful. As each layer fell, the woman who had dominated the earlier meeting vanished. The heels. The skirt. The bra. The knickers. What remained was a beautiful, obedient slave, presenting herself in the bright glow of the laboratory lights.

And then, she was still. Naked and waiting. The cool air of the lab raised goose pimples on her skin, but she didn't shiver. She simply waited.

“You’re beautiful,” he said with wonder. This was the only woman, aside from Mary, whom he had seen naked and in person since he graduated two decades earlier.

“Thank you, Master. I am yours. You can have all of me. I need you to have all of me.”

He blushed, but his shame had faded away. Now, there was only excitement and arousal.