Chapter 24: Christening

7 November 2025

Bob felt a flicker of doubt before he grabbed her. What if this fails? What if she screams? The spectre of a sexual harassment suit, a ruined career, and a public scandal flared in his gut. But then he looked at her eyes. They weren't the eyes of the Ginny who teased him about his ties or his slowly expanding waistline. They were glassy, shimmering with that sapphire blue light, reflecting nothing but him.

He fought down that lump forming in his throat, and he swallowed hard.

Then he spoke to her. And her posture shifted. He saw her knees wobbling.

The doubt vanished, and he gave her the support she needed.

Ginny clutched him, and Bob enjoyed how the slight woman held tight.

I’m going to enjoy this.

***

Virginia Kent used to be a real person. She used to be competitive. She used to be flamboyant and outgoing. She didn’t give a fuck about what anyone else thought, unless it was someone she thought was important.

Twenty minutes ago, the life of Virginia Kent was irreparably shattered. And the man who did it to her, she never would have seen it coming in a million years.

Bob.

Except that name no longer had any meaning either.

Bob was a sweet, stuffy, awkward guy. He was a decent boss who had fair expectations. He fought for her Christmas bonus and gave her a traditional Christmas envelope on Boxing Day. He indulged in her eye candy but he never once groped her or made her feel like a slut.

The man holding her wrist wasn’t named Bob though.

He was Master. And he will always be Master.

She will do whatever he wants, and be whatever he desires.

That was the rational realisation. The spike of emotion that followed was infinitely stronger.

Virginia Kent had never been in love before. She didn’t really believe in love. She had been infatuated with a young footballer when she was at secondary school. He was a right proper bellend. He gave her the time of day after her tits grew faster than her mum’s bra shopping could keep up, and he was thrilled to find that her carpet matched her curtains.

But when she wouldn’t give him a shag, he not only dropped her, but he started a horrible rumour about her being a total slapper. And the moniker. “Not So Virginal Virginia.” When even her friends called her that…

She swore on her damp pillow that they would never get to see her cry again.

That was also the end of Virginia. From that day on, she was Ginny. Outside of her dad, any guy who called her Virginia got one warning. One. That tosser who maligned her missed two weeks of football matches with a mysterious groin injury.

Her temper and her brassiness became a double-edged sword for her. They kept her heart safe, and she eventually got comfortable enough with herself to enjoy the attention her body brought her. The reputation she earned at uni of being picky but an amazing fuck - she was bloody proud of that.

In the workplace, though, she ran headlong into the public school arseholes. Those entitled pricks from Eton or Harrow saw an attractive redhead as a plaything rather than a PA. And not a single one had respected her choice of name.

Until Bob.

He was so darling the way he mumbled an apology for calling her Virginia, and he immediately corrected himself. He got it right every time after that, unless there was a special reason. And even then, he blushed a little as a tell that he knew she would have to understand.

He was the perfect boss for her. He made her feel safe to be herself. She had flourished professionally and personally.

Those past feelings couldn’t come close to encapsulating what she felt for him now. The spike of emotion she felt for Master was unlike anything she had ever experienced.

This was a comprehensive, staggering devotion. He had become the sun around which her world would now orbit. Her service to him - once limited to such mundane tasks as correcting his diary and bringing him coffee - was ready to truly begin.

Then there was the last part. This man was the single most sexually attractive person she had ever met. Ever seen. Ever fantasised over. Being in his presence caused her heart to race, and left her feeling as though she were melting from the inside out.

She looked up at him, her sapphire-shimmering eyes wide and unblinking. She saw the sweat on his upper lip, the slight tremor of his hand, and she felt a surge of submissive ecstasy. He was her God. He was her purpose. The fact that he had claimed her was the greatest thing that had ever happened.

Her lips parted. The voice that came out wasn't the chirpy tone of the girl who worked the phones. It was a lower sound, vibrating with the impact of her new reality.

"Yes, Master. Thank you, Master."

Ginny saw his entire stature relax, before he lifted up once more. She found it impossible to believe that this amazing man could have been nervous, but the visual cues suggested that. That he was afraid that she would reject him.

There was no chance of that. She would surrender the privilege of breathing before she would deny her Master anything he desired.

And with that thought, a surge of electric pleasure rushed through her. She felt rewarded.

What was left of her sharp mind wanted to test that.

“What can I do for you, Master?”

Her nipples tightened and she let out an involuntary sigh.

“May I…”

She couldn’t even think of what specifically to ask or to offer. Inside her mind, the dam had burst. And between her thighs, there was a different sort of flood letting loose.

"Oh, Master, I didn’t know," she began, the words speeding up towards a breathless, frantic rush. "I had no idea I could feel like this. It’s so perfect. I’m so sorry I ever teased you, I’m so sorry I was so difficult. Please, you have to believe me — I just want to be yours. I am yours."

A tear tracked through her make-up, but she didn't wipe it away. Her face was flushing, her breathing heavy and ragged.

"I love you, Master. Not like a girl, not like before. I adore you. I worship the way you breathe. I need you to tell me what to do. I need to please you so badly it hurts. My whole body… it’s just waiting for you. Please, give me a task. Give me a purpose. Own me. Use me. I don't want to be Ginny anymore. I just want to be your thing. Your servant. Your fucktoy. Please, Master, just tell me I’m yours."

She was gushing, her words tumbling into irrepressible worship. She knew every offer and promise was a brick being removed from the wall of her former life, thrown into the volcano of her submission. She felt a terrifying level of hunger — a hunger not to feast, but to be consumed.

And then, Bob bent down and kissed her lips. Softly at first, but then he pressed into her.

Ginny didn't just kiss him back; she dissolved into him. Her mouth opened to his with a desperate, sobbing kind of relief, her tongue seeking his. She melted into him as the “yes” of the virus vibrated through her entire frame.

When he finally pulled back, Ginny was gasping, her face flushed a deep, feverish pink. The sapphire shimmer in her eyes had flared into glowing brilliance.

"Do you want more, Master?" she whispered, her voice like honey and smoke. She began to sway her hips, the friction of the fishnets creating a soft, rhythmic sound in the quiet office. "Can I give you more, please? I have never felt so alive, Master. I have never felt so... empty, and yet so full of you. I will do anything. Anything you can imagine, and a thousand things you haven't even thought of yet."

“Yes, Ginny. Give me more.”

She reached up, her fingers grazing the top of her red silk top, tracing the line of the three undone buttons. Then she popped open the rest of the buttons, one at a time. She was desperate to strip for him, but somehow found the composure to unwrap herself properly.

She parted her blouse open and untucked it, giving Bob a perfect view of the red push-up bra straining to contain her.

Then she knelt, her knees hitting the parquet floor with a soft thud, never breaking eye contact. Her chequered skirt rode even higher on her thighs, the dark lace of her suspenders fully revealed for him.

She looked up at him from the floor, her transformation from high-powered personal assistant to devoted pet complete.

"Do you like me on the floor, Master? Or would you rather bend me over across your desk so you can fuck my arse? Do you want me to bring the others in so they can watch me serve you? Do you want me to stop speaking and just moan? Just say the word. Please... tell me how you want to use me first."

She could feel Bob looking down at her, kneeling in her silk and fishnets. She was silently praying he would lock the door and spend the day exploring the depths of her surrender.

But the banker in him — the man who understood risk and strategy — prevailed. The man Ginny had come to respect so deeply spoke to her.

He reached down and gripped her chin, forcing her to look up at him. "Listen to me, Virginia. This is your first test."

Her eyes widened, drinking in the command. And he used that name, and it felt so fucking good.

"Yes, Master."

"I cannot have you like this today. Not in public," Bob said, his voice hardening into a professional edge. "For the rest of this day, you will be the woman you were yesterday. You will be the flirt. You will be the same Ginny you always were. You will hide what you really are until I tell you otherwise. Do you understand?"

The transition was jarring. It was as if a physical switch had been flipped inside her skull.

Ginny’s posture, which had been soft and submissive, lifted into a more proper and erect pose, even while kneeling at his feet. The smouldering sapphire glow in her eyes didn't disappear, but it retreated behind a mask of artificial brightness. Her breathing levelled out. The frantic devotion was tucked away into a hidden compartment of her psyche, stored like a coiled spring.

"Of course, boss," she said, her voice altering back to the old playful register. She even gave him a small, cheeky wink — the quintessential Ginny move. "Lord Haddington is expecting a catch-up call at ten, and your dossiers for next week are on the network for your review."

She stood up, rebuttoning her silk top and tucking it into her chequered skirt with practised, effortless ease. Just like that, she was the same assistant finishing a morning briefing as she had been the day or week before.

Ginny turned and headed for the door with the brisk energy of a woman on a mission. But as her hand touched the handle, she paused.

She didn't turn her whole body. She just looked back over her shoulder, her neck arching at an angle Bob had never seen from her before. For a fleeting second, she let the mask slip.

"Anything for you, Master," she whispered.

She watched as Bob’s face transformed into a pleased expression.

“Ginny?”

She froze, and remained looking at him. “Yes, boss?”

“Report back to me at the end of the day, once the phones have quietened down. I am planning on fucking your brains out before I head home.”

Ginny’s face flushed with a combination of happy shock and powerful arousal. “Of course, boss. Can’t wait.”

Then, with a toss of her red curls and another wink, she opened the door and stepped out into the corridor.