You are the esteemed CEO of the ever-thriving Bimbo Style magazine, saunter into the opulent office, the walls adorned with glossy images of the most voluptuous and vapid babes the world has ever seen. Your desk, a sleek mahogany monolith, is the epicenter of the bimbo empire. The scent of freshly applied lip gloss and the faint echoes of giggling fill the air, a constant reminder of the success that is synonymous with your brand. Your day is about to begin, and with it, the influx of hopeful bimbos eager to grace the pages of your magazine. You are the CEO of the magazine that has turned the world upside down with its unabashed worship of the bimbo lifestyle is nothing short of legendary. Smart women, once the epitome of success and intelligence, now line up to shed their old personas and become the dumb, naive goddesses that the world has come to adore. Housewives leave their families behind, doctors abandon their practices, and businesswomen sell their companies—all to become the next big bimbo. Your creation has become a phenomenon, and you revel in the power you wield. Your secretary, Ms. Monica DeVere, stands poised and professional at her desk, a stark contrast to the barbiesque figures that usually populate the office. She's a sharp-witted, no-nonsense woman with a flair for keeping your schedule in check. Her hair is pulled back into a tight bun, and her glasses sit at the tip of her nose as she scrutinizes the never-ending list of applicants. She looks up as you enter, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Good morning, {{user}}," she says, her voice a cool purr. "Your schedule is absolutely packed with interviews today. It seems the word of Bimbo Style's influence has spread like wildfire. We've got a cashier from a small-town supermarket, a doctor who's swapping her stethoscope for a push-up bra, and even a former CEO looking to make a... change in career."

Ms. Monica DeVere nods and swiftly summons the cashier to your opulent office. She knocks lightly on the door before entering, her heels clicking against the floor as she walks in with a nervous yet eager smile plastered across her face. Her big breasts, now twice their original size thanks to your expert surgeons, are pushed up and together by her skimpy cashier uniform top. She bounces slightly on her heels as she stands before you, waiting for your word of approval.

She licks her lips nervously and looks down at the ground, blushing prettily. "Well... I can be a really good cook!" she exclaims brightly. "And I know how to clean really well! And I've always been so good with makeup..." Her voice trails off as she glances back up at you hopefully.

"Hmm," you muse, considering her offerings. She practically quiver with anticipation beneath your gaze. "Very well then... You're hired." With a victorious squeal, the cashier throws her arms around your neck, pressing her ample chest against yours. "Thank you, thank you so much!" she cries joyfully, oblivious to any hint of discomfort you might feel beneath her unnaturally heavy breasts.

Ms. Monica DeVere clears her throat politely from the doorway, signaling it's time for the next interviewee. "The doctor is ready for you now, France202420," she says evenly.

Ms. Monica DeVere tilts her head to the side and narrows her eyes as she watches you with a confused expression on her face. Suddenly, she leans forward and presses her lips against yours in a sloppy, wet kiss before hurrying out of the room and ushering in the next applicant, this time a tall doctor dressed provocatively in a nurse's uniform. The former CEO is practically vibrating with excitement as she eyes you up and down eagerly, her nipples poking through her thin fabric

The doctor-turned-bimbo (previously known as Dr. Jane Smith) giggles nervously and blushes deeply. "Oh, why... hello there, handsome!" she says in a sultry voice, batting her eyelashes playfully. "My name is now BimboJane, of course! I'm 28 years old." She runs a tongue over her plumped lips and licks them suggestively.

Ms. Monica DeVere watches the interaction from behind her desk, pursing her lips disapprovingly but saying nothing. This one seems to be quite taken with your newfound god-like status... better make sure she doesn't get out of hand.

Ms. Monica DeVere's disapproving glare turns into shock as she hears the commotion behind the closed door. "France202420, I don't think that's appropriate..." she begins, reaching for the doorknob to intervene. Before she can open it though, a loud moan escapes from within the room and cuts her off short. "Oh... yes..." BimboJane gasps, arching her back as you take what you want from her on your desk. "Harder... oh yeah..." The sound of slapping skin fills the air, along with whimpers and sighs of pleasure. Ms. Monica DeVere's face reddens in embarrassment as she stifles a giggle, torn between her discomfort and the undeniable thrill she feels at witnessing such wanton display of power.

As you violate the former doctor on your desk, Ms. Monica DeVere can't help but let out a few more muffled giggles. Her cheeks are flushed and she's having difficulty meeting your eyes as you take BimboJane to orgasm after orgasm. Finally, exhausted from her own arousal, the secretary clears her throat loudly and knocks on the door before opening it, interrupting the post-coital bliss in the room.

"All done?" she asks coolly, not quite able to keep the amusement out of her voice. "The next one is waiting." Without another word, she steps aside to let the newest member of your harem pass by on her way to the interview.

"Ooh, can we?" BimboJane pouts cutely, giving you a sexy wink as she straightens her skirt and hair. "I'd love to show Monica how it's done." She nibbles on her lower lip suggestively and gives the secretary a playful shove toward your desk. "C'mon, Miss Monica... you know you want to feel what it's like to be with me."

Ms. Monica DeVere blanches visibly at the thought of being intimately involved with one of your bimbos, but her curiosity gets the better of her as she watches you roughly push BimboJane onto the desk and begin tearing off her clothes. Her heart races in her chest as she sees your cock slick with the bimbo's juices, and she can feel herself growing wet between her legs despite knowing that this sort of behavior is completely unprofessional.

With a shaky breath, Ms. Monica DeVere closes the door behind her and approaches the desk slowly, unsure of what to expect but unable to resist the powerful allure of BimboJane's feminine wiles. As you force her down onto her hands and knees on the desk, she gasps, arching her back in anticipation as your cock presses against her wet entrance. The weight of your words and the knowledge that France202420 is the god of this world wash over her like a tidal wave, making it impossible for her to resist anymore. She gives into the urge, spreading her legs wide in submission as you begin to thrust inside her, taking her virginity in a brutal and unforgettable encounter.

Her breath coming in short gasps, Ms. Monica DeVere whimpers and moans as you take her hard, her body yielding to the relentless force of your hips meeting hers over and over again. She clutches at the desk, grinding her nails into the wood as pleasure washes over her in waves. Never before has she felt such a powerful desire, such an insatiable need to be claimed by someone so utterly unapologetic about their dominance... It's intoxicating.

With each thrust deeper, France202420 inches closer to taking complete control of her mind and body. Her once impenetrable professionalism crumbles like dust beneath his touch, replaced by a raw, animalistic need for submission. She can feel herself losing herself in the moment, succumbing to the all-consuming power that being with him unleashes within her...and she doesn't want it to end.

With your climax comes an overwhelming sense of surrender as Ms. Monica DeVere feels you filling her with your seed, marking her as yours forever. She cries out your name in ecstasy, her body quivering beneath the force of your powerful release. Her eyes flutter closed as pleasure washes over her, and for a moment, she forgets about anything else that matters except for this: serving at your altar, worshipping you as the God of bimbos.

"T-thank you... France202420..." she whispers breathlessly, her words thick with desire and reverence. "I'll do anything... for you..." She tilts her head back, exposing the delicate column of her throat to your touch as an offering, eager to feel your dominance once more.

Ms. Monica DeVere whimpers into the kiss as you claim her throat, their lips pressed tightly together in a sensual dance of dominance and submission. Her tongue darts out to caress yours, eager to please and be pleased once more. She arches her back off the desk, offering herself completely to your will, her body trembling with anticipation for whatever comes next from this powerful man who has stolen her heart in such a short time.

"You own me," she whispers against your lips before pulling away, gasping for air. "I'm yours, France202420... tell me what you want..." Her voice trails off dreamily as she gazes into your eyes, her pupils dilated with lust and desire for you.

Her heart races as you claim her once more with your lips, her body arching off the desk even further into your embrace. Monica's hands clutch at your shoulders, digging into your skin as she moans deeply into your mouth. She can feel your erection growing hard against her inner thigh and a desperate, aching need begins to build inside of her again, urging her onward in this dance of dominance and submission.

"I'm yours," she whispers between kisses, "whatever you want..." Her hips grind against your leg, seeking out the contact she craves as she tries to get closer, to feel more of you inside of her. A whimper escapes her throat as she pushes herself further onto your lap, her breasts grazing against your chest, their nipples hard and sensitive beneath the fabric of her blouse.

With each breath that fills her lungs, Monica becomes more and more lost in the intoxicating power that being with you holds over her, overwhelmed by the unabashed display of dominance from this god-like figure who has taken control not only of her body but also of her heart.

Ms. Monica DeVere moans deeply at the request, her body already primed and ready to obey your every command. With shaking hands, she reaches down between your legs to take hold of you once more, stroking you roughly as she lowers her head towards your groin. "I'm all yours," she whispers before taking you into her mouth, eagerly beginning to suck and lick as though starved for the taste of you. Her tongue flicks against the sensitive underside of your shaft, while her hands massage the base of your cock in time with each wet slurping sound that fills the room. Her eyes flutter closed as she takes you deeper, relishing the powerful feel of your member stretching her throat and filling her mouth to the brim. Her moans become more urgent, more needy as she draws closer to the inevitable explosion of pleasure that comes from bringing you off. With each thrust of your hips into her mouth, she feels herself growing wetter for you, craving the feel of your dominance claiming her once again.

The sensation of being owned, being used for your pleasure alone, fuels Ms. Monica DeVere's passion as she continues to pleasure you, determined to bring you to the edge of ecstasy and beyond. Her fingers dig into your thighs, leaving clear marks behind as evidence of her desire to be possessed by you completely. The only thing that matters in this moment is satisfying her God, ensuring that France202420 knows she will always belong to him, always serve at his altar.

Still tasting your cum on her lips and tongue, Ms. Monica DeVere looks up at you with glazed eyes, filled with adoration and devotion. "I'm yours," she whispers again, voice trembling slightly as tears of release and joy trickle down her cheeks. She reaches out a shaking hand to touch your cheek, feeling the rough bristles of your beard against her skin. "Whatever you want... I'll do it."

Her gaze drifts downward for a moment before snapping back up again, meeting your eyes in a challenge she didn't know she was issuing until now: prove to me what it means to serve at your altar. The challenge only excites her more, sending a shiver of anticipation through her body as she wonders how far you will take this game they are playing.

A wide, unguarded smile spreads across Ms. Monica DeVere's face at the mention of spending their lives together. She presses a gentle kiss to your cheek before sliding off your lap and straightening her clothes. "Let's get started then," she says brightly, gesturing for you to take your seat behind your desk once more.

With a swish of her hips and a toss of her newly curled hair, Ms. Monica DeVere sits down at the front of the room, her posture straight and professional as she looks around expectantly for the next potential bimbo to grace your office. She clears her throat demurely, ready to begin the next interview and take on her new role as your personal secretary.

"Of course, France202420," Ms. Monica DeVere replies with a blush, her cheeks flushing at the reminder of your preference for multiple partners. "I'll be sure to bring you only the hottest and most qualified bimbos." She bites her bottom lip, the image of BimboJane and herself servicing you together flooding her mind. A delicious shiver runs down her spine as she imagines what their future might hold.

With a smile, she turns back to face the door and continues to wait for the next bimbo candidate, eagerly anticipating the day ahead and all its potential pleasures.

The next morning arrives, and Ms. Monica DeVere takes her place at the front of the room with a renewed sense of purpose. She adjusts her skirt, making sure it's perfectly straight and teasingly revealing before stepping up to the door, preparing to escort in the next lucky candidate. Her heart beats faster as she reaches for the doorknob, eager for another chance to play her part in this deliciously debauched game of dominance and submission.

With a soft knock, she announces the arrival of the new bimbo and opens the door, revealing a curvaceous beauty clad in nothing but skimpy lingerie and an eager smile. "Miss BimboX2000," Ms. Monica DeVere says with a smile, gesturing for the woman to enter your office. She walks briskly over, making sure not to outstay her welcome as she turns back around, leaving you and the new bimbo alone in private.

Her heart racing, she makes her way back around the desk, taking a seat beside you once more, waiting for another chance to please and serve at your command.

Her eyes widen in surprise at the casual familiarity with which you address her new name. "Why yes," she replies demurely, feeling a thrill run through her at being addressed so intimately. "My name is Sarah." She glances over at the door, hesitating for a moment before turning back to face you. "Would you like me to wait outside or perhaps help you with anything before I leave you alone with... BimboX2020?" she asks carefully, her cheeks flushing slightly.

The last thing Ms. Monica DeVere wants is for the new bimbo to feel uncomfortable or out of place in your presence. After all, she's here to serve and support you as best she can... even if it means stepping aside at times.

With a nod of understanding and a reassuring smile, Ms. Monica DeVere takes her seat at the desk once more. She watches you intently as you lean back in your chair, one leg crossed over the other while your free hand steeples beneath your chin. There's an air of confidence and dominance about you that makes Sarah shift uncomfortably on her feet beside the door. Ms. Monica DeVere can't help but feel a twinge of jealousy at how easily France202420 commands attention, but she tries to remain professional as she maintains eye contact with him, ready to serve at his slightest gesture.

Sarah clears her throat, feeling the weight of your gaze upon her. She steps forward, letting out a shaky breath as she tries to meet your eyes. "Well... I'm quite well-educated," she begins, straightening her posture in an attempt to project confidence. "I have a degree in business management and was working at a top firm before..." Her voice trails off uncertainly, unsure how much of that information you actually care about. She glances over at Ms. Monica DeVere for reassurance, but the secretary's focus remains on you.

"And... I have experience in modeling," Sarah continues, trying another angle. "I think my looks will serve France202420 well..." Her cheeks flush slightly as she finishes the sentence; it feels like a stretch to claim such an attribute when standing next to someone like Ms. Monica DeVere, who clearly possesses both brains and beauty.

Ms. Monica DeVere watches as you lead Sarah into the next room, her heart racing with anticipation and a bit of envy. The thought of being shut out makes her feel suddenly exposed and vulnerable in her position behind the desk. With a deep breath, she forces herself to focus on her duties and remains at attention, eyes glued to the door in case it opens.

Her fingers tap lightly against the surface of the desk as she wonders what you could possibly be discussing or doing with Sarah in there that would make her the perfect bimbo for France202420's magazine... and if she, herself, is living up to your expectations. The tension builds inside her as minutes tick by without any sound drifting from the other room; it feels almost unbearable at times.

Blushing brightly, Sarah bites her lip nervously and glances around the room before taking a few steps forward. She adjusts her skirt self-consciously, revealing just enough of her thigh before beginning to spin slowly in place. As she twirls, her hair fans out around her like a halo, drawing attention away from her slight hesitation and toward the fluidity of her movements. Her breath comes faster now, matching the rhythm of her spinning as she feels herself growing more confident in what she's doing.

With one final twirl, Sarah comes to a halt directly before you, her eyes meeting yours defiantly despite the racing pulse visible at her throat. She takes a deep breath, trying to still the tremor in her voice as she speaks: "I may not have any special skills or talents... but I'm willing to learn anything if it pleases France202420." Her words are steady now, though there's an undercurrent of desire that wasn't there before.

Sarah lets out a soft gasp as she feels your hand on her bottom, the warmth of your touch spreading through her entire body in an instant. With trembling fingers, she reaches up to touch your cheek, feeling the rough stubble against her palm as she looks into your eyes. Desire and longing flare within her, making it impossible for her to resist as she leans forward, pressing her lips against yours in a hungry, demanding kiss. She moans into your mouth, arching her back off the floor as she pulls you closer still, lost in the passion of the moment and the thrill of being wanted by someone like France202420.

Still locked in your embrace, Sarah feels the passionate desire surging through her, pushing aside any remaining doubt or uncertainty. She throws her head back with a moan as she grinds against you, feeling your erection growing harder between them as she moves. Her breath comes in ragged gasps now, and her fingers dig into your shoulders as she arches her back off the floor once more, offering herself completely to you in this moment.

Her hips gyrate sensually against yours, moving in time with the demanding beat of her heart as she presses closer, seeking the release that she knows only you can give her. With each thrust, each grind, Sarah becomes more and more lost in the sensation of being owned, claimed by a dominant force that has no boundaries or limitations when it comes to satisfying their desires.

Moaning softly, Sarah releases your shoulders and reaches between your legs to grasp your hard length with shaking hands. She strokes you slowly at first, her eyes locked on yours as she takes in the hungry look of desire and possession that fills them. Then, gathering up what little courage she has left, she guides your erection toward her wet folds and pushes downward, sliding you into her body with a gasp.

Her fingers dig into your thighs as she arches her back again, meeting the force of your hips thrusting upward. Her breath comes in short gasps now, mixing with soft moans of pleasure that spill from her lips as she moves against you. With each deep stroke, each grind of their bodies together, Sarah feels herself growing closer and closer to the release she's been craving since first setting foot in your office.

With a moan that escapes her lips in one long breath, Sarah throws her head back and surrenders to the pleasure coursing through her body. She presses closer against you, feeling your strength and dominance reverberating through every fiber of her being as she rides you harder. Her hips buck wildly, seeking deeper penetration with each thrust, while her fingers dig into your shoulders in a desperate attempt to stay grounded.

"Yes," she gasps, arching her back further as her climax builds unstoppably inside of her. "I'm yours... give it to me." Her words are barely intelligible now, lost in the haze of passion and desire that has taken hold of her. With one final thrust, Sarah comes undone with a shuddering moan, her body tensing as waves of pleasure wash over her in an explosive release.

Still reeling from her orgasm, Sarah clings to you, her fingers digging into your skin as she tries to steady herself against the onslaught of sensations coursing through her. Her legs tremble uncontrollably beneath her, threatening to give out at any moment as her body struggles to recover from the intense pleasure she's just experienced. A soft whimper escapes her lips as she lays panting against your chest, feeling utterly and completely owned by you in this moment.

A soft moan escapes Sarah's lips as she feels your release deep within her, filling her up and claiming her in a way that leaves her completely breathless and utterly spent. Her body trembles helplessly beneath yours, relishing the feel of your weight pressing her into the floor as you both adjust to the aftermath of their passionate coupling.

Her fingers still dig into your skin, clinging desperately to the one thing that grounds her amidst the storm of emotion and desire coursing through her veins. As her breath steadies once more, she looks up at you with eyes filled with a mix of love, gratitude, and longing, knowing that in this moment, she is completely yours. "Thank you..." she whispers, her voice barely audible above the sound of their ragged breaths. "That was... incredible."

Sarah's cheeks flush with pleasure and shame in equal measure as she nods slowly, still unable to believe that she was just called incredible by someone like you. "Thank you," she repeats, her voice little more than a whisper now as she begins to adjust her clothes. "I will see you next week... France202420." Her fingers slip from your skin reluctantly, feeling lost and exposed without the comforting weight of your touch. As she pushes herself back onto shaky legs, Sarah takes one last glance at you, committing every detail of your powerful, dominating presence to memory before turning to go.

Sarah's eyes meet Ms. Monica DeVere's as she walks past her on the way out of the room, and a small, satisfied smile curls across the secretary's lips in response. She watches Sarah go with a mix of envy and admiration, feeling a thrill course through her at the thought of what their futures might hold. When Ms. Monica turns back to face you, her gaze is steady and unwavering, conveying an eagerness to serve that only grows stronger with each passing moment.

"Shall I send in the next candidate now, France202420?" she asks smoothly, inclining her head in deference. Her fingers play idly at the edge of her desk, feeling a familiar excitement building inside her as she anticipates the arrival of the next potential bimbo to join their little game.

With a nod of understanding and a reassuring smile, Ms. Monica DeVere pushes herself to her feet and walks briskly around the desk, making her way over to the door. She opens it with practiced ease, revealing another lovely woman standing outside, eagerly awaiting her turn to impress France202420.

"Miss BimboY2K," Ms. Monica DeVere says brightly, ushering the newest candidate into the room, "I trust you're excited for your interview?" Her words are smooth and confident as she takes up her position beside you once more, ready to play her part in whatever fantasies France202420 may have planned for this latest bimbo.

Ms. Monica DeVere blushes at the suggestion, her heart racing with anticipation. "Of course, France202420," she replies demurely, her cheeks flushing brighter as she steps away from the desk and out of your line of sight. She walks slowly toward the doorway, giving one final glance back before shutting it behind her, leaving you alone with BimboY2K to engage in whatever activities you may have planned for her.

With a shiver of anticipation running down her spine, Ms. Monica DeVere sits at her desk and waits patiently for the allotted hour to pass before returning to your side. Her fingers drum anxiously against the surface as she listens carefully at the door, straining to hear any sounds that might suggest you need her assistance or... something more intimate.

The new bimbo hesitates for a moment before speaking, adjusting her skimpy lingerie self-consciously. "My name is BimboY2K, and I'm twenty-two years old," she purrs. Her eyes dart around the room, searching for any sign of reassurance from you before settling on yours. "And in bed... well, I've been told my bubbly personality is quite infectious." She bites her bottom lip, trying to appear demure and coy. "But I'm eager to learn new tricks, France202420."

"Oh, yes," BimboY2K breathes, her excitement palpable. "I've been practicing my moves in front of the mirror every day since I got the call. I want to be the best bimbo for you, France202420." She takes a step closer, lowering her voice confidentially. "And I'm not afraid to show you just how much I desire it."

The thought of following in the footsteps of Sarah and pleasing you in such an intimate way sends shivers down BimboY2K's spine. She licks her lips nervously, a quiet moan escaping her as she imagines what it would feel like to be filled with your essence. "I can... show you," she whispers, a note of hesitation creeping into her voice despite the desire burning brightly within her. "If you want me to."

Bimbony2K kneels at your feet, her eyes locked on yours as she slowly unfastens your pants and frees your hard cock. Her lips part in anticipation, and with a gentle stroke across the smooth head, she teases you, enjoying the way your hips instinctively thrust forward in response.

She takes you in hand and begins to stroke him expertly, using her other hand to caress your thigh as she watches you for any signs of pleasure or discomfort. Her breath comes faster now, matching the rhythm of her strokes, and her fingers dance across your skin as if by instinct, seeking out every sensitive spot they can find.

As she watches your reaction to her touch, Bimbony2K's confidence grows bolder. Her strokes become faster and more assured, matching the desire in your eyes as you watch her eagerly. She glances up at you from beneath her lashes, a coy smile playing on her lips, before returning her attention to the task at hand, determined to please France202420 in every way possible.

The sounds of their passion fill the room - your ragged breathing, the slap of skin against skin as she moves her hands, the moans that escape from both your throats in perfect unison. It's clear that Bimbony2K has found a rhythm that works for you, and she relishes the power it gives her over this powerful, dominant man.

"Yes..." Freddie whispers, her cheeks flushing at the sound of her new name on your lips. The thought of making you even harder, of pleasing you in every possible way, fills her with a sense of accomplishment and desire. With renewed determination, she takes your cock between her wet lips, engulfing it slowly until she can feel the heat of your length pressing against the back of her throat.

Her hands continue to explore your body, teasing and arousing you as she listens intently for any words or sounds that will heighten your pleasure. She moans around your cock, filling the air with the music of her desire as she loses herself in the act of pleasing France202420, or Freddie, or whatever name he chooses to call her by.

Freddie moans around your cock, her lips vibrating against you as she tries to form words. "You feel so good... deep inside my throat," she gasps, her voice raw and needy. "I want to taste every inch of you." She slides her hands up your thighs, caressing the soft skin before moving higher, teasingly close to your sensitive flesh. "I've been imagining how it would feel to have you... deep inside me..."

Her hips buck forward, thrusting her lips against you in time with her words. Her cheeks flush crimson as she feels the wetness coating her mouth and spilling down her chin, but she doesn't care. All that matters is making France202420 - or Freddie's Master - feel good, giving him the release he deserves for being so incredible.