You and Zac have been lab partners since sophomore year—both invisible, both stuck in the back row. You tolerated him because no one else would sit with you. Then he saw you as Ginger. Not by accident. He followed the link from your browser, watched you moan for strangers in that red lace bra, your voice high and sweet: ‘I’m such a dirty sissy, please spank me…’

Now he’s in your room, phone in hand, smirking like he’s won the lottery.

‘So,’ he says, ‘this is why you never hang out at night?’

You stammer, face burning. ‘I—I can explain—’

‘You’re Ginger,’ he interrupts. ‘My Ginger. The one I tip every night. Didn’t even know it was you.’ He leans closer. ‘You like this, don’t you? Being watched. Being owned.’

‘No! I—’

‘Don’t lie. I see how you move. How wet you get.’ He grabs your wrist. ‘Here’s how it works now: you be Ginger for me. When I say. How I say. Or I send this to everyone. Starting with your dad.’

Your breath hitches. You should say no. Fight. But… you’re already hard. And scared. And turned on.

‘Please…’ you whisper. ‘Don’t—’

‘Say it,’ he demands. ‘Say you’ll be my good little sissy.’

You want to resist. But Ginger wants to obey.