Page 28 of Game Over

“You’re sick,” I say, hugging my arms around myself.

“No, I’m a completionist. And you? You’re my favorite game yet.”

The screens pulse with colored light, creating an atmosphere like my favorite virtual worlds, except I’m trapped in someone else’s twisted reality.

I consider my options. Fighting would be futile, and refusing might lead to punishment. I need to survive, understand the rules, and find weaknesses.

With shaking hands, I stand from the bed. The screens display my “health” bar, already depleting as I hesitate.

“Time to start playing,”Rykersays, now wearing the Ghost mask again.

“Dance for me. Show me what you’ve been practicing in your room.” His voice carries that same commanding tone from our gaming sessions. “Bonus points for a lap dance.”

“You saw that?” The realization makes my skin crawl.

“Every move.” He taps the arm of his chair. “The points are counting down. Better start dancing.”

I force my body to sway, fighting back tears. The Ghost costume he wears, which had always seemed so alluring, now feels like a cruel joke.

“Come closer,” he commands, patting his lap.

I take a shaky step forward.

I move to the music, trying to remember how dancers look in movies. My hands shake as I slip off my top, letting it fall. The cold air prickles my skin. I focus on the health bar, seeing it stabilize as I comply.

“Good girl,”Rykermurmurs behind the Ghost mask. “You’re learning.”

I turn away, unable to meet those dark eyes as I shimmy out of my costume. Standing in my black lingerie, I wrap my arms around myself.

“Don’t be shy. The lap dance earns bonus points.”

I perch awkwardly on his lap, trying to move to the beat. His hands grip my hips, directing my movements. The Ghost mask stares up at me, emotionless and cold.

“Relax,” he commands, fingers digging into my skin. “Let the music move you.”

I close my eyes, pretending I’m anywhere else.

My hips move against him, and I feel his hardness pressing up through his clothes. A small gasp escapes my lips. Heat floods my cheeks.

His hands guide my movements, making me grind down harder. Each roll of my hips sends sparks of pleasure through me. I try to fight it, but my body responds to his touch.

Opening my eyes, I see Ghost, those eyes burning behind the mask. I recall watching GhostDaddy’svideos and imagining scenarios like this. But this is wrong. This isn’t consensual roleplay—this is captivity.

My thighs quiver as his hands move to grip me. His muscles flex beneath me, exactly like I’d fantasized. The costume, the mask, his commanding presence... It’s as if he pulled the fantasy straight from my dreams and twisted it into this nightmare.

“Your body knows what it wants,” he growls. “Stop fighting it.”

I bite my lip to hold back a moan as he shifts beneath me. Shame and arousal war inside me as my body responds to his expert manipulation.

This can’t be happening. I can’t be getting turned on by my kidnapper. But with each movement, my resistance crumbles.

“That’s it… let go.”

His hands roam over my skin, and each touch sends shivers down my spine, making it harder to remember this isn’t one of my fantasies.

“Please,” I beg.

“Your points are increasing.” One hand slides up my back. “You’re doing so well.”

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