Page 31 of Game Over

I push her gently into her gaming chair—the same model as in her apartment, down to the worn spot on the left armrest. My hands linger, savoring the contact.

“I’ve set up a special game.” I lean over her, chest against her back, as I boot up the system. “A custom one. Just for us.”

The screen flickers to life. On one side is her bedroom, and the screen is split, showing a feed of my bedroom. Timestamps show simultaneous moments—Kira touching herself while I did the same. Showing her this feels different from expected—more intimate, more invasive. Doubt flickers in my mind.

“See?” I brush her hair aside, lips grazing her neck, feeling her pulse jump beneath my touch. “We’ve been playing together longer than you realize.”

Her body trembles as the monitor displays dozens of synchronized moments—her most intimate seconds paired with mine.

“For tonight’s level...” I slide my hand down her arm, feeling goosebumps rise under my touch. “You’re going to see and feel what I felt.” My fingers trace the edge of her lingerie, hesitating briefly. “And I’m going to show you exactly how I’ve wanted to play with you since I first found you.”

I lean overKira’sshoulder, mouth close to her ear as I operate the keyboard. The monitors flicker between videos—all of her and me—synchronized moments captured without her knowledge. My breathing becomes uneven as I watch our past selves, remembering the loneliness of those nights when she was pixels on a screen.

“See how we were connected even before you knew me?” I press play on a clip from three months ago. There she is, headphones on, hand sliding beneath her shorts while I mirror the action in my space. “Look how in sync our timing is.”

She tries to turn away, but I grip her chin. “Watch it. All of it.” My voice comes out harsher than intended, masking my vulnerability in sharing these private moments.

I queue up a playlist—dozens of clips. Her face flushes as she watches herself in her most private moments, paired with my responding actions. The horror and shame playing across her features make something twist inside me. It wasn’t supposed to feel this way.

“Hours of us,” I announce, voice rougher than usual. “Together but separate. Until now.”

My fingers find the zip tie binding her wrists, cutting it with a knife. I reposition her hands in front of her, securing them to the arms of the chair with handcuffs. She won’t be going anywhere. But as I secure her, I find myself gentler than planned, careful not to mark her skin more than it already is from her struggling with the zip tie that rubbed her skin raw.

“You know what I’ve thought about every time I watched you?” I glide my fingers up her thighs, feeling her tense under my touch. “How you would taste.”

I slide to my knees, positioning myself under the edge of her desk. Looking up at her with a hunger that transcends my careful planning, this moment feels monumental in ways I hadn’t calculated.

“Keep your eyes on the screen,” I command, pushing her legs apart, my voice revealing more than I should allow. “Don’t you dare look away!”

Her thighs resist at first, but I force them open. I hook my fingers into the waistband of her panties, slowly dragging them down her legs. She whimpers above me, a sound caught between protest and desire, sending heat flooding my veins.

“I’ve waited so long for this,” I murmur against her inner thigh, my voice cracking with my pent-up hunger for her. “…imagined this every night.”

On-screen, another video plays—her touching herself, moaning softly as I did the same miles away, both of us unknowingly synchronized. I finally taste what I’ve coveted for so long.

Her body jerks as my tongue makes contact, but the chair holds her in place. I grip her thighs harder, keeping her spread open for me. My first taste of her is more intense than any simulation I’d run in my mind. Two years of waiting, planning, and now she’s here, spread open for me. Her body’s reactions betray her words. Despite her protests, she’s wet and responsive.

“Look at us,” I murmur against her inner thigh, a strange emotion catching in my throat. “I want you to witness how we match.”

I circle my tongue around her clit, feeling her thighs tremble. Her breathing changes—shorter, faster. The chair creaks as she pulls against the restraints. The sounds she makes—soft, reluctant moans—affect me more deeply than anticipated.

“That’s it…Stop fighting what you want.”

I lick her slowly, methodically—the same way I planned this entire operation. Her body responds beautifully, finally performing a symphony I’ve rehearsed for two years. But the reality of her—her taste, scent, and warmth—overwhelms my careful planning.

On-screen, the compilation continues—moments when I stroked my cock and watched her touch herself. Now, there’s no distance between us—no screens, just her taste on my tongue and her reluctant moans filling the room.

“You’re so fucking amazing,” I growl against her, the words carrying more weight than I imagined possible. “Everything I knew you’d be.”

I lift her legs and drape them over my shoulders, drawing her closer and groaning against her cunt. Her hips buck and she involuntarily fucks my face, making my dick harder than stone as I hold her in place. I’ve manipulated every aspect of her life for more than two years, and now I’m manipulating her body—showing her that I know what she needs better than she does. Something shifts inside me as I feel her body respond—a need for her to want this as much as I do, to want me.

I glance up to see her face flushed and confused, eyes fixed on the monitors. Her expression makes my chest tighten, a sensation unfamiliar.

I press deeper, harder, my tongue relentless as I feel her body climbing toward release. Her resistance is futile. I’ve already won. Even so, I want more than victory—I want her submission to be real.

“Come for me,” I order, the vibration of my words against her most sensitive flesh making her gasp. “Show me you can be a good girl.”

Her body trembles beneath my tongue as I push her closer to the edge. Her resistance is crumbling—I can feel it in the way her hips begin to move against my mouth, seeking more pressure despite her mind’s protests. Knowing that her body wants this, even if her mind doesn’t yet, fills me with a deep satisfaction.

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