Page 72 of Game Over

The toy roars to life without warning, and vibrations tear through me at what I assume is maximum intensity.

“FUCK!” I scream, my knees buckling instantly.

The vibrations target my g-spot with merciless precision while the external arm buzzes against my clit. Combined with the plug still nestled in my ass, the sensation is too much—overwhelming, boundary-shattering.

The orgasm hits like lightning—no build-up, no warning—just pure, blinding pleasure erupting through my core. My legs give out completely, and I collapse onto the forest floor, fallen leaves cushioning my descent as my body shakes with pleasure.

“RYKER!” His name tears from my throat, a sound I barely recognize as my voice.

My back arches off the ground, thighs trembling violently as wave after wave crashes through me. I’ve never felt anything like this—pleasure so intense it borders on pain, obliterating thought and reason. My fingernails dig into the earth beneath me, searching for an anchor as I shatter.

My entire body shakes, muscles spasming as the vibrations continue relentlessly. Tears stream down my face—not from sadness but from the sheer overwhelming intensity of what my body is experiencing.

Through tear-blurred eyes, I scan the treeline.

The vibrator slows to a low, persistent hum, keeping me on the edge without allowing me to fall over. My legs shake as I force myself to stand, my whole body hypersensitive after that explosive orgasm. Every nerve ending screams for more.

“Please,” I whimper into the forest, knowing he can hear me. “I need you.”

But Ryker doesn’t appear. Instead, the toy inside me pulses once, twice—a reminder to continue following his instructions. I scan the trees until I spot a flash of red fabric tied around a distant trunk. My next destination.

Each step is torture—the plug shifting inside me, the clamps tugging at my nipples, the vibrator humming relentlessly against my most sensitive spots. I’m desperate for him to fill me, to replace these toys with himself. My body aches for the weight of him.

“Ryker,” I call out, my voice breaking. “Please.”

There was no response except the vibrator’s intensity increasing briefly before dropping back to its maddening low setting. This is a warning.

When I reach the marked tree, I find another waterproof package. My fingers tremble as I open it, revealing a small bottle and another note. The handwriting is less neat than before, the edges of letters jagged with urgency.

Mischief,

Get on your knees. Pour this over your breasts and face. Rub it in while saying these words:

“I am yours to mark, use, and fill. Every hole belongs to you.”

Say it out loud until I believe you.

-R

My cheeks burn hot with humiliation and arousal. The bottle contains a thick, white substance—cum. I drop to my knees, the forest floor rough against my skin.

I pour it over my breasts, gasping as it drips cold over my clamped nipples and down my stomach. I smear it across my skin, up to my face as instructed, coating my lips and cheeks in the sticky substance.

“I’m yours to mark,” I begin, voice shaking. “Yours to use, yours to fill. Every hole belongs to you.”

I repeat the words, each repetition stronger than the last, shame and desire tangling inside me until I can’t distinguish between them.

“I am yours to mark, yours to use, yours to?—”

Footsteps crash through the underbrush. Before I can react, strong hands grab me, yanking me up against a hard chest. Ryker’s mouth crashes down on mine, kissing me frantically, desperately, tasting the substance on my lips.

Ryker breaks our kiss, his eyes wild with a hunger I’ve never seen before. My body, still humming from the vibrator within me, responds instantly to his touch.

“My pretty little slut,” he growls, ripping the vibrator from inside me. I cry out at the sudden emptiness. “Look at you, covered in my cum, begging for more like the filthy whore you are.”

His words should offend me, but they send lightning through my veins instead. He shoves me against the nearest tree, bark scraping my back as he yanks my legs around his waist.

“You followed every instruction,” he praises, voice softening momentarily before he yanks the chain connecting my nipple clamps. I scream as pain shoots through me, somehow intensifying the pleasure pooling between my legs. “Such a good girl for me.”

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