Page 71 of Game Over

I stand shakily, adjusting to the foreign fullness inside me. Every tiny movement sends jolts of sensation through my body, making my breath catch. I’ve never felt anything like this—constant awareness and persistent pressure.

“Five hundred yards,” I whisper, remembering Ryker’s instructions.

I take a tentative step forward. The plug shifts slightly, causing me to gasp. Another step. Another ripple of pleasure-pain. Walking becomes an exercise in concentrated arousal—each footfall creates new sensations radiating outward from my core.

The uneven forest floor makes my journey a torturous series of unexpected movements. Roots force me to step higher, dips make me clench around the intrusion. My thighs grow slick with my own arousal as I move deeper into the woods.

“Fuck,” I hiss, stumbling over a fallen branch. The jolt makes the plug press deeper inside me, hitting a spot that sends stars across my vision.

I’m counting steps in my head—approximating distance—when I spot the marked tree Ryker described. Against its trunk rests a small waterproof bag, bright blue against the bark.

My fingers tremble as I retrieve it. I find an envelope and two silver clamps connected by a delicate chain. My nipples tighten involuntarily at the sight, already anticipating what the note will demand.

I unfold the paper, Ryker’s handwriting filling the page:

Mischief,

Your body’s honesty pleases me. Now show me more. Place these clamps on your nipples. Adjust the tension to the point of pain, then back off slightly. Wear them as you continue following the markers.

Don’t disappoint me.

-R

Heat floods my face as I examine the clamps. They’re adjustable—small screws allow for precise adjustment of the pressure. I’ve never used anything like this before, but my body responds instantly, nipples hardening to tight peaks despite my nervousness.

I take a deep breath, the plug shifting inside me as my muscles tense.

I take the first clamp between my fingers, the metal cool against my flushed skin. With a shaky breath, I bring it to my left nipple, already hard from anticipation and the forest air. As I close it, pain shoots through me—sharp and immediate.

“Oh god!” I gasp, instinctively reaching to remove it.

But I stop myself. Ryker’s words echo in my mind.

Adjust the tension to the point of pain, then back off slightly.

I twist the small screw, easing the pressure until the initial shock transforms into a throbbing ache that somehow sends pulses of pleasure straight between my legs. The sensation mingles with the fullness of the plug, creating a symphony of conflicting signals that leave me dizzy.

My fingers tremble as I attach the second clamp, a whimper escaping my lips as it bites down. I adjust this one too, finding that edge between pain and pleasure.

The chain hanging between my breasts swings gently as I straighten, sending little tugs through my sensitive nipples. Each tiny pull triggers a cascade of sensations that travel directly to my core.

“Fuck,” I whisper, surprised by how intensely my body responds.

I follow the markers deeper into the forest, each step a lesson in newfound sensations. The plug shifts inside me, the clamps tug with every movement, and I realize with shock that the pain itself is turning me on. The discomfort transforms into pleasure that makes my thighs slick and my breath short.

The distance seems endless, far longer than before. Seven hundred and fifty yards feels like miles as I navigate the uneven terrain, each jolt and stumble sending the chain swinging, tugging on my clamped nipples. The pain blurs into pleasure until I can’t distinguish between them anymore.

By the time I spot the next marker, I’m panting, legs trembling not from exertion but from sustained arousal. A small waterproof case sits nestled at the base of a tree. My hands shake as I open it, revealing a sleek, curved device unlike anything I’ve owned. It’s clearly designed to sit inside me, with one end curved to hit my g-spot and an external arm positioned to press against my clit. There’s a small card beside it.

Remote-controlled. I’m watching.

I stare at the curved device in my palm, its sleek, intimidating silicone surface. My breath quickens as I realize what Ryker expects me to do. The forest seems to hold its breath around me as I hesitantly position the toy against my entrance.

“God,” I whisper, sliding it inside.

The curved end finds my g-spot immediately, like it was designed specifically for my body. The external arm settles against my already swollen clit. The fullness of the anal plug combined with this new intrusion makes me gasp—I’ve never been so thoroughly filled.

For a moment, nothing happens. I adjust my stance, feeling vulnerable yet strangely powerful standing naked in the forest, adorned with Ryker’s devices. I wonder if he can see?—

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