Books Like Control Game Novels & Stories

Surely this guy could have taken the shirt off first. Whatever. It’s fine. Next, he’s holding up a blindfold. “It will diminish one sense while heightening others.” Is that how that works? Hmmm. I suppose that could be interesting. Worth a try, anyway. This seems like something Neil would be into. He’s a control freak. He’d probably get off on being able to determine when and what I can see. And feel. I lick my lips. I’m starting to see the appeal of this book. Holding the book open with one hand, I start to trace my other over my thigh.

Controlled. Just like me.

“Yeah.” “Oh, that’s worse.” “Yes.” Because this isn’t brute force. This isn’t chaos. This is control. Precise. Calculated. Dangerous. The Unwritten speaks again. “Priority… manipulation.” “Exactly.” “Outcome… unpredictable.” “No,” I say quietly. “It’s not unpredictable.” Both of them look at me. “It’s controlled,” I continue. “Just not by us.” The connection pulses again. Sharper this time. More focused. And then— It happens.

🖤Alexandra🖤 I picked up the spoon again, taking another bite of the food like the conversation wasn’t important, even though I was watching him from the corner of my eyes. “Control,” I added, “control is real. Control keeps things where they should be. Predictable. Stable.” That’s what I understand. That’s what I trust. Jacob moved then, slowly walking around the counter until he was standing right in front of me. Close enough that I had to tilt my head slightly to keep eye contact.

Like nothing dangerous was about to happen. But I knew better. Something deadly was coming. I could feel it. The air felt heavy. Thick. Like it was pressing down on my lungs. The room that once looked beautiful now felt like a cage, trapping us all inside. I clenched my fists slowly. This game wasn’t about fun. It was about control. And we were all about to find out who would survive it. Then the beta who had been making all the announcements smiled again, the kind of smile that looked polite on the surface but carried something cold underneath.

--- Chapter 12 The Man Who Built the Cage Anderson Blake’s POV --- Control isn’t just about power at least not in the way people think power is loud and temporary. Real control is quiet belief, not force. You make them believe they’re safe, they’ll walk straight into the trap and call it home. You make them believe they’re free, they’ll hold the leash themselves. Leila Monroe doesn’t yet realize she’s already wearing mine. --- I saw her the moment she stepped out of the Whitlock Building.

Let her watch me have him too. Because in a game the only way to win is to control the narrative. To be the center of attention. I took a breath and let the smile spread wider, softer, but with a hint of steel underneath. “I’ve been around,” I said, letting my voice drop to a conspiratorial whisper. “You'd be surprised how much you’d learn by watching.” Kharo tilted his head, interest flickering in his eyes. “Is that so?” I nodded. “Ohh, yes. Everyone thinks they’re in control until someone else shows up.”

She rose slowly, standing before the therapist. “Now,” Harlow said, stepping around his desk, “imagine you’re the one who feels compelled to control. I’ll show you how that kind of grip, even well-meaning, can begin to choke someone.” He placed his hands lightly on her shoulders. “See? It doesn’t look harmful. But if I hold on like this too long, she cannot move freely. She feels confined.” Amira nodded nervously. “I understand.” Meanwhile, Montez was getting not a single thing out of this unnecessary clown show the man was putting on just to have an excuse to touch his woman. Rather, his eyes were locked on Harlow’s hands, the muscle in his jaw twitching.

For my turn. Tonight, outside the same suite, I brought that fire to him. “You want control?” he growled, his breath hot on my ear, his body crowding me against the cold wall. “You think you can handle it?” “I know I can,” I breathed. “Last time was yours. This time… it’s mine.” He just smiled, that slow, predatory smile. “We’ll see.” My Game.

Emma was curled up on the living room couch in a loose white tank top and tiny pink cotton shorts that barely covered the curve of her ass, scrolling through her phone while a rom-com played softly in the background. Ryan lounged in the armchair across from her, pretending to play on his own phone. In reality, he had spent the last three weeks perfecting **“HypnoControl”** — a secret app he’d coded in his computer science classes. It used subliminal audio triggers, visual pulsing patterns, and deep-embedded suggestions that could be delivered through any screen or speaker. Once installed and activated, it could rewrite obedience, arousal, and memory in the target’s mind with terrifying preci