Books Like Control Game Novels & Stories

The books there were all antiques, expensive books that we had all read, some were part of our upbringing, others were relics, and others were simple history. “Alright. Let’s start planning who to kill first.” Cade said, putting down his cigarette and leaning over, his dark eyes shifting between us. “Do we know who they we?” he asked, opening his laptop. His voice was clipped, like he was trying to maintain his cool around us, even though we all felt the same and could very well understand the need to make things right again.

Somewhere far away, music played at a party I wasn’t attending. “You think telling me this makes you clean?” I asked. “No,” he said. “I think it makes me useful.” That earned him a point. I stood and walked toward him slowly. He stiffened, like he expected me to slap him or scream. I did neither. “Control,” I said, stopping a step away, “means knowing everything. Even the ugly things. Especially the ugly things.” I took the flash drive from his hand. “This doesn’t change what you did,” I continued. “It doesn’t fix anything. And it sure as hell doesn’t make us even.”

“In fact, I think I’m making the right choice. You never understood, did you? You never understood the game I’ve been playing all along.” I stared at him, heart pounding. “What do you mean?” Richard’s eyes flicked toward the monitors. “This isn’t about your little vendetta, Dominic. This is about control. About power. You never realized how much you were in my pocket until now.” Dominic’s face tightened, his lips pressing into a thin line. “What the hell are you talking about?” Richard ignored him, his eyes narrowing as he walked closer to the machines, activating a few switches. The hum of machinery filled the room again, louder now, as the lights above flickered. The screens flashed with d

ALPHA LUCA Control – that was my family’s preferred weapon. Mostly my father’s. Not claws. Not guns. Not even money, though we have plenty of that. Control is quieter. Cleaner. It makes the victim participate in their own defeat. I see it everywhere in this facility now that I know how to look. In the lighting angles, in the one-way glass, in the staggered guard rotations designed to look random but repeat every eleven minutes. In the way doors never fully lock at once, only in sequence, so panic can’t create a bottleneck.

Although not how I intended, the game just began. I pulled two bottles of beer from the fridge and handed them both to Alpha Drake. He asked why two and I told him he would just need another soon. He chuckled again. The sound of his laughter made something stir in the pit of my stomach and as much as I hate to admit it I could feel moisture pooling between my thighs. I had to shut that down immediately. I can’t hurt him if he is in control. My brother called me through our mind link, all wolves have the ability to mind link with their pack. Bo was cancelling. He simply stated something had come up. Oh boy I was in trouble now, or maybe Drake was. I asked if he felt about chilling at the pool

When the story broke and the public gnawed on the morsel I’d fed them, when Thora’s name was whispered with pity instead of respect, when her children were nudged by a world that preferred to believe in easy chaos—I would be there, quietly tallying. The best part of war was watching your opponent stumble before the first blow even landed. And Thora was stumbling beautifully. The game was not about chains or court orders. The game was about control. And I never lost control.

“We’ve turned their own game against them. Every step they take is ours to control.” Stepbrother’s voice cut through with calculated authority: “Probability of full containment: high. Execute controlled closure.” I exhaled. “Then we finish this. Not with force, but with strategy. Observation, anticipation, and control. That’s how we dominate the battlefield.” --- The operator, cornered in a narrow sector where shadows, reflections, and sound cues converged perfectly, hesitated again—longer, sharper, exposing every micro-error they had made since the beginning of their interference.

Lisa won the next game, Julia losing so she gifted her sister slave with another orgasm. Thank the heavens, I won the next game, Lucia losing. She finished off what Lisa started and I sent another slug of cum into her throat. We only had time for one more game when she was done and Julia was leading by an orgasm. The play of the last game was spirited, everyone playing hard. Both Julia and Lucia had one domino left before anyone else and it would depend on chance. If Julia won, she had it. If Lucia won, it would end tied. No one had discussed what would happen if it ended tied. I had to admit it would be nice to slip my cock into some strange cunt, so I was kind of rooting for Julia, as long

The game wasn’t about survival anymore. It wasn’t even about revenge. It was about control. And soon— There wouldn’t be five families. There wouldn’t be three. There would be one. And they still wouldn’t see it coming…

Like control wasn’t just taken, it was tested, pushed back on. “Yeah… that didn’t go the way he probably thought it would,” Adam added, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. He closed the book slightly, tapping it against his palm as if debating whether to keep going. That lasted about two seconds. “I’m not putting this down,” he said firmly. “Not now.” His curiosity had already locked in. Whatever this book was, whoever wrote it, it wasn’t random. Every line felt intentional. Like more layers were waiting. He glanced around the empty bar again, then back at the book.