Pervert Game Novels & Stories

I clenched my fists, nails digging deep into my palms. All these years, Emma refused to use protection. But she didn't want kids either, so she demanded that I get a vasectomy. "Vince, can you please get a vasectomy? I'm scared." But just one month after the surgery, Emma cheated on me with Scott. I let out a self-deprecating laugh. Then, I picked up the ring box and opened it. Inside was the pull-tab from a soda can. I held up the tab and looked at her. "This is the surprise you got for me?"

"Yeah, we’re lucky Rachel is beautiful and kind. Otherwise, with how sensitive you are, Lila, you would’ve been isolated ages ago." I let out a cold laugh. So, girls were too complicated, yet she was a girl herself. If she hated women that much, why not erase herself? I didn’t want to waste any more breath on them. I grabbed my clothes and went straight to shower and wash my hair. When I came out, towel-drying my hair, I picked up my phone and saw a transfer notification from Ryan. 5.20 dollars. I almost laughed. Seriously? I tapped to accept it, but before I could even finish typing a reply, his message came in, full of rage. "This was a test, and you failed. So it really is about money wit

The screen behind him blinked to life and the projector revealed a photo. It was him. Inside that hotel room, half-naked with nothing but a towel over his waist. His hand was buried in a woman’s hair, his mouth crashing onto hers like he owned her soul. The angle was invasive and the intimacy undeniable. The woman was wearing maid clothes which automatically painted him as a pervert. And it didn’t help that this event was happening live. Her face? Damn it. Her face was clear. There was no denying her identity. Amira Santis.

How? My dick turns soft, as I read the single word that ripples my whole body with panic. 'PERVERT' * *

I sat off to the side, listening to my father's threats, trying to pressure Zach into marrying me. As the person directly involved, I wasn't allowed to speak. Zach remained resolute. "I will not marry Leah." Despite knowing this was all part of the game, hearing those words still struck a chord, a sudden, unexpected pang in my chest. The man before me, cold and proud, stood with a dignity that remained unshaken, even in front of my father. If things had been different, maybe we truly wouldn't marry. At my father's signal, eight bodyguards, all trained fighters, swiftly surrounded Zach.

Marissa read hers, "I'm a single Mom's daughter, I was gravely ill, not later I found out the medicine she bought as cure is poisoning me so I had a hidden grudge on her. I'm a killer. The target will be blindfolded and hide from the killers, and the killers can choose to catch the target and tickle her or help her escape the other killers. The blindfolded target can have a chance to stop the tickling if he or she will be able to name the killer in front of her. We played the game afterwards after explaining it briefly to them. The game appeared to be fun and successful, if I do say so myself. "That was fun!" Marissa said, panting from running all afternoon. "Yeah," they all said.

He deserved the beating a little. "Phil stop! You're going to kill him!" She tried pulling him off but the wounded lion was far from listening. "Philip stop!" She shouted but to no avail. Poor James, if he knew that this game he was paid for was going to be like this, he definitely wouldn't have accepted the Job. Why on earth did he even try touching her. He should have just stuck to the plan instead of taking advantage of the situation. He swore never to play such games again.

Lucian held her gaze for a moment, gave her a dry smile, then looked away, shuffling the cards again. "Why don't we switch up the game? Know how to play Gin Rummy?" He asked. "Yes, but only vaguely," Ayra replied. They switched the game, but Lucian was a formidable player. Even after a dozen plus rounds, Ayra had won only a handful of times. “You’re terrible at this,” he remarked after a particularly devastating loss on her part. “No shit, Sherlock. Thanks for stating the obvious,” Ayra shot back, though there was no real bite in her tone.

“So you’ll finally be free to live for yourself.” She looked at him hopefully, waiting for a sign of mercy. But the system’s merciless voice echoed again: [Wish incorrect. Immediate termination.] Another burst of red. I was the only one left standing. Luther slowly stepped closer, his voice low and calm. “What is your wish?” On the second day in the horror game, during the “Boss’s Banquet” side quest, I found a photo album in the library. It tracked a boy’s life—from a babbling infant to a pale, sullen teenager. Luther, just as I’d guessed, had that doll-like, perfect face in the photos. But I noticed something else.

Greta had been fussing over Vivian since the robbery, which in her world meant plying Vivian with enough food to feed all of midtown Manhattan during lunch hour. I barely noticed the stinging hot water as I showered off the blood and sweat. Vivian insisted she was fine, but few people recovered from having a gun pressed to their head that quickly. According to Greta, she was currently taking a nap, and she never napped this late in the day. Or ever, now that I thought about it. I turned off the water, my thoughts as clouded as the steamed-up mirror. I’d done my part. I’d punished the perpetrators,