The Game Maker Novels & Stories

"The main reason I called is to find out about the poker game. Obviously, I know slaves have sex at it, but not the details. What can you tell me about it?" "Are you familiar with poker?" "Very basically. I've never played." "A player wins each hand with money in the pot. Every hand where a slave is performing, the slave must orally caress the genitals of the winning player." "You mean suck cock?" "Two women also play poker. Regina and Lisa. They can win too." "Okay, so two minutes of oral gratification. What else?"

" I replied as I offered him a glass of wine. He drank from my hand as he took one of the bread and placed on my mouth. I moaned at the taste before I was suddenly picked up by the youths males and raised as they jubiliated. Darius laughed as they handed me to the women who quickly changed my clothes to be identical to there's and covered my hair before they explained the game. We would all cover our faces with identical outfits to test familiarity and intimacy. It wasn't a game to make or break the relationship, it was rather to build it and tease the men as all the men would play too since it was people with partners that played. The game started and I didn't move much, avoiding being the

There are many tales that explain why the Game Maker doesn’t age, tales of fiction with increments of truth. Some say the Game Maker’s mate was a powerful witch, scorned when she caught him with another woman. As she killed the Game Maker’s mistress, she devised a plot. Instead of killing the Game Maker, she cursed him and halted the aging process. He would never cross death’s doors and reunite with his beloved. There are hundreds of tales similar to this, all fairytales of magical beings and curses born from a black heart. “I think we’re going to have to agree to d

Zander 7 years ago... Knock, knock, knock. "Zander, open the door. We are about to head out." Great, just what I needed. "Piss off John, I'm not in the mood." That's John, the beta, my father's best friend, confidant, and the guy who does me father's dirty work. I hear John sigh, then receding footsteps. John knows I don't like the idea of this mission. I mean, how can I, when what they want me to do is help them take out another pack?

Benjamin was seated behind the wheel, cursing and growing increasingly irritated at his failure to perform the simple task of sliding the key into the ignition. Frustrated, Benjamin slammed his hands down on the dashboard. And that was when he saw me staring at him. The glare he gave me was enough to freeze my blood. This wasn’t over. Far from it, it was just the beginning. Benjamin had started this twisted game. Brayden intended to finish it. And as I tried to convince myself otherwise, I couldn’t help but feel like I was just some pawn to them. The battle line had been drawn, all I could do was hope that I wouldn’t become a casualty.

We established stakes (meaningless points). The chaotic energy pouring from the tear hesitated. It was being offered a conflict, but a structured one. A game. It was a form of nonsense it could understand. It liked games. With a sound like a universe shrugging, the raw chaos coalesced. It formed into a single, shimmering, mischievous entity—a Game Master from the chaos realm. It looked like a child’s scribble given sentience and a profound love of rules-lawyering. “I accept your terms!” it declared, its voice the sound of dice rattling in a cup. “My realm will hide first! Seek this!”

he beamed. "It's nice to be here. I hope I'm not intruding by coming early; I just couldn't wait any longer." Drake chuckled awkwardly as his glasses shifted slightly. "Hahaha, you don't have to worry about that." Wallace encouraged me. "This is Lily Turner; she is the game program writer and Lily, this is Drake Gibson; he'll be the game production director," he introduced, and the two exchanged handshakes. Drake's eyes sparked with interest as he shook Lily's hand. "It's a pleasure to meet the creative mind behind the brilliant designs I saw. I can't wait to work alongside you and bring this game to life."

he said, and suddenly the air felt strange. Everyone around me started whispering, turning to each other with wide eyes and open mouths. I froze. The Mate Games. I’ve heard stories, like everyone else. Old tales. Fables meant for children. Girls pulled from villages to compete for the hand of a royal heir. Magic and power and fate all tangled into one big, unbelievable mess. But that’s all they were. Stories. Until now. “They say the heir has the rarest kind of wolf,” a woman beside me whispered to her friend. “Unbound. Untouched by bond. Free.”

His response was a dull smile but inside, his thoughts were darker than the words he let slip. “If you’re playing me, Amira… if this is all some game, if you’re the snake Rhea claims you are… I’ll cut the smile off your lips before you ever use it against me again. And I’ll bury you so deep in the ground no one will ever whisper your name.”

Enzo took the man's hand instead and smiled. "Thanks. Sorry, I have something to do. See you later," Remi replied, looking at Enzo before she left. Peter Kemper, the main developer of Gamesphere, was hidden away in a corner. Remi finally found him talking to a few other people. She picked up a glass of wine and went over. "Good evening, Mr. Kemper." Peter looked up with a warm smile, clearly shocked. "You're... the person who made Game Fest, right? "