Game night 5

The game had twisted into something darker, more exciting, and John could barely think straight anymore. He sat nervously on the couch, hands sweating, eyes darting between Marcus, Claire, and Nia. The bottle spun one last time… and Nia grinned.

Nia: “Alright. Final dare of the night. And it’s going to be… special.”

Claire: “What do you mean, special?” (Her voice was light, but her legs crossed tighter. She was flushed. Curious.)

“I still don’t know about this,” John mumbled as Nia led him toward the spare room.

Claire smirked from the couch, curled beside Marcus, her legs resting comfortably across his lap. “It’s just a game, babe. Ten minutes. You’ll survive.”

“That’s all it takes,” Marcus added, voice low, amused.

Nia stopped by the door and turned toward John, her blonde hair catching the candlelight. “You go in first. One of us will come in. No talking. You’re only allowed to touch… and guess who it is after.”

John nodded, his heart already beating a little too fast.

Nia opened the door slowly. “Go.”

The room was nearly pitch-black. John stepped inside, the silence hugging him. The door clicked shut behind him.

He sat down at the edge of the bed, trying to adjust to the darkness. Nothing. Just his breathing. One minute passed. Then two.

Footsteps. Soft. Controlled.

Someone entered.

“Okay…” John whispered into the dark, raising his hands.

A hand grabbed his wrist—firmly. Another clamped over his mouth.

His eyes widened. A knee slid between his legs. His pants were tugged downward in a swift motion. His body stiffened.

“Mmm-mm,” he tried to speak, but the hand stayed over his lips, fingers curling under his chin to hold him in place.

A body straddled him. Someone’s breath brushed against his neck.

The unmistakable sound of a finger being sucked—then the wet touch of it pressing between his cheeks.

John jolted.

“Shh, cucky,” the voice whispered in his ear, sultry, wicked. “First time being touched like this, isn’t it?”

He tried to shake his head. The hand over his mouth gripped tighter.

“You’re trembling,” she purred. “You’re not scared… you’re turned on.”

The finger pressed a little deeper. Not fully inside—just teasing, tracing in circles.

John groaned, helpless, humiliated.

“You really think Claire doesn’t know how pathetic you are already?” she whispered. “She sees everything. She sees how you stare at them.”

The finger pushed in slightly—enough to make John whimper.

“I bet she’s waiting for the day he breaks her in right in front of you. She’ll look back at you while he slides in… and you’ll thank her.”

John’s whole body twitched.

“You like this. Being silenced. Being touched. You’re such a little cucky,” she cooed, biting his ear softly. “I’m not even going to stroke you. Cucks don’t get that. You just get to feel.”

Another few seconds. The finger moved a little deeper. The teasing unbearable.

Then… nothing.

The presence disappeared. No hands. No breath.

The door creaked. A sliver of candlelight peeked through.

John stumbled out, holding his pants up.

Claire looked at him expectantly, grinning. “So? Who do you think it was?”

John’s cheeks were flushed. “It was… Nia.”

Nia clapped slowly from behind. “Ding ding ding.”

Claire raised an eyebrow. “Was she mean?”

John avoided her eyes. “A little.”

Nia stepped forward and ruffled his hair. “Only a little?”

Marcus chuckled.

“Alright,” Nia said, turning back to the others. “Claire’s turn.”

Claire stood up, stretched, and kissed John on the cheek before heading down the hallway.

“Wish me luck.”

Marcus leaned back as she passed. “You’ll need it.”

The room went quiet again. Claire disappeared behind the dark door.

John stood to follow. “Wait—can I—?”

Nia grabbed his wrist firmly, stopping him. “Not this time.”

John looked at her. “Why not?”

She didn’t answer. Just turned toward Marcus with a wink. Marcus stood up, walked down the hall, and entered the dark room.

John’s mouth opened. “Wait—”

Nia slid behind him. Her arms circled around his waist. Her breath warmed his neck.

“You’re better out here,” she whispered.

From the closed room, muffled giggles began.

John tensed. “Are they…?”

The sounds weren’t loud. Just soft movements. Breathing. Then, unmistakably—the sound of kissing.

A wet smooch. A low murmur from Claire. Another kiss. Slow. Lingering.

John’s chest tightened.

Nia rested her chin on his shoulder. “She’s letting him taste her now.”

He swallowed. “They’re just kissing.”

“Oh, for now,” Nia whispered. “She’s learning what lips like his feel like. What his mouth tastes like.”

Inside the room, another kiss. Claire’s soft sigh.

John’s knees felt weak.

Nia pressed closer, one hand sliding down his chest. The other sneaking beneath him again.

“Still hard?” she teased. “God, you’re easy.”

Her finger slipped back into place—between his cheeks, massaging lightly.

John gasped.

“That’s it,” she whispered. “Let me feel your little cucky hole tighten.”

Her other hand traced along his waistband but didn’t go lower. “You’re not allowed to cum. Not tonight.”

John moaned as her finger pressed again—deeper this time.

“She’s kissing him like she kissed you when she first said she loved you,” Nia murmured. “I wonder if she’ll say it to him next.”

The wet sounds from the room grew more intense. The kisses were louder, more passionate.

Nia smiled against his cheek. “I don’t even think she’s pretending anymore.”

John’s body twitched helplessly.

“You’re going to be her little cage boy soon,” Nia whispered. “She’ll lock you up, toss the key to him, and ride him all night while you thank her for letting you listen.”

Another kiss behind the door.

John’s head dropped forward.

“You’re dripping,” Nia murmured. “Poor little cucky. So close, but no release.”

He whimpered as her finger twisted slightly, her hand holding his hip tight.

“Claire’s starting to forget you,” she whispered. “And the more you ache… the more she loves him.”

Then the door opened.

Marcus stepped out first, calm, collected.

Claire followed slowly, her lips red, her breathing uneven.

John turned to her. “Did you guess who it was?”

Claire gave him a slow smile. “I didn’t need to guess.”

She walked past him—didn’t even pause.

Nia giggled softly and pulled her finger from John, wiped it on his waistband.