Part I - The Game

Part I - The Game

Alot of things change after high school. Straight-A students become deadbeats, shy nerds are suddenly married with kids, guys who swore they were going to join the NFL end up joining the Marines instead. People make all kinds of weird decisions once they hit adulthood - like Daniel Peters, for example, decided to start inviting freaks to his parties.

It was late October, Halloween weekend to be exact. The night was cold, an icy breeze whipping up flurries of golden leaves down the quiet suburban streets. Daniel’s neighborhood was gated, requiring check-in at the gatehouse before we could even drive our car through. A list of guests had been left with the guard, and he checked it meticulously as I showed him my ID.

“Jessica Martin, hm?” he said, tapping his pen repeatedly on his clipboard. I gave him a tense, impatient smile, and glanced back at the line of cars that had begun to form behind us. Daniel was known for his massive parties - dozens if not hundreds of guests would fill his parents’ massive house, pool, and sizeable backyard. That was one thing that hadn’t changed after high school: none of us had given up partying.

“And you are…?” the guard glanced past me to the passenger in my Corolla, my best friend since Freshman year.

“Ashley Garcia,” she said, staring down at her phone as she typed. “Do you, like...need my ID or something?”

“No, no, you’re alright. So are you ladies headed to a Halloween party?” I could feel the guard’s eyes lingering on my body - at least what he could see of it through the window. Both Ashley and I had dressed up as angels - slutty, sexy angels. My sheer white bra would’ve shown off my nipple piercings if it wasn’t for the pasties I’d slapped on underneath, and if I happened to bend over in my short satin skirt people would definitely be getting a view of my thong. Our angel wings were small, made of white feathers, clipped to the back of our bras.

I was getting really tired of this old perv trying to make small talk. I had no doubt he’d already seen our names on the list and was just trying to get us to have a conversation with him. I impatiently glanced back as yet another car pulled into line. The truck right behind us was shaking and rumbling, absolute hell for my ears. Something about the ugly old beast looked familiar...

Then I saw the guy driving, and immediately remembered where I had seen the truck before.

“Fucking Manson Reed is behind us!” I blurted, as soon as the guard finally buzzed us through. Ashley immediately looked up from her phone, turned, and strained in her seat to look into the truck as we left it behind at the gate.

“You have got to be kidding,” she said. “Are you sure? I can’t see anything with those headlights.”

“I saw him. And that’s his same old shitty truck.”

“You don’t...you don’t think…” Ashley sat back in her seat, giving me a serious look. “You don’t think Daniel invited him, do you?”

“Oh God, hell no,” I winced in disgust. “Daniel wouldn’t invite that weirdo. Not after what happened.”

“Remember, Daniel has been on that whole “acceptance for everyone” kick since he took that Philosophy class,” Ashley said warningly. “And it’s not like Manson lives here. Why else would he be in this neighborhood?”

I shook my head. “No way have Daniel’s invite standards dropped that low. Besides, literally everyone from high school is freaked out over Manson. Yeah, it’s been a couple years, but no one really forgets the kid who almost stabbed someone.”

Ashley folded her arms with a little shudder and I sped up, putting the old truck further behind us. All the houses in Daniel’s neighborhood were massive, sitting on wide lawns behind tall wrought-iron gates, shaded by old trees. I could hear the music before I even turned the corner onto Daniel’s street. Cars lined the sidewalk, but I managed to find a spot just a short walk away.

”Sooo, like, not to bring up shameful moments,” Ashley spoke slowly, popping her bubblegum before she went on. ”But didn”t you and Manson have, like, a thing?”

I sighed heavily. Why did she have to bring that up? ”We made out in the bathroom once, but that”s not a thing.” She raised her eyebrows at me skeptically. ”It”s nota thing!”

She made a face. ”I mean...Kyle thought it was a thing.”

I scoffed. ”Kyle and I weren”t even together. We were so on and off.”

”Oookay, but were you on, or off?”

”Apparently Kyle thought we were on,” I rolled my eyes. ”That”s why he was such an asshole about it.”

”Yeah, but I mean, Manson did pull a knife on him. What kind of freak carries a knife to high school?”

The kind of freak who anticipated my ex’s anger and came prepared for it. Kyle had always been an asshole to Manson - he’d been an asshole to everyone, but Manson in particular. He was the perfect victim: quiet, head down, usually dressed in black, with a denim jacket covered in patches. Manson had run with the Goth crowd, the skaters, even the anime kids. He’d somehow managed to get his foot in every reject group possible. He was a good punching bag for Kyle, especially once Kyle realized that Manson and I...had...

Not a thing, no. But as much as I had teased Manson - little stuck-up cheerleader that I was - Manson teased back. We had the misfortune of our lockers being next to each other, so there was no avoiding the sight of his annoying face. There were days we would bicker back and forth in the halls all the way to class, name-calling, insulting, laughing -

I wasn”t really sure if it was normal to develop a crush on my nemesis, but one thing led to another and…then Kyle found out that I’d actually kissed Manson. It was social suicide for me, but it was a great way to piss off my ex.

Kyle and three friends had cornered Manson in the boy’s bathroom. They’d planned to beat him - Kyle told me some shit later about “defending my honor.” But Manson had come prepared.

He had to have known what he was getting into when he kissed me: I was Kyle’s ex, Captain of the cheerleading squad, one of the most popular girls in school. I’d tugged Manson into the bathroom, four days after Kyle and I broke up, and made out with him against the cold tile wall.

“You know it was all just to make Kyle mad anyway,” I said briskly, re-applying my lipgloss in the visor mirror. “He hated that kid. Plus Kyle had dumped me for Veronica Mills! Obviously I had to piss him off.”

“Yeah, well, it worked,” Ashley shrugged. “Kyle got mad, you got back together, and then you broke up again anyway.” She rolled her eyes. “You could’ve picked someone else to piss him off with. Manson looks like he’d be into, like...killing small animals.”

A sudden, intense urge to deny her assessment rose up in me. I”d said worse things about Manson to his face, but when someone else said it, it irritated me in a way I couldn”t fully understand.

I shook it off. That was the past, petty high school drama. I was better off not dwelling on it. I reached into the backseat to grab my bag, and Ashley suddenly clutched my arm.

“Manson at twelve o’ clock,” she muttered.

I looked up slowly. Manson’s big truck had pulled over to park in front of us. Oh my god. No...no, he couldn”t actually be here for the party...

The truck door opened. Manson was a tall, slim guy, and he looked even taller in his tight jeans and lace-up leather boots. He was wearing a black t-shirt that hugged his chest and was criss-crossed with some kind of leather straps - a harness? He’d had a mohawk in high school, but now his light brown hair was slicked back. As he hopped out of the truck and slammed his door shut, he carefully fit a shiny vinyl officer’s hat on his head.

“Oh my god, look down, look down, look down!”

Ashley tried to warn me, but I was too late. Manson walked past our car and locked eyes with me, freezing me in my seat. He had one white contact in, giving an eerie look to his face, his other eye looking almost black in contrast. I gulped as he passed, unable to look away, unable to blink.

He grinned at me - a slow, appraising grin. Then he was gone, down the sidewalk toward the party. I sighed, slumping in my seat. Maybe he hadn”t recognized me. Maybe he didn”t remember me at all!

But I could remember. I could still picture Manson’s face when he was escorted to the principal’s office. I’d known what Kyle was going to do, and I’d texted Manson the night before, the only text I’d ever sent him, telling him not to come to school. He’d come anyway. When all the boys were finally dragged out of the bathroom, Manson had been the one taken away by the two campus guards. He’d had that big purple bruise on his left cheek, a drip of blood running down his chin from a split lip, and a grim smile on his face.

I felt weird as I thought about it, and squirmed uncomfortably. There was something scary about the way he’d looked, but I couldn’t get his face out of my head. He hadn’t been afraid. He’d come that day knowing what was going to happen, and pulled a knife on six-foot-three Kyle Baggins and his jock friends.

I’d wanted to kiss him again as I saw him escorted off. I’d wanted to text him when I found out he’d been expelled. I wanted to tell him that I was proud he’d defended himself, that Kyle had deserved the scare, that I didn’t blame him for bringing the knife.

I never did. I had a reputation to uphold and Manson Reed didn’t fit into it.

“What. A. Creep.” Ashley said, shoving open her door. “We’re avoiding him like the plague. Hopefully he gets kicked out.”

“Hopefully,” I muttered, as I slid on my heels. The shoes were strappy and tall, with a white filigree pattern that zipped all the way up to my knee. I caught my reflection in the car window and smiled. I loved making an entrance.

The walkway up to the house was lined with jack-o-lanterns, candles flickering inside their wide grinning faces. Plastic skeletons hung from the pillars beside the house”s entry doors, and fake gravestones littered the grass across the front yard. The thumping bass of a live DJ pounded through my chest as I pressed the doorbell. It was only seconds before a middle-aged woman with bleached blonde hair and a glass of Sangria flung open the door.

“Oh my goooodddd, Jessicaaaaaa!” she screeched, wrapping me in a tight hug that squished me against her fake tits. “And Ashley, oh my god, welcome ladies!”

“Hi, Mrs. Peters,” I gave her a smile as we stepped into the entryway. Mrs. Peters was the literal definition of a “cool mom” - she was always present at her son’s parties, laughing, dancing, and drinking. She was one of those parents who didn’t really seem like a parent - but every now and then would drop some wisdom that could only come from decades of experience on the planet.

The pale cream walls and decorative mahogany table in the entry room had been strewn with fake cobwebs, and the light bulbs in the chandelier overhead switched out for blacklights. Lifelike mannequins of zombie babies were tucked into the corners and stared down at us from the stairway. The house was packed, as I expected. There were dozens of people I knew - some friendly, some not. Being captain of the cheerleading squad and dating the football team’s star quarterback had definitely earned me some enemies, even after graduation. I knew I hadn’t been the nicest person in high school either - but whatever. The past was the past.

Ashley and I poured ourselves some drinks and wandered the party, meeting up with friends and making small-talk, admiring the house’s creepy decor. Daniel had always made sure to go all-out with his party decorations. The sangria was held in a giant witch’s cauldron, the cheese dip had been molded into the shape of a brain, and even the hors d”oeuvres looked like creepy little spiders and severed fingers.

Outside, people dove into the heated pool and played drinking games at the several tables that had been setup to host beer pong and King’s Cup. The DJ played on the cobweb-strewn gazebo, wearing a bright red suit and devil horns. The backyard was large, covered with grass, with rows of bushes lining the stone wall that surrounded it.

Near the beer pong tables we finally found Daniel, shot-gunning a beer before he leaped - fully clothed - into the pool. But he hadn’t been drinking alone. He’d been chugging alongside none other than Manson Reed, who tossed aside his empty beer can with a smile and laughed as Daniel went diving.

I felt like I’d stepped into the Uncanny Valley. I’d been a little out of the loop since I started college, but this was all wrong. Why the hell was Manson drinking with Daniel? Why was he surrounded by people who wouldn’t have looked twice at him in high school? Why -

“Why is he staring at you?” Ashley said, holding her cup up to her mouth to mask her lips. She was right: Manson’s eyes had fallen on me and he had yet to look away. There was recognition in his eyes, and I wondered what memory came up for him first. Was it me glancing at him in silence as I walked through the halls holding Kyle”s hand? Or was it my face inches from his own before we kissed, as I whispered, “Promise not to tell?”

WIth a sudden sharp pain in my chest, I wondered if he hated me. Not like I cared about gaining the approval of a weirdo like him, but...the way he was looking at me didn’t feel hateful. He seemed curious, his eyes lingering over my face and then down, over my body. Of course he’d stare. Everyone stared. But somehow I still felt...what was this...guilt?

After all, I”d made-out with him and then immediately got back with the guy who”d been bullying him since freshman year. I’d teased him relentlessly, spread rumors about him, laughed at him. If that didn”t make me look like an asshole, I didn”t know what would.

“Hey-hey, ladies, welcome!” Daniel ran over, dripping from the pool, offering us hi-fives instead of hugs. Manson’s gaze finally broke as Daniel clasped his hand companionably and said, “Nice job, bro. Just not fast enough!”

“This is so fucking weird,” Ashley whispered. “Since when are they friends?”

I shrugged, trying not to linger on the topic. The more I thought about it, and the more I looked at Manson, the more awkward I felt. And “awkward” wasn’t a normal feeling for me at all.

A round of beer pong had just ended, so Ashley and I stepped up to challenge the winners. I had always been a competitive person - whether it was cheerleading or beer pong, I hated to lose. We sank the opposing team’s cups quickly, taking them down within a few minutes and getting a nice buzz while we were at it. With the game over, I realized that a small crowd had gathered to watch us play. Manson was watching too. Watching me.

Again, the fear that he hated me gripped my chest, but I couldn’t wrap my mind around why I cared. I hadn’t seen or thought of him in years. Our kiss had faded into the background of my memories, as had all our tense interactions, all my cruel words and haughty looks. It had faded - until I saw him tonight. Now it all crashed back into me like a punch to the chest.

I thought of the bruise under his eye after Kyle had gone after him...the blood on his lip...but none of that shit was my fault. Okay, maybe some of it was my fault…and sure, most of my interactions with him had been me teasing him and calling him names...but he”d teased me back!

All I”d done was kiss him.

And he”d kissed me back.

I”d spent way too much time since then trying to figure out why. Why Manson Reed?

It hadn’t been because his quiet, brooding looks had always scared me, and things that scared me were irresistible. It hadn’t been because behind that shy, withdrawn exterior I was certain there was a beast lying in wait. It hadn’t been because his lips were surprisingly soft, and when I’d kissed him he’d wrapped his hand around my throat, and my heart had fluttered for a second -

No. It hadn’t been because of any of that. At all. It was just petty high school shit that we were all better off forgetting.

“Who’s next?” Ashley laughed, sipping down the last of her drink. “Come on, who’s the next challenger?”

“I’ll give it go.”

My heart sank into my shoes. Manson had stepped up. Now that he was closer, standing almost directly in front of me across the table, I could see that he’d become muscular since I’d last seen him. He wasn’t bulky, but his biceps strained against the sleeves of his shirt and his chest was tight beneath the leather harness he wore. What was up with that harness anyway? What the hell was he supposed to be dressed as? Was it some kind of fetish thing?

“Uh, sure, okay,” Ashley sounded irritated. “Who’s your teammate?”

Manson shrugged. “Just me. Me against her.” He pointed at me. It was a struggle to keep my mouth from falling open. I hid my discomfort behind the best resting bitch face I could manage.

“Yeah, maybe you haven’t noticed, but we’re playing in teams,” I said slowly, sarcastically.

“Aw, scared you’ll lose if you play alone?” His voice was taunting, familiar. It was the same way he”d spoken to me in high school when he”d snap back at my teasing. Except now his voice was steadier. He was almost cocky in the way he carried himself, his mannerisms, his tone.

Dammit, he knew how to get to me.

I laughed. “Oh, honey, no. More like I’ll be bored with how easy beating you will be.”

“I take it you accept the challenge then,” he said, bouncing the little white ball on the table. “I mean, it’s an easy victory for you after all, right?”

My jaw clenched. I wanted to snap out something rude, but Daniel interrupted us.

“Woah, guys, if you’re gonna go one versus one, let’s make this a little more interesting!” He came up to the table, sharpie in hand, and began to write on our cups: a single word on some and nothing on others. As he wrote on one closest to me, I glimpsed what it said: DARE.

“Drink or dare!” he exclaimed. “Same house rules except if you make it in one of your opponent’s “dare” cups, they have the option to do your dare instead of lose the cup.” He smiled slyly. “Any dare you want. No boundaries.”

The crowd began to cheer, then chant, “Drink or dare! Drink or dare! Drink or dare!” It was exactly the kind of spectacle a bunch of shit-faced college students would love - and with that many eyes on me, I’d never live it down if I backed out.

“Fine,” I said, picking up my ball. “I hope you’re ready to be humiliated, Manson. Oh wait...but you’re already used to humiliation, aren’t you?”

The crowd rippled with laughter. They knew exactly what I was talking about. They all knew. Manson may have managed to get on Daniel’s good side, but that didn’t mean everyone had forgotten where he came from.

Manson just smiled as we went eye to eye. “So you do remember my name. I”m flattered, Jessica. Miss Popular remembers who I am, oh wow!” His voice was dripping with sarcasm. He lined up his shot, and said, “I guess I was such a good kisser that you can’t forget my name.”

Less people knew about that. Far less. But there were still murmurs and gasps of “oooh, shit!” from those who did know. I winced, instantly irritated as my face grew hot. That grin of his was unnerving - so unnerving that I missed my cup and lost the eye to eye. I swore softly. I couldn’t let him get under my skin.

“So how’s Kyle been, Jess?” Manson said as he lined up his first shot.

“I wouldn’t know,” I said sharply. “We’re not together.”

“Aww, too bad. Prom King and Queen didn’t get their happily-ever-after. What a sad world. Shocking, honestly.” His ball flew through the air and sunk - luckily not in a dare cup. I didn’t know what kind of dares he might come up with, but I didn’t want to find out. I guzzled down the cheap beer and set the cup aside.

“I was surprised to see you here, Manson,” I said, taking aim. “I didn’t know Daniel was extending invites to dogs.”

More laughter, even from Manson. The words bounced off of him like ping pong balls. The routine felt familiar. The longer we snapped back and forth, the more my heart raced.

“Everyone likes dogs,” he said, leaning down behind the cups so that as I aimed, I was forced to meet his eyes. He was so damn distracting - and creepy - with that one white contact in. “And those who don’t, well...only assholes kick a dog and expect not to get bit.”

“You still carrying knives around?” I tried to sound condescending, but my voice shot up in pitch.

“Always.” So serious. So damn serious. My hand shook, and the ball flew - made it in! A dare cup too! I folded my arms victoriously

“So what’s your dare, Miss Jess?” he said, looking at the cup musingly. “I might just take it.”

The crowd was shouting suggestions, from the mundane to the completely outrageous. Then Ashley leaned forward and whispered in my ear, and I smiled slyly.

“I dare you...to go inside, shove your head in the toilet, and flush it,” I said sweetly. His smile, that oh-so-cocky grin, faltered slightly. “You’ve had plenty of practice with that already, right?”

For a second, I thought he might actually do it. Instead, he downed the cup and set it aside. It still had the effect I wanted regardless: he”d lost his cocky grin.

“Oh, Jess,” he shook his head. “Jess, Jess, Jess. Don’t you know that you’re supposed to grow up after high school? We’re all adults here.” He tossed the ball and made it in. A dare for me too. “But I guess some of us really did peak in high school.”

“What’s your dare?” I snapped. There was no way I was losing this game - I would take whatever dare he gave me.

He didn’t even hesitate. He’d just been waiting for the opportunity to say it. “Kiss my boots.”

People gasped, laughed, and whistled. Ashley make a horrified noise behind me. I frowned. “So...what...just one little kiss?”

“Oh, no, no, no,” he chuckled, walking around the side of the table so I could see him fully, boots and all. “I dare you to get on your knees, get your face down to the ground, and kiss my boots for sixty seconds.” The horror on my face brought back that cocky grin of his. “Or you can pussy out and drink.”

“Big words from someone who just refused his dare,” I shot back. But he was unfazed.

“Yes or no, Jessica,” he said. Now the crowd was invested. Of course they wanted to see me do it, the perverted fucks. Of all things for him to choose, he”d gone straight for something humiliating - not that I had chosen any differently. I tossed back my hair, determined not to let him see me sweat.

“Fine. Sixty seconds.”

The crowd burst into cheers. Ashley was muttering protests behind me, stunned that I was actually going to do it. I walked around the table, heart pounding as Manson stood before me, arms folded. As I got closer, I remembered how tall he was. He could look down at me even in my heels, and as I sunk to my knees in the grass, he loomed over me like a creepy dead-eyed specter.

I glanced up, and Manson smirked down at me. “You look a lot better on your knees, Jessica,” he said softly, soft enough that I don’t think anyone else could have heard him over the music.

“Enjoying your revenge?” I hissed.

He laughed, shaking his head. “It’s just a dare, Jess. It’s a game.”

It wasn’t just a game. It was more than that. This was payback for every time I’d laughed at him, every time I’d whispered about him behind his back. Payback for the kiss that had gotten him attacked and expelled.

I wasn’t going to let him see me blush...but the heat in my face had become a wildfire, overtaking every inch of skin. I was certain that even my toes were blushing. I lowered my head...bent low...ass up. My skirt hitched up, and the cold night air brushed against my cheeks. Cheers burst out, whistles and catcalls - if I was going to get attention, I figured I’d be hot while I did it.

I’d make Manson wish he could have more of me.

His boots were shiny, as if they’d just been polished. The leather was worn, with cracks and wrinkles around the ankle and where his laces were pulled tight. As I got closer I could smell the leather itself, rich and slightly sweet. The smell rushed in my nose and awakened something in me, a strange feeling I couldn’t quite name. I inhaled again, deeply, filling my head with the scent.

I kissed the toe of his boot, eliciting more cheers from the crowd. The leather felt smooth under my lips. I kissed it again, then switched and kissed the other. Sixty seconds...only sixty seconds...that would go by quickly, right? I touched my lips to them lightly, but even so, my pale lipgloss left the imprint of my kisses behind. The marks would remain there, likely for the rest of the night, a constant reminder of what I’d done. The heat that had been rising in my cheeks became a blaze, and I was thankful my hair hid my face. The position I’d chosen to put myself in was causing my tight thong to press even tighter against my intimate parts, and I was suddenly, horrifyingly aware that I was having a reaction to this that I hadn’t expected.

I was getting wet. My pussy felt so warm it was as if she was blushing too. Shit, shit, shit! Surely it wouldn’t show through my thong, but the thought that someone might see a damp spot when I was in this humiliating position made my blush go cold with horror.

Why was this turning me on?

I kissed up the toe, until I reached the curve of his ankle. I kissed there, too, where the leather was worn. I wondered what it would be like to run my tongue over it, to feel the texture of the leather, to savor it, just once.

It was the longest minute of my life.

I had never done something so blatantly degrading. I had expected to feel my embarrassment turn thick and settle in my stomach, twist it like rotten food and leave me feeling ill. Instead, that feeling of embarrassment was turning into lust, and suddenly I was thinking about Manson pressing the sole of his boot down on my face. I was thinking of him crushing me into the grass, laughing at me, calling me a dirty whore for daring to like it -

“Sixty seconds!” Daniel yelled out the count, to the sound of more cheers and whistles. I got up, feeling dizzy, and turned away as quickly as I could. I didn’t want to see Manson”s smug, victorious face.

I went back to my side of the table, chin up, and tucked back my hair, trying to act as if nothing unusual had happened. Ashley was watching me, wide-eyed.

“Was it that bad?” I said softly, taking her drink as she offered it and guzzling the alcohol down.

“Well...I mean...it was uh…” she shrugged, brushing it off. “It was just a dare. And you looked hot as fuck doing it. But girl… you”re really red.”

I nodded quickly. If I could have willed my blush away, I would have. Instead it remained, my very own scarlet letter branded over every inch of me.

Steadying my breath, I turned back to my opponent. “What the fuck are you smirking for?” I demanded. Manson looked pleased. Far too pleased.

“Was it worth not losing the cup?” he said. I readied my aim.

“Of course it was. I don’t plan to lose, Manson.” I sunk his cup and he drank again, but he”d claimed a victory and we both knew it.

We traded cups, back and forth. He did his next dare, taking a raw egg shot effortlessly when I”d hoped to see him gag on it. He took more of mine, cups without dares, so I drank them down. It was just cheap beer, so my buzz was subtle even as I got down to only 4 cups remaining.

“Looks like you might be losing, Jess,” Manson chuckled, shaking his head. “Unless you really like doing dares.”

“I don’t lose,” I said, my voice dripping with fake sweetness. While I was distracted with his taunts, he bounced the ball and made it in, and the crowd gasped at my bad luck. Two cups for one, both of them dares. I sighed, closing my eyes to mask my frustration.

“Just give me the dare,” I groaned, certain that Manson was going to come up with something evil. Someone handed him a mixed drink that he took a long sip of, and seeing the comradery grated on my nerves. Why did people like him? Why had everyone decided to suddenly be nice to the freak?

“It’s for two cups,” he said warningly. “You know it’s going to be a hard one.”

“You don’t scare me, Manson.”

A lie - he did scare me. With one white eye, that confident grin, and my kiss marks on his boots, he seemed like he held all the power. Even worse: every time I looked at him and found him staring back, I felt a warm rush in my belly and tingles up my back.

He was turning me on. Just standing there, he was turning me on, and that scared me.

“I like that thong you’re wearing,” he said musingly, pacing a little as if in thought. My stomach twisted up into a knot. “I saw it while you were down on your knees. Real cute choice to wear under a short skirt.” I rolled my eyes. I wasn’t ashamed of the crowd having seen my underwear; I’d always gotten enjoyment out of showing off, knowing they desired me but couldn”t have me. But I had a feeling I knew what Manson was going to dare me to do, and I already didn”t like it.

“Take your thong off,” he said. “And give it to me.”

Cheers and whistles immediately sounded. We’d attracted a sizeable crowd. Girls from my old cheerleading squad were there, people I’d known for years. All watching, waiting, sipping their drinks.

If I hesitated too long, I’d overthink it. I was not going to lose, not to Manson. I reached up under my skirt and yanked down my thong. As I did, I could feel my arousal clinging to the fabric. Even glancing at them briefly, I noticed that there was a spot of wetness on the cloth that would betray all my prideful posturing the second he looked at it.

Someone howled their approval. Phones were out, recording. This would be all over social media in the morning. But I put on my best sarcastic smile and twirled the panties around my finger.

“Are these what you want, Manson?” I said. “Hmm?”

He held out his hand expectantly. So damn cocky, as if it was no surprise to him that I took the dare, no surprise that I was giving him exactly what he wanted without hesitation. Before I could think myself out of it, I balled up the thong and threw it over, chucking it aggressively.

He caught it, smirked, and held it spread between two fingers. “Thanks for the trophy.”

“You fucking perv,” I tried to sound disgusted, but my voice came out too high and shaky to be convincing. To my horror, I saw Manson”s eyes linger on the gusset and spot the dampness. As his gaze slid back up to me, there was a fire in his eyes.

I braced myself, expecting him to announce it, and add more fuel to the humiliation bonfire. But he just shoved the thong into his pocket with a victorious smile.

“Your move,” he said.

Standing there in my short skirt with no panties proved to be a significant distraction to my game. Every breath of wind kissed up under my skirt and slid over my pussy, cold and shocking against my wet lips. Yes, wet. Embarrassingly wet. I tried not to think about it, tried not to let my mind linger on the peak of white fabric poking out of Manson’s pocket.

I squeezed my legs together, worried that I was going to drip down my thighs. The moment I let my mind wander back to how embarrassing this all was, it only got worse. What was wrong with me? I was literally being degraded in front of friends and strangers, and I liked it.

Manson was certainly enjoying himself; I could see it all over his face. I wondered how long he”d thought about humiliating me, if he”d fantasized about making me squirm, making my cheeks turn red and my voice shake. I wondered if it was turning him on too.

I took another of his cups, and he took two more of mine. Daniel declared house rules to be that if a dare had already been used to keep a cup, if the ball went in again there wouldn’t be a second dare. Since I’d already used my last dare to save two cups, those two swiftly went off the table.

Manson’s aim was annoyingly good. He got a third cup from me, and I clenched my fists as I waited for his dare. What else could he possibly ask of me?

He pulled my thong out of his pocket. “Take your next shot, with this in your mouth.”

Shocked gasps and howls went up from the bystanders. Some were disgusted, some intrigued. Their phones were still out. I snatched up the cup, chugged it down, and threw it furiously aside.

“Fuck you,” I jabbed my finger at him. “Fuck. You.”

Manson shrugged, and tucked my underwear back into his pocket. “Relax, Jessica. It’s just part of the game.”

Part of me wanted to continue shouting at him. But I was losing and doing that would make me look even worse. I’d drank down the cup as quickly as I could because if I hadn’t...if I’d allowed myself to consider his dare for even a moment...I might have done it.

I imagined stuffing my own panties into my mouth at his command, then standing there drooling and gagged in front of everyone. I squeezed my legs together tighter. Maybe I was only paranoid, but I was certain that Manson could tell this was turning me on: there was a little too much humor in his crooked smile.

I was down to only one cup. I took one of his, then another. He would have only one cup remaining if he didn’t take my dare, and we’d be tied. The game was far too close for comfort. People were shouting obscene dare suggestions, but I already knew what I wanted.

“I dare you to give me back my thong,” I said tightly. He looked at me skeptically.

“You sure you don’t want to come up with something else?” he said. But I was determined.

“No. I dare you to give it back.”

It was a weak dare, but I couldn”t bear standing there feeling so naked. It was too distracting to see the lace peeking out of his pocket, and there was no way was I giving him the satisfaction of getting to take it home with him.

He drank. He drank the damn cup rather than give my thong back, and my mouth dropped open.

“Your turn,” he said, smiling at my shock. Softer, but no less confident, he added “You’re gonna lose. Better get it over with.”

We were tied. I couldn”t lose, not now! Not after all his smirking and smug looks; I”d never live this night down. I carefully took my aim, shot - missed. I glanced back at Ashley, and found her watching in horror, hand over her mouth. She thought I was going to lose.

After that miss, I thought I was about to lose, too.

Manson took aim. The crowd was waiting with bated breath. I needed a drink, two drinks, a shot. I needed my thong back, because I couldn’t separate my legs without feeling the dampness of my arousal.

The ball flew through the air - and plopped effortlessly into the cup. The onlookers cheered, certain victory was his even before my rebuttal. I tried to concentrate, tried to take my time with careful aim...but then Manson reached down and toyed with the edge of my thong, caressing the fabric between his fingers. My aim was off, way off.

I’d lost.

I squeezed my eyes shut, holding back a growl of frustration. Drunken Daniel picked Manson up in a bear hug, holding him aloft as if he”d just won the Super Bowl. People gathered closer, congratulating his victory, holding up their phones and replaying the videos they”d gotten of me on my knees. God dammit, I was screwed. My social standing had just been drop-kicked. I stomped off, and Ashley quickly latched herself reassuringly to my side. I was ready to lose myself in a drunken stupor and forget this annoying game.

“Jess! Jessica!”

I turned back, jaw clenched. Manson was motioning me back. “You still have a dare, Jess.”

He was right: my final cup had DARE written on the side. But what kind of dare was he going to give me that meant potentially losing his victory? It would be horrible, I just knew it. He would choose something I’d have to refuse.

“Fine,” I came back to the table slowly, arms folded. I didn’t even want to hear it. “What is it?”

He paused before he answered, and I swear it was just to watch me squirm. I tried to keep still, but my pussy was still slowly dripping, and I could feel it on my thighs. Just having him look at me like that - as if I were insignificant - made me want to curl myself back down onto my knees.

“I’m going to give you another rebuttal,” he said. ”If you make it, you win, instantly. But if you don’t...and you lose...you have to be my slave for the rest of the night.”

My heart was pounding, and I masked how intrigued I was with anger. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Your slave?”

“You do whatever I order you to, for the rest of the night or until you go home. Any and every order, you do it. No avoiding me. If you agree, you stick by my side.”

Fuck him. Fuck him and his stupid dare. Fuck this crowd and how invested they were in seeing me brought down. And fuck my vagina for betraying me every step of the way and making me horny over all this. I had to refuse.

Something in me was telling me I”d lose, that I”d lose and I”d like it. I couldn”t even let myself consider it.

“What happened to all that competitive spirit, Jess?” Manson pouted mockingly as I wrestled with myself. Potential social destruction...or a chance to redeem myself. “Are you intimidated? A little scared of losing now?”

I snatched up the ball. Fury, intrigue, and horniness were creating a concoction inside of me that made my brain feel like mush and set my skin on fire.

Throw the shot, said an evil little voice in my head. You know you don’t really want to win. You want to do that dare. You want to get on your knees for him again.

My hands were shaking, time around me was slowing. The only thing in focus was Manson. Manson with his one white eye, his cocky grin, and my lip marks on his boots. Manson, waiting and watching. Manson, knowing he’d won.

My ball landed in the grass. Ashley swore up a storm behind me and immediately called to me, ”Come on, Jess, just forget it!”

But I couldn’t. Manson curled his finger at me, motioning to me as the next group of players crowded onto the table.

“How’s it feel to be a loser?” he said softly, as I came to his side, arms folded, refusing to meet his eyes. His words dug into me, that smooth condescending tone sliding slimily over my skin. He’d gotten to me, he’d actually gotten to me…

And the worst part was...I’d enjoyed it.