The Dare (Losers, #0.5)

by Harley Laroux

I hadn’t been the nicest person in high school either - but whatever. The past was the past.

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

the way he was looking at me didn’t feel hateful.

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.

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.

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.”

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.

“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.”

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.

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

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

Why was this turning me on?

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 -

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

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 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.

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 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.

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

“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.”

“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.

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.

tried to focus, but no amount of concentration or preparation would have made this shot land.

He’d gotten to me. He’d actually gotten to me. And the worst part was... I’d enjoyed it.

“Uh, yeah? You dared me. What am I going to do? Laugh it off?” “That’s what I would have expected from you, yeah.” There was a note of bitterness in his tone, but he chuckled softly and it disappeared. “You really think you’re going to spend the night doing everything I tell you? Seriously?”

“I can handle you.” My stomach twisted weirdly at his words. Something about it excited me. It sounded like a threat. “I’m more concerned if you can handle it. I don’t think you realize what you’re in for.”

"Jessica!" My heart stuttered. Manson had paused outside the back door. He snapped his fingers, and pointed to the ground at his feet. Like he was calling a disobedient dog. “Come. Now.”

The normal, logical part of me was screaming that I wasn’t about to let this weirdo treat me like his personal pet. But the dark, needy part of me was insisting something very different: it was telling me that Manson’s condescending tone sounded hot, and his confidence was sexy, and that running to obey his summoning would feel so good.

“Being a brat doesn’t change that you’re still obeying me, Jess,” he said, leaning down to bring his face close to mine. “Acting like it’s such a goddamn chore for you doesn’t change that you’re still doing it.”

I sighed heavily. “You don’t have to worry about me, okay? I’m just... I’m gonna try this... dare thing…”

Thank God for Ashley. As opinionated as she was, she kept any judgements she passed to herself.

“Go crawl and get my beer, Jessica – before I put you up against the wall and spank that cute little ass of yours until you figure out how to behave.”

There was beast in him, beyond the calm; it was vicious and dangerous and I wanted nothing more than to draw it out. I’d seen it that day he’d gotten expelled, when he’d finally pulled a knife on the assholes who had poked at him for years. That was the beast I wanted, that was the Manson I had to experience. I couldn’t fully explain the desire, not yet. But maybe once it was fulfilled, I’d understand. I wanted to see him make good on his threats.

You know you want it. The evil little voice chuckled in my head. He’ll punish you for breaking the rules of the game, for being a bad, disobedient girl. He’ll punish you in front of everyone, make you cry…

My eyes darted around, looking for an escape – until I realized there was no escape. I couldn’t escape my own desire. I wanted this. I’d willingly fought with him every step of the way and now… I was going to let him punish me.

know enough, Jess. I know you’re so careful with how everyone perceives you. I know you don’t like to let that better-than-thou mask slip for even a second. I know you’ll keep it up even if it means denying yourself something you want, if that something happens to not fit the cool social conventions of the in-crowd.” I gulped, viciously biting down on the inside of my cheek. The fact that he was right made not snapping back some derogatory remark even harder. Anger and haughtiness were my shields. Without them, my defenses were thin, at best.

“You’re going to follow and accept your punishment like a good girl, aren’t you?”

There was a tap on my head, something pressing me down and keeping me there. Within moments I recognized the textured feeling of a boot sole, and realized Manson had pressed his opposite foot on top of my head.

“Oh, Jess. Poor little angel. I’ve made a sinner out of you. Enjoying your punishment so much it’s making you wet. So cute.”

“You deserve to have your clit aching all night. You deserve to have duct tape slapped over it so you can’t touch while I crush your pretty little pussy under my boot.”

“I can do whatever I want, angel. I can make you suffer all night and never give you release. I can spank you again just because I like hearing you scream - and you do sound so pretty when you scream.”

“You’re so mean.” He grinned, and kissed my forehead. “Oh, angel. You have no idea.”

I was not frightened of what he would do to me, but of what I was willing to do at his command.

It was a struggle between us for who could be rougher, who could demand more,

Monsters that I knew, monsters I’d helped create.

He grinned proudly. “You wanted a dance with the devil, Jess. Well, now you have four.” He kissed my forehead and said, “If there’s a doubt in your mind, if it’s too much, they all know your safe word. I wouldn’t let a soul touch you that wouldn’t respect it if you want the game to stop. Got it?” I nodded. “Got it.”

“What did we used to tell you, Jess? You fuck with one of us, you fuck with all of us.” Manson’s voice rumbled eagerly from behind me, deepening with excitement, “And if you want to fuck one of us, you fuck all of us.”

My whole world was that dark room, those three laughing clowns, the taste of their sex in my mouth... and Manson, watching over it all like a demonic god.

I smiled wearily. I wondered where proud, back-talking, sassy Jessica had gone, because what was left of me wasn't her at all. All that was left was my aching, pleasured body, absolutely enamored with the man before me. That fucking freak… that loser… that absolute weirdo... had given me the best orgasms of my life. And he wasn’t even done.