The 30 Days Day 00: The Game

Grace stood in the centre of the room, her big brown eyes following her master as he stalked her. He was a tall and naturally intimidating man, but his outfit elevated that even further: a black blazer and shirt, black jeans, and tough leather boots that contrasted against his pale skin and green eyes. He looked Grace up and down, admiring the way her dark hair tumbled down to her shoulders, framing her gorgeous, pale face and big, brown eyes. He couldn't help but stare at her round breasts squeezed into the crop top, which revealed her toned stomach and slim waist. Her wide hips and pert bum were covered by denim shorts, which clung to her every curve.

For the month or so they had been playmates they had been pushing each other, exploring their limits, trying new things. She had had doms before, doms who were hot and strong and intimidating. But Alex was something else. He made her feel things nobody ever had, made her want to do things she never thought she would, he made her his little toy and she fucking loved it. He spoiled her and doted on her, treated her like a queen, but when it came to playtime he was a different beast entirely. Today she got the sense he had something truly evil planned, even by his standards. She had told him that he could do anything he wanted - that unless she safeworded he could do absolutely anything he wanted with her - and she knew he would take full advantage of that.

Suddenly, he came to a stop by Grace's side and her head flicked to face him, so that she could look up to his chiselled face as he towered over her.

"What's the matter, Alex" she teased, "too afraid to hit a girl?"

"Oh no," he laughed "I'm just picking my spot."

He had found it. His emerald eyes lit up with evil energy, and the whip drew back. With a loud crack and whack, she felt it hit the skin of her thigh, causing her to squeal through gritted teeth as the hot sting flushed down her legs. Then again he struck her, her screams drowning out the sound of leather impacting the bare skin of her back.

"Fuck," she panted, breathing through the pain, before turning to him with a scowl. "Fuck you."

His strong hand shot to her throat, sending her stumbling and tumbling backwards until her momentum slammed her into the wall, the force of the impact shaking loose a photo frame, and reverberated through her chest. Frantically she kicked at him, struggling and wriggling, trying to catch a breath through the hand which was gripping tight around her neck.

"Don't. You. DARE. Speak to me like that," he shouted at her. "You need to learn some fucking respect, whore."

His deep voice was intimidating and commanding, but grace wasn't convinced. He'd have to do better than that if he wanted respect from her.

"Get fucked," she spat back as she lashed out at him, swinging her arms at him desperately, trying to sink in her claws. In response he pressed harder, cutting off any chance of her squeezing a breath down her throat. Immediately the constriction of her throat sent Grace's mind into overdrive. Her heart pumped harder, flooding her body with adrenaline. She clawed at his strong hands as her heart thumped hard, and her chest heaved, desperately trying to draw breath. But it was no good, all of the adrenaline in the world was no good when she couldn't breathe. She knew that he was too strong for her, and already her strength was waiting as her head began to spin.

"Please..." she pleaded, but her desperate words only earned her a slap across the face. Her eyes started to well up, as she struggled and struggled, pulling at his arm and his fingers, trying to make room. Before long her vision started to blur and come in around the edges, her head rolled and his face was all she could see in the ever-narrowing tunnel of his vision. Only then, when she was on the very brink of losing consciousness, did he relent, letting her fall onto the hard wooden floor as she collapsed to her knees, gasping and clutching at her throat.

"Get up, slut," Alex demanded, standing over her. "Get the fuck off the floor." She didn't move, still too dazed and scared to comprehend his instructions. So he grabbed her by the back of her top, lifting all her weight by the thin fabric. It ripped and stretched and clung around her throat, but it held, held long enough for her to be standing, until the fabric gave way and she slipped, slamming down again onto her now sore knees.

"UP!" He demanded again and she made a desperate attempt to stand while covering her chest with her hands. "Fucking finally." He grabbed her wrists now, and pulled her arms above her head, holding her by them with one strong hand as the whip dangled in his other. Grace struggled and tried to pull them free but he was so strong, and his grip so tight, that it was pointless. She powerless against him, just how she loved it. Happy that he had her under control, Alex tucked the whip into his pocket, and pulled out a small Swiss army knife, flicking out the blade and with a spring and a click, it locked into the place, the noise filling Grace with terror. He must have been feeling cruel to use a knife, he knew how scared they made her. Maybe he wanted revenge for the claw mark she had left on his arm last week, she thought.

Touching her gently with the edge, he let her feel the blade softly against her skin. The steel was cold, but Grace was shivering from fear, not because of the temperature. Slowly he pressed it into her bra and started to slice at the fabric.

"No, No, Alex, please...." Grace begged as the touch of the sharp edge sent adrenaline coursing through her veins, but he was unphased by her pleading. Locking eyes with her he pushed the blade in harder and the fabric began to give way.

"Now, don't move," he said, in a threatening tone, "or... Oopsies." He pressed harder as the fabric separated, and nicked her skin. Her breath hitched as she felt a small trickle of blood slip down her side, seeping into her shorts and underwear. He watched it, smirking, and cut the final straps to let the bra fall as she panicked over the hot liquid dripping out of the wound on her side.

"What the fuck..." she mouthed, shocked at what he had done, as he stood staring at her with a pleased smile on his face.

"Look at me." He growled, "Look. At. Me." Instantly his voice caught her attention, it cut through the panic in her mind just like he always did. As he flicked the knife closed, Grace let out a relieved sigh, but she knew that tonight was far from over. As if to remind her of that, Alex grabbed Grace by her chin, pulling her head up, forcing her fear-filled eyes to meet with his.

"This body," he told her, as his hand released her wrists, and traced down her upraised arms, "this gorgeous fucking body, is mine." Down and down his hands moved, down her arms, down her curves, to her shorts. "Every. Single. Inch. Of it." His strong hand slide to the waistband of her shorts, quickly undoing the button and the fly, and pushed them down.

Grace squirmed as she stood out of her shorts, shivering as the cold air touched her skin, covered by only her lacy black underwear. Alex smirked as he felt her side, purposely scratching his nails over the most tender spots, dragging his nails over her skin. She didn't need to be told. She knew she was his, she'd never felt more owned than she did by him.

"Don't," she begged, unable to look him the eyes.

"Don't what?" He mocked, grabbing her throat hard, "don't strangle you?" His other hand scratched her side, "don't mark you?" He glared at her and finished, with a grunt: "Don't scare you?"

She gasped as she felt his hand on her throat again "Please..." She begged, not even sure herself if she was begging him to stop, or to keep going. "Please... Don't hurt me," she whimpered.

Suddenly she saw his hand shoot up, and before she could react she felt his palm impact her cheek, throwing her head to the side. "Please SIR," he reminded her. "SIR," he repeated. The hit drove the words into her brain like a piledriver, crushing her bratty streak and instantly making her more subdued. But he'd have to do better than that if he wanted her totally submissive.

"Fuck off, I'm not call-calling you that, you haven't... earned it." She replied, each word a struggle to push out between gritted teeth and a crushed throat. He might have been a better dom than she'd ever had, he might have owned her in a way she'd never been owned, but the brat within her wasn't going to make it easy for him.

"Learn some fucking manners," he snarled, staring at her for a moment before releasing her throat. She stayed, holding to the wall, as he pointed to the floor.

"Get. Down." He ordered, and she reluctantly sank to her knees, not wanting to take another slap on her sore red cheeks. "I think it's time I taught you your fucking manners. Move away from the wall." He demanded, "crawl."

As she shuffled away from the wall on her hands and knees she could feel his eyes on him, like a lion watching its prey. And as she came to a stop, he pounced. A booted foot pushed into the back of her head, forcing her face into the hard floor. Feeling Grace struggle under his foot, he raised the whip and took aim. As he swung Grace squealed loudly, even though he had missed deliberately.

"Scared?" He mocked.

"No!" She lied defiantly as he let the whip dangle against her skin.

"You should be," he taunted, "because I haven't even started. You're mine," he went on. "You're mine to hurt, to use, to torture, as much as I want."

"I don't belong to anyone," she scowled, defiant. "You don't own me."

He drew back, and swung again, this time he didn't miss. The whip struck the skin of her thigh, he swung again and hit her bum. Again and again, he gave her the whip.

"You. Are. Mine. You. Insolent. Little. Cunt." He grunted, with each swing, over the sound of her grunting, squealing and cursing. Soon she was reduced to a curled up mess on the floor, her black hair over her face as she tried to cover the mascara streaks down her face. His foot still pressing her head against the floorboards. "And maybe, if you're good, and you're lucky, I'll use you as my little fuck toy too. Would you like that?"

Grace tried to reply, to tell him that she did want that, that she was desperate for it, to be fucked and used. But all she could manage was a pathetic whimper, filled with both lust and fear.

"Aw, what's the matter girl?" He snarled as he paced around her pathetic, crumpled form, "too much for you? "don't worry, this isn't going to be all physical, I feel like messing with your head too."

"M-my head?" She sobbed, struggling to look up at him and see what he was doing.

"That's right, aren't you smart?" Releasing his foot from her head, he stepped back and barked an order. "Stand up, whore. Now."

Smugly, he watched her struggle to stand, bruised thighs and quads struggling to take her weight.

"Now, lets see what you understand," he began, whip in hand, "what is my name?"

"Sss..." She started, "suck a dick" she finished with a manic giggle, earning her a whipping across the stomach, winding her and doubling her over. Brat wasn't gone yet, apparently. Grace hated that side of herself sometimes, she got her into so much trouble.

"Try. Again." he snarled, roughly pulling her back up by her hair.

"Sir" she panted, "Sir..."

"Sir. Good," he snarled back, "and what is your name?"

"I'm Kitten, sir... Your kitten," she admitted.

"Wrong again. You're a fucking whore, nothing else. You don't deserve a collar, or to be called kitten. You. Are. A. Whore."

She flinched at his words, and he noticed.

"Are you scared yet, whore?"

"Sir..I..."

He whipped her stomach and as she cried out, he growled, "Answer the fucking question!"

"I'm scared of your whip," she defied, "not of you."

"Oh, I don't need the whip to scare you. I don't even need to touch you," he told her. Raising his hand, watching her flinch. "See?"

"Y-yes," she admitted.

"Good. Now don't fucking move" he said to her, as he disappeared out of the room briefly.

Her mind raced the whole time he was gone, as she admired the bruises forming on her body, and took the minute to catch her breath. Suddenly she felt a foot push in the back of her knees, sending her to the floor. Her vision went dark, breathing became harder, she realised there was something over her head. By the time she knew what was going on her hands were cuffed behind her back.

"UP!" sir demanded

"W..What is this?" She struggled to get to her feet, the cuffs rubbing into her skin and cutting them.

"This," he smirked, tugging at the covering, "is a bag on your head, you dumb cunt. And these are handcuffs," as he gave them a strong tug, digging them further into her skin. "Aren't you so much prettier like that?" He joked. "And these" he continued, without touching her this time, "are the mind games. Have fun." She felt him guide her to the edge of the bed, and sit her down."Would you like to know the rules?"

"Don't touch me," she spat, struggling to get away from him a little and ignoring his words. Suddenly she was no longer sitting, she was lying on the bed, face down, a knee between her shoulder blades holding her in place. She could feel the burning tension in her muscles, and the weight of him pressing down on her was making breathing difficult. No matter how much she writhed, he had her held tight. Then she felt something snake over her legs. Rope, it was rope. The tight binds tickled and burned as they wrapped and bound, constricting her movement and biting into her skin.

"Fucking stop!" She snarled.

Before long her legs were bound, wound up in tough-feeling hemp, holding her in place where he wanted her. Ignoring her protests he continued, nimble hands making quick work of the knots and patterns, despite her struggles and complainants.

"Stop!" She begged, squirming in the binds and feeling them rub and tug and burn her skin with every little movement. But soon she was tied, her arms bound behind her back, a harness formed over her stomach, and around her breasts, gently around her neck and tight around her wrists, tangled up in the metal cuffs.

"Are you ready for the games to begin?" Alex asked her, a sinister tone in his voice.

"What game?" Grace struggled as he pulled the bag off her head. The light was momentarily blinding, but as her eyes adjusted, she saw him smiling, admiring her tied up. "What fucking game, you prick?!"

"Rule 1: manners: You say please, you say thank you, you refer to me as Sir," he told her, almost kindly. "Rule 2: you answer on time. Think quick. Rule 3... Have fun!" He said, forcing the bag back over her head, despite her protests. The darkness was enveloping, all-consuming. Without her sight, every other sense became more acute. She could feel each and every inch of rope against her skin, she could hear every little sound as her master moved around somewhere in the room, and she could smell his aftershave on all the fabric around her.

"Wrong answers earn you punishments" he continued, "right answers earn you rewards," he finished, and she heard the buzz of a toy in his hand.

"What is that?" She begged, but could barely move, "what are the questions? I don't understand!" As the excitement and apprehension grew, her breathing became heavier, and she struggled more in her hempen prison.

"Question 1," he started, ignoring her, "an easy one: what is your name?"

"I'm... you said I was your whore. I'm your whore." She started to shiver slightly from anticipation.

"Both are acceptable... One point." His approving tone helped ease Grace's nerves a little, maybe he was being gentle, for now, at least.

"Question 2" he continued quickly, without stopping to mention a reward. "Who do you belong to?"

"You...sir..."

"There's a clever girl, another point to the good. Three: and what can I do with you?"

"What about my reward?" She demanded, ignoring his question.

"Wrongggg!" he exclaimed, with a laugh.

"But...but..." Grace protested. Maybe he wasn't going to be gentle with her after all.

"ANYTHING. I can do anything. I. Fucking Want. With you. Do you understand that? His voice had changed completely, it was a snarl now. Imposing, threatening... and hot.

"Y-Yes sir," she whimpered back, feeling sparks shooting around her body.

"Good. Question 4. Let's see how much you care about your master, how much attention you've been paying to our conversations. When is my birthday?" They had been talking about birthdays just a couple of days ago.

"April..." Grace thought for a moment, "Fourth!"

"WRONG! It's the first."

"Haha, April Fool!" Grace giggled back, "you fool."

SMACK. She squealed loudly as Alex's hand struck her on the face.

"Is something fucking funny, cunt?" he snapped at her.

"No-no master, I'm sorry," Grace whimpered back pathetically, feeling the terrible sting in her cheek.

"I know it's your birthday coming up soon, if you keep this up you won't be getting any presents. 2 right 2 wrong so far" he replied. "You're not doing very well are you?"

"I'm trying," she whimpered pathetically.

"5," he said, with a disappointed sigh. "Hot and cold can feel very similar sometimes" He began to explain, flicking open a Zippo lighter near her ear, "and the mind can be easily confused."

"W...what? What do you mean? Was that a lighter? What the fuck?!" she panicked.

Ignoring her, he continued "So I want you to tell me, is this hot, or cold?" Flicking closed the lighter, with his other hand he pressed an ice cube against her stomach, and she let out a squeal.

"I... Hot, was that the lighter? No, it doesn't feel burnt." she replied, struggling in her binds. "Maybe cold.... I... Yeah, cold." She replied, satisfied with Herself.

"Oh, very good, kitten" he admitted, "Very clever girl. But now" he continued, "it's half time, so let's mix it up a bit and see if we can get you a bit warm..."

"Warm?" She asked as she felt a hand on her chest, pushing her onto her back, and something press against the side of her thigh. She realised what it was as she felt it turn on, a wand held against her, and she could feel him strapping it to her thigh. Instantly it sent sparks up her body. His teasing had been making her needy, and horny. She was sensitive, and the toy was powerful.

"Fuck" she panted, squirming hard on the bed. "I... that's too much... sir."

"Too much? Shame," he snarled back, watching her wriggle as the vibrations tingled through her. "This is staying on until the end of the game. If you don't want it, you better answer quickly."

"I...I" she moaned lustfully, struggling to find the words in her increasingly clouded mind.

"Question 6", he continued, "what happens if you orgasm without permission? Do you A: get to enjoy it, or B: Get all your toys taken away?"

"B." She pauses for a second, "...unless I am a good slut."

"Good answer. So you better not take too long answering these questions, or you might end up losing all your toys..." he teased, flicking a switch on the vibrator, turning it up a level and making the vibrations more intense, as the power increased. Immediately the feeling was so much more intense, making her shiver and shake and writhe. It was powerful, relentless, irresistible. She knew she couldn't last long with it, and so did he.

"P...P...please...." she whimpered, beginning to wriggle uncontrollably as the pleasure stacked up.

"Question 7" he asked, after a short pause. "Do you think you'd look pretty all covered in wax?"

"No... No" she pleaded.

"Wrong answer. Again. The correct answer is 'Yes sir.' You'd look very pretty covered in wax" he corrected her, picking a candle from the table, and lighting it. "And That was a compliment, so you should have said 'Thank you, sir'"

"I'm sorry sir I'm sorry. Thank you, thank you sir" she whimpered, struggling harder and harder against the ropes. The wand was driving her crazy, even through her thin underwear.