Page 32 of Carnal

"I'm Mistress to you. You'll address me as such," I inform him, feeling the power I always do ignite.

He purses his lips.

"I'm waiting."

"Sorry, Mistress."

I trace his lips, cooing, "Subs don't ask questions unless permitted. You know the rules. But I'll give you a pass on that one since this is your first time."

He grinds his molars, and I remind myself he needs to give me consent one more time before I begin. I don't normally ask at this stage, but my gut tells me I need to.

"Stand up," I order.

He rises, and I step closer. I circle my fingers over his hard nipples, challenging, "Do you want to end this? We can stop if you want."

He licks his lips then stands taller. "No. Not if this is what you want."

"Not if this is what I want,Mistress," I remind him.

"Sorry. Mistress," he adds.

"I won't ask you again. Once we start, we're not stopping until I say or you use your safe word," I forewarn.

He nods. "I understand, Mistress. Can I ask, what is the safe word?"

"You may. But for you, I think we'll make it a phrase," I assert.

Confusion fills his expression. "A phrase?"

"Yes.” I drag my knuckles over his chest, circling his body until I'm behind him. I kiss his back and announce, "If at any time you can't handle it and wish to stop, you need to say, 'I'm a Marino.'"

His body stiffens.

I taunt, "Aw. You don't like your safe phrase?"

He stays quiet.

I slide my hand around him and stroke his cock, threatening, "You need to answer me when I ask questions, or I'll have to punish you."

"The safe phrase is fine, Mistress. Can we please start?" he grumbles, his erection growing harder in my hand.

"There's another rule," I add.

"Please tell me, Mistress."

I kiss the curve of his neck, happy he's already complying, then I work him harder. His jaw twitches as I say, "There's no coming unless I permit you."

His hands ball into fists at his sides. The muscles in his shoulders flex.

I release him and step back to a panel on the cage. I press a button, and the floor beneath his feet lowers. When I'm a few inches taller than him, I order, "Hands behind your head. Spread your legs."

He laces his fingers together and moves his feet toward the sides of the cage. I cuff his ankles then reach up for the other restraints. I secure a cuff around each wrist then raise the floor to the normal position. I push another button, and the sound of the chains rolling into the spool echoes around us.

When there's no more slack, I glance at my toolbelt and select a metal roller. It has spikes, and it'll break the skin if pressed too hard. I've never gone that far, but I've seen other Doms do it. Blood isn't my thing, but Tristano doesn't know that, so I roll it along his spine, asking something I question all my subs about. "How many men have you tortured?"

His shoulder blades pop out. Goose bumps break out on his arms and the back of his thighs.

"Did I stutter? When I ask a question, you answer," I remind him, pressing the ball to the point I know I shouldn't go past.

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