OWN HER: A Dark Mafia Romance(33)

“The third rule,” he continued, “is that every time we're together here, you'll have a yellow word and a red word. You will say the yellow word when you feel like you're reaching the edge of what you can take...when you want me to keep going, but you don't want me to escalate it any further. When you say the red word, it will mean you want me to stop completely.”



Carla almost couldn't believe her ears. Was he really going to treat this like an actual Dom-sub relationship, and give her a chance to control what she endured?



Or was he just fucking with her by laying out boundaries that he had no intention of respecting at all?



“I will choose your yellow and red words for you,” Gio said. “Because whenever you're with me, you'll be free from the burden of making any choices for yourself at all. Isn't that nice?”



“Yes, Master,” Carla replied.



“I knew you'd agree,” Gio said smugly. “Tonight, your yellow word will be 'earth,' and your red word will be 'fire.'



“The fourth rule,” he finished, “is that no women are allowed on two feet in this room. Whenever you're here, you get down on all fours and you crawl like a bitch. So do it. Now.”



Carla lowered herself to her hands and knees.



“That's it,” Gio smirked encouragingly. “That's a good girl. You're going to be a good little pet, I can tell. Nice and obedient. Now, do you see that post in the center of the room?”



Carla raised her eyes and saw a short, thick post made of polished black wood just a few feet away. There was a large metal ring attached to its base.



“Yes, Master,” Carla said.



“Crawl over to it,” Gio ordered.



Carla crawled forward to the post, breathing hard. Her heart was pounding like a drum and her skin prickled with hot humiliation. She'd never even thought about letting anyone treat her like this before.



“Now wait there with your head down,” Gio said. He went to one of the shelves, took something down, and returned, kneeling next to her. When Carla saw what he had, she felt the sweat on her skin turn cold.



He was holding a set of handcuffs.



Gio snapped the cuffs around one of her wrists, threaded it through the metal ring, and then snapped them onto her other wrist, binding her to the base of the post. Then he stood and positioned himself behind her again.



“Put your ass in the air,” Gio said. “Offer yourself to me like an animal in heat.”



Carla did as she was told, arching her back and exposing her labia to him. She heard a faint metallic clink, followed by a sound like leather sliding against fabric.



She felt an icy stab of terror as she realized he was removing his belt.



“Your bottom's nice and red from where I hit it,” Gio said. “Still, I think it could be a lot redder. Let's find out.”



Carla heard the whisk of the belt cutting through the air, and the deafening crack as it connected with her buttocks. A split-second later, fiery agony lit up the surface of her skin and she let out a cry of pain.



“Ask me for another,” Gio commanded.



“May I have another?” Carla asked through clenched teeth.



Instead of delivering another blow with his belt, Gio grabbed the chain leash and yanked on it hard, cutting off Carla's air. She tried to gasp, but her throat was locked shut, the blood trapped in her head.



“How are you supposed to address me?” Gio spat.



“M-Master...” Carla croaked. Her face was starting to throb, and there were lights dancing at the corners of her eyes.



“Good. Now say it right, and say please.” Gio loosened his grip on the leash and Carla sucked air into her lungs desperately.



“Please, Master, may I have another?” she wheezed.



The belt whistled through the air again and thwapped against Carla's naked ass. She let out a ragged scream, then took in more air and said, “Please, Master, may I have another?”



As the belt hit her again, she could feel the humiliation burning her down like a flame consuming candle wax, revealing and blackening the wick within. This hurt, but somehow, it didn't entirely feel bad to her, either. There was something below the physical pain, something almost eager to be freed.



She could take this. And somehow, she suspected she could take more, if needed.



Much more.



The belt came down, again and again, so quickly and viciously that she didn't even have time to ask for more between strikes. She could only breathe in and cry out, her yelps increasing in volume and pitch. In between, she simpered wordlessly, meaning to beg him for more but unable to offer anything but moans of encouragement.



Her bottom was burning intensely now, the agony broad and consuming. She could feel welts forming on her skin like searing pokers laid against her. Each smack of the belt was harder, and she started to feel dizzy and light-headed, her breath coming so hard and fast that she thought she might hyperventilate.