The slave's body tenses as the Mistress approaches, her heels clicking on the cold marble floor. She circles him like a predator, her whip trailing behind her. She stops, her gaze locked onto his. "You exist for my pleasure," she purrs, her voice barely above a whisper. He nods, his cock twitching at her words. She trails the whip along his chest, down his abs, to his throbbing cock. She flicks it, the leather snapping against his skin. He gasps, his body tensing, but he remains obedience personified. She smiles, her pussy aching for his servitude.