The Punishment Without Revenge 2.0 (1)

"It's not revenge for my offense, I don't want to take it [...] This has to be your punishment, only so that heaven forgives. Rigor for temperance. [...]. For a shameless sin, a punishment without revenge. This is what the laws of honor dictate, and that there be no publicity in my affront, so as not to double the infamy. Whoever punishes in public, twice infames their honor, and after losing it, they reveal it to the world."

Ferrara walks around in flip-flops and a jockstrap in his living room. Federico had confessed to him at the beginning of everything that one of his fetishes was bare feet and being hit with them. As he moves back and forth, he types on his mobile phone, responding to Gonzaga. Federico won't move, won't open his mouth.

"Today I don't know if I'll show up at the Lords' because I'm here with Fede. I'll tell you later."

"Bring him, dude. Your little fucktoy is a lot of fun."

Federico remains kneeling, his hands behind his back on a plastic sheet that he himself takes care to spread out when he arrives and carefully folds by the edges afterwards, then carries it to the bathroom and cleans it with the showerhead. This strong plastic tablecloth protects the parquet floor of his Master's living room.

Two square meters of plastic, the territory where Federico loses will and decision, where his Master urinates on him, covers his face with a viscous layer of spit or uses it to rest his legs while watching a game on TV, performing those practices on his slave that bring him pleasure and Federico endures without complaint.

Two square meters that he feels like his prison, like an imaginary stronghold where the outside world doesn't exist, where everything is forgotten and where his reason for being is to obey and demonstrate his capacity for surrender and obedience.

On the plastic or anywhere else, (sometimes in his Master's car or in a deserted area in the middle of the night) he not only calms the anxiety of being used without mercy, but the feeling of having been chosen by a man like Ferrara gives, despite how hard it is to understand, meaning to his life. No matter the place, being cornered by Ferrara against the wall, without warning, his underwear savagely pulled down, his Master's panting sounding deep in his ears... It's something he no longer fights against.

And he can't afford any mistakes. Nothing can go wrong. NOTHING MUST GO WRONG.

Federico keeps his head bowed. Arms behind his back and wrists crossed. Not even when he's not wearing a chastity cage, does he forget the absolute prohibition on touching his genitals: totally forbidden to experience any type of pleasure.

"Gonzaga says I should stop by the Lords' later, you know? I might think about it..."

If his Master changes plans, Federico cleans the plastic sheet in the bathroom, picks it up, and gets out of the way. He takes out the trash, sometimes leaves the kitchen tidy, and...