In the conclusion to Pay Up, Fernando must work in a mob controlled BDSM club to repay his debt. While most of his work involves cleaning… he is also on call to satisfy customers with… shall we say… more peculiar tastes.
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Typical ingrate spoiled brats would, in Fernando’s perilous position, curse Diego’s “poisoned gifts”, now in the sudden absence of his protector the enforcer, who systematically set him up as secret weapon to befriend target knaves like John and inspire them timid tractability seeing this undercover buddy severely spanked for supposedly similar or shared debts, while in fact he’s paid a pretty penny and by now debt-free. With Diego hospitalized -luckily to recover completely from CoVid19 quickly- his charges are temporarily redistributed among brutish henchmen, who only see the false books, hence the one dealing with Fernando assumes him a wimp shrimp student in dire debt, deciding to make him catch-up on his loan during the holidays at the gang’s SM dungeon, as seasonal ‘relation gift’ for kinky clients.
Rather than risking to compromise benefactor Diego’s complex covers, Fernando patiently waits for said sweet Sir’s rescuing return, fucking-fatally forced to toil his trembling, totally-thrashable thrall-teen-twink tail off as club cleaner on all four, regularly reminded of his rightless regime by right-arbitrary rear-reddening, until picked by some sadist for another dungeon session to such strict Sir’s savagely-salivating tastes for scolding, sermonizing, stripping, suiting, swatting, switching, strapping … the supremely-submissive seraphic subject’s slavish squirt-stern, savouring sweetie’s suitable shivering, squirming, sobbing, showing supposedly-sovereign sirely superiority by ‘silent’ sufferance to sadistic satisfaction.
Fernando however was raised well-enough never to backtalk a better baring and beating boyish brat-butt for berated behaviour or bloody bullshit-pretext, nor verbally spit his merciful master in the face, not even in thought, rather remembering regular reminders from his late, firmly-frockless-filial-fanny-flailing&-fondling, fairly-fair father-dear, to remain really-grateful how good he had it at home, compared to considerably-crueller holidays helping out as Hispanic hired humble-hound harvest-hand, having his heavenly-hottie-heinie hided horribly-hell-hotly, he-hood-hornily-horde-heeded, as the lewdly-lazy landlord’s fucking foreman frequently failed to find-out which fellow foolishly faltered to fulfil farm-futilities flawlessly, finding it far funnier to falsely fulminate at finest-featured fledgling Fernando, fated to further far-from-fairly fatally-following frockless-fanny-flailing for a farm-fellow’s futility, fearful of the full-force-fury if found-out for a farm-costly fault, even if only because an impossible task was set for his team: rather than admitting his planning incompetence to the clueless city-raised and -residing master, foreman would bellowing-blame the back-breaking brat-boys-bunch as ‘lewdly-lazy lowlife louts’ learning lessons only by loads of lava-livid-lower-limbs-lacerating-lash-licks, leading to their long lecturing and liberal leathering shamefaced stripping-starkers in sight of all staff, cupping coyly while kicked in the bare butt to the barn for the wickedly-woeful wriggling-worthless-wanton-worm-whipping woodshed-treatment, where only superior city-Sir soon tired of witnessing the trembling teens taking turns thoroughly tail-tormented to true tears thrashed tender-tanned by terrible two-tail-tawse over the saw-horse and passed-around over any attending adult’s knee for hand-spanking and groping till their next tawse-turn, a scores-of-sanguine-swats-show so savoured by all other harvesters none ever told the master the truth, happy to be spared sanctions themselves and spank the scapegoats to sirely-seeming satisfaction, some softly, some sadistically-savagely, even if some lost time of the evening-and-night-long nasty-naked-knaves-nates-nurture nightmare had to be made-up at great effort at risk of pay-cuts for all and copious complements of crimson-cuts on the culprit-claimed curs’ clothless-cringing cones.
So Fernando finds it fine, facing a far from fair fate of flailing and fucking for fiends’ flogger-fun, seeming to work-off his fictitious debt ‘tail-toiling’ his trousers and twink-tail off, happy to take the Hispanic-hottie-heinie-harshly-hell-hot-hitting heat for his high and mighty master and mentor’s cover, the hard-earned profits going to the enforcer’s credit, never mind what share Diego will grant him as woefully-well-earned reward in cash and kindness-kind, he’ll be happy to have his heavenly-held handler here again and healthy, who handles him hard-handed and lovingly like his late daddy did, never sparing him the rod nor other effort for the cherished chico’s good. He’ll humbly have his haphazard hurdies hurtfully hard-hand-handled here however the hateful horde of harsh hardcore-sadist hold heaven for heathenish hell-hounds, happily hoping for Diego to put him OTK again, just as he longed back to daddy’s lap when wickedly-well whooped a woeful while when the worshipfully-embraced eerily-exposed-educational-endurance-enjoying elder enforcer still seemed just that to the trouserless-trembling thrashable twink.