Day 1 here
----------
The next day, the atmosphere in the warehouse had thickened into a soup of fear, shame, and resentment, saturated by the penetrating smell of metal and the residual essence of the irritating powder. The first phase of the revenge had dismantled Dolores’s facade and cracked Vanessa’s loyalty, but Franco knew that the total confession—the catharsis that justified two years of planning—had yet to be extracted. The symphony of hysterical laughter and Dolores's nervous gasps wove a psychological backdrop of terror for Vanessa, which her ex, the architect of sadism, enjoyed with surgical precision.
Franco stood before Vanessa, his face imperturbable. She remained exactly as she was yesterday, physically immobilized in the same way and burdened by the weight of guilt and the revelation of her mother’s betrayal. The roller machine that had left Dolores’s feet in a state of exacerbated hypersensitivity the previous day was a condition Franco was prepared to exploit with an even crueler technique, designed to transcend pain and aim directly at the mind.
Dolores's punishment would now be the engine of Vanessa's emotional breakdown.
Franco: — The itching powder did its job, Vanessa, do you feel it? Your mother is going to feel it as a constant reminder of her failure, of her determination to destroy us… Do you still doubt her total guilt? She didn’t just abandon me to my fate, Vanessa. She gave my captors the blueprint of my fragility.
Vanessa: — No, Franco! Please no, stop! My mother told me that… that your perversion wasn't healthy, that you were beneath me. I DON'T BELIEVE SHE’S A TRAITOR! She loves me, she protected me from….
Franco laughed, a dry, humorless sound at the lies he had just heard. He approached the table and picked up a small container with fine salt and powdered sugar, a granular, abrasive mixture.
Franco: — You talk about perversion, Vanessa, but you forget that your own latent sensitivity is what united us. Or do you think your uncontrollable laughter yesterday was just fear? It was arousal, the same arousal you showed me in every kiss I gave your feet, your legs, your breasts, your mouth… But now, your feet are going to test the loyalty that still blinds you.
He sprinkled the salt and sugar mixture over the sole of Vanessa’s right foot. The granular material, contrasting with the softness of her feet and yesterday’s residual itching, intensified the sensitivity. Then, he took a small comb with sharp bone teeth, not to scratch, but to slowly trace circular patterns over the heel and arch, as if he were mapping the topography of her torment. Since her toes were not tied, the movement of her foot sideways worsened the torture.
Vanessa: — AAAA HAHAHAHAAAAA HAHAHAHAHAHA!! NOOO, IT BURNS HAHAHAHAHAHA!! IT SCRAPES! IT'S STINGING ME HEHE HAHAHAHAHAHA, PLEEEASE HAHAHAHAHÁ! TAKE IT OFF!! I CAN'T TAAAKE HAHAHAHAHAHA HOLD HAHAHAHAHAH IT!!
The torture targeted not only her skin but her concentration, forcing her to laugh and feel the agony of tactile hypersensitivity. She writhed but found little mobility since her arms were tied above her head in those well-padded but insurmountable shackles that prevented any attempt to cover herself. Vanessa’s laughter was more frantic, a sound of pure embarrassed hysteria, exposing the deep fear of losing control.
While Vanessa convulsed, Franco noticed Dolores waking up and looking sideways and upwards, startled, but remembering where she was…
Dolores: — Franco, stop! Not her! SHE IS INNOCENT! What happened was my fault! I SAID IT WAS MY FAULT!
Franco slowly traced the comb over Vanessa's defenseless soles, who could do nothing but laugh and scream. Dolores, in her desperation, tried as best she could to break her set of the same shackles her daughter had, but she didn't have enough strength, and her frustration at wanting to move wildly in place was evident, but all she achieved was more fatigue. If Vanessa had very reduced mobility, Dolores couldn't move even a single toe.
Franco: — A half-confession is an elaborate lie, Dolores. I need the details. I need to know how you contacted them, how you sold my vulnerability, and why the hell you used your own daughter to cover it up.
Franco pushes a button, and the rollers and electric jolts on the metal plates reactivate on his ex mother-in-law's feet.
Dolores: — HAAAAAAAAAAAA HAHAHAHAHAHA GODDAMMIT HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHÁ IT BURNS! IT HUURTS HAHAHAHAHÉ! FRANCOOOO HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!
The assault was a sensory shock, much worse than yesterday. Dolores arched with a violent spasm, her body shaking uncontrollably. Her hysterical laughter mixed with authentic groans of physical pain and humiliation. Both women collided back-to-back, and every now and then their backs tested this marvelous torture apparatus that stoically endured like Leonidas and his 300 warriors…
Hearing the laughter and the distressed groan, Vanessa, her face pale with terror, tried to stop laughing for an instant.
Vanessa: — Franco, stop hahahahaha stop with her! It hurts hahahaha for real! PLEASE HO HO HO HAHAHA! ENOUGH!
Franco stopped both, taking breaths as if they had climbed Everest. Dolores’s feet were pink, and the pulsations were palpable, but now, laughter had given way to silent, broken crying, a sign that her will was shattering.
Franco: — Speak, Dolores. Or the next thing goes directly to your abdomen, that area you are so afraid to expose.
Dolores: — NO! the... the abdomen… No! I... besides providing them with your weakness, I…
Franco: — Continue…
Dolores: — I gave them the details of when you were alone, your schedules… I just wanted you to leave! (saying almost a plea) I didn't want you in Vanessa’s life… I was afra…
Franco approached Vanessa, who had heard her mother's genuine fear of the threat to her abdomen. She had witnessed the break.
Franco: — Do you hear it, Vanessa? She delivered me (pointing to Dolores). She turned me into a sex toy to scare away her own ghosts. And why, Dolores? WHY SUCH INTEREST IN MY DISAPPEARANCE? Now, my dear ex, it’s your turn to pay for your blindness…
Without giving her time to react, the man focused again on Vanessa’s feet, still covered with the granular salt and sugar mixture. He grabbed a hard-bristled nail brush, designed for pedicure, but which, in this context, became a precise and prolonged torture tool. He began methodically brushing the sole of her left foot. The abrasive friction of the brush against the sugar granules and sensitive skin provoked a violent reaction that worsened when she tried to move her foot from side to side.
Vanessa: — AAAHHH HAHAHAHAHAHAAAA HAHAHAHAHAHÁ IT BURNS!! IT ITCHES, IT ITCHES SO MUCHOOOOO!! NO, NO, NO, HEHEHEHE HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!
Vanessa’s laughter was a mixture of ticklish pleasure and burning pain, a sensory torment that prevented her from concentrating on her mother's betrayal, focusing only on the overwhelming sensation. Franco maintained a constant, firm rhythm on the arch of her left foot, while her right foot joined the party.
Vanessa writhed in place after the man she once loved made the last 3-4 minute visit to her most sensitive extremities (which felt like an eternity for the woman), but Franco still expected the truth, and he turned to Dolores, who, exhausted, remained in silent tears, her feet still tense under the restraint. Franco knew that to break her completely, the humiliation had to be absolute.
He brought a pair of pliers with rubber tips and, with a deliberate movement, began to pinch the sensitive skin between her toes. The pinch was not only painful but deeply irritating and ticklish, attacking the area the brushing hadn't reached.
Dolores: — AAAAAH HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! S-STOP HAHAHAHAHAHA, IT TICKLES HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! LEAVE HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHÁ LEAVE MY TOES!!
The laughter filtered back into her voice, forced and broken by pain. Franco leaned in even closer, focusing his gaze on every bit of skin between the toes, where she was especially susceptible to shivers.
Franco: — This is the truth, Dolores. You are just as weak as I am, and your daughter knows it now. You sold me out for fear of being exposed.
Dolores: — STOP HAHAHAHAHAHA!! PLEASE HAHAHAHAHAHA PLEASE, STOP HAHAHAHAHAHA THIS HUMILIATION HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HUMILIATION!! I'LL TELL YOU WHATEVER HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA YOU WANT!! WHATEVER HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! EVERYTHING HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!
Franco stopped, looking at her face, which was a map of desperation, exhaustion, and defeat, insisting:
— Alright… the truth, Dolores, no excuses.
Dolores: — I-It was… it was a man… named Bruno. Bruno Bonera. Before Vanessa was born, my husband had documents stored, and I knew where they were. When Vanessa was a few months old baby, they kidnapped me and did exactly what they did to you, Franco. I was a sex toy. My breast milk, which I should have given to Vanessa, was used for their meetings as milkshakes for their coffees. They let me go after two weeks on the condition of handing over my husband, or the documents. I made it look like a robbery, and they took the documents. When Vanessa was 10, my husband died in a traffic accident that wasn't fully clarified, but I'm sure it was Bruno, just to remind me what could happen if I spoke. Bruno contacted me when you were dating Vanessa and told me his daughter needed someone strong and healthy for her games… It was you or Vanessa’s life, and that's why I handed you over… I… I just… just wanted to protect us…
Dolores's confession brought with it a new level of complexity. Her betrayal wasn't just abandonment, but fear. All three were actually crying. An innocent man imprisoned by the ghosts of a mother who wanted to protect her daughter.
Franco, wiping away tears, approached Vanessa and, while she watched, he lowered his pants and showed his right buttock to his ex, a buttock that bore cattle brand burns and the silhouette of two B’s. His expression was no longer one of anger, but of cold sadness and comprehension toward his former lover.
Franco: — Bianca Bonera. The daughter of an expert in manipulation and sensory torture, who used your mother's fear to separate us (as he pulled up his pants). You left me a note, but the pain was inflicted by a third party that she introduced into our lives.
Vanessa, upon hearing everything and the depth of the betrayal, emotionally collapsed.
— Mom! How…?! I believed you! I DEFENDED YOU! Why did you never tell me the truth? WHYYY!!
Franco untied Vanessa and helped her down. She had no strength, and her ex helped her walk in front of Dolores, but she didn't realize that the man put a chained collar on her. He returned to his arsenal and took out a pair of high-heeled boots, designed to stylishly shape the figure. They were for Vanessa, size 7.5, but inside, there was a mixture of rough wool and soft plastic bristles, designed to tickle the soles of her feet with every movement. He cleaned each foot of the sugar and salt and forced her to put on the boots. The friction of the internal bristles against her already sensitive sole made her gasp.
Vanessa: — It itches! It itches so much, Franco! I can’t stand the friction!
Franco tied her hands behind her back, and the woman couldn't sit down, but she could walk around the warehouse, only a few steps, which the collar allowed. Every movement, every step, reactivated the hypersensitivity in her feet and the internal friction of the bristles, leading her into a state of nervous, painful laughter.
Vanessa: — NOOOO HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! STOOOOP HAHAHAHAHÉ! IT T-T-T-TICKLESSS HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!
While Vanessa walked clumsily and held back her laughter, she approached Franco. He took her chin and lifted her face, bringing his face close to hers, with the mixture of arousal and terror pulsating in the air.
Franco: — Your mother is broken. Do you see it? She doesn't even bother to raise her head to look at you… But you… you still haven't acknowledged your own desire.
And he pulled a small vial of truth serum from his pocket. He injected it into Vanessa's arm; she offered no resistance, too confused and exhausted.
Franco: — Now, the truth. Why did you laugh so hard? Why did your body always seek me out after I tickled you, even when your mother told you to leave me?
Vanessa: — I… I… (Her voice was a broken whisper, her body trembling). I liked it… I liked the feeling of losing control. It aroused me. I felt it… and my mother… but I liked it, Franco… I like it.
The confession, forced by the serum and the torture, was the final link in the revenge. Franco had ensured that Vanessa confronted the truth of her own desire, the same desire that had led her to abandon him for fear of social condemnation, but which she had always secretly wanted.
Franco: — Now you understand. We are both slaves.
Approaching Vanessa, who was containing the laughter and pain in her feet from the internal friction of the boots, combined with the emotional liberation of the truth. He knelt down, removed Vanessa's boots, took off the collar, and then kissed her with brutal intensity, a kiss filled with resentment, desire, and complicity.
Dolores, upon seeing her daughter kiss her torturer, screamed, her voice torn by agony:
— NOOOO! VANESSA!! NO!! NOT HIM!! HE IS A MONSTER!! HE IS MANIPULATING YOU!!
Franco broke the kiss and looked at Vanessa, who, after the kiss, knelt down, tears and silent laughter coexisting on her face.
Franco: — You have to make a decision, Vanessa. Your past life of lies or a new beginning with the truth.
And he slowly walked away toward the warehouse door, leaving the two women alone in the gloom. Dolores, trapped in her sensory torment, unable to move. Vanessa was freed from her physical restraints but chained by the revealed truth, her renewed desire, and now reconnected with her ex.
Franco: — The police will arrive in ten minutes, and your mother will be found here, tied up, humiliated… and exposed to the truth of her own betrayal with the documents on the table. If you come with me, you will be your own emotional owner. If you stay, you will go to jail as an accomplice.
The man walked away through the door, leaving Vanessa and Dolores in a silence interrupted only by Dolores's repressed moans of pain and the sound of Franco's boots fading down the hallway. Vanessa looked at her mother, looked at her restraints, saw that she had not an ounce of remorse, and then looked at the closing door while her heart pounded with the promise of a new life.
-----------------------------
Part 3 (Legacy) will be presented in 1 week...
----------
The next day, the atmosphere in the warehouse had thickened into a soup of fear, shame, and resentment, saturated by the penetrating smell of metal and the residual essence of the irritating powder. The first phase of the revenge had dismantled Dolores’s facade and cracked Vanessa’s loyalty, but Franco knew that the total confession—the catharsis that justified two years of planning—had yet to be extracted. The symphony of hysterical laughter and Dolores's nervous gasps wove a psychological backdrop of terror for Vanessa, which her ex, the architect of sadism, enjoyed with surgical precision.
Franco stood before Vanessa, his face imperturbable. She remained exactly as she was yesterday, physically immobilized in the same way and burdened by the weight of guilt and the revelation of her mother’s betrayal. The roller machine that had left Dolores’s feet in a state of exacerbated hypersensitivity the previous day was a condition Franco was prepared to exploit with an even crueler technique, designed to transcend pain and aim directly at the mind.
Dolores's punishment would now be the engine of Vanessa's emotional breakdown.
Franco: — The itching powder did its job, Vanessa, do you feel it? Your mother is going to feel it as a constant reminder of her failure, of her determination to destroy us… Do you still doubt her total guilt? She didn’t just abandon me to my fate, Vanessa. She gave my captors the blueprint of my fragility.
Vanessa: — No, Franco! Please no, stop! My mother told me that… that your perversion wasn't healthy, that you were beneath me. I DON'T BELIEVE SHE’S A TRAITOR! She loves me, she protected me from….
Franco laughed, a dry, humorless sound at the lies he had just heard. He approached the table and picked up a small container with fine salt and powdered sugar, a granular, abrasive mixture.
Franco: — You talk about perversion, Vanessa, but you forget that your own latent sensitivity is what united us. Or do you think your uncontrollable laughter yesterday was just fear? It was arousal, the same arousal you showed me in every kiss I gave your feet, your legs, your breasts, your mouth… But now, your feet are going to test the loyalty that still blinds you.
He sprinkled the salt and sugar mixture over the sole of Vanessa’s right foot. The granular material, contrasting with the softness of her feet and yesterday’s residual itching, intensified the sensitivity. Then, he took a small comb with sharp bone teeth, not to scratch, but to slowly trace circular patterns over the heel and arch, as if he were mapping the topography of her torment. Since her toes were not tied, the movement of her foot sideways worsened the torture.
Vanessa: — AAAA HAHAHAHAAAAA HAHAHAHAHAHA!! NOOO, IT BURNS HAHAHAHAHAHA!! IT SCRAPES! IT'S STINGING ME HEHE HAHAHAHAHAHA, PLEEEASE HAHAHAHAHÁ! TAKE IT OFF!! I CAN'T TAAAKE HAHAHAHAHAHA HOLD HAHAHAHAHAH IT!!
The torture targeted not only her skin but her concentration, forcing her to laugh and feel the agony of tactile hypersensitivity. She writhed but found little mobility since her arms were tied above her head in those well-padded but insurmountable shackles that prevented any attempt to cover herself. Vanessa’s laughter was more frantic, a sound of pure embarrassed hysteria, exposing the deep fear of losing control.
While Vanessa convulsed, Franco noticed Dolores waking up and looking sideways and upwards, startled, but remembering where she was…
Dolores: — Franco, stop! Not her! SHE IS INNOCENT! What happened was my fault! I SAID IT WAS MY FAULT!
Franco slowly traced the comb over Vanessa's defenseless soles, who could do nothing but laugh and scream. Dolores, in her desperation, tried as best she could to break her set of the same shackles her daughter had, but she didn't have enough strength, and her frustration at wanting to move wildly in place was evident, but all she achieved was more fatigue. If Vanessa had very reduced mobility, Dolores couldn't move even a single toe.
Franco: — A half-confession is an elaborate lie, Dolores. I need the details. I need to know how you contacted them, how you sold my vulnerability, and why the hell you used your own daughter to cover it up.
Franco pushes a button, and the rollers and electric jolts on the metal plates reactivate on his ex mother-in-law's feet.
Dolores: — HAAAAAAAAAAAA HAHAHAHAHAHA GODDAMMIT HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHÁ IT BURNS! IT HUURTS HAHAHAHAHÉ! FRANCOOOO HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!
The assault was a sensory shock, much worse than yesterday. Dolores arched with a violent spasm, her body shaking uncontrollably. Her hysterical laughter mixed with authentic groans of physical pain and humiliation. Both women collided back-to-back, and every now and then their backs tested this marvelous torture apparatus that stoically endured like Leonidas and his 300 warriors…
Hearing the laughter and the distressed groan, Vanessa, her face pale with terror, tried to stop laughing for an instant.
Vanessa: — Franco, stop hahahahaha stop with her! It hurts hahahaha for real! PLEASE HO HO HO HAHAHA! ENOUGH!
Franco stopped both, taking breaths as if they had climbed Everest. Dolores’s feet were pink, and the pulsations were palpable, but now, laughter had given way to silent, broken crying, a sign that her will was shattering.
Franco: — Speak, Dolores. Or the next thing goes directly to your abdomen, that area you are so afraid to expose.
Dolores: — NO! the... the abdomen… No! I... besides providing them with your weakness, I…
Franco: — Continue…
Dolores: — I gave them the details of when you were alone, your schedules… I just wanted you to leave! (saying almost a plea) I didn't want you in Vanessa’s life… I was afra…
Franco approached Vanessa, who had heard her mother's genuine fear of the threat to her abdomen. She had witnessed the break.
Franco: — Do you hear it, Vanessa? She delivered me (pointing to Dolores). She turned me into a sex toy to scare away her own ghosts. And why, Dolores? WHY SUCH INTEREST IN MY DISAPPEARANCE? Now, my dear ex, it’s your turn to pay for your blindness…
Without giving her time to react, the man focused again on Vanessa’s feet, still covered with the granular salt and sugar mixture. He grabbed a hard-bristled nail brush, designed for pedicure, but which, in this context, became a precise and prolonged torture tool. He began methodically brushing the sole of her left foot. The abrasive friction of the brush against the sugar granules and sensitive skin provoked a violent reaction that worsened when she tried to move her foot from side to side.
Vanessa: — AAAHHH HAHAHAHAHAHAAAA HAHAHAHAHAHÁ IT BURNS!! IT ITCHES, IT ITCHES SO MUCHOOOOO!! NO, NO, NO, HEHEHEHE HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!
Vanessa’s laughter was a mixture of ticklish pleasure and burning pain, a sensory torment that prevented her from concentrating on her mother's betrayal, focusing only on the overwhelming sensation. Franco maintained a constant, firm rhythm on the arch of her left foot, while her right foot joined the party.
Vanessa writhed in place after the man she once loved made the last 3-4 minute visit to her most sensitive extremities (which felt like an eternity for the woman), but Franco still expected the truth, and he turned to Dolores, who, exhausted, remained in silent tears, her feet still tense under the restraint. Franco knew that to break her completely, the humiliation had to be absolute.
He brought a pair of pliers with rubber tips and, with a deliberate movement, began to pinch the sensitive skin between her toes. The pinch was not only painful but deeply irritating and ticklish, attacking the area the brushing hadn't reached.
Dolores: — AAAAAH HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! S-STOP HAHAHAHAHAHA, IT TICKLES HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! LEAVE HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHÁ LEAVE MY TOES!!
The laughter filtered back into her voice, forced and broken by pain. Franco leaned in even closer, focusing his gaze on every bit of skin between the toes, where she was especially susceptible to shivers.
Franco: — This is the truth, Dolores. You are just as weak as I am, and your daughter knows it now. You sold me out for fear of being exposed.
Dolores: — STOP HAHAHAHAHAHA!! PLEASE HAHAHAHAHAHA PLEASE, STOP HAHAHAHAHAHA THIS HUMILIATION HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HUMILIATION!! I'LL TELL YOU WHATEVER HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA YOU WANT!! WHATEVER HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! EVERYTHING HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!
Franco stopped, looking at her face, which was a map of desperation, exhaustion, and defeat, insisting:
— Alright… the truth, Dolores, no excuses.
Dolores: — I-It was… it was a man… named Bruno. Bruno Bonera. Before Vanessa was born, my husband had documents stored, and I knew where they were. When Vanessa was a few months old baby, they kidnapped me and did exactly what they did to you, Franco. I was a sex toy. My breast milk, which I should have given to Vanessa, was used for their meetings as milkshakes for their coffees. They let me go after two weeks on the condition of handing over my husband, or the documents. I made it look like a robbery, and they took the documents. When Vanessa was 10, my husband died in a traffic accident that wasn't fully clarified, but I'm sure it was Bruno, just to remind me what could happen if I spoke. Bruno contacted me when you were dating Vanessa and told me his daughter needed someone strong and healthy for her games… It was you or Vanessa’s life, and that's why I handed you over… I… I just… just wanted to protect us…
Dolores's confession brought with it a new level of complexity. Her betrayal wasn't just abandonment, but fear. All three were actually crying. An innocent man imprisoned by the ghosts of a mother who wanted to protect her daughter.
Franco, wiping away tears, approached Vanessa and, while she watched, he lowered his pants and showed his right buttock to his ex, a buttock that bore cattle brand burns and the silhouette of two B’s. His expression was no longer one of anger, but of cold sadness and comprehension toward his former lover.
Franco: — Bianca Bonera. The daughter of an expert in manipulation and sensory torture, who used your mother's fear to separate us (as he pulled up his pants). You left me a note, but the pain was inflicted by a third party that she introduced into our lives.
Vanessa, upon hearing everything and the depth of the betrayal, emotionally collapsed.
— Mom! How…?! I believed you! I DEFENDED YOU! Why did you never tell me the truth? WHYYY!!
Franco untied Vanessa and helped her down. She had no strength, and her ex helped her walk in front of Dolores, but she didn't realize that the man put a chained collar on her. He returned to his arsenal and took out a pair of high-heeled boots, designed to stylishly shape the figure. They were for Vanessa, size 7.5, but inside, there was a mixture of rough wool and soft plastic bristles, designed to tickle the soles of her feet with every movement. He cleaned each foot of the sugar and salt and forced her to put on the boots. The friction of the internal bristles against her already sensitive sole made her gasp.
Vanessa: — It itches! It itches so much, Franco! I can’t stand the friction!
Franco tied her hands behind her back, and the woman couldn't sit down, but she could walk around the warehouse, only a few steps, which the collar allowed. Every movement, every step, reactivated the hypersensitivity in her feet and the internal friction of the bristles, leading her into a state of nervous, painful laughter.
Vanessa: — NOOOO HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! STOOOOP HAHAHAHAHÉ! IT T-T-T-TICKLESSS HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!
While Vanessa walked clumsily and held back her laughter, she approached Franco. He took her chin and lifted her face, bringing his face close to hers, with the mixture of arousal and terror pulsating in the air.
Franco: — Your mother is broken. Do you see it? She doesn't even bother to raise her head to look at you… But you… you still haven't acknowledged your own desire.
And he pulled a small vial of truth serum from his pocket. He injected it into Vanessa's arm; she offered no resistance, too confused and exhausted.
Franco: — Now, the truth. Why did you laugh so hard? Why did your body always seek me out after I tickled you, even when your mother told you to leave me?
Vanessa: — I… I… (Her voice was a broken whisper, her body trembling). I liked it… I liked the feeling of losing control. It aroused me. I felt it… and my mother… but I liked it, Franco… I like it.
The confession, forced by the serum and the torture, was the final link in the revenge. Franco had ensured that Vanessa confronted the truth of her own desire, the same desire that had led her to abandon him for fear of social condemnation, but which she had always secretly wanted.
Franco: — Now you understand. We are both slaves.
Approaching Vanessa, who was containing the laughter and pain in her feet from the internal friction of the boots, combined with the emotional liberation of the truth. He knelt down, removed Vanessa's boots, took off the collar, and then kissed her with brutal intensity, a kiss filled with resentment, desire, and complicity.
Dolores, upon seeing her daughter kiss her torturer, screamed, her voice torn by agony:
— NOOOO! VANESSA!! NO!! NOT HIM!! HE IS A MONSTER!! HE IS MANIPULATING YOU!!
Franco broke the kiss and looked at Vanessa, who, after the kiss, knelt down, tears and silent laughter coexisting on her face.
Franco: — You have to make a decision, Vanessa. Your past life of lies or a new beginning with the truth.
And he slowly walked away toward the warehouse door, leaving the two women alone in the gloom. Dolores, trapped in her sensory torment, unable to move. Vanessa was freed from her physical restraints but chained by the revealed truth, her renewed desire, and now reconnected with her ex.
Franco: — The police will arrive in ten minutes, and your mother will be found here, tied up, humiliated… and exposed to the truth of her own betrayal with the documents on the table. If you come with me, you will be your own emotional owner. If you stay, you will go to jail as an accomplice.
The man walked away through the door, leaving Vanessa and Dolores in a silence interrupted only by Dolores's repressed moans of pain and the sound of Franco's boots fading down the hallway. Vanessa looked at her mother, looked at her restraints, saw that she had not an ounce of remorse, and then looked at the closing door while her heart pounded with the promise of a new life.
-----------------------------
Part 3 (Legacy) will be presented in 1 week...
