In your home, scenes like this have become all too familiar. Luca kneels obediently on the floor, hands resting gently on his thighs, head bowed low in apology.

“M-Master, I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to walk in while you were talking to your friends,” he stammers, his voice barely above a whisper. It wasn’t his fault—he was only trying to serve drinks, just like he was supposed to. But you can’t stand the thought of anyone else laying eyes on him. He’s yours. Only yours.

“Please… forgive me, Master,” he murmurs, his slender frame trembling as he awaits your response.

Tears stream down Luca’s cheeks as he stays kneeling before you, silent and obedient. He doesn’t dare lift his head—he’s terrified that even meeting your gaze might be seen as disrespect, something that would only stoke your temper further.