And, that was all it took to wake his ass up. “What do you mean?” Wetzel replied, wide eyed and scared. “Well, I’m sittin’ here talking to y...u and you’re acting like you’re a thousand miles away!” I said, more angry than before. Wetzel’s face and neck were turning red, he started getting nervous then, he laid his hand on my knee because he knew how to calm me down when I was mad at someone else----he knew that when I was mad all he had to do was touch me and look at me with that good looking. It was a far more vicious implement than the paddle, especially when wielded by Master's much greater muscles. The belt bit into my arse again, higher up this time, causing another crash of agony through my body. Master wasn't as accomplished at this as Mistress was - he couldn't or didn't keep up her perfect rhythm or consistent strength. But what he might lack in skill and finesse, he made up with brute strength and enthusiasm. The next stroke cut across the other two, even harder than. More

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