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Office sex continues and Walt has a disastrous Thanksgiving

A second tap. A third. The bent-over male wonders at what point the Master will strike. A fourth touch of the cane. The anxiety builds inside the anxious male. A fifth touch. Then, the Master swings, and the cruel instrument slashes across the naked, defenseless bottom, furrowing the red cheeks for a moment and sending a shock of intense pain through the quivering orbs. The impact drives the victim hard against the small stand, and, as if in a vain effort to shake off the agony that afflicts him, the sufferer shakes his legs. However, he neither cries out nor offers resistance. The Master steps away, His shadow shifting on the wall.

But He withdraws for a moment only, lashing out anew, without warning; the cane falls in a fierce arc against the submissive male's buttocks, causing him to lift the heels of his feet and to flex his legs, but he knows better than to abandon his bent-over posture or to give voice to his pain. He has been well trained. He knows his place.

As He shakes the cane up and down, the Master allows His victim a few seconds to shake off-or to attempt-to shake off the pain that continues to explode in his bottom.

Then, after laying the instrument twice against the naked male's backside, tormenting him with a reminder of what is about to befall him, the Master delivers a fierce blow of the cane across the cheeks of the helpless male's ass, and, as before, the victim bounces on his toes and shakes his red, agonized bottom. Although these actions are more instinctive than deliberate and bring him no relief, he performs them automatically, simply because his poor tormented buttocks require that he make at least a pretense of alleviating the anguish they must endure.

Again, the Master, exercising patience, permits the victim a few moments' respite from his punishment as He shakes out the cane, knowing there must be a lull between the strokes of His instrument so as to intensive their effects, both real and anticipated. However, the momentary pause is soon over, as the Master again steps up to bat.

After resting the cane against the red bottom once, testing His aim, the Master lets fly, and there is another resounding whack. The unfortunate recipient of this third blow can do nothing more than he has already done: "dance" in place, bouncing, flexing, and shaking while the fiery pain sears his flesh.

The Master is at all times in control. He is cool, calm, detached. He is driven by neither His emotions nor by the reactions of the male He punishes, nor is He swayed by the lesser "man's" passionate pleas for mercy. He is is controlled only by His own will. He has nothing to prove. He is not merely a male among other males, like other "men," but a true Man, who rules others as He rules Himself. He is deliberate, methodical, purposeful, delivering or withholding the strokes of His cane according to His own designs. All that He does is done to establish, to maintain, and to extend His Mastery of Himself and His Mastery over other, inferior males.

He stands away, His shadow looming large on the wall, waiting for the precise moment to arrive before stepping again into place, laying the cane against the red bottom that He has decorated with swelling welts, and delivering a vicious slash of the cane across the defenseless bottom. The male again bounces upon his toes, flexes his legs, and shakes his hips, but his pitiful attempts to find relief from the horrific pain that fills his gut, as it does his rear end, avails him nothing. It is through repetition that the Master teaches the abused that there is no defense and no comfort from the punishment He metes out. There is only His will. He is patient; He will repeat the lesson as many times as it takes for the insignificant male he punishes to learn it and to remember it.

After a moment, the cane rises and falls again, but, finally, the poor bastard who must endure the agony does not repeat his useless "dance.

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