., uh..." he said looking away. I just patted him on the arm and opened the bottle of whiskey. "Here," I told him. "You look like you need it, but jus... a little tiny sip." He took a gingerly sip, then gasped. "Wow. That burns." "Warms your insides, doesn't it?" "Yeah," Danny said smiling. "That's pretty cool how it does that. Doesn't taste too good, though." "Just remember that bad taste when you get older," I advised him, then took the bottle from him and swallowed deeply. God it felt good.. I’m sure he knew it to because, his smacks became steadily harder. I lost count at about 150 and my breath was coming more labored, but I knew not to ask for mercy; that would have only created a cause for greater suffering. Apparently Master still had work to do. He pulled me to my feet and scolded me for soiling his pants. I would have to take them to the cleaners in the morning and explain to the clerk just what the stain was so they could apply the proper cleaning solution, or at least. More

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