Free Impulsive (The Soldier's Firm Hand) by Amity Wilde

leaving a hard knob on the outside I could feel between my cheeks.
    “Good girl.” He tugged lightly on the plug. “Does that feel alright?”
    “It doesn’t hurt, if that’s what you mean.” I squeezed around it tentatively. “I’m not sure alright is the word I’d use.” Bizarre and uncomfortable sprang to mind first.
    Jared laughed. “I’m going to do twenty strokes on each side, and I want you to count for me.”
    “Forty?” I squeaked. That sounded like an awful lot for going easy on me. “Okay, just do it. I’m fine.”
    He started light, alternating sides with easy slaps that barely hurt. I relaxed. This I could handle, no problem. My hips wiggled as warmth spread across my bottom. Dutifully, I counted off each jiggling slap. Partway through, I noticed a prickly, tingling heat surrounding the plug.
    “What’s the count? Getting distracted already?” He chuckled. “Am I boring you?”
    “No, it... what is that?” I squeezed the plug experimentally and winced as the intensity of the tingle increased enough to be uncomfortable. “It feels strange. Ten? Was it ten?” I couldn’t remember what I’d last called out.
    “If you say so.” He squeezed my cheeks together for a moment, intensifying the burn.
    The next blow was harder, making me jump and grunt with surprise. I could tell by the satisfied note in his voice that we’d probably been well past that mark and my inattention had just bought me some extra strokes.
    Shoot.
    His slaps had started with a light, almost pleasant sting, but each built upon the one before it and now he was gradually adding more force. I could really feel the blast of pain as his palm landed back and forth with a resounding crack on the tender spots where my thighs met my bottom.
    “Eighteen,” I bit out through clenched teeth. Everything burned, inside and out.
    Jared started slapping the backs and sides of my thighs. His palm would land on my skin with a echoing slap of flesh, and then the sharp pain from the last would just about fade when his hand came down again and new agony bloomed.
    It was so hard to concentrate, but I was terrified of losing track again, and focused hard on remembering to count. My voice was rough and strained as I barked out each number with a gasp.
    “Thirty.” Tears gathered in the corners of my eyes from squeezing them shut.
    Had I ever really thought getting spanked was sexy? Well it wasn’t anymore. If I tensed, fire erupted in my poor bottom around the plug. I wanted it to be over, but all I could do was take what he gave. My legs shook and my head hung in shame.
    “Almost there. You’re doing so well, kitten.”
    I snarled, not really wanting to enjoy his praise. I wanted to be mad at him, but I knew I’d gone into this willingly. Even worse, I still couldn’t help leaning into his touch, taking what small comforts I could get.
    On forty, he gave that horrid little plug a quick twist and it slid right out. It was all too much, and I let out a ragged wail. I was so glad it was gone, but the burn remained, a fiery reminder that lingered no matter how much I shifted and squirmed.
    He sat down on the bed and pulled me into his lap. I sniffled miserably, pressing my face into his shirt like a child. His strong arms were around me instantly, holding me tight and making me feel safe and loved.
    “Shhhh, it’s over now.” Jared tucked my hair behind my ears and stroked my back.
    “That wasn’t nice at all, that hurt!” I smacked him lightly on the chest, which was about as satisfying as hitting a brick wall. “That thing you used wasn’t really a potato, was it?”
    A deep laugh rumbled under my cheek. “A potato? Don’t be silly. That would be weird. It was only ginger.”
    Just talking about it made me clench and wiggle but I laughed in spite of myself. “Oh right, because that’s totally normal.”
    “I’ll have you know it’s a very traditional technique,” he said with a smirk. “And a hell of a lot of fun to