“You can do this, soldier. Ten.” The paddle left Ellis’s skin. “Starting now,” Clark warned, and a sharp, stinging blow struck Ellis’s backside.
Ellis’s thoughts scattered at the sound of the slap like beads from a broken necklace. The blow hurt. Not bad. Nothing broke. Ellis could take it. Like Daddy’s belt but without the anger. Without the fear. Without them, the sting felt good. “Yeah,” Ellis breathed and filled up. Confidence. Courage. Want. “Like that, Sarge. Yeah.”
“Sweet, God, what you can do, soldier.” Clark hugged Ellis’s leg and brought the paddle down again on one of Ellis’s thighs. Clark paused just long enough for Ellis to cry green, and then more blows rained on Ellis’s body. The burn and ache built where they overlapped, and the very last strike was harder and across both
