Hero to Obey: Twenty-two Naughty Military Romance Stories

by Selena Kitt

  "Um, if I'm dropping you off at the hotel, shouldn't I drive?" she asked.

  "I'll be walking to the hotel."

  "Walking?" Betsy looked over to the empty driver's seat. "Then who's driving?"

  "I am driving you home and then I'll walk to the hotel."

  She watched as he closed her door and walked around to slide behind the wheel.

  "Jack, honey, I know you're tired. There's no need for you to walk. I'll take you to the hotel and then pick you up in the morning." She paused and felt her stomach twist. "I mean, I will if you still want to go to church with me. Of course, if you'd rather sleep in I'll understand. Or if you've already decided that I'm not the girl you thought you wanted… or if I'm too much of a bother—"

  He turned to look at her, reaching to run a fingertip across her lips. "Shh, you are the only girl I will ever want," he interrupted, bending and replacing his finger with his lips to give her a gentle kiss. "And, sweetheart, you'll never be a bother." When he held out his hand, she dropped the keys into them.

  "Oh, that's good," she said, relaxing back against the seat and then gave a strangled giggle. "For a moment, I thought we were going to sit in the backseat and you were going to… um…"

  "Spank you?" he suggested as he turned the key in the ignition.

  She could feel her face heat and was grateful for the darkness. "The thought did cross my mind."

  "I know," he said, pulling out into the traffic.

  "How did you know?"

  Pulling to a stop at the red light, he turned to her again. "Remember, little one, we've been writing for almost three years. I know a great deal about you and your face is an open book. You felt guilty about cursing and then questioning my concerns, and because of the wonderful sweet girl that you are, you know you need to be reminded that those aren't admirable traits."

  "Perhaps," she conceded, leaving her hand on his thigh after he began to drive again. "I'm just glad you opened the front door."

  A shiver coursed through her at his chuckle. "And, young lady, after I open the front door to your house, we'll be going inside and addressing my concerns." The shiver was replaced by a wave of heat at the knowledge that though she was about to get her wish for some alone time with him, her Jack sounded rather quite like the Mr. Bossy she'd teased him about earlier.

  Chapter Seven

  After unlocking the door, Jack gave her hand a squeeze. He entered the small living room and settled down on the center of the sofa. When she attempted to pull her hand free, he shook his head. "Betsy, right over my knee, please."

  "What? Now?"

  He noticed she didn't ask 'why'. "Yes, my love, now."

  "Wouldn't you like to listen to some music? Maybe take a tour of the house? How about something to eat? Or, wait, I can make a pot of coffee; it will only take a minute…"

  "Maybe later, but you've got a spanking coming, and everything else can wait until it's done."

  "Jack, it was only one little word, and not a very bad one at that…"

  "Honey, when you are being punished, we'll discuss your transgressions with you over my lap."

  "That's… that's just silly," she countered. "I'd rather talk face to face."

  "Be that as it may," he said, easily pulling her forward and then over his left knee. "Right now, I'd rather talk with you in this position." When she attempted to roll off his lap, he tightened his hold around her waist and pulled her in to his body. "Settle down, young lady." He wasn't sure if it was his command or the one swat he delivered to her backside that had her gasping in surprise. He didn't really care, as she instantly stopped struggling.

  "That's my good girl. Now, tell me why I'm going to spank you."

  "Jack!" she squealed. "I can't do that!"

  "Yes, Betsy, you can and you will. We've discussed this and if need be, we can go over all the letters to remind you that this is something we've both agreed we needed and desired."

  "You-you kept all my letters?"

  He forced himself not to chuckle as her head turned back, her blue eyes wide and a big smile on her face.

  "Of course I did, sweetheart. Every word means the world to me."

  "I kept yours, too! I put them in this really pretty box… oh, I can go get it!"

  His second squat had her mouth dropping open. "You won't be getting up until we are done. Now, tell me why I'm going to spank you."

  "This is just too embarrassing!"

  "It would be far better for you to be embarrassed about your choices which landed you in this position. Tell me what choices those were," he said. She huffed and squirmed again but she was going nowhere until he let her up. His hand patted against the back of her skirt though he wondered if she even realized it as there was quite a bit of fabric between his palm and her behind. Remembering the pretty picture she'd made as he was lifting her up into the air, he grinned. The crinoline petticoat definitely needed to go. Her gasp and look of surprise when he lifted her up lasted but a moment with his next statement.

  "Betsy, I want you to go into your room and take off everything under your skirt. You can take off your shoes as well."

  "Jack! That's… Why?"

  "Honey," he said, trying not to sigh. "You don't need to ask me why every time I ask you to do something. I'm sure my reasoning will become clear in just a few minutes. Now, please, do as I asked."

  She gave him a look that had him adding, "And, young lady, do it quickly, for if I feel you are dawdling in an attempt to delay your spanking, I assure you that you will earn additional swats." That seemed to do the trick as she turned and scurried off down the hall. He was very pleased when she returned in just a few minutes. "Thank you, honey. Now, back over please."

  With a sigh, she placed herself over his knees again. He tried not to grin as she kept her hands on the back of her skirt as if to ensure it remained in place. Once she was in position, he said, "Put your hands forward and answer the question, Betsy Renee. Why are you over my knees?"

  "Because you are going to spank me," she said. With a third swat to her bottom, one he could tell made a far better impression, she finally decided to cooperate. "I cursed and then pretended I didn't."

  "And?"

  "And I sort of argued with you, but—"

  "Yes, you did, and then you disrespected not only your parents but made light of the fact that I was concerned…"

  "But you don't need to be!"

  "Honey, from the first moment I opened a purple envelope, I've been concerned. I adore you, Betsy, but won't allow you to insult the woman I wish to spend the rest of my life with. You are neither silly nor stupid. And, young lady, your parents are good people who not only love you, but who do have the right to worry about their only child." He felt her relax over his knees and knew she had accepted the fact that she was going to take her first foray into what was considered domestic discipline. "Thank you for answering me. Let this spanking tell you that I shall be concerned until the day I die. Are you ready?"

  "I-I guess."

  "Yes, sir, is the proper address when you are being punished."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Good girl." With that, he lifted his hand and began. She made little gasps as each swat connected but didn't attempt to roll off his lap. "It is naughty to spew ugly words," he said, giving her another two swats. "My beautiful girl will not curse, is that understood?"

  "Yes, sir!"

  He was pleased with her instant response. "Good girl." He gave her bottom a single, lighter pat and then began to push up her skirt.

  "Jack! What are you doing?"

  "Lifting your skirt," he answered unnecessarily as he continued to push the fabric up. "Naughty girls get their spankings on their bare…" His words abruptly ended when he looked down, his head tilting to the side at the sight before him. "Betsy, what is this?" The pat of his hand over the garment told him it was made of some type of rubber.

  "It's-it's my girdle," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

  "Honey, I told you to go rem
ove everything beneath your skirt. I'm sorry you misunderstood. Lift up and let's get it down."

  "But Jack—"

  "Betsy, I'm not going to argue with you. If I need to give you a quick swat out in public, it will be over your clothing. However, when we are alone and you've earned a spanking, every one will be given on the bare."

  "Ye-yes, sir," she said, "but—"

  "Betsy…" he began in a sterner voice.

  "No, I mean, I understand but… please, Jack, let me go take it off myself. Please."

  Giving her another pat, he helped her up once again. "Thank you, Jack. I'll be right back, I promise!" Though it felt as if the simple spanking was taking far longer than he'd planned, he couldn't help but feel proud of her. She wasn't attempting to dissuade him from his duty; she was simply showing him how absolutely innocent she was. When she returned, her face a bit redder than normal, he smiled. When she voluntarily lowered herself again and whispered, "I'm ready, sir," he knew he'd been given the gift of her respect and trust—a gift he'd never abuse.

  With respect for her willingness to allow him to guide her, he lifted her skirt onto her lower back. He didn't see the imprints wearing the rubber girdle had made on her skin. Instead, he saw a beautiful, round set of cheeks that were quivering just a bit. He didn't speak this time. He gave the center of her bottom a gentle pat and then lifted his hand, beginning the spanking again.

  Her cries told him that the spanking was being felt. Identical red handprints, one on each cheek, contrasted vividly against the pale skin of her bottom. Quick, sharp swats earned sharper cries. When her bottom began to churn and wag from side to side, and her feet kicked up, his delivery of a swat to the back of each thigh had her squealing and his placement of his leg over both of her own had her stilling. He continued with firm, steady strokes until she finally collapsed, signaling her submission to his punishment. He finished the spanking with another half dozen swats and then ran his hand in gentle circles over her hot skin. Both plump globes were the color of ripe cherries. His hand continued to soothe her punished flesh as he murmured, "It's over. Shh, now, that's my good girl."

  Lifting her onto his lap, he wrapped his arms around her as she clung to his jacket lapel. "I'm sorry," she said, "I-I didn't mean to be nau… naughty."

  "Shh, I know, honey, and it's over. You took your spanking well and are forgiven." He bent and placed a kiss on top of her curls. "I love you, my dearest Betsy."

  "I-I love you too, Jack!"

  It took every ounce of restraint he had not to teach her about rounding the bases. Their kisses grew more passionate until he finally pulled away. "It's time for you to get to bed."

  "I'm not tired…" she began, but when he lifted his eyebrow, she instantly changed her mind. "I am a little tired. Are you sure you don't want me to drive you to the hotel?"

  "No, the walk will do me good. What time will you pick me up for church?"

  "Our family attends the later service, so ten o'clock should be good." She paused and added, "Unless you'd like to come for breakfast first?"

  "I'd love to. I'll be here at 8:00, or is that too early?"

  "That's perfect but I can come get you."

  "No, I'm used to walking and the hotel isn't that far." She walked him to the door and it was another several minutes before he pulled away. "Goodnight, my love, sweet dreams."

  "Goodnight, Jack, and thank you."

  "For what?"

  "For being the man of my dreams, even if you do have wicked hands."

  He pulled her to him again, bending his head down until his lips were only a breath away from hers. "Darling, one day soon, I'll teach you how very wicked my hands can be." He barely brushed her lips with his, put his hat on his head and walked out the door. He turned and waved when he reached the sidewalk, his heart full of love and his pants uncomfortably tight. God, he loved that little lady.

  Chapter Eight

  Betsy slid into the pew to sit beside her mother, and Jack sat down after shaking her father's hand. It was wonderful to see the little church full again with the return of several men who'd been in the service. She felt very blessed to have her own soldier safe at her side, her hand tucked into his. When he gave her hand a squeeze, she realized she had been squirming just a bit and hoped the hues of the stained glass windows hid the color on her cheeks. After the service, she blushed again when he bent close to ask her a one worded question, "Sore?"

  Before she could answer, he'd straightened and was shaking the minister's hand, thanking him for an uplifting sermon. Once at her parents' house, Betsy was instantly drafted into the kitchen to help get supper on the table while Don and Jack took glasses of sweet tea out onto the front porch.

  Betsy groaned. "I hope Daddy doesn't embarrass me by asking Jack all sorts of questions." Her mother looked up from where she'd just removed the pot roast from the oven.

  "That's a daddy's job, honey. But, if it makes you feel better, I think your young man is wonderful."

  "I do, too," Betsy admitted with a smile. After setting the table, she went to the door to call the men in to eat. Jack's expression gave nothing away and his exclamation that something smelled great was all he said before pulling out a chair for her to sit. The meal was wonderful and Betsy relaxed at the easy flow of conversation.

  Once they'd settled in the living room with coffee and plates of cake, Mavis asked, "So, Jack, Betsy told us your family lives outside of Dallas. Have you seen them yet?"

  "No, ma'am, not yet. I wanted to come for Betsy first."

  Betsy's smile of pleasure changed to one of confusion as Jack placed his plate and cup on the coffee table, looked at her father and, at his smile and nod, stood. Her eyes widened when he smiled and dropped to one knee. Tears filled her eyes as he pulled a black box from his pocket and took her hand. "I love you with all of my heart, Betsy. You would do me the highest honor if you'd agree to become my wife. I promise to always—"

  "Yes!" Betsy said, leaping off the sofa and into his arms. "Oh, yes, yes! I love you, Jack!"

  Both she and her mother shed tears as Jack sat back and pulled her onto his lap. He opened the box and slid the ring onto her finger. Despite her tears, Betsy could see the solitary diamond shimmering in the sunlight streaming through the windows. It took several minutes before she released him long enough for him to stand and then help her up. Both received hugs and congratulations from Mavis and Don before sitting again.

  "You asked about my family, Mrs. Riddle, and I'd like to invite them up here next weekend so…"

  "That would be wonderful," Mavis began. "It will be so nice to meet them, and your mother and I can begin to make wedding plans. Don and I were married in June and it would be—"

  "Mavis, let the man speak," Don interrupted.

  "I was only trying to…"

  Betsy saw the look her dad gave her mom and had to stifle a giggle. He suddenly looked exactly as Jack had the night before. When Jack squeezed her hand, she realized he'd seen the look as well.

  "I know this is asking quite a lot, Mrs. Riddle, but I only have a certain amount of leave. I'd like to wed as soon as possible so that Betsy can go with me to my new post. Of course, if she'd rather have a larger wedding, I won't stand in her way. I know how important a girl's wedding is to her."

  "I don't care about the wedding," Betsy said instantly. "I only care about becoming your wife. Shoot, we can marry at the town hall for all I care."

  "You most certainly will not!" Mavis declared. "You are our only daughter and…" When Don reached over and laid his hand on his wife's arm, she sighed. "No need for that, Donald. I was simply going to say that I'm sure we can book the church for next weekend. It might be fast but I promise we can make it special."

  "Thanks, Mom," Betsy said, going to her and giving her a hug. "I'll help with the reception and I'm sure Jane will agree to be my maid of honor."

  Once given the go ahead, Mavis jumped into action. She called the church and spoke to Reverend Schultz, who didn't seem the least bit sur
prised. Hanging up the phone, she turned to the three. "He's already getting calls about wedding dates but since ours is so quick, we have the church at 3:00 p.m. on Saturday. We can hold the reception in the fellowship hall." It appeared she was in her element and wasn't near done. Passing the phone to Jack, she said, "You call your momma while Betsy and I go upstairs. Don, please find my trunk in the attic and bring it down to Betsy's old room."

  Betsy reluctantly allowed herself to be pulled from her fiancé's lap and followed her mom, who was rattling off names of people who would need to be called and invited as the timing didn't allow invitations to be mailed. She just nodded her head in agreement but warned that she wasn't expecting a huge turnout on such short notice.

  "Nonsense, my girl," Mavis said, shooing Don towards the attic stairs. "Everyone adores you. You're always volunteering, helping with the elderly and, of course, your little students adore you. Oh, will you continue to teach next year?"

  Betsy shook her head. "Mom, I'm marrying a soldier. I might teach elsewhere but I'll have to inform Principal Wentz that I won't be returning."

  "Another person to invite, along with your fellow teachers."

  Laughing, Betsy threw her hands up in the air. "Don't forget, Jack has a huge family. If they all come, as well as half the town, we won't have room!"

  "Nonsense. People can squeeze in along the pews," Mavis said, totally unconcerned about the growing list of people that would have to be called and invited. "We won't have time to plan a major sit-down dinner but we can have a nice ham, and I'll bake a turkey. Oh, I hope I have enough sugar coupons to make a cake. Never mind, I'm sure I can trade for some. We must have a cake! Oh, thank you, honey," she said as Don entered with a small trunk. "Just set it over there."

  Betsy forgot all about invitations, ham, turkey, sugar and cakes the moment her mother opened the lid of the trunk. She watched as layers of tissue paper were gently pushed aside and gasped as her mother reached in and lifted a dress from its protective layers.

  "Oh, Mom," she said, realizing the dress was one she'd seen in photographs in the family album. "If you are thinking I'll be wearing that—"