Under His Watch (5 page)

He wasn’t even her type. He wasn’t even
close
to her type. Charity Phillips had a thing for hipsters. The fact that she had never enjoyed sex very much didn’t have anything to do with the guys she’d hooked up with, dated, or had (in one case) a six-month relationship with. Hipsters and cultural heritage went together nicely, and the parties you went to with hipster boyfriends consisted of the serial bragging sessions of which parties always consisted, in Charity’s experience. Hipster parties in Brooklyn just presented their own version of the parties her parents went to and gave in Greenwich, Westchester, and the Upper East Side.

When you had sex with your hipster boyfriend, you reassured him that you liked the way he tentatively groped you, and sometimes to be naughty you tried things like giving a blowjob—though only if you could tell he’d taken a shower within the last twelve hours. You didn’t tell him that you sometimes fantasized about non-consensual sexual encounters, or about authority figures using you for their pleasure. You didn’t, despite what the women’s magazines proclaimed, say anything about him tying you up or taking you from behind. Maybe that kind of thing happened after you were married, and Charity thought that maybe she’d consider getting married when she hit thirty.

Not that a hipster guy would ever propose; if you were going to marry a hipster, you said at some point, “We should totally get married.” Then you waited a couple of years, and apparently it just kind of happened, and you put the pictures on social media.

Former Navy SEAL Ryan Bedford seemed to inhabit not just a different world but a different galaxy from any guy she had ever hooked up with or dated. Ryan seemed like the embodiment of those fantasies she never talked about. And that meant she was in a great deal of danger: she felt like she could embarrass herself very, very seriously if she handled this spanking thing wrong.

She looked back into his dark eyes: chocolate, but not any feeble milk chocolate—Ryan Bedford had 70% cacao eyes, and he was definitely less than semisweet. “Okay,” Charity whispered.

“Get going, then.” He didn’t sound impatient, and Charity finally began to think that she should stop even hoping to make him angry. Not only would it be a very bad thing from her backside’s standpoint if she ever did, given the new arrangement, but at this moment she didn’t even think it could be done. Why waste the effort?

She felt her lips compress into a tight line, and she took a very deep breath. She
would
get up and go into her room. She
would.

“Are you scared, honey?” he asked gently.

Charity nodded.

Ryan reached out across the table and took her hands in his. “Use the fear,” he said.

“What?”

“It’s something I learned in the field.”

“Wait, are you saying you were scared? I mean, when you were on missions and things?” The thought fascinated Charity.

“Of course. Dropping out of a chopper on a rope in the middle of the night, on the other side of the world from home, knowing the bad guys might have night vision as good as yours… well, you can train and train and train, but no matter how many times you do it, every time is new.” He had a little smile on his lips, but Charity could tell that Ryan meant to impart some of the deepest wisdom he had. That wisdom wasn’t anything earth-shattering, really, but coming from a real former Navy SEAL, sitting at her kitchen table, all huge-shouldered six-foot-three of him, both touched and impressed her.

Then Charity realized that she had actually thought the phrase ‘former Navy SEAL’ without irony. She had heard what he said about
being
a spec-ops warrior, and she had seen a powerful, centered man, with 70% cacao eyes and a chin to make a more conventional girl swoon; a man who had given six years of his life to his country, seen terrible things, and done amazing things. And now he wanted to help her, and he thought she needed to learn to accept his discipline.

“Is every spanking new?” Charity whispered.

Ryan nodded. “And so you’ll get used to the fear, but it will never go away. It’s there to tell you where your limits are. Just like discipline.”

Charity nodded. That part
did
seem to have something profound in it.

“Now get going,” Ryan said. “You’ve got a punishment coming. When I come in with the chair, I want to see you with your nose to the wall, with no clothes on. Do you understand, Charity?”

“Yes, sir,” Charity said. Ryan released her hands, and then she did get up, trying to use her fear. She found that if she thought about Ryan’s smile, she could manage the fear, and even keep her knees from trembling, mostly.

When she did that, however, her imagination played a dirty trick on her. As she pulled off her blue cotton top and her jeans, Charity suddenly pictured Ryan not spanking her, but rubbing her spanked bottom afterwards, telling her what a good girl she had been. Charity whimpered at the thought—in fear of betraying herself to him, of him seeing how damp her panties had gotten.

She caught an unwelcome glimpse of herself in the mirror over her dresser, and sure enough, to her blushing shame, there was a quarter-sized wet spot on the front of the gray cotton. Charity felt so ashamed, she stripped them off and stuffed them into her drawer, leaving her in only her white bra, which had the tiniest bit of lace to ornament the cups. Horrified at herself even as the thought entered her mind, she wondered if maybe Ryan would let her keep the bra on, and if maybe he would like to see the lace.

Charity loved lace, but she didn’t like to show that love in her clothing, because it always felt like she was divulging a secret when she did. She owned one pair of black lace panties, which Becca had given her as a joke one night when Charity was headed out on a date with one of her hipsters—a guy on whom they both knew lace would be utterly wasted. Charity was sure that Becca didn’t think the panties had ever been worn, but Charity had actually put them on several times, just to look at herself in them in the mirror. And yes, to touch herself in them—but never for very long.

What would Ryan think if he saw Charity in the black lace panties? Absurdly, she wondered if he would spank her for wearing them.

Well, he certainly would if she wore them now, wouldn’t he? He had told her to take all her clothes off. She pushed the image of the panties to the back of her mind, and quickly took off the bra and laid it on the dresser. She had just managed to get her nose against the wall, next to the dresser, when the door opened, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Ryan walk in, carrying one of the kitchen chairs. He put the chair between her bed and her closet, on the other side of the room from where Charity stood against the wall, naked.
Use the fear,
her mind whispered. What was she afraid of? Well, she was afraid it would hurt, she supposed, but she also knew it wouldn’t really hurt
that
much, and she also knew that a part of her would welcome the pain because it meant Ryan had decided to keep her safe.

No, what Charity really feared, she realized, was going over his lap, and then lying on her tummy on the bed for the whipping. She feared having to put herself in those positions, for those positions said that she really did willingly accept Ryan Bedford’s right—and duty—to spank Charity Phillips.

Chapter Six

When he saw just how incredible Charity looked naked, even seen only from the back, Ryan knew beyond a doubt that he had gotten himself into a world of complication. He took a deep breath. Then, in a fruitless attempt to distract his attention from the raging erection that had developed as soon as he entered the room and caught a glimpse of her pert little backside, he went back over his reasons for telling her that she needed to be naked for this punishment.

He had not thought it through as well as he might have, he supposed, but his reasons were good—professional, in fact. Now he just needed to stay inside that professional mindset, and show Charity exactly how seriously he took his duty to keep her safe. He had made Laura take everything off for her serious punishments: Ryan really did believe strongly in the power of the contrast between clothed and naked to deliver the sort of message a punishment needed to deliver. And he knew for certain that Charity needed to hear that message; she had to understand that from now on, as long as she needed Ryan’s protection, he wouldn’t hesitate to punish her by tanning her hide and embarrassing her with enforced nakedness.

“Turn around, Charity,” he said, sitting down in the high-backed wooden chair. This would be the hardest part, and Ryan wanted to get it over with quickly. Charity must grasp that her protector would put her on display and examine her, when he chose. She would have no secrets, because Ryan needed every bit of information he could get to make sure she stayed in one piece.

But when she obeyed him with a little sob of humiliation, of course his body’s response was immediate and not completely comfortable. He wanted her; there was no way around it. Charity Phillips was a beautiful naked girl, standing there covering her pussy with one hand and her breasts with the other, and he had been the one to take her clothes away. As a dominant man, Ryan couldn’t help feeling the urge to take her in hand not just in a protective way, but completely. He wanted to possess her, and to train her to please him, the way he knew how to do both for his enjoyment and for hers.

No, he couldn’t help feeling that urge—but he
could
decide what to do about it.

He looked into her troubled blue eyes. “Charity, put your hands at your sides, please.”

“Why?” she whispered.

“So I can see you.”

“Why?”

“Because I have to make the point to you that you don’t have secrets from the man whose job it is to protect you.”

Charity’s eyes widened and her brow puckered. She clenched her fists, and then lowered her hands to her hips, still balled up as if in frustrated defiance. Her breasts were small, but perfect. Her pussy, covered with sweet golden curls just a shade darker than the hair on her head, made him think, illicitly, that if she belonged to him he would have her wax, and leave just an adorable little lock of hair to point him toward her clit so that he could make her scream with pleasure.

“I’m going to spank you now, Charity, to teach you about being a good girl for me. Come here and stand on my right side.” He patted his denim-covered right thigh to show her where to go.

“Yes, sir,” she said very softly, and began to walk slowly toward him. He could see that she had begun to tremble a little. In the future, at least—after this first serious punishment— she would certainly not be quite so frightened, he thought, if he had to punish her again.

At last she stood next to his leg, and Ryan easily conquered the urge to reach out with the fingers of his left hand and stroke the cute pussy whose pink inner lips he could see now just peeping out from between the lovely, furry outer ones. He didn’t turn away his eyes, though, because Charity should see that he would look at her if he chose to look at her.

Were those sweet lips shining a little? Was there a scent on the air—Ryan’s favorite scent in the world? He found he had to clear his throat and didn’t trust himself to speak, to tell her to lay herself down.

Instead, he reached up, put his right hand on the small of her back, and simply forced her down where she belonged. Charity gave a little gasp, but that was all, except for the natural squirming a girl does when she goes over a man’s lap for the first time.

Ryan wrapped his left arm around her waist and positioned her over his thighs, saying, “This bottom needs to stay nice and high, honey.” He put his right hand on it for emphasis, consciously pushing back the wave of arousal that came from holding such perfect little cheeks in his big fingers, and rejecting the urge to rub, to soothe the frightened little girl of whom he seemed to grow fonder and fonder, the more he saw what a truly good person she wanted to be. “Hold the legs of the chair and don’t let go. If you try to shield your bottom, you’ll get spanked a lot harder. Good girls take their spankings gratefully.” Charity gave a little whimper at this news.

One of the reasons to make Charity keep her backside high was of course so that she wouldn’t feel his cock pressing against her tummy, but the action of moving her produced an erection so hard that he wondered if she could feel it anyway. The impulse to spread her legs and to examine her closely, to see if he was right that she had gotten turned on by the lead-up to her spanking, pressed in very hard upon him. He had no choice, he thought, but to see if he could get rid of whatever arousal they both felt by spanking her hard, making himself pay careful attention to the color he turned her bottom and the way she cried out. Since he planned to whip her as well, he needed to manage the situation well. Ryan knew from experience that if he focused his mind on those details, his erection would probably ease a bit and give him a respite from his yearning to push things with Charity in an erotic direction.

So he lifted his right hand and brought it down hard. As with the first time he had spanked her over the sofa arm, her bottom was so wonderfully tiny that given the size of his hand, he only had one target where her cheeks were concerned—the whole thing. On the other hand, he also now had her thighs to spank, which he knew would sting more than his hand stung, even on so little a rump as Charity Phillips’.

“Oh, God… oh, God,” Charity whispered, with little sobs after each one, as Ryan spanked her ten times hard and quick, right on her sit-spot. Then she yelped as he moved downward and alternated between her thighs.

Her bottom danced beneath his hand and she bounced her knees up and down, desperate to find some way to ease the sting.

“Keep this bottom still, Charity,” he said sternly, using his left arm to forbid the bouncing by immobilizing her over his lap. “You earned your punishment, and now you’re getting it.” He gave her ten more hard swats on her cheeks, then looked at the color he had turned her soft skin there. Her little bottom had reached a hue of bright pink.