It was an hour left before the start of the biggest concert of her career, and Beth - known to her fans as Beelzebeth - was really starting to feel the stress. She had tried to listen to her manager and assistant when they told her that it was just another gig, that she should just go out there and do what she always did, but it didn't help. There were at least three times as many people there as her previous biggest crowd - more if they were telling the truth about it being sold out - and the knowledge that all those people were going to watch her play made her anxious. Unfortunately for the people around her, she chose to express her emotions by yelling and throwing things.
"Now, are you sure there is nothing I can get you?" Alicia said nervously, trying as hard as she could to calm her boss. Alicia had been Beth's assistant for a few months, and she knew Beth always suffered from nerves before the concert began, but it wasn't usually this bad. "I'm sure a nice cup of tea would -"
"Tea!?" Beth replied, grabbing the front of Alicia's shirt as she snarled into her assistant's face. "I'm about to go out there and make a fool out of myself for millions of people, and you think TEA is going to fix things!?"
"My clothes haven't been ironed, those nitwits in makeup made me look like a trollop, and the sound designer seems like he got his certificate from a box of cereal! Is there anything about this situation that should calm me?"
"You'll do fine," Alicia said, trying her best to seem comforting. "You've done this countless times before, remember? Just go out there and do what you always do - blow them away."
"I don't need your platitudes right now - I need the help of someone actually moderately competent! Get out!" She picked up a bottle of water from the table and hurled it at her assistant. Fortunately, she was way off target. The box of chocolates followed, striking Alicia in the arm. When Beth's eyes landed on the flower vase on the table, Alicia decided it was best to leave.
As she ran out in the hallway, slamming the door behind her to stop any projectiles that Beth may have flung at her back, Alicia collided with someone. She looked up to see the warm dark eyes of Paul, Beth's boyfriend. Paul was a tall, muscular brown-haired man who always projected an air of quiet competence, and Alicia sighed with relief when he saw that he was there. "I wouldn't go in there, if I were you," she said. "It's not safe. Nerves are getting to her."
"Is she throwing a tantrum?" he said with a smile.
"Throwing a lot of things, actually. She nailed me with a box of chocolates just now, but luckily, the bottle of water missed."
He frowned. "I'm going to see if I can talk some sense into her. Could you tell everyone to keep their distance for a while? I want a private chat." He was about to open the door, when a thought struck him, and he turned toward Alicia again. "Oh, and by the way, could you ask makeup if I could borrow a hairbrush? Preferably an old wooden one, if they have one, but plastic might do in a pinch."
She looked confused and was about to ask him why he'd need such a thing right now, but her eyes widened when she suddenly made an educated guess. "Right away, Paul," she said with a grin as she hurried away.
Paul knocked on the door and entered. The vase slammed into the wall next to his head. Beth gasped as she saw who it was. "Paul! I'm sorry, I didn't know it was you!"
He glared at her. "Does that mean you think it's acceptable to chuck vases at your assistant? Or your manager? Or one of the dozens of people working in this place? Is that an acceptable way to behave?"
She glanced away, unable to meet his gaze. "I'm sorry. I'm nervous about the concert, and ... it's just hard, OK?"
"That doesn't make it acceptable to scream and lob things at people. Would you like to guess what happens when you throw a tantrum like that?"
Her eyes widened. Both hands grasped her bottom protectively, and she took a step back. "You don't mean –"
He nodded. "Good guess." He stepped forward and grabbed her hand.
"Paul, please, don't do this! I'll be good, I swear it! You don't have to..." Despite her protests, she didn't resist as he pulled her over to a straight-backed chair - experience had taught her that trying to run away or struggle would only make things worse.
He sat down, and she found herself toppled over his knee. He lifted the hem of the schoolgirl skirt she always wore on stage. She was wearing a black thong that would do little to protect her cheeks from his hand, but he decided to pull them down anyway - she didn't deserve any modesty right now.
With her head facing the carpet, her bare bottom lifted high, and her legs a foot off the ground, he decided it was time to start the lecture. There was something about the impending spanking that always made her an attentive listener when she found herself in this position.
"You cannot treat people this way," he said, gently stroking her bottom. "Yelling at people? Throwing things? From the state of her clothes, I'm guessing that you grabbed the front of Alicia's shirt as well. Is this how an adult behaves?"
"No, sir," Beth said, clenching and unclenching her cheeks. She wished he'd just skip the lecture and start spanking - being over his knee, listening to him drone on, while wondering just when he'd slap her cheeks, was the worst part of it.
"If you feel the stress is getting to you, you can talk to me - we can cuddle or watch some TV or just talk. Or you can lock yourself in a room and vent, if that's what you really want. But no more of this abusive behaviour. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, sir," she said. She squirmed in anticipation. Suddenly, without warning, he lifted his hand and delivered a dozen hard slaps to her left cheek, followed by half a dozen to her left. She squealed in surprise, and kicked her legs at the sudden sting.
His hand moved randomly across her backside. Sometimes he moved from cheek to cheek, other times he struck the same cheek many times in quick succession. He didn't want her to predict when and where the next spank would land. She was squirming around on his lap, and the anger she had felt earlier in the day was completely gone. "Oh! Not so hard, please! I'm sorry!"
"You deserve a lot harder than this," Paul said. "You're not TRULY sorry yet, but we'll get there eventually." He spanked hard and fast, wanting to get this over with as soon as possible. The concert was about to begin, and he needed to not only get the spanking over with, but also the aftercare - if she went out there sobbing and rubbing her rear, someone might ask some questions.
There was a knock on the door, and Alicia poked her head in. "Get out!" Beth yelled, which she immediately regretted when Paul delivered a dozen hard slaps to her sit spots.
"Here's the brush you asked for, Paul," Alicia said, holding up a large, old-fashioned wooden hairbrush. "I'm not sure why they have this thing, but you were free to borrow it."
"A hairbrush!" Beth said, her eyes wide. "Paul, no! Please, you can't do that! I've learned my lesson, I'll be good, I'll apologize to everyone, I'll never be rude ever again! I'll be the best-behaved girl you've ever met, just don't use that thing on me! PLEASE!"
"Well, you're certainly changed her tune," Alicia said with a smile as she handed the brush to Paul.
"And we're not done yet," he said. "Beth, I want you to apologize to Alicia for the way you acted. And you'd better make it a PROPER apology," he said, patting the brush meaningfully against her quivering rear end.
Still bent over her boyfriend's knee, with her head down at the floor, Beth took a deep breath to calm herself and looked up at her grinning assistant. "I'm sorry for the way I spoke to you, Alicia. I'm sorry for throwing things, and for grabbing your shirt, and for yelling. I was nervous about the performance, but there was no reason to take my anxiety out on you."
"Why, thank you, Beth," Alicia said. She smiled at Paul. "Wow, you really are a miracle worker. I can think of some previous bosses of mine I'd like you to meet as well."
"Thanks for bringing me the brush – we'll call for you if there's anything else," he said, making it clear that he didn't want her to stay and watch what was about to happen. "Oh, and by the way? If this problem should reoccur in the future, I would appreciate it if you fetched me immediately."
"Will do," Alicia said as she left.
"Now, Beth," Paul said when they were alone. "That was a very good apology. I think you've almost learned your lesson, so ten strokes with this brush should suffice."
She whimpered. "I don't suppose we could skip the brush and go straight to the post-spanking hugs and kisses?"
"No, I'm afraid not," he said, rubbing the brush in circles against her pink flesh and watching the goosebumps that formed. He lifted his right leg over hers, locking her in place - there was no doubt that the brush would make her wriggle and kick, and he wanted to make sure he struck where he intended.
The first stroke landed on her left cheek, eliciting an agonized howl. The second stroke landed on her right cheek - for the final part of the spanking, he no longer wished to spank quickly or randomly. The fourth stroke caused her to wriggle her toes - she would have kicked her legs if she could, but he held her in place. By the seventh stroke, tears were running in streams down her face.
As the tenth and last stroke landed, she lay limply over his lap, with no strength left to feel relieved that it was over. He lifted her up and hugged her close, running his fingers through her hair and telling her that she was forgiven. She sobbed against his shoulder. After ten minutes or so, she'd calmed down enough that she could lift her head and look at him.
"You know that you're going to apologize to your manager, to the makeup people, and everyone else you've insulted as well?"
Her eyes widened, and she was ready to protest at this fresh humiliation, but the look on his face quickly convinced her otherwise. "Yes, sir," she murmured.
Half an hour later, she picked up her guitar and was ready to head to the stage. She'd calmed down, dried her tears, fixed her own makeup (she didn't want to explain to the makeup people why her mascara had run, or why she wouldn't sit down when they reapplied it – she feared they would inevitably connect it to the borrowed hairbrush). In a few minutes, she would be standing on a stage in front of thousands of people, and the warm throbbing in her bottom would remind her that backstage, someone truly loved her.
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