« Spanking Stories

Charlotte scrolled the news on her iPhone while the new colorist wrapped her hair in foil. She'd watched like a hawk as she did the first few wraps, but the girl appeared to be in control.

She continued reading the article she'd been holding in her hand. It was about a secret singer. Called Saffron, the girl sang in secret in her bedroom, but with full orchestra accompaniments which the article suggested were pre-recorded for her. Her music had wide western appeal and was massive in the Arab world. She sang in Arabic and English about freedom, life and adventure. The escapist appeal to girls who didn't have those freedoms wasn't hard to understand. She flicked open the YouTube app and subscribed to the girl's channel. Anyone who wanted a crack at stardom enough to sing in secret, at substantial risk, was worth listening to. Not least because she had sixty million subscribers.

The problem of Kat had turned into an idea. Anything left long enough in her mind always did. In her heart, she thought she was crazy, but every time she evaluated a detail of her plan, it turned out to be workable.

Her vision was a talent agency for girls, taking on only very limited students and ensuring each was a success. True stars who lasted through the years had good solid skills and flawless etiquette. The way celebrity status had evolved disappointed her on every level so she would teach etiquette alongside developing her student's natural talent and finding them opportunities.

The colorist looked over her shoulder at her screen and said, "I sing on YouTube."

"Do you?" Maybe everyone did.

"Yes. If you'll let me, I'll show you."

Charlotte gave up her phone, and the colorist tapped for a moment, returning it with her channel on screen.

Glad to have her phone back, she scrolled through the songs. They were all covers of famous ballads. Turning her volume low, she hit 'One moment in time' to appease the girl. It didn't pay to upset the girl in charge of your color. Her diction was flawless. The words were more clear than Whitney Houston. But what it gained in technical perfection, it lost in passion. The original may have imperfect diction, but it thundered through your soul, carrying you away with a picture of yourself which you'd never imagined.

She had to listen all the way to the end to avoid offense. She almost thought the girl stood a chance until right at the end she went 'Yeah' and thrust her hand in the air. It stole her enjoyment, putting the singer back in the song.

"You're very good," she said.

"Thank you. I'm trying to make it a career."

"Do you have any of your own music?"

"Not yet. I'm working on it."

Charlotte didn't doubt the girl's commitment, but if she couldn't learn to leave herself out of the song and give it like a gift to her listener, she'd never be a star. If there was anything she knew about, it was stardom. She'd been Shannon in her heart, soul and mind when she'd been on TV, Charlotte hadn't even existed. The next hour was tortuous as she had to maintain a conversation in which she'd lost interest.

Over lunch at home, she told David of her tiring conversation. She'd revealed her talent agency idea to him, and he hadn't knocked it down. Instead, he'd suggested a clever location for it.

"I bet you regret that," he said.

"It's boring to humor people and I already know, despite her talent, she doesn't have what it takes. Too much ego."

"Know your audience before engaging in topics," he said.

She looked up from her salad. "Can you believe that? I was so busy thinking about the lesson I wanted to give her, I missed my own. I don't deserve to teach etiquette."

No wonder her morning had been so irritating. It was her fault, her poor etiquette, and she hadn't even noticed it. Always know your audience before engaging in topics. She'd done an awful job of the conversation because she should never have allowed it to start. She shouldn't have given up her phone or listened to the song. A quick 'Maybe later' would have shut it down while she got to know the girl.

"When you've finished your salad, go to the bedroom and wait for me."

"Yes, David."

His tough tone made her feel better. The teacher needed to be taught. She had to go to Girl Plan this afternoon, but she'd be going with a sore bottom, one she deserved.

As he came into the bedroom, the speakers hummed a single note and stopped as he hit pause on his phone and slid the bar back to the start of the song.

She looked up. The single note had been enough. It was One Moment in Time and it was Whitney Houston, not anyone else.

He picked up her wooden hairbrush from the dressing table. "Four minutes and forty-five seconds over my knee with this wooden hair brush educating your bare bottom while you listen to the authentic version."

She smiled. It was cruel and brilliant.

He sat on the edge of the bed. "Take off your jeans."

She stripped off her black skinny jeans and stood in her black bikini panties.

"Panties too."

Slipping her fingers into the elastic, she shed her panties and stood before him naked below the waist.

"Come here," he commanded.

Desperate to escape the shame of being bared, she went to him.

"Bend over," he ordered, guiding her over his lap.

The bed was too high to reach the floor. She lay over his lap, her top half on the bed and her toes just touching the floor. The undignified position beat standing exposed. She was naked in front of him all the time, but it wasn't the same as being ordered down to her bare state, not at all.

He tapped the hairbrush against her bottom, "You didn't know your audience before you engaged with her about music stardom. You don't know how much this will sting. All you know is you have four minutes and forty-five seconds of it."

His scolding marked her heart. She was better than this. The light ting of the opening notes sounded around the room.

The hard impact of wood on bare flesh resounded as 'Each day I live...' stole her mind and fiery sting burned into her bare bottom. Each strike took her breath away. His shots overlapped on top of her stinging skin as she lived to be the very best in her heart. She yelled as Whitney hit eternity and he struck the same spot three times. She doubled down her commitment to herself, to her future and to excellent etiquette as the hairbrush confirmed her decision down each cheek, layering strikes on her sore skin as tears welled.

The justified burn in her bottom rose with her heart and her tears withdrew. She was a professional, and she could guide girls to stardom. He landed hard spanks on her sore skin as she braced with destiny for the ultimate time. Whitney was right. Helping girls make it would be the peak of her life. She'd be more than she thought she could be. She'd be free.

The spanks stopped. It hadn't felt like four minutes and forty-five seconds. It hadn't felt long at all. He helped her up off his knee and she stepped into her panties again, giving her bottom a rub before she pulled up her tight jeans.

"How was the unknown?" he asked.

"Not as scary as I thought. Thank you for spanking me."

"Your bottom is plenty red."

"Oh, it hurts if that's what you're asking. I didn't like it, but I deserved it. You know I'm sure I can make this work, but there's a lot to do just to get started. I'm taking people's lives in my hands."

"Wait until all your dreams are a heartbeat away," he grinned.

"If I can give girl's their one moment, then mine will be beyond words."

He smiled. It may have been Whitney's power packed influence, but he thought he felt it from his wife and in just that moment, it felt incredible.

With a smile on her face, she settled into the rear seat of the black BMW 7 outside her house. They used a car service downtown because it was hassle free. Although the weather was getting more mild, she still didn't enjoy driving in the cold.

Her sore bottom burned as she landed on the cream leather.

"The heated seat controls are in the middle," the driver advised, "It's been on for while so it should be nice and warm."

"Thank you for taking the trouble. I appreciate it," she replied, turning the seat off.

She put in her AirPods and hit the first video on the list. Scenery whispered across the screen as the strong ballad rose in her ears. The words were in Arabic, but she let it play. You couldn't manufacture such spirit. Either you had it or you didn't. This girl did. The video showed scenes from around the world in line with the lyrics. The imagery told the story alongside her powerful voice. She moved to the next video. Recognizing the tune she'd just heard, it was a shock when the words came in English. The full experience was better to her ear than the original. She ignored the video and let the music carry her as the car took her to Girl Plan.

When she arrived, she told Kat about what she'd been listening to. The younger girl took one of the many iPads scattered around the room and went to the YouTube channel.

"A hundred and fifty million views," She exclaimed. That's huge.

She hit the first video. As it started, Charlotte pointed to the next one down. Kat switched it. "You'll enjoy it more in English."

With admin to do, she left Kat with the music and went to the offices at the back to sort out an apprenticeship for one of Kat's girls who wanted to be a lawyer. They were placing her for three weeks in a law firm where she'd get a taste of it. As a prime placement, it needed her signature to approve it.

When she returned thirty minutes later, Kat was with a ton of girls and the music was on the big screen in the center room. Saffron, whoever she was, was singing another power ballad with her rich voice. One girl was middle eastern and already knew of the music.

"Yeah, she's big," the girl said. "Saffron is cool. But she's taking a major risk. Her family wouldn't approve. It's why I prefer living here. I doubt she lives in the Middle East anymore. She sounds more international. It's why so many girls like her."

"You can't argue with hundreds of millions of views on all her songs," Kat said.

"It's a way to get famous, but does it translate into money? For her, I doubt it," Charlotte said.

"She sounds beautiful," Kat said. "Maybe for her it's the closest she'll ever come to stardom."

Watching Kat loving someone else's success, she pictured her talent agency in her mind. This week she would build a plan and work out what she didn't yet have, and she'd act on it. At the moment, she had one thing. She had a name. The music of Saffron had brought it, or maybe Kat's positivity had inspired it. Maybe it was born out of her frustrations at Girl Plan. But her talent agency would produce results because it had a name which demanded it - Girl Act.