I Don’t Want To

February 26, 2008 – 5:45 pm

Cheryl sat on the couch and faced the camera.  She allowed a

makeup “artist” to touch up her cheeks with some rouge paste.

She watched blithely as the director moved about the set to make

sure that everything was in place.

   “Cheryl, baby.  You ready?”

   Cheryl popped out her gum and stuck it on the makeup man’s

forehead.  “Yeah, sure, Billy.  Let’s get this over with, ok?”

   The director coughed and looked around.  A few of the

cameramen were giggling.  Albert “Billy” Banes watched as the

makeup man walked off the set, cursing as he pulled sticky gum

residue off of his forehead.

   Billy leaned over and whispered to Cheryl.  “Look, Cheryl.  I

told you to call me ‘Albert’ while we were on the set.  Calling

me ‘Billy’ makes it seem as if we might be sleeping together or

something.”

   Cheryl swung her head around.  She whispered back to him.

“Well, ain’t we?”  Cheryl turned toward the mostly bored crew.

“Hey, everybody!  I fucked and sucked Billy here just so I could

be in this movie.”

   The crew doubled up with laughter as Billy scrambled off the

set and ran for his office.  His face was beet red and he wanted

to die.  This was the third time some “actress” of his had

spouted off like that in front of the crew.  It was bad enough

that he was behind schedule and his distributor was screaming for

the picture.

   “Big budget,” they had told him.  Yeah, right!  The only thing

big about the budget was the height in which the checks bounced.

Billy sat down at his desk and put his head in his hands.  A

knock came at the door.

   “Come in,” Billy yelled.

   Cheryl walked in, still wearing her satin robe.  “I’m sorry,

Billy.  Can we please finish this?  I’m cold and I wanna fuck

this guy so I can go home.”

   Billy looked in disgust at his newest starlet.  They were all

the same.  Young girl (not under eighteen, according to birth

certificates and photo ID’s) just arrived in LA.  They all were

looking to break into show business.  Billy would constantly

prowl the night clubs and seedier saloons looking for ripe young

victims to drag into his world.  Cheryl Cheeks (formerly Cindy

Lou Simpson of Des Moines, Iowa) was the latest in a long string

of “actresses” looking for a way into the business.

   “Cheryl, honey, I told you that this isn’t a porno flick.  You

don’t fuck anybody.  You get your pretty ass paddled on screen to

cater to the perverts who pay my check and yours.”

   Cheryl opened her robe and revealed a sleek teddy.  “Is that

why I’m not naked?”

   Billy sighed.  “Yes, baby.”

   Cheryl looked outraged.  “I thought you said that I was gonna

be _padded_, not paddled.”

   “Why did you think I helped you pick out the name ‘Cheryl

Cheeks’?”

   “I thought it was because I was gonna be getting fucked up the

ass or something.”

   Billy’s ears perked up.  “You like doing that?”

   “No, but I’ll do anything for money.”

   Billy sighed again.  “Then what’s the problem with taking a

few whacks on your pert little fanny?”

   “It’ll hurt!”

   Billy snickered to himself.  “Don’t you think taking a cock up

the ass would hurt?”

   “I dunno.”

   Billy sat back in his chair.  “Well, I’ll show you the

difference tonight.  But to see the difference, you’ll have to

get paddled right now.  You understand?”

   Cheryl’s eyes lit up.  “Yeah, it’s like science.  You have to

experience both in order to make a judgement about it, right?”

   Billy actually clapped his hands.  “Yes, perfect.  Now go out

there and get ready.  Oh, and send in Martin Kanes.  I need to

talk to him.”

   “Sure, Billy…Albert!”

   Billy quickly pulled out a bottle of Jack that was nestled in

his bottom desk drawer.  He took a quick pull and replaced the

bottle.

   Martin Kanes walked through the door.  He was a powerfully

built man who couldn’t act worth a damn.  But he could swing a

mean paddle and cane.  “You wanted to see me, Billy?”

   Billy gave up.  Nobody was going to take him seriously and

call him Albert.  “Yes.  Sit down, Martin.”

   Martin strode in and sat in the chair.  “Listen to this.  Tell

me what you think.”  Martin took a deep breath.  “To be, or not

to be, that is the question.  Whether ’tis…”

   “Fine, great.  Sounding better and better.”  Billy groaned

inwardly.  Idiot wanted to be a Shakespearian actor.  Kanes still

thought the Immortal Bard was a Dungeons and Dragons character

that found the fountain of youth.

   Billy leaned forward.  “The script calls for you to paddle

Cheryl with a bath brush and then with your belt, right?”

   Kanes smiled as he looked forward to reddening the sexy girl’s

cheeks.  “Yep.”

   “I’m making a script change.”

   “Do I get more lines?  I can do it like Shakespeare.  ‘Bend at

thy waist and prepare thouself to receive mine paddle.'”

   “No!” Billy yelped out.  Why oh why did he agree to direct

these pictures.  He could’ve been a doctor by now.  “No, just a

little change in the implements.  I still want you to use the

bath brush.  Only the script calls for ten really hard strikes

with it.  I want to change that to Thirty.  Thirty really really

really really hard hits.  Got it?”

   Kanes grinned.  “Sure.  No problem.  Want me to lecture her

while I’m hitting her?”

   “Yes…NO!”  Lord knows what this idiot would say if given the

chance to ad-lib.  “Oh, and instead of the belt, use a cane.  Oh,

about ten or twelve really powerful strokes.”

   Kanes rubbed his hands together.  “Alright!  She won’t mind?”

   Billy smiled.  “Nope.  She wants it really painful.  We’ve

even given her extra coaching so she’ll really look like she

hates it.  Remember, the title of the film is ‘Please Don’t Beat

Me’, so she needs to look like she doesn’t like it.  Don’t worry,

though, she loves every smack of it.”

   Billy sat in his director’s chair.  “Ok, QUIET ON THE SET!

Places people!  Damnit, Harry, get that fucking book off the

set.”

   Kanes stepped forward.  “That’s my book, Billy.  It reminds me

of Shakespeare so I do a better job in delivering my lines.”

   A collective groan went up around the set.  “Ok,” Billy said.

“Leave the book, Harry.  Just, uh, move it sort of off to the

side.  Oh, Cheryl, honey, there’s been a slight script change.

Martin’s going to tie your hands and feet to the table instead of

you remaining free.”

   Cheryl looked out at Billy.  “Tie me up?”

   Billy nodded.  “Yes.  It’s got more of a dramatic feel to it.

Might bring us an award.”

   Cheryl perked up.  “Ok.”

   Billy smiled.  “Places!”  He waited until everyone was into

position.  “Roll camera!  Action!”

   Kanes moved around the side of the couch.  “Damnit, Linda!

This is the third time this week that you’ve talked back to

me…Uh, Billy?”

   Billy put his head in his hands.  “CUT!  What, Martin?”

   “Well, I was just sort of thinking about that.  I mean, why

would my character be so enraged over a little thing like his

maid talking back to him?  What’s my motivation here?”

   Billy sighed.  Why did he hire Martin.  He could’ve gotten Dan

Rivera or somebody.  Why Martin?  “Well, Martin, I think that the

writer wanted the audience to think that your character was a

very strict man.  Talking back is as bad a crime to him as

murder.  I think that’s what motivates the character in this

scene.”

   Cheryl piped in.  “If I’m the maid, why am I wearing this

teddy instead of a maid’s outfit?”

   “If you remember, baby, we did a scene earlier today where we

established that you couldn’t sleep so you got up and came out to

the living room.  Remember that?”

   “Oh.  I thought that was for another movie.”

   “No, dear.  It’s for this one.”

   “Ok.”

   “Thanks, Billy,” Martin said.  “That helps me a lot.”

   “No problem, Martin.  Everybody ready?  Good.  Places.  Roll

camera.  ACTION!”

   Again Martin moved around the couch.  “Damnit, Linda!  This is

the second time this week you’ve talked back to me.  I won’t

stand for it.”

   Somewhere Martin had gone from the third time to the second.

Billy knew that he should stop, but it would cost too much money

to do another retake.

   Cheryl gave him an impish look.  “Well, Mr. Hickey, what do

you intend to do about it.”

   Billy motioned for Henry to retrieve the bottle of Jack.  The

character’s name was Hickory, not Hickey.

   Martin struck a pose.  “I intend to teachest thou a lesson

thou wouldst not soon forget!”

   Billy felt the tears beginning to sting his eyes.  Dan Rivera

and Kiri Kelly.  Dan Rivera and Eve Howard.  Dan Rivera and

anybody.  Why didn’t he shell out the extra money to get Dan

Rivera?

   Billy watched as Martin manhandled Cheryl into position over

the table.  He watched in glee as Cheryl’s hands and feet were

bound.  Martin picked up the bath brush that was sitting on the

telephone stand.

   “Now I’m going to teach you a good lesson.”

   Billy watched as Martin drew his arm back to its limit.  He

watched that powerful uncoil and accelerate that brush.  Everyone

heard the deafening CRACK as the wooden bath brush struck

Cheryl’s pantied bottom.

   “OUCH!!!!!!  You fucker!  That hurt!”

   “Ha,” Martin said and held the brush aloft.  “For using

scandalous language, I shall now bare thy bodkin!”

   Billy heard the groans around him.  He should stop the picture

because those sounds were probably picked up by the mikes.  Oh

well, no matter.  The home audience would probably be groaning at

that point anyway.

   Martin watched in delight as Cheryl’s panties were yanked

down.  There on her otherwise white cheeks was a nasty red

splotch.  Martin drew back for another hit.

   CRACK!!!!!!!

   “Mother Fucker!  That fucking hurts!  Stop it!  Let me go!”

   CRACK!!!!!!!

   “OH FUCK!!!!!  I hate this!  Please let me go!”

   CRACK!!!!!!!

   “Take the fucking money back!  I don’t wanna be an actress!”

   CRACK!!!!!!!

   Cheryl’s voice broke into harsh sobs.  Billy felt his pants

becoming very tight.

   CRACK!!!!!!!  CRACK!!!!!!!  CRACK!!!!!!!  CRACK!!!!!!!

CRACK!!!!!!!  CRACK!!!!!!!  CRACK!!!!!!!  CRACK!!!!!!!

CRACK!!!!!!!  CRACK!!!!!!!  CRACK!!!!!!!  CRACK!!!!!!!

CRACK!!!!!!!  CRACK!!!!!!!  CRACK!!!!!!!  CRACK!!!!!!!

CRACK!!!!!!!  CRACK!!!!!!!  CRACK!!!!!!!  CRACK!!!!!!!

CRACK!!!!!!!  CRACK!!!!!!!  CRACK!!!!!!!  CRACK!!!!!!!

CRACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  Cheryl’s ass was a mass of red blotches with many many dark

rings adorning it.  Billy smiled broadly.

   Martin picked up the cane.  “And now to further chastise your

errant bottom…my cane.”

   Cheryl let out a fresh scream of protests.

   “Quiet!  This will teach you when to sleep.  To sleep,

perchance to dream; Aye, there’s the rub!”

   Shish!  CRACK!!!

   Cheryl howled and cursed.  Billy rubbed at his swollen cock.

This was better then he imagined.  She was really getting the

works.  Of course, he would have to sweeten the pot so she didn’t

press charges, but it was worth it.  He motioned for the

cameraman to keep rolling.