Ricochet (4 page)

All the same, it was rare for a show to physically

punish one of its stars; they were usually too busy

trying to keep them happy. "So, we're going to

make a start on addressing your tardiness problem

right now," Petra told him firmly. "You'll report to

the discipline room at 1pm for six with the strap."

"What?" Rick stared at her.

"Six this time - so you know I mean business.

Next time you're late it'll be seven, then eight, and

so on. No upper limit." She smiled at him sweetly.

"I'll reset the numbers at the end of each season, so

you'll start out next season at six again."

"Petra!"

She sighed. "Rick, honey, you're a nice guy;

everyone loves you like crazy, me included, but I

figure that you need treating like I treat my subs:

You screw up, you get punished. If it saves you

from self-destructing, and your career from going

down the pan, then I'm happy, even if you don't

thank me for it. Like I said, Rick, I've seen it

happen before."

"You're a mean, mean woman, Petra." Rick

stuck out his lower lip in a pout.

Petra rolled her eyes. "And you're one of the

good guys. I'm doing this out of love. You’re worth

saving, Rick!" She got up, grinning at him.

"Hah! Love!"

"Yes, honey. Love." She patted the side of his

cheek and then went and opened the door. "Out -

get back to work. And report to the discipline

room at 1pm sharp."

"Yes, Chief," Rick grumbled, ambling

towards the door. He was still dressed in his

character's clothes, and he felt entirely in character

as Agent Alex Tanner after a chewing out by Chief

Christie.

Petra snorted. "Oh, trust me, Rick - Chief

Christie is a pussycat compared to me. You screw

up, and I will punish your ass until you get back in

line."

"Ah well. You win some, you lose some."

Rick grinned at her cheerfully as he left the room.

The thought of official discipline didn't bother

him; he'd experienced it plenty of times in his life

and while he didn't like it, he could handle it. The

lack of partying bothered him more. What the hell

was he going to do with himself for the next four

months if he couldn't go out clubbing?

An idea occurred to him, and he took a detour

to find the craft services manager, Gloria. This

whole discipline thing might suck, but if anyone

knew how to make the best of a bad time it was

Rick, and Gloria was just the person to help.

"Hey, people!" he announced when he got

back to the set, jumping onto Agent Tanner's desk

so everyone could hear. "It's party time! Our

beloved leader, Lady Petra, says this cute little

tush has to take some punishment at 1pm." He

patted his ass theatrically. "So, you're all invited!"

He flashed a broad grin around the room. "The

popcorn and Coke are on me!"

The room exploded in a buzz of gossip, and

Rick laughed. He figured it was better to let

everyone know about his imminent punishment and

give them all some fun at his expense, rather than

getting embarrassed about it and skulking around,

hoping that nobody would find out.

"About time! Someone should have taken a

paddle to your tardy ass years ago," one of the

crew called out, and Rick mock-spanked his own

ass in response.

There was a general mood of amusement in

the room. Someone would probably sell the story

about Rick O'Shea taking a workplace spanking to

the
Daily Investigator
, but Rick didn't care. There

was no point trying to control this kind of story - it

always got out. He didn't think it did his reputation

as a hell-raiser any harm anyway.

He jumped down off the desk and was

engulfed by a crowd wanting all the juicy details

about what Petra had said to him. He spent the rest

of the break laughing about it until it was time to

shoot the next scene. Then the crowd around him

dispersed… except for one person.

Matt stood before him, looking genuinely

shaken. "Rick… I'm so sorry. I can't believe Petra

did that."

"Oh hey!" Rick flicked a strand of blond hair

off the kid's face. "It's fine."

"But… I mean… did she give you any

warning?"

"I think she might have mentioned it last time I

was late." Rick shrugged. "I wasn't really

listening."

Matt let out an exasperated sigh. "Damn it,

Rick, you're so stupid."

"I know. I can't help it." Rick spread his arms

wide in a gesture of helplessness. "Hey, Matty, it's

okay! Don't worry about it."

"About what I said earlier, about you

deserving it - you know I didn't mean that," Matt

blurted. "I was just nervous about the scene and all

that waiting around didn't help, and I took it out on

you. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, sweetheart - I know that." Rick

gave Matt a fond smile. Underneath the OCD and

the weird counting fetish, the kid had a good heart.

He was a cutie as well - twenty-five years old,

about five ten in height, with a strong, slender body

that he kept toned by doing vigorous bouts of yoga.

He had a mop of unruly blond hair and the

sweetest pair of blue eyes Rick had ever seen. No

wonder he was able to bring a special kind of

innocence to his portrayal of Agent Ben Harris;

there was something of the little boy lost about

Matt, just as there was about the character he

played. "You take things way too seriously, Matty.

Life's too short and none of this shit really

matters."

"Yes, it does!" Matt protested. "It's your

career, Rick. There are some things you should

take seriously."

"Lighten up, kid." Rick patted Matt's arm.

"Now, what are we shooting next?" he called out,

glancing around. "And if it's a scene where I have

to bend over the chief's desk for punishment, then

I'm going home!"

Everyone laughed, and Rick soaked it up. He

was on fire for the next few hours, laughing and

joking around between takes, keeping the cast and

crew entertained while hitting it out of the ballpark

during scenes. He loved feeling like this - although

it was a shame it took an imminent punishment to

spike his adrenaline so effectively.

At 12.50 he rounded everyone up and led

them over to the discipline room, feeling like the

pied piper - he had most of the cast and crew

behind him, laughing and joking as they went. Petra

was waiting by the door, a sour look on her face.

"Leading a revolt against your sentence,

Rick?" she asked, glancing over his shoulder at the

crowd he'd brought with him.

"No way! These guys are here to watch the

fun!" Rick replied. Gloria was standing outside the

discipline room with a table full of sodas and

popcorn. "Help yourselves, guys!" Rick yelled,

waving at the table. "Let the entertainment begin!"

he added, running into the discipline room like it

was his favorite place on Earth.

The room wasn't used very often, so it

smelled musty, but the studio disciplinarian was

ready and waiting. He came over, hand

outstretched.

"I'm Miles Green, and I'm going to be

performing your discipline today. I'm a great fan of

yours. Oh man! I can't believe I'm gonna be

spanking Richard O'Shea!"

"Hah! Enjoy it, my friend. Half the country

would love to be in your place - well, fans of the

show anyhow. They can't get enough of Alex

Tanner taking a good spanking."

"You're not Alex Tanner though," Petra told

him, coming over. "You're an actor, not a federal

agent, Rick."

He laughed and put an arm around her

shoulders, pulling her in for a hug. "Aw, c'mon,

Petra, it's gonna be fun. Don't spoil the show!

We've gotta keep the mob entertained, or they

might turn ugly." He jerked his head in the

direction of the viewing gallery, which was now

full to bursting point.

Petra rolled her eyes at his obvious over-

dramatization. "Just remember, unlike on the show,

your ass does actually get tanned in here. We don't

cut away, and you don't get to act the reaction shot.

Although it might improve your acting to actually

experience it once in a while," she commented

darkly.

"Aw - are you saying my acting sucks?" Rick

pouted.

"No, I'm saying that you're playing one of

TV's most famous subs - but you're a dom. It won't

do you any harm to take a spanking every now and

then - it might help you get in character." She went

to take her place in the viewing gallery.

"I much prefer giving them!" Rick called after

her.

"Ready?" Green asked, pointing at the

spanking bench.

"I'm ready. You guys ready?" Rick yelled to

the audience.

"Ready, Rick!" came back the howled reply.

People were laughing, chomping on their popcorn,

and generally enjoying themselves, and that made

Rick happy.

He walked over to the punishment bench with

Green beside him.

"So, I have to read you your rights and stuff,"

Green said, opening a file and drawing out a

laminate.

"Save it - I know the drill. I've been here

before."
Too many times
, but there was no reason

for anyone else to know that. If Petra thought six

with the strap was going to have any effect, she

really had no idea. He'd taken worse - far worse.

"Here goes, people! The great Richard

O'Shea ass gets an airing. Savor the moment!" Rick

announced, as he slowly pulled his belt out of his

jeans, sashaying from side to side like he was

doing a striptease. His co-workers all whistled

and catcalled, and he took a bow and threw his

belt onto the floor.

"Uh… we don't usually do it this way," Green

murmured to him. "Just… uh… well, pants down

and over the punishment bench please, Mr.

O'Shea."

"Aw! You're taking all the fun out of it!" Rick

allowed himself to be nudged over to the bench,

and he took down his pants and boxers and leaned

forward. It might have been awhile, but it was an

old, familiar position - he knew what to do.

The punishment bench was designed to hide

the miscreant's private parts from the watching

crowd - all they could see from their position was

his face - and that was easily visible so that people

could see justice being done, etched in his

reaction. Some people screamed when they were

punished - and Rick decided to do just that.

When the first stroke fell he gave a theatrical

yelp, which caused the crowd to laugh. He let the

laugh warm him - being a clown had always been

his refuge whenever he was under fire.

His ass felt hot just from the one stroke, but

he could handle it. He stuck his ass out even more,

winking broadly at the crowd, and screamed

loudly at the next stroke. He yelped and hollered

his way through the next four, making a huge fuss

about each one, while winking and grinning at the

audience the entire time.

When his sixth had been delivered he stood

up, pulled up his pants, and came forward to take a

bow, amid the sound of riotous applause.

"My dear co-workers, I apologize for my

many faults and defects, and most particularly my

crappy timekeeping," Rick told them. "I trust you

feel I have been duly and adequately chastised -

and that you will find it in your hearts to forgive

me."

Another round of applause assured him that

his audience agreed on both counts - and, more

importantly, that they still loved him.

They started to file out, and he retrieved his

belt from the floor as he watched them go. Daniel

came over and gave him the kind of shrewd,

knowing look that Chief Christie was always

giving Alex Tanner; Rick found himself squirming

as much under that steady gaze as Tanner always

did.

"One

of

your

more

embellished

performances," Daniel murmured.

"Well, over-acting always was my forte,"

Rick replied, trying to deflect the intensity of that