Chapter 2: The Spanking Game

Chapter 2: The Spanking Game

Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you. For every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened. 

—Jesus of Nazareth, The Gospel of Matthew, Chapter 7:7-8.

As Charlie dragged Alastor along with her by his ear, the Princess of Hell smiled sweetly. “That’s the spirit! We may be on a tight schedule, but I don’t want to do a rush job. This is a big day for you, Alastor! We’ll start with a little warmup, to get you more acclimated.”

Charlie seated herself on her bed, and unbuckled Alastor’s belt with a click. Alastor’s eyes popped open as he heard his own belt being tugged out of the loops of his dress pants. “H-hold on, Charlie-dove, we never really had a chance to discuss the particulars for this deal. You know, important things like mutual–”

With a clean yank, Charlie tugged Alastor’s pants down to his ankles, revealing his simple, striped boxers, typical of men’s fashion in the 1920s. “–boundaries?”

Charlie nodded briskly, her face positively radiant as she reached around to pat Alastor’s bottom. “You’re absolutely right, Alastor! Your consent is essential for this spanking to have any positive effect on you. Let’s think of this as a trust exercise! I think if you bare your own butt, it will help you face what’s coming, and take a more active role in your own rehabilitation. Would you like to undress for your spanking?”

Forcing a smile, Alastor stood stiff, desperate to pull up his own pants, but painfully aware that if he did, he would lose face and respect. As a well-read scholar of philosophy, Alastor’s immediate thought was that he was now like Burdian’s Ass: torn equally between the choice of covering his own ass and baring his own ass. Neither option seemed particularly dignified. “...I would rather not!”

Charlie patted the back of Alastor’s hand, her eyes sympathetic. “Oh, Alastor, are you too frightened to move? You look like a deer in headlights.”

Alastor narrowed his eyes. “Don’t condescend to me, Charlie Morningstar. I fear nothing. Through the force of my will, I can overcome any trial you can throw at–”

Charlie yanked Alastor’s boxers down to join his dress pants, exposing his lithe, supple, yet distinctly masculine buttocks, then tugged him forward so that he stumbled across the bed and flopped down over her left thigh. “Don’t worry, Alastor. Since this is your very first spanking, I’ll help you get through this as quickly and painlessly as possible…huh, now that I think of it, is this your very first spanking?”

Alastor was taken by surprise, and immediately tried to stand up. He was convinced that, in a head-to-head fight, he could easily overpower Charlie Morningstar, even considering her impressive heritage. But despite her slight frame, Charlie was moving much too quickly for him to keep up. “That’s none of your business! I don’t have to tell you–”

Charlie landed a firm spank across the lower center of Alastor’s backside. “That’s okay, Alastor! You don’t have to tell me anything about your past if you don’t want to. Just know that, if you ever need someone to confide in, I’m always here to listen! I may be your official boss now, but I will always be your friend!”

Alastor jerked as he felt the first spank, but clenched his teeth to resist the urge to make a sound. “This is entirely unnecessary, and a waste of our time. We should concentrate on more important matters, such as–”

Charlie landed two spanks, first to Alastor’s left buttock, then his right, before she fell into a steady pattern of slaps. Already, she had found the perfect rhythm to keep Alastor’s full attention. “This is very important, Alastor. Despite all the crummy stuff you’ve done, you are still a person, and I believe you matter.”

Alastor took a deep breath through his nose, and steadied himself. Over the decades, he had learned to endure far worse than this. “If you care so much, then you should release me, and we can forget all about our little misunderstanding. I assure you, I will be the most capable employee you could ever ask for. There’s no need to resort–Ah!–ahem–no need for such brute methods.”

Charlie distributed her spanks more evenly across Alastor’s buttocks, trying to cover the entire available surface area with cheerful, pink handprints. “I know you’re going to do a great job from now on, Alastor. But I’m not spanking you because you’re a bad employee. I’m spanking you because I want you to be a better person. I want to help you.”

Alastor practiced controlled breathing, as though he was running a marathon. “And who asked for your help?”

“Uh, you did? When you asked me to spank you?”

Alastor clenched his fists until his black gloves creaked. “I did not ask for this treatment.”

Charlie paused. “Oh, shoot. Are you withdrawing consent? I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting you to quit so early.”

His eyes twitching, Alastor snorted like a bull. “I am not quitting. This…beating…is nothing more than a light tickle compared to what I can endure. My point is that this is a meaningless exercise.”

Charlie nodded. “Okay, got it. I’m not spanking hard enough for this to have any impact. Thanks for telling me, Alastor. I really admire your determination.”

Just as Alastor was about to lift himself up, Charlie landed the next spank, and fell right back into her steady pattern, as though nothing had interrupted her. This caught Alastor off guard, and he forgot to practice his steady breathing. “Aha! Charlie, let’s discuss this like–ack!–Aha, discuss this like adults. You must see–hee! Hee, hee. Oh goodness, Charlie, do stop this nonsense…s-stop!”

Charlie’s hand froze in mid air, her wrist bent at a graceful angle above her head. “Oh, shoot! You stopped it again? Are you struggling, Alastor? Let’s stop now.”

Alastor clenched his teeth, fighting to catch his breath. He didn’t want to stand up too quickly. He wanted to compose himself first, and look completely unbothered, before he faced Charlie.  “Yes, yes, I’m sure you’ll see things my way. We can talk this out. With me by your side, the Hazbin Hotel is sure to succeed. After all, I think of you as the daughter I never had.”

Charlie examined Alastor’s bare butt closely, wondering if she had been spanking too hard. “Really? I always thought of us more as an older cousin, younger cousin duo? You know, we’re both feisty and get on each other’s nerves, but still have each other’s backs when the chips are down.”

Alastor lifted himself carefully, trying to mentally plan out the best way to redress himself that would look sufficiently poised and dignified. He settled down off the bed onto his knees, trying to at least preserve some of his modesty from Charlie. “Yes, yes, however you want to describe it! Just, stop this spanking nonsense.”

“Don’t worry, Alastor. We’re done. Do you want ‘stop’ to be your safe word from now on?” 

Alastor snapped his head up to face Charlie. “My what?”

While standing, he was a few inches taller than Charlie (not counting his pointed ears, which helped create the illusion he was over seven feet tall). But while kneeling, he couldn’t help but notice Charlie Morningstar’s impressive, 6-foot-two-inch build as she now towered over him. As she stretched her fingers, Alastor noticed the palm of her hand was now bright pink. 

Charlie blew on her palm, then glanced at Alastor. “You know, your safe word. The word you use to say when a spanking is too much to handle, and tell me when I need to stop. Frankly, ‘stop’ is a really good one. It’s one syllable, and every one knows what it means.”

Alastor’s smile twitched. “I don’t need a safe word.”

Charlie shook her head. “No, Alastor. Everyone needs a safe word. I need it because I want to respect your boundaries. And you need it because it protects you, if the spanking gets to be too much for you to handle.”

“Don’t mock me. I can handle anything you can dish out. I…am…a man!” As Alastor stood to his full height to tower over Charlie, he smiled wickedly, before he noticed he forgot to pull up his boxers. 

“Oop!” said both Charlie and Alastor at once. Instinctively, Alastor covered his front with both hands.

Charlie shielded her eyes as she twisted to face away from Alastor. “Don’t worry! I didn’t see anything!”

Hissing, Alastor quickly bent down and roughly tugged up his boxers and dress pants all at once. “Are you quite finished, Princess Morningstar?”

Charlie nodded, holding up her hands to act as a screen. “Yup! That’s all you need for the warmup. Let’s finish discussing safe words.”

Alastor quickly fixed his pants, ignoring the uncomfortable wedgie he’d accidentally given himself in his rush to redress. Without his belt, his dress pants sagged to reveal a peek of his striped boxers, front and back. “Yes, please, let’s do. You seem to be laboring under a mistaken impression. I do not fear torture, Charlie Morningstar. Pain is an illusion. I will not accept being spoken to as if I am a child. That is a violation of my principles.” 

Charlie peeped to see if Alastor is dressed, then twisted to face him, folding her hands primly between her knees. “I understand. You are not a child Alastor. I will make every effort to speak to you respectfully. The whole point of this deal was that, regardless of who won, we would respect the loser’s agency.”

Alastor sighed. “Yes! Finally, you understand. I am not a plaything. Though I have pledged my service to you, you would do well to remember that I am still a demon Overlord. To treat me like a little boy–I mean–as a plaything, is an insult to the spirit of our agreement.”

Charlie looked at Alastor with polite attentiveness. “Ok. Mutual respect is key. So…what does this have to do with safe words, again?”

“It means you are thinking about the power you hold over me irrationally. I am not only a powerful weapon in your arsenal. I am a symbol. Sooner or later, the rumors of my…my oath of fealty…will reach the furthest corners of the Seven Circles. Every power in Hell will be paying close attention to you, Charlie.”

“Really? Maybe we can tell them about the Hazbin Hotel rehab program!”

Alastor waved a hand, “Yes, yes, helping people. Sugar, spice, and all things saccharine. But my point is, if you want to make the proper impression on a demon overlord, you have to speak to them in a language they understand.”

“English? French? Spanish?”

Alastor slapped the back of his hand against his palm. “Fear. Power. Brute force. The only language they understand is strength. So, if word ever got out of this…ahem, this nonsense about the spanking, it would damage your credibility.”

“Don’t worry about that Alastor. I have no political aspirations. I just want you to feel like you’re being shown the respect you deserve.”

“Grand. Then lets talk about torture. Say I displease you. If you want to make a proper example of a servant, the punishment for failure must be steep. Degradation. Torture. Death. You must be absolutely ruthless with me, or you aren’t showing me the respect I deserve. People must speak of my fate in hushed voices, so that my triumphant return to power will be all the more grand.”

Charlie nodded. “Got it. So, I’m like, your football coach, who’s gotta be really tough on you, and make you memorize the whole playbook, but that’s okay, because we still respect each other, and you want someone to give you that push you need to kick ass on the field.”

“That is…directionally correct. So…when you punish me…I want you to be creative. I don’t want you to stop, just because I beg you to stop, because I will not beg.”

“Um…but if you do beg me to stop?”

“If that happened, which it won’t, then it would be your right to inflict still greater torture upon me, as punishment for my disgusting weakness. Be grusome, Charlie. Be outrageous. But for the love of God, please don’t treat me like I’m a naughty child.”

Charlie swallowed. “Gosh, Alastor. This is pretty heavy stuff. You’re asking a lot of me. You want, like, actual torture?”

“Of course I don’t want to be tortured. The point is that nothing less than torture will suffice for a demon overlord. It’s a matter of saving face, for both of us. And that means absolutely no safe words.”

Charlie shook her head. “Sorry, Alastor. I understand this reputation stuff is really important to you. But I’m the boss, and I say safe words are non-negotiable. Even if it’s only for emergencies. If it makes you feel better, you can pick another one. Is there something you can think of that means ‘stop,’ but…sounds cooler when you say it?”

Alastor groaned. “If you insist…‘Spare me.’ Simple, direct, elegant enough to the ear.”

Charlie pointed to her skull. “That’ll work. Ding! I made a mental note. Now I’ll never forget it! Now, about this torture stuff…what are your limits.”

“I have no limits. My willpower is greater than any physical obstacle. You want to put me in my place, Charlie Morningstar? Then be creative. Just imagine the things I was going to do to you, and unleash that on me, ten fold.”

Charlie blew out a long, whistling breath. “Okay. Your safe word is ‘Spare me,’ but I’ve got to be really tough, and not hold back. Basically, I have to come up with the absolute, most bananas torture that’s ever been devised for you, or I’m not showing you the proper respect you need to feel valued as my friend? Are you sure that’s what you want…er, I mean, what you need?”

“Yes. It’s what my pride demands.”

Charlie stood up, nearly eye-to-eye with Alastor. “Okay, Alastor. I’ll try my best.”

Then, Charlie snapped her fingers, and with a poof, Alastor’s clothes transformed into a 1920s sailor boy outfit. As he noticed the suit, Alastor’s smile vanished, if only for a single second.

Charlie snapped her finger toward her mirror and dresser, holding her nose high. “Alastor, I’m so disappointed in you. You have been a very naughty little boy, and now you have to be punished. You march your tail straight over to the dresser, and fetch me the wooden hairbrush. I’m going to spank you, right on your little, bare bottom!”

Alastor’s eyes twitched. “What are you doing?”

Charlie put her hands on her hips. “I’m doing my duty. I may not be your mother, Alastor, but as long as you live under my roof, I’ll treat you like I would my own son. And that means, I’ll spank you, as often as I have to, when you need it.”

Then Charlie held her hand up to whisper, as if she were a ham actress in a Broadway musical theater production. “Psst, Alastor, that’s your cue!”

“But I don’t want you to spank me!”

Immediately, Charlie got back into character as a firm maternal figure. “Well, too bad! You should have thought of that before you misbehaved. No one wants to play games with a sore loser, who cheats to win!”

“But I didn’t cheat!”

Charlie held up a hand, then gestured to the broken remains of the table and chairs. “No more excuses! We both know you have this coming. And just look at the mess you made. Do you feel proud of yourself? Throwing a childish temper tantrum, at your age?”

“Hold on–that was–”

Charlie put a hand on Alastor’s shoulder, and reached around to pop him one across the seat of his pants. “No more stalling. If you want to be a big boy, then be brave, and take your spanking.”

Alastor yelped, and shielded his bottom as he hopped into the air. “Eep! But…you can’t do this to me!” 

As Alastor rounded on Charlie, his scars and stitches slowly began to reappear. “I won’t allow it…I will not be…mocked!”

Charlie stood her ground, seemingly unbothered by Alastor’s unsettling form. “Alastor? Do you need to use your safe word? Remember, it’s ‘Spare me!’”

Alastor blinked, and his form returned to normal. “What? No! You’re still on that? Haven’t you listened to a word I’ve said?”

Charlie nodded. “Yup! I learned my lesson about not listening to you during the Riddle Game. You said that you need me to think of the most twisted, evil form torture I could possibly think of, and be absolutely merciless, or it would be an insult to your dignity. And you also said that, whatever I do, I should not treat you like a child who still needs spankings, because that would be an insult to your dignity. So, the best way for me to torture you, and not insult your dignity, is to treat you like a child who still needs spankings.”

“But that’s an insult to my dignity!”

“Exactly! It’s the single worst torture I can imagine up for you. (That’s why you need the safe word, see.)”

“I don’t need a safe word!”

Charlie wiped her brow. “Phew, okay. In that case…That does it! You just earned yourself a second spanking! And if I have to drag you across my knee, I promise it will be much, much worse for you! Last chance to shape up, little mister. I want you to grow up to be an honorable man, and that means you have to learn to take responsibility. Go on Alastor. You know exactly what you need to do. Be a brave boy, and bring me the hairbrush.”

At the mention of the word “honorable” Alastor froze, and he finally comprehended his situation. In order to preserve his pride as a demon…he would have to sacrifice his pride as a man. In all his time in Hell, it had never occurred to him that the two distinct prides could ever be in conflict with one another. Alastor stood to his full height, and made his decision. But he had already made his decision long ago: he was not a man, he was a demon. 

Alastor found his smile again. “Very well. I’ll play along.”

With a graceful turn on his heels, Alastor tried his best to stride to the dresser, but as he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, he couldn’t help but notice the dramatic effect was destroyed by his boyish sailor suit.

Ripping open the top drawer, Alastor snatched up the wooden hairbrush, and stomped to face Charlie, who had taken her seat on the side of the bed again. As Charlie held out her hand, Alastor let the hair brush drop with a careless flick of his wrist. Charlie had to scramble to catch it, and narrowly avoided fumbling it. Alastor’s eyes popped open for a moment, before she put on her serious face. “Shame on you, Alastor. That was very impolite. I already gave you your last warning. Now, I’m afraid I’ll have to be strict with you.”

Charlie snapped her fingers, and with a poof, Alastor’s sailor suit and undergarments disappeared, though at least he still had his birthday suit. Alastor quickly covered his front, before Charlie snatched his wrists and stood to face him. “Nope. Hands behind your head.”

Feeling the full truth of his nakedness, Alastor concentrated on his smile. It was his last defense, but it was the only one he needed. 

Charlie sat back down, then smoothed the fabric of her trad-wife dress and apron across her lap. “Okay, Alastor. Why do I have to give you a spanking?”

“To torture me.” 

“Wrong answer. I’ve been thinking about one of your riddles…the one about the man, who killed and ate people. Who was he, really?”

“That was a hypothetical.”

“Was it merely a hypothetical? Or was it based on a true story?”

“My story was inspired by real events. The Axeman of New Orleans. I have an academic interest in historical serial killers. It’s a hobby.”

“Tell me the whole truth, Alastor. Were you a serial killer, before you died?”

“Yes. I broke Jack the Ripper’s record, you know?”

“And are you sorry, for what you did to those people?”

“...I refuse to answer this question, as a matter of principle.”

“What principle?”

“Mine own, and no one else’s.”

“So be it, Alastor. I won’t make you say more. Are you sorry for anything you did today? The way you acted during the game with me and Vaggie?”

“I’m sorry I lost.” 

“I see. I can’t change how you feel inside, Alastor. But maybe I can help you feel some of the hurt you inflict on other people, at least on the outside.”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you Charlie?”

“Nope. I don’t enjoy this one bit. But I’ve been doing some thinking. Whether or not “the man from your riddle” is sorry for what he did…there’s still a price to pay for what he did.”

“And a paltry spanking is supposed to act as that penalty? It changes nothing, Charlie.”

“Maybe it doesn’t. It certainly doesn’t undo any of the hurt you’ve caused. But maybe it gets you thinking a bit harder about your choices. So that if we ever do find a way to save sinners from hell…you’ll actually be ready to listen.” 

Charlie patted her lap firmly. “I’m going to have you lie across my lap this time. I won’t be able to pin you down if you struggle. So you’ll have to be a good boy, hold still, and take your licks. Bottoms up, young man.”

Alastor crawled onto the bed, then lay across Charlie’s lap. He found it strangely…soft. “Do you worst, Charlie Morningstar.”

Charlie raised the hairbrush high. “No, Alastor. I’m going to do my best.”

As Charlie brought down the hairbrush with a shuddering crack, she was immediately impressed by the difference the weight of the hairbrush made. She could actually see how it sank deeper into Alastor’s taught gluteus maximus than her hand ever could.

Alastor focused his mind. To resist torture, a determined spirit can create a mental picture: an imaginary palace of the mind, where pain does not exist. 

Of course, the brain still senses the painful impulses. But the deeper you go inside the mind palace, the more distant that pain seems to be. That pain is happening to someone, certainly. There is no denying it exists, in some sense. It just doesn’t exist for you. Not inside your world, at least.

In Alastor’s mind palace, he sat on a throne of blood, his long-lost black wings fully restored, and spread wide to cast a shadow over an infinite field of skulls.

The result of this was, from Charlie’s perspective, she seemed to be hammering Alastor’s buttocks with absolute savagery, yet he was not only quiet, but seemed to lie unnaturally still. Though the ripples of the impacts traveled through his buttocks, he didn’t so much as clench his glutes reflexively.

Charlie glanced at the back of Alastor’s head, then back at her main target, trying to focus on using the full motion of her arm. She thought of Vaggie’s endless training sessions in mixed martial arts and weapons fighting, and found herself suddenly grateful. This was a workout.

Inside Charlie’s inner world, her mind palace, things were a bit different. Charlie’s mind palace was full of fluffy puppies, kitties, and bunny rabbits. But she also had built up a solid library of music, art, and literature. In Charlie’s mind palace, she was pacing nervously around her room, catastrophizing. “Agh! What’s going on? Why do I suck at this? I’m such a wussy! I’ll never be able to get this Hotel to work! Who am I kidding? No one respects me!”

Suddenly, her dad, Lucifer Morningstar, fell out of the closet, buried in a pile of rubber duckies. Her dad sat up, spat out a rubber, and raced over to hold her hand. This was about as high as he could reach when he wanted to give her a comforting gesture, given that Charlie had gained a full foot on him during her last growth spurt. “Charlie! Baby! Honey! Don’t you ever give up.”

“Daddy? What were you doing in my closet?”

“Counting the ducks. But, look, Char, now that I’m finally out of the closet, we need to talk. I know we disagree about this whole hotel project of yours, but if you believe in it, then I want you to give it your absolute best shot, because it’s your mission. Just…just remember: not everyone wants to be saved, okay?”

“Wow! Thanks, Dad. Got any more fatherly advice for me?”

“Always tip your waiters. And remember, if you ever feel like you screwed up, just think of how your old man is directly responsible for introducing sin to the world, thereby making me indirectly-but-still-morally responsible for every single act of depravity and moral atrocity committed in human history…But as long as I know you’re out there, kicking ass, I know there’s at least one good thing in this crazy, mixed-up world of ours, that I didn’t manage to screw up.”

Charlie wiped away a tear from her eye. “I…I really appreciate that, Dad.”

Lucier opened the door of Charlie’s bedroom door, oblivious of the infinite void he was about to step into. “I love you, Apple Pie. I’m going to go count more ducks. I think I spotted a few of the buggers hiding in the bathroom.” 

Charlie reached to stop her dad, but could only manage to grab onto his styling top hat. “No, Dad! Wait! You wandered into my mind palace again!”

Lucifer Morningstar howled as he dropped like a stone, along with a cartoon whistling noise that lasted for a full twelve seconds, until he slammed against the bottom of the bottomless void with a resounding thwack. “...I’m okay!”

Charlie snapped out of her mind palace, and understood. Of course! She had a job to do, and whining about it wouldn’t help. And even if she did screw everything up, at least she could try her best to make things right. And the only way to do that…was to take Alastor down a notch. But even at that moment, Charlie wasn’t angry. After all, Alastor was the only Demonic Overlord who’d ever volunteered to help her in her mission to help others.

As Charlie delivered the next resounding thwack, Alastor felt a jolt. And within his mind palace, something knocked him off his dark throne, and flat onto his face, ass in the air. “Huh, that sounded like it hurt someone. Welp, sucks to be him. Lucky for me, reality is only an illusion, which the small-minded seek to impose upon my–”

Another smack of the hairbrush snapped Alastor back to reality, his mind palace crumbling. “Shit!” screamed Alastor.

Pinning down Alastor’s waist with her free hand, Charlie delivered four ferocious spanks in quick succession, with perfect follow through on each swing. “Don’t! Use! Naughty! Words!”

Alastor’s head jerked as he keenly felt each smack. “Ow, ow, ooow, ow!” 

His mind racing, Alastor twisted to look at Charlie, only to see the hairbrush come crashing down on him like a crashing wave from the Noahic flood. Alastor flinched, reflexively looking forward and shutting his eyes tight. “That’s enough! You’ve made your point!”

Charlie shook her head, and carried on the spanking without skipping a beat. “Are you sorry?”

“No! No I’m not!”

“Spanking’s not over then!”

Alastor snarled as he felt another swat. “You can’t make me feel remorse!”

“Maybe not, but I’ll settle for making you feel sorry. Or feel sore, at the very least.”

Alastor tried to concentrate his breathing, but without the mind palace, he knew that would only buy him a few minutes of steady pain. Alastor had learned one thing about torture: the torturer always wins in the end. Both the body and mind were delicate, breakable objects. He had already resigned himself to that fate before his torment began. But his mind palace had been his key: his spirit would not be broken, at the very least.

Alastor hissed. “I’m not sorry!”

But Charlie only carried on spanking. “Okay.”

“I will never be sorry!”

“You don’t know that. Forever is a long time.”

“There’s no point to this! There’s no point to anything!”

“I don’t think you really believe that. Like, maybe you say it, because you really think it sounds deep. But you don’t act like a person who thinks there’s no point to anything you do. I kind of got the impression you had some sort of big mission you were working towards. Is that pointless too?”

Alastor slammed his fists into the mattress. “Maybe it is pointless. But if I want my life to be a pointless pursuit of power, purely for its own sake, then it’s still my choice!”

“Okay. But if you ask me, it kind of seems like a whole lot of work to do a whole lot of nothing. Do you remember your safe word? It’s–”

“Spare me your lectures!”

Charlie paused the spanking. “Oh, crap! That’s the safe word!”

Alastor’s head shot up. “What? No! I’m not begging you for mercy. I will not grovel!”

Still holding the hairbrush high, Charlie shrugged her shoulders slightly. “Okay.”

Then Charlie started spanking again. Taken off guard, Alastor roared, then slammed his face against the mattress. “This proves nothing! Your Hotel cannot work, Charlie. It’s all pointless!”

 

“Maybe it is all pointless. But on the slim chance it isn’t all pointless, I’m gonna keep trying, until I see if there’s a point at the end. Are you sorry yet? My arm’s starting to get pretty tired.”

Alastor’s voice melted into sobs, and he pummelled his fists and feet against the mattress. “I’m not sorry! I’m not, I’m not, I’m not!”

Slowing her pace slightly, Charlie landed three particularly hard whacks to the center of Alastor’s buttocks, before switching back to her original relentless pace, and concentrating on his upper thighs. “Well, I can’t make you sorry.”

“Just stop! If you know you can’t change me then just stop!”

“You’re safe word is, ‘Spare me!’”

“I will not break!”

“I’m not trying to break you, Alastor. I’m trying to help you. This is why we needed it. I need to be a stern maternal figure, so that means I’m supposed to spank you until I think you’re really sorry. But if you’re not sorry, then your only other out is the safe word.”

“What? There’s no end? That’s insane!”

“We made a deal, Alasor, and your terms were very clear. I don’t know whether you’re my friend, or whether you’re my enemy, but either way, I still respect you…even when you behave like a naughty little boy.”

Alastor screeched, his voice growing shaky. “Aaagh! Y-You call this…respect?”

“No, I call this, ‘Getting your just desserts.’ You’ve hurt a lot of people, Alastor. How do you think your actions make them feel?”

“I know exactly how my actions make other people feel. I don’t care how they feel. It’s my choice to hurt them. That’s why I do it.”

“Then why don’t you make other choices?”

“Because I don’t want to!”

“...Okay.” Charlie carried on spanking for a few seconds, then expertly switched her grip on the hairbrush, using the bristled-side to carry on at the same blinding pace.

Alastor squealed as he felt the strange new sensation. It didn’t hurt as much. Rationally, he understood the reason why, right down to the physics. The bristles were a softer material. More yield, less yowchiness. 

Yet somehow, the prickle bristles felt worse, and deep in his guts, Alastor felt something go tight. He felt so painfully childish.

And then, Alastor felt tears starting to build in his eyes. “No, Charlie! No, no, no, no, nooooo!”

He writhed and squirmed atop Charlie’s lap. If he’d tried to struggle earlier, he might well have broken free of Charlie’s hold, but he’d burned through most of his energy already. Charlie paused for only a moment, to get a firm grip on Alastor’s back, guiding her knee up to let him bounce up and right back down into place where she needed him, and carried on the spanking. “Yes, Alastor. Yes, yes, yes!”

“Just stop it! Stop, stop, stop! Please!”

“Either say you’re sorry, or use your safe word. ‘Spare me,’”

Alastor hissed, then spat to avoid saying the safe word by mistake. “Sss! Sp…sptt!”

Charlie landed a hard clap across the center of both butt cheeks, which had suffered the most damage by far. “Hey! Don’t spit! That’s bad manners, buster!”

“Fuck you!” 

“As soon as we’re through with the spanking, I’ll have to wash your mouth out with soap.”

“I’m not sorry! So I won’t say it!”

“What if you were just a little bit sorry? Could you say it then?”

“For what?”

“I dunno. For killing innocent people?”

“No one is innocent! You, of all people, should understand that.”

“You know what I mean. Killing people who hadn’t done anything to you. Sure, maybe they did some bad things to other people. Maybe they were downright nasty. But who gave you the right to decide if they live or die?”

“I did! I determine my truth!”

“So, can someone just decide to kill you?”

“If they can, then let them!”

“See, this is why I started the Hotel. That attitude is exactly what needs to get fixed. And if I can fix your attitude, maybe I can help fix other people.”

“You can’t just fix people Charlie! That’s the mantra of every battered housewife. ‘I can fix him!’ ‘I love him!’ ‘I deserve to be hit!’ That’s what you’re doing!”

“To be honest, I kinda feel more like the wife-beater in this situation? I was really guilt-tripping about it at first, but I’ve got to say, my views on corporal punishment are evolving.”

“Just end it, Charlie! I won’t break! You can’t win…you can’t…” Alastor’s head slowly slumped to the mattress, and he started to weep freely.

Charlie carried on for another few moments, before gradually slowing down. Finally, she stopped, and let Alastor sob, his tears staining the sheets beneath his face. “Are you sorry, Alastor? For anything you’ve done?”

Alastor snuffled. “I…I’m sorry for damaging your Mother’s tea table, Charlie. That was…ungallant on my part.”

Charlie glanced at the table. “Hmm. I was pretty ticked at you for that before. Well, we haven’t managed to convince you that, ‘Murder is bad.’ But I suppose we have to start somewhere. Up you get, Alastor.”

As Charlie lifted him up and sat him down across her thigh, Alastor quickly covered his exposed manhood with both his cupped hands. Alastor flinched as he felt his weight rest on his aching hindquarters, and unconsciously rocked his head to rest on Charlie’s shoulder. 

Charlie hugged Alastor, and wrapped her arm around the back of his head, to pat him right behind his drooping, fox-like ears. “There, there. Spanking is all over. In the future, I hope you decide to be a good little boy. But if you forget, you’re going right back across my knee for a reminder.”

His eyes fluttered open, and he whimpered. “You’re…you’re not through with me?”

Charlie shook her head. “Of course not. I’m not giving up on you, Alastor…Oh, you mean am I through spanking you? I think we’re good for today, don’t you?”

“I…I…I can’t bear this, Charlie. I’m not a little boy! It’s not the pain…it’s…it’s my…”

“It’s your pride! That was the deal, remember? Do you want to back out? I won’t judge you.”

“No! I can’t back out! It’s a matter…of honor. I can’t admit defeat.”

“Sure you can. What was all that about you choosing your own way, and stuff? Just choose to be okay with being a loser.” 

Alastor whinged, fresh tears spilling down his face. “But…I’m not a loser!”

“I’m not calling you a loser, Alastor. I’m saying you should want to be a loser. I’m saying you should be okay with being a loser, for now. It doesn’t have to be forever. And if doing this makes you feel like a loser, you can stop any time.”

“H-how?”

Charlie beamed. “By admitting you’re a coward, and chickening out of our deal…or by being a good little boy! See? You always have a choice! Now, stand up. Hands behind your head.”

To his shame, Alastor felt his knees shaking as he stood, and he blushed as he uncovered his front. 

Immediately, Charlie turned her face away, and with a snap of her fingers, Alastor’s sailor suit reappeared. Alastor glimpsed to examine his new suit, and discovered to his chagrin that his boy-shorts were barely enough to cover his behind. 

Charlie clapped her hands, as if dusting them off. “Okay, last matter of business. I promised to wash your mouth out with soap. Since you were kind of a brat during your first spanking, I think I’d better add a time out too. Hopefully the message will sink in, and we won’t have to repeat this any time soon.”

“W-what message?”

“That you don’t just get to do whatever you want, to whoever you want. Or rather, you sure can try, but don’t complain when they respond accordingly. I didn’t like having to do that, Alastor…but…you literally asked for it. Huh. I am starting to sound like a wife-beater, aren’t I?”

“Y-you…I’ll get you for this…seven years isn’t that long, Charlie…and when I’m free…”

Charlie nodded. “What is freedom, Alastor?”

Alastor tried to steady his breath. “To serve no one else.”

Charlie stroked her chin. “Hmm. Sorry, Alastor. I’m not satisfied with that answer. But, we’re in a rush, so we’ll have to cut the philosophical side of this discussion short…Hey, waitaminnit…”

Charlie fumbled in the pocket of her apron, and pulled out a bar of Angel-brand soap. “Aw, sweet! You really do think of everything! I feel like I would be the world’s best stay-at-home mom just by wearing this thing!”

Taking a step back, Alastor shook his head as Charlie approached him with the soap bar. Charlie held it up to his eyes. “Alastor, be a brave boy. I know you can do it.”

Alastor stared at Charlie’s throat. As his smile slowly returned, he imagined sinking his teeth into her neck. But as he looked into her eyes, his hungry smile changed. Finally, he looked a little like his old, sarcastic self again. “Yes, Mommy.”

Charlie pressed the soap bar against his lips. “Ahem. Open wide!”

Alastor pouted, before finally opening his mouth to accept the soap bar. Charlie pointed to the corner of the room. “Now put yourself in time out. Face in the corner…Hmm…and one last thing.” 

Charlie snapped her fingers, and Alastor’s short sailor pants were yanked down, as if by two invisible hands, to just below his bottom. Charlie examined her work, and whistled. “Phew! That’s definitely going to leave a mark. I’m sorry, Alastor. I think I was a little too hard on you.”

Alastor tried to speak, but the soap bar muffled his words. “Noo-moo-weermpht.”

Charlie blinked, then snapped her fingers. “What’s that? Hold on…Go ahead, Alastor.”

The soap bar popped out of Alastor’s mouth, and hovered in midair, menacingly. “...No you weren’t…I deserve far worse…”

“Well, I choose to show you mercy. Anyway, I’m going to try and rally a few more people to stop the extermination…maybe practice my speech? Gosh, I hate crowds. I’m trusting you to put yourself in timeout, Alastor. I’d say about…fifteen minutes, tops? If only we had a timer…oh, hey! Check it!”

Charlie spotted the hourglass amidst the wreckage of the table, but something was off. It was fully restored to its original, perfect state. Charlie spun the hourglass, and giggled as she watched it float in mid air. “You were right, Alastor. This thing is unbreakable…woah, so cool. Okay, two turns of this, and you’re out of timeout. I guess I’ll let you off with just twelve minutes. Think hard about the person you want to be, okay. Maybe you choose to be an evil son of a bitch after your seven years of service ends, but whatever you choose…I just want you to remember that you had a choice.”

Alastor stared in horror as the hourglass floated, then came to rest in the corner, right in front of his face. No matter which way he turned, he couldn’t escape it. He would be forced to watch every individual grain of sand, counting down the seconds of his imprisonment.

Then the door of Charlie’s room slammed open, and the rest of the Hazbin Hotel gang appeared, led by the femboy spider-demon, Angeldust. “Charlie? Vaggie just ran out of the hotel, wearing a dress and an apron! What the fuck is going…on?”

Angeldust trailed off as he spotted Charlie, admiring a bare-bottomed Alastor in the corner. “Hi, Angel! We’ve got a plan. We are canceling the apocalypse. Alastor, when your time out is done, come find me. I’ll need you in my corner if I’m ever going to master the art of public speaking.”

Angeldust watched Charlie race past him, out the door, then down the hall. Angel dust smirked as he glanced at Alastor. “Nice ass, Alastor. That color really suits you.”

As the rest of the members of Charlie’s squad charged after her, Alastor watched another singular grain of sand tumble from the hourglass.

“This…This is Hell…” thought Alastor.

The End?