PAN on the studio. It is fairly large, with shiny blue floor, colourful lights and windows on Chicago’s tall buildings. It is not a paint or a picture: it is the real thing. On the right, a jazz band is ready to play; on the left, the host and the guests’ entrance, in form of a four feet tall small golden door much like Alice in Wonderland’s; in the centre stand two armchairs and a small round table in between. Approximately five hundred people sit in the stands facing the stage. Cameras everywhere. Cables, technicians, stage directors and assistants.

ANNOUNCER (pompous, in arena-style): Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the man who has finally found its stolen DNA samples but has been disappointed because they had been altered... Mister Harry Jennings!

(Music: the show’s main theme)

Enter Harry Jennings, hands behind his back.

HARRY: Good night everyone.

(Cheers and screams from the crowd.)

HARRY: Thank you. Thank you. Welcome to the second show of The Private Life of Hollywood Youngsters. Actually, my DNA looked intact, but as I re-inserted it into me some weird collateral effects showed up.

He shows his hands to the crowd: the left one is not there!

(Intense laughter and some surprised screams and exclamations from the crowd.)

HARRY: This is SO weird. You can’t imagine how many things I did with the left.

(Laughter.)

HARRY: Well, I guess I’m going to have to spank Dakota with the right hand... oh, yeah I forgot! Here she comes: last week’s Dare the Truth game loser, miss Dakota Fanning

(Cheers.)

Enter Dakota, waving timidly at the crowd. She wears a yellow one-piece dancing leotard covering her whole body from neck to toes. Her face and blond hair are free and she is smiling shyly. She reaches Harry and they shake hands, then he kisses her forehead.

HARRY: Hi, sweetheart. Thanks for coming back.

DAKOTA: Hi.

HARRY: As you all know, Dakota has played in our first Dare the Truth game last week, but lost out to a clever Haley Joel Osment.

(Cheers.)

HARRY: And now, as stated by the game’s rules, Dakota’s penance is a spanking. Allow me to introduce the real Mr. Flogmaster!

Accompanied by the crowd’s cheers, enters a white-bearded, Santa-looking old man. It is the human counterpart of the computer-animated figure we have seen as the arbiter in last week’s show. He is dressed in typical British headmaster clothes: black robes, hat, mid-arm sleeves… and a very thin bamboo cane in his hand. He slowly walks to Harry and Dakota, saluting the crowd with the free hand as he advances.

HARRY: Hello, Mr. Flogmaster. Welcome to the show.

MR. FLOGMASTER: My pleasure, Mister Jennings. Quite a nice circus you run here.

HARRY: Well, thank you... I think.

(Laughter.)

HARRY: Do you already know Dakota?

MR. FLOGMASTER: Sure, sure. (He stares down at the girl, who looks intimidated by his presence.) Miss Fanning and my counterpart have met last week, didn’t they?

DAKOTA: Yes, sir.

MR. FLOGMASTER: And, speak, girl: what did Floggy tell it would happen to the players who lose the game?

DAKOTA: They... er... they get a spanking.

(All lights on, heavy music starts: the writing "The Flogmaster’s Office" flashes against the studio’s background.)

MR. FLOGMASTER: Does this remind you of anything, Miss Fanning?

DAKOTA: No...

MR. FLOGMASTER: This means you’ve never been spanked in school.

DAKOTA: Actually, no.

MR. FLOGMASTER: Pity. But this is a thing I have the remedy for.

He shows the cane, tapping it on his flat left hand right in front of Dakota’s wide open eyes.

DAKOTA: Oh, dear. Er... I just remembered I have a date with...

MR. FLOGMASTER: With the cane, Miss Fanning, with the cane.

(Laughter.)

DAKOTA: Oh, no... How many?

MR. FLOGMASTER: Harry?

HARRY: Yes. You are eight years old... no, eight and a half, as you are so keen to remind us every time we speak of it.

(Laughter.)

HARRY: So, you will get double your age minus the points you have scored in the game. How did she lose, Mr. Flogmaster?

MR. FLOGMASTER: She was beaten 4 to 3.

HARRY: Fine. So it’s seventeen strikes minus three. A full fourteen with the cane, Dakota.

DAKOTA: Oh, god...

HARRY: Now, don’t worry. This is not going to be a regular spanking, after all.

DAKOTA: A spanking is a spanking, no matter what.

MR. FLOGMASTER: I do fully agree. Please, assume the position.

He points at an armchair, the one for the guest, and motions Dakota towards it. Harry follows close by, watching carefully. Dakota moves slowly, uncertain, surely embarrassed: she knows this is still a game, and that although the cane will hurt a bit it will not be like a normal spanking... yet she is a bout to be bent over and punished in front of millions of TV watchers.

MR. FLOGMASTER: Please, do drape yourself over the right arm of that armchair, miss Fanning. We want the crowd and the cameras to witness this, don’t we?

DAKOTA: Sort of...

Dakota walks to the armchair and lowers herself over the right arm. Her hands barely touch the cushion, and so Harry helps her up supporting her under the armpits. Now the top of her head is lying on the seat of the armchair – face well visible to the crowd and the cameras – and her feet are well off the floor. She breathes heavily. There is silence in the studio. The tissue of her yellow leotard stretches against her skin, and her position causes her bottom to stretch well out and point skyward.

Lights are diminished on the whole stage but on the spot where Dakota is bending. Mr. Flogmaster approaches the spankee and positions himself to her left side, can in his right hand, facing the crowd. Harry quietly retires in the background and then addresses the crowd.

HARRY: Please be silent, ladies and gentlemen. We don’t want to lose this one.

MR. FLOGMASTER: Count aloud, Miss Fanning.

(Absolute silence. Then drums start rolling.)

Dakota turns around to see what happens, and right in that moment…

(WHACK!)

Mr. Flogmaster raises the cane about 2 feet from Dakota’s upturned rump and then swings it down. The first stroke lashes her buttocks horizontally, and Dakota bobs up her head, more in surprise than in real pain: it was a very mild smack and everyone realises that.

DAKOTA: One.

Again, Mr. Flogmaster charges the hit and SMACKS! it down on the child’s bottom

DAKOTA: Two.

HARRY: Only eleven more to go.

Third lash…

(WHACK!)

… and third count:

DAKOTA: Three. Ouch! This is starting to hurt.

MR. FLOGMASTER: Relax, my girl. Mr. Flogmaster knows what is good for you. (To the crowd:) Doesn’t he?

CROWD: Yes!

MR. FLOGMASTER: Let us all count aloud, then.

(WHACK!)

DAKOTA & CROWD: Four!

(SPANK!)

DAKOTA & CROWD: Five!

(WHAP!)

DAKOTA & CROWD: Six!

(WHIP!)

DAKOTA & CROWD: Seven!

DAKOTA (smiling, but also in some distress:) Ouch... this is not funny.

HARRY: We’re halfway through, Dakota.

DAKOTA: Is this supposed to be good news?

(Laughter.)

(SPANK!)

DAKOTA & CROWD: Eight!

DAKOTA: Oww...

(WHIP!)

DAKOTA & CROWD: Nine!

HARRY: How does it feel?

DAKOTA: What do you think? My bum hurts!

(SPANK!)

DAKOTA & CROWD: Ten!

MR. FLOGMASTER: "It is just the good share...

(WHACK!)

DAKOTA & CROWD: Eleven!

MR. FLOGMASTER:... and thank god it’s not bare!"

(Laughter.)

(SPANK!)

DAKOTA & CROWD: Twelve!

(SPANK!! This was harder than the previous ones.)

DAKOTA & CROWD: Thirteen!

DAKOTA: Ahii... please, it hurts...

(WHACK!! Even harder, but it’s over.)

DAKOTA & CROWD: Fourteen!

DAKOTA: Owww... that’s all, it’s through!

MR. FLOGMASTER: Yes, yes, child. We are finished.

Dakota raises from the armchair and starts the very amusing "dance of the well-spanked little girl", hopping up and down like a rabbit and massaging her nates. The cameras spot her from all angles, showing her petite bottom as she grabs it and tries to rub off the sting. Actually hers was not a real spanking, and her bottom is far from being well-punished, but after all she is just eight (and a half!) and this is still a fake punishment for a fake offence.

HARRY: Very good! Congratulations, Dakota, you took it better than I expected.

DAKOTA: Another compliment, I s’ppose.

HARRY: Yes, it really was.

MR. FLOGMASTER: I think I have done my job.

HARRY: Indeed. Thank you very much, Mr. Flogmaster. Be sure to join us next week for the next loser in out Dare the Truth game.

MR. FLOGMASTER: I certainly will. Good night!

(Cheers from the crowd.)

He walks off the stage, swinging the cane up and down as he leaves. Harry and Dakota stay behind.

HARRY: So...

DAKOTA: Yeah. I guess I’m gonna practice Dare the Truth when I get home.

(Intense laughter.)

HARRY: This was the best of them all, ladies and gentlemen. A big applause for Dakota Fanning!

(Loud cheers.)

DAKOTA: Bye.

(Dakota walks out.)

HARRY: And while Dakota is off to cool her poor arse with some soda can...

(Laughter.)

HARRY:... we switch to commercials. We’ll be back in a few with amazing guests! Don’t miss us.

FADE TO COMMERCIAL

THE END

This story does not necessarily represent the author’s point of view about anything. It is simply a work of fiction. The characters herein portrayed are invented and do not resemble reality to the best of the author’s knowledge. This account is entirely fictitious. Any similarities to other persons, living or deceased, is purely coincidental.

This story is written for the sane amusement of adult readers. It does not intend harm and does not promote violence of any kind, including spanking. No offence is meant to any group, ethnicity or individuals. In particular no offence is meant to Dakota Fanning!

The author does in no way endorse the non-consensual disciplinary spanking of actual children and/or teenagers.

Copyright © 2004 Haley Brimley. Contact for information and/or feedback.