The drumroll was followed by an off-stage announcer who enthusiastically announced:
        “And hereeeeeeeeeeeessss  . . . .    SPANKY!”
          With the teleprompter blinking applause the television studio audience of some forty or so stood and gave a prolonged and resounding applause.
          “Thank you thank you thank you.  And welcome to Spankland!”
          The applause continued unabatedly.
          “Thank you.  Please.  Please, folks:  Let’s give a spanking-good welcome to our co-host, RUTH-LESS!”
          Out walked a woman far taller than Spanky, in costume.  One never knew just how Ruthless would appear, but tonight she was the cat-woman, dressed from head to the toes of her four-inch high heels in black rubber which included a face mask with large whiskers.  The high heels of course added even more height to what was already a tall woman.
          CRACK  -  POP.  She snapped her long black bullwhip.
          That silenced the studio audience.
          She walked to the edge of the stage and with the professionalism of a circus star and  swung the bullwhip out over the audience.  CRACK – POP    CRACK--POP.
          She stopped and spoke.  That she was miked just like Spanky made her voice carry throughout the studio.
          “MEOW”
          “Meow   meow   meow,” responded the audience, as per the teleprompter’s flashing prom
         “The one and only, RUTHLESS!”
          In a flash the cat-woman yanked off her mask.
          Without any real need to be prompted, the studio audience gave her a round of applause which equaled the one that it had just given Spanky.
          Around the world people settled in in front of their TV sets.  Though the show came on at 10:00 pm, USA eastern, it mattered not to vast spanking fetish enthusiasts everywhere the show was permitted to be aired.  
          4:00 am being a bit early for the Brits, they would set their sets to automatically record it.  And where it wasn’t, intellectual property pirates would smuggle in DVD recordings. 
          Of course The Spanking Channel was a premium channel that one had to pay a monthly fee to watch.  That was because it was considered adult entertainment by many prudish governments who didn’t want the kiddies to watch.  The government of the central Asian country of Kiquizebetha totally banned it.  That really wasn’t a big deal though as the only television broadcasting station in the country had a strength which limited its broadcasting range to about ten city blocks.
          “Ruthless; who is our first spankee this evening?  I know the audience is just dying to know.”
          “Spanky, first up tonight is Jessica from Cleveland.  But first a short commercial break.  Don’t touch that remote.  You don’t want to miss seeing little Jessica get her spanking.  And I know you don’t want to piss off cat-woman.”   CRACK  -  POP
           With a sigh the studio audience turned to the large screen monitor.
          “Folks, are you having trouble sitting after your whippings?  Do you find yourself too scared even to sit?  Do you worry about those nasty blisters bursting and soiling your clothes with blister scum-juice?  Well, worry no more.”
          “Blister-Cream comes in hermetically sealed packets.  There is a size for the little ones.  Another size for those naughty grammar school boys and girls.  Adolescent and adult sizes are of course available in abundance.  And for those momma-mia size asses, we have shipping packages so large that we can’t even call them packets.”
          “Blister-Cream is mailed in discrete brown packages so that no one will know that you are trying to cheat your whipper.  But if you aren’t totally satisfied, don’t be a smartass and try to return the product; nor be such a dumbass as to seek a refund.”
          “Yes, with Blister-Cream your tortured ass will feel less tortured in under an hour.  And no prescription is necessary.”
          “So why wait?  Don’t sit on your ass.  Get up and order today!  Our order takers are comfortably sitting by.”
          “Side effects may include itching and swelling and an occasional sense of impending doom.”
          “Offer void where prohibited; particularly in Kiquizebetha.”
           With the commercial break over, the teleprompter called for applause.
           In going back live the camera moved towards the stage where the silhouette of a woman and small child could be seen in the translucent isolation booth.
          “So without further ado, let’s bring Jessica out,” said Spanky.
          Out of the booth came little Jessica holding her mother’s hand.  Both wore broad smiles and waved to the studio audience as they walked towards Spanky and cat-woman and the spanking chair that had been brought out onto the stage during the commercial break.
          As Spanky leaned down to shake the little one’s hand the little girl turned and grabbed cat-woman’s tail and shook it.
         The audience loved it.
         “Now Jessica, don’t grab cat-woman’s tale.  She won’t like that. She might scratch you.”
         Cat-woman gave a cat’s hiss and presented her paws with their big claws.
         “Jessica,” scolded her mother.  “Behave.  You see why she’s here, Spanky?”
         “She’s a naughty one alright.”
         “How old are you, Jessica?”
         “Three.”
          “Are you scared to be spanked here in front of all these people?”
          “No.”
          “Do you like being spanked?”
          “No.”
          “What do you say folks?  Should Jessica get spanked?”
          “YESSSSSSSSSSSSSS”
          With a nod from Spanky the mother took a seat in the chair and pulled Jessica across her lap.  One camera moved in for a close-up of her face while another moved in for a close-up of her mother pushing up her pretty dress and pulling down her pink panties.
          spank spank  spank  spank  spank
          The little girl’s butt bounced as her mom firmly spanked one bun and then the other and so on.
          With the girl remaining quiet the spanks were clearly heard as they were picked up by a stand-alone mike placed close by the chair.
          On and on the spanking continued.  Finally the girl began to talk.
         “Okay, that’s enough mommy.  Okay mommy.  Mommie, stop.  STOP.”
          spank  spank  spank  spank  spank
          Down in the studio audience small talk could also now be heard.
         “Isn’t she sweet?”
         “Look at her little bun all jiggling and bouncing.”
         “Adorable.”
         “Just precious.”
         “Her buns are so red now they look like two tomatoes.”
         “You want to pull my tail again,” asked cat-woman as she presented it to the little girl. Then she swished it back and forth right in front of her face.
           DING
          The stop bell rung.
         “Let’s give Jessica and her mom a big hand, folks.”
          When the studio audience complied, the mom presented her bright red palms to it with a smile as one of the studio cameras zoomed in.
          The audience laughed as the woman turned and made for stage-left ringing her hands and with cat-woman holding Jessica by the hand with her whip tucked under her arm and her tail dragging behind.
          “Men; are you sick of those pill ads for erectile dysfunction?  What kind of horse shit is this erectile dysfunction anyway?  Why can’t they speak plain English and call it what it is:  Can’t get it up.  Why do they beat around the bush when all you want to do is poke into the bush?”
           “No longer will she get the last laugh when you go to poke her with her holding those ass cheeks apart that you have just belted to smithereens and all you can poke her with is a wet noodle.”
          “No, don’t be made a fool of again.  What you need is GengisX.”
          “Yes, GengisX is made of a top secret blend of herbs receipt that has been handed down through the ages.  Attila the Hun was a satisfied user.  Genghis Khan was a devoted fan, as was Mrs. Khan, Gertrude.”  
           “Now for just three easy payments of a buck seventy-five you too can get back to getting it up and getting it on with.”
          “Side effects may include headaches, constipation, diarrhea, premature ejaculation, uncontrolled cock spasms, and leprosy.  But what the hell?  Just think what you get if it were actually to work!”  
           The commercial ended with six chorus-line girls in skimpy, majorette’s attire and music.  Three were forward holding limp dildos, bending over, waving their fingers singing no no no.  Then the three from their rear passed through them holding large, upwardly curved dildos.  Once in front they spread their legs, started jerking their dildos up and down while singing yes yes yes!  The three to their rear threw their limp dildos away, back over their shoulders.
           “Spanky, who do we have next up to spank?”
           “Terry from Toledo.  Come on out, Terry.”
            Out from the translucent, back-lit isolation booth came a grammar school kid holding his father’s hand.  The father’s eager smile was not matched by that of the boy.  Stage fright, perhaps.
          “Terry, tell us a little about yourself. How old are you?”
          “Ten.  I didn’t want to come.  You see my friends back home . . .”
          “They are jealous?”
          “Jealous?  No.  I just don’t want them to see my butt naked and all.”
          “I bet they would give their bottom dollar to take your bottom place,” said cat-woman.  “You are on television.  You with your butt featured is going to be shown around the world.”
          “I don’t want my butt to be famous.  I want my butt to be left alone.”
          “And just how are you going to break into show business with that attitude?”
           “I don’t want to be in show business.  I don’t want to show off anything.”
           “Now Terry; just because we are from Toledo doesn’t mean we can’t make a breakout,” said his dad.
           “Do you know what we have on hand for ten year olds,” asked Ruthless, still wearing her cat-woman attire but with the mask and whiskers off.
           “Guess,” she ordered as she cracked her whip.
             With that Terry pissed in his pants.
           “Guess,” she commanded as she cracked her bull whip again.
           “A paddle?”
           “A paddle did you say?”
            Ruthless went to the edge of the stage and started cracking her bull whip out over the audience.  “Does this look like a paddle, folks?”
            The kid’s pants were now streaming in piss.
            Cat-woman turned and faced the boy and his father.
          “I’d say the BULL-WHIP!”
            CRACK    CRACK    CRACK
          “What say you all,” Spanky asked of the audience.  “Bull-whip him?”
          “BULL-WHIP      BULL-WHIP”
           The kid’s try to make a run for it was arrested by the cat-woman’s harmless wrap of the whip around his waist. When she pulled it back it made him spin.
           At this juncture the producer signaled Spanky to ease off.
           Ruthless gave the scared-shitless but pissed boy a hug.  Never mind that he was wet.  She was wearing all black rubber.
          “Then how about the strap?  The razor strap?  Will that do?”
          The boy nodded with encouragement and a smile.
          With that a stage hand presented the kid’s father with a rather mean looking razor strap.
          “Folks, we’ll see just how much Terry likes the razor strap after a word from our sponsor.  Don’t go away.”
          “Good people, are you having trouble with your paddles splintering and cracking as you slam them onto asses?  Well, your troubles are over.”
          “Here in the north woods of Wisconsin we have northern pines that make an absolute splendid spanking paddle that does not; will not; splinter, no matter how hard you slam it into one of your kids’ or one of your students’ or one of your spouses’ asses.  Yes, our Northern Lights line of paddles are guaranteed not to splinter and break.  But should one do so, just send us the splintered remains back and we will send you a replacement at NO COSTS, excepting materials, packaging, postage and handling.”
          “Yes, with Northern Lights you can give it your all with confidence, knowing that should you somehow manage to whack hard enough to break one that you will be covered.  Indeed, knowing that will enable you to give it more than your all, with confidence.  Smash their asses.  Bust their frigging asses.  Your spankees will just hate it – and that is why you will just love it.”
          “Call today.  Call right this very minute.  Order takers are standing by.”
          “So Terry, would you like your daddy to strap you or would you prefer the feminine touch of cat-woman wielding the strap?”
          Terry looked at the cat-woman in her all black rubber outfit and her spike-heel shoes.  She raised her cat eyebrows, smiled, and gave a meow.  “Well?”
          “I think my daddy.”
          “Are you sure?”
           With that Ruthless gave two cracks of her long bull whip.
          “I think; I think; yes; daddy.”
           The audience laughed.  Spanky laughed.  Ruthless laughed.  The Neilson TV ratings clicked up.
           “How many is Terry due, dad?”
           “His age:  Ten.”
           “Well ten it is.  But before that, a brief word from one of our sponsors.”
           “Ladies; are you tired of your old man showing his age in bed?  Let’s us help with our wonderful line of vibrators and dildos.” 
            “Yes, there is no need for you to go down that slippery slope just because he is sliding.”  
            “Rejuvenate yourself.  Come alive.  Give your life a helping hand with vibrators and dildos from dildos-galore.com.”
          (For fans of the tales of rat-tails, dildos-galore.com is in its rodent queue . . . at additional carnage but at no additional charge.)
           “Yes, bring back that sparkle; bring back that magic with a selection from our vast offerings to suit every love-aspiring lady.  You may even select a strap-on of our ‘mamma mia’ size to do unto him what he would like to do unto you, but can no longer cum to have himself do so.”
           The studio audience obediently followed the instructions of the audience prompter and applauded.
           “Welcome back,” said Spanky.
          “Just before the commercial break Terry was about to receive ten strokes of the razor strap by his dad.  Are we ready, Terry?”
          “I guess so,” he replied while bent over butt naked with his hands of cat-woman’s thighs as she sat there in the chair.
          Hearing that she gave a very auditable meow and stripped him down to his beige G-string; a jockstrap being too utilitarian for a show.
          The producer was ready with his four cameras he watched a composite of four angles:
            Terry’s waiting bare butt with cat-woman facing the camera with his mask with big whispers back on. 
            A close-up of the boy’s face.  
           A shot of the boy’s father standing there with the razor strap in hand, eyeing the boy’s waiting ass. 
            A slow-moving shot rather close up of two or three members of the audience eagerly awaiting faces with their minds saying strap that kid’s ass; strap it.
          The father hesitated.  This was nothing like back home in Toledo.  This was the big time.  And the cracking of the bull whip by cat-woman was still fresh in his mind.  He had to give it all he had.  No way could he disappoint so many many people.
          He smashed the razor strap onto his Terry-boy’s ass.
          Back in the command booth the producer was pleased.
          Ruthless was pleased. She uttered a meow.
          Spanky was pleased.
          The studio audience was pleased.
          Terry was displeased.  His dad sure didn’t strap like that back in Toledo.
          After the fourth or fifth smack the audience began to participate to Spanky’s delight.
         “Lay it on, daddy.”
         “Strap that kid’s ass.”
          The producer in the booth was manipulating audio as fast as he could in trying to keep up while simultaneously switching cameras.  For example, when the audience was yelling “STRAP THAT ASS” he aired the shot of the people yelling it, naturally as best as he could.  
          Just as the tenth and final blow was being administered Spanky got a call from the producer over his earphone.
          “Terry, I just got news that we just had a little coordination problem.  It seems that the commercial cut in early somehow when you still had four spanks to go.  So we’ll have to repeat them.  Sorry about that, but all those viewers out there in Spankland are expecting to see ten.  Only the studio audience has actually seen ten.”
          The boy who in thinking that he was done had just stood up.  When he got the news he looked to his father who shrugged.  Sorry, kid.  Show business, you know, he implied.
          He turned to cat-woman who gave a meow as she patted her thighs indicating that he should make a return engagement.  This time the producer made sure that the next commercial didn’t start prematurely.  He’d have a little talk with that tech after the show.
            And so dad blistered Terry’s ass four more times.
          “Men; have you had it with your bamboo stalks shredding and making a mess of things as you have just started whipping ass?  Well worry no more.  Singapore Slings has the answer.”
          “Yes, bamboo canes from Singapore Slings are not those sissy little bamboo twigs but real stalks; lasting stalks that will not turn your living room into a dust ben. No, our bamboo whipping canes come still soaking in brim in seal-wrap.  Zip-lock provides easy access; so easy in fact that with little effort you may re-insert the stalks after any vigorous caning for another round or two.  Think of the savings!”
          “Yes, Singapore Slings has the bamboo canes just for you.”
          “Call today or order on line at singapore-slings.com.”
          The ad ended with five young ladies in short shorts singing:  “yes Singapore-Slings has the stings for youuuuuuuuuuuuu.”   whish  whish  whish.
          “Ruthless; who is our final spankee today?”
          “From beautiful downtown Burbank we have Scottie Brown and his dad John.”
          “Well call them on out here.”
          “Scottie,” she called as she put her cat mask back on.
          WHIP  POP      WHIP   POP    WHIP  POP
          “We’re waiting.”
          WHIP  CRACK    WHIP  POP    WHIP  CRACK
          From the isolation booth came a kid of about fourteen or fifthteen with his father behind him.  Both were dressed to the nines in tuxedos.  
          “My, my, but aren’t you two looking good.  Right, cat-woman?”
          “Meow   meow.”
          CRACK    POP   CRACK   POP
          The boy almost crapped in his pants.  He knew that the cat-woman was just pretending, but still.
         “And what brings Scottie to Spankland today?  Has he been a naughty one?”
          “He sure has.  He broke his pledge to his high school fraternity and quit.  Never got his pin.”
          “No; say it isn’t so,” said Spanky.
           The boy just nodded as he stood beside his dad in his tux.
          “Do tell us why.”
          “I . . . I . . . I didn’t like the paddle.  I didn’t want to be spanked with it.”
          “Didn’t like the paddle, you say?  Well you now just don’t go and worry yourself.  You won’t be using a paddle will you cat-woman?”
          “Noooo.  I have something much better.”
          CRACK  POP   CRACK  POP    CRACK  POP
          In the control booth the producer was using camera three to take in the father and son in their black and white formal attire together with cat-woman in her solid black glisteningly rubber suit.  Beautiful color coordination.
          “So Scottie, what say we have cat-woman give you a taste of the old whip?”
           CRACK  POP    CRACK  POP    SNAP  CRACK
          The boy looked up to his dad.
          “Actually Spanky I would appreciate her giving me a helping hand.  I haven’t seen her give a single spank yet.”
          “What do you say to that, Scottie,” asked Spanky.  “I bet your friends back home would no longer think you were a quitter just because you were afraid to get whipped.”
          Scottie looked at cat-woman who returned his look.
          Meow   meow  meow    SNAP  POP  CRACK  POP
          Mr. Brown gave his boy a friendly rub of his hair as he watched the cat-woman prance around the stage like one out of the Broadway show cats.
          Spanky laughed.
          “Actually I think we have something a little more fitting.”
          Out came a young woman stage hand bearing two rattan canes with bright red handgrips.  She handed one to Mr. John Brown and then the other to cat-woman. Then she took Mr. Brown’s tux coat and rolled up his sleeves.
          Next she took off Scottie’s pants to reveal that he was wearing a black jockstrap with a black bowtie.  His tux shirt turned out to just be a dickey with another black bow tie.
         To start things off they had Scottie grab his knees with his butt facing the audience.  Since he was just wearing a dickey his entire back was bare from his neckpiece and tie down to his black socks and shoes.
          Wanting to make a good first impression the boy’s father got things rolling with a vicious cut of the cane.
         Cat-woman, who had been leaning way down in order to place her cat’s head and whiskers right in front of the boy’s face, give a meow and waved her paws with their long curved nails.
         The audience watched their two faces and the boy’s as at the same time on the studio monitors.
         THWICK!  The dad had delivered a backhander.
         “Meow    hissssssssssss”
          John Brown delivered two more forehanders and two more backhanders without letup in the force applied.
          The studio monitors continued to capture, as did the broadcast, both the boy’s ass as it received the cane and the boy’s face and cat-woman’s head as the cat-woman meowed and hissed and clawed thin air.
          “Mr. Brown; why don’t you join me now and let cat-woman have a turn?”  Of course Spanky had earlier told the man but not the boy how all of this would be played out.  It was scripted.
          As the father made his way over to Spanky, cat-woman turned Scottie around so as to face the audience.  Then she took several steps back and started swishing the cane.  The studio cameras caught it all.  Now the studio audience saw the boy’s face with cat-woman towering behind him with the cane.
         With her spike heels the cat-women stood a towering six feet three.  She studied her cat chow – Scottie’s caned white ass – and then half-jogged in her spike heels forward all bent over with her rattan cane almost dragging the floor.  With professional skill she slashed the bottom of his ass on the upswing.
         The cameramen sprung into work trying to keep up with Scottie and his dance of fire with his hands gripping his stricken ass.  “NOOOOOOOO!”
         Spanky gave Mr. Brown a high-five which the number three cameraman managed to get.
         “Scottie; Scottie;” called his dad.  “Behave yourself.  Get a grip, boy.”
          Standing six foot three cat-woman went to the boy and walked him by the ear back to center stage and into position.  Then she took off her face mask.
         “Don’t make cat-woman mad, boy.”
           Ruthless gave him three more on her upswings, concentrating on the bottom of his bun, in and just above the crease where ass meets thighs.  By some miracle the boy managed to maintain position, save for flinging his arms all about as if he were trying to fly away.  But he took it in silence with a mixture of tears and snot flowing down his cheeks.
          The studio audience loved it.
         “Folks, we’ll be back in a moment.”
         “Tired of those old fashion enema bags?  Tired of just warm soapy water up the rear-ends?  Then what you need is Squirtie.”
           “Yes, Squirtie takes the hassle out of enema-ing.  No need to find a hook to hold it up.  With our little squirties you just fill the little rubber balloon, push it onto the hollow dildo, and voila, there you are.”
           “Our little Squirties are so small and portable that you will never want to leave home without a few.  And with each Squirtie you receive three packets of your choice of ginger or eucalyptus powder to add to the water for that little extra something.”
          “Call today and we’ll include one of our sister products; our Cum-Out.  Just squirt it into the mouth, swish, and voila, all that messy, sticky cum-goo is flushed from your teeth or dentures and out of your mouth.”
           “So call today for your Squirtie and we’ll include at no extra charge not one; not two; but three Cum-Outs plus three packets of our sugar and spice and everything nice for that little extra something.”
                                                           -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  
           “Spanky,” said the producer over his earpiece just as the show ended. “Terry and his dad want a word with you.  They are waiting for you in your dressing room.”
            Shit.
          “Spanky, Terry doesn’t think it was fair that he had to take extra smacks because of the studio’s screw-up.”
          “Is that true, Terry?”
          “Yes sir; that wasn’t fair.”
          “So you want a partial refund?”
           Spank and Terry’s dad exchanged smiles.  How does one refund a spank?
          “Terry, you are lucky that this was a TV show and not a Hollywood movie.  Do you know how many retakes there are in making a spanking movie?”
          “Ugh; no sir.”
          “When there is a spanking or whipping scene it takes a lot of work to get it just right.  You see, the hit has to be made with the proper strength and location.  The ass has to respond as expected.  And the facial expression made on impact has to be just right.”
          “Yes, sir.”
          “And there is the make-up, lighting and audio to consider.  So when all of these things don’t come together just right, the director will call for a retake.  Sometimes there may be five or ten retakes until the director is satisfied.”
          “But don’t they use stand-ins,” asked the boy’s father.
          “They often do when a facial shot is not required.  But it’s more than just stand-ins.  You see, the ass has to show the correct number of marks – like cane marks.  It can’t show eight when there has only been four as per the script.”
          “Interesting.”
          “So the make-up girl is kept busy whitening out or blacking out, in the case of a black boy or man, all those strokes that had to be repeated.”
          “Sounds like a lot of hard work.”
          “That it is.  So Terry; see how lucky you were today?”
          “Yes sir; I hadn’t thought of it that way.”
          “Well consider yourself very lucky to have even been on the show.  Only some one-in-fifteen applicants is selected.  But you did well at your audition and earned the privilege of being a guess-ass on the show.”
          “Terry, you have a terrific ass.  Just terrific.  You and your ass could go places.  If you like I could put in a word for you in Hollywood.  I know of a couple of directors who are real perfectionists.”
           Mr. Brown beamed and put his arm around the boy.  He was going to be a star; not an asteroid but an ass-star.