Rarity's Last Chance Part 2, by RareSF


                                            [Copied from https://pastebin.com/qV1Xg1Hf]


                                            >No pony was perfect, you knew.

                                            >You didn’t expect that of Rarity. Effort and obedience were the really important things.

                                            >Even at times where she was hesitant to obey, all it took to get her back on track was pointing out that she was being disobedient, in a low tone, before she complied with your directions.


                                            >It was a long time since you used the big brush on her flank.

                                            >Sadly, that meant that the memory of that night would undoubtedly fade with time.

                                            >That, you deduced, was probably why you had to send her to your room tonight. YOUR room.


                                            >You could still see her face when you had snapped the order at her.

                                            >Her face fell, jaw dropped, eyes widened, and her body froze to the spot.

                                            >The memory of that evening had obviously faded, but the command you barked at her obviously brought the memory back to her mind.

                                            >At first, she had tried to stammer, but you were pleased when she bent her head down and closed her eyes with a regretful sigh.

                                            >“I-I, yes, Master… I am sorry.”

                                            >With that said, that was that. You both knew the gig for her was up.

                                            >You saw her shed tears as she turned around and did what you said, closing the door to your room gently.


                                            >Her huffy attitude was adorable sometimes, but you had to rein it in nonetheless.

                                            >All it took was an assessment of her work tonight cleaning the kitchen, to spark her ire.

                                            >She missed a spot, or actually a lot of spots. She didn’t do a good job, and honestly, you could tell from the beginning that she was going to blow off the task.

                                            >She was grumpy today. You did not know why.

                                            >Hell, you thought taking bathroom duty yourself would have been appreciated by her, considering that the kitchen was the less dirty option, but based on her response and attitude it didn’t cross her mind.


                                            >The saddest part of all of this, though, was that this wasn’t the first time.

                                            >The huffy-ness, that is. Passive-aggressive, and that was something that really irked you.

                                            >Mouthing off and slamming the cabinet door under your sink, and then acting like a bratty child ranting at you were the tipping points.

                                            >She needed a good attitude adjustment, and you were going to give it to her tonight.


                                            >A sigh, and you search around for the scrubbing brush.

                                            >It proved effective, and if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

                                            >The trouble is, you can’t find it.

                                            >You check the closet, the drawers, the bathroom where you could have sworn it was, but nothing.

                                            >Today, you used a rough sponge instead of the brush to scrub everything down, so no scrubby brush in sight. In fact, you just remembered that you couldn’t find the brush earlier, either, meaning you went for a sponge instead...

                                            >Well shit.


                                            >You did not want to keep her waiting forever, so you couldn’t spend a ton of time searching around.

                                            >You had to improvise something else.

                                            >Hmm…


                                            >Wait a minute.

                                            >You remember where you left that brush. You remember you left it under the sink, distinctly.

                                            >But it wasn’t there this morning.

                                            >The gears start turning, and you have a thought occur to you that makes you clench your fist.

                                            >You are basically positive that you left that brush under the sink, but you have a good idea of where to find it, now…


                                            >You walk quietly into Rarity’s room.

                                            >It’s a small room, but it’s no closet either.

                                            >It’s also right next to yours, which is why you’re being quiet right now.

                                            >First, you check under the bed. You don’t see anything.

                                            >Next, under the pillows and sheets, messing up her bed in the process. Again, nothing.

                                            >Rarity loves a well made bed, so she’ll probably be angry at this, but you don’t care right now.

                                            >An examination in and under the little lampstand table next to her bed also show nothing.


                                            >Then you check the closet.

                                            >There’s not much in it, and after a few minutes of searching, there is once again nothing.

                                            >It’s looking like your theory is, to your relief, wrong.

                                            >You close the door to the closet and are about to walk over to the door.


                                            >Then you notice the curtains, and you stop yourself.

                                            >It was the last place to check.

                                            >Doubtful, you grab the left curtain and pull it back.


                                            >You hear the thud on the carpet when something falls from the windowsill.

                                            >You look down.

                                            >What you see makes your stomach sink: it’s the scrubbing brush.

                                            >She propped it up on the windowsill and hid it with the curtain.


                                            >You take a minute, just standing still and looking at the object.

                                            >You are furious.

                                            >Tonight’s behavior was bad enough, but this was inexcusable. Deception like this took the wind out of you.

                                            >You pick it up, tap it in a fidgety manner against your leg, and then leave her room with a slammed door.


                                            >Your hand grips the brush handle so hard it hurts your fingers.

                                            >Rarity doesn’t expect it when you burst through the door and stop in the entryway.


                                            >”OH! Oh, ohh…”

                                            >The unicorn jumps from where she lies next to your bed.

                                            >Her alarm is obvious, but her quick breathing stops when she sees the brush held in your hand.

                                            >You can practically see the terror on her expression when she sees it. She shivers, and her head falls down, giving a pitiful squeak.


                                            >The daggers you glare down at her could pierce through a car door.

                                            >She doesn’t even dare look you in the eyes. Her posture is totally submissive with her head groveling in front of you.

                                            >That shit isn’t going to work.


                                            >“Rarity… I shouldn’t even bother using this tonight. I shouldn’t even bother.”

                                            >The white pony doesn’t say anything to that, but you do hear her hold back sobs.

                                            >Tears come out of her eyes. She swallows nervously.

                                            >You shake your head, and point at the brush with one finger.


                                            >“This was behind your curtain. You hid it from me, on purpose. And then, you act like a spoiled brat and mouth off to me all this week. Tell me, did you decide to act like a brat before or after you hid the brush?”

                                            >Rarity releases the floodgates once you ask her this question.

                                            >You are not interested in the apologies she sends your way.

                                            >“Master, I… Oh goodness, oh Celestia I’m so sorry! Please, Master-”


                                            >“Please what, Rarity? Please what? Please don’t beat the skin off your rump? Well, let me tell you Rarity, you won’t have to worry about that at all.”

                                            >You chuck the brush. It lands in front of her. You shake your head.

                                            >Rarity finally looks up at you. Her face is simply covered in tears. “Please, don’t, please, I was wrong, I was…”


                                            >“I hope your next master is at least half as nice as me, Rarity.”

                                            >The brief silence after you tell her this is when she processes what you just said.

                                            >Rarity blinks. Her tears spill out.

                                            >At last, she does understand the implications of what you just said, and her whole face falls.

                                            >She scrunches up her face and covers her snout, and then, she explodes with wretched sobs.


                                            >You don’t even hear begging you anymore, once the tears truly start.

                                            >She curls up into a ball, hiding her face and rolling onto her side.

                                            >The cries that leave her are not just defeated, they’re destroyed.

                                            >Despite feeling furious with her, when you see her in this pathetic state you can’t avoid feeling an ache in your heart.

                                            >But you don’t cave. Deception wasn’t something you could ever tolerate. How would you trust her anymore?

                                            >You turn away, leaving Rarity to her mewling.

                                            >“If you leave this room, I’ll put the “insubordinate” label in your description for auction, too. That happens, and you’d better bet on your snowball’s chance in hell that whoever picks you up won’t break you with a flogging your first day.”


                                            >This gets a howl from her. She writhes on the ground from the force of her own crying.

                                            >Another throb of pain in your chest, and you grit your teeth. You leave the room with a slam of your door.


                                            (Some time later...)


                                            >Time drifts past.


                                            >It’s at least 30 minutes later.

                                            >You stare at the hallway, but you aren’t even paying attention to that.

                                            >You’re thinking.


                                            >Rarity isn’t crying anymore, at least not loud enough for you to hear it.

                                            >It went on for a long time. Fifteen minutes, actually, of just wretched sobs.

                                            >Hunched over in the chair, you sit with hands folded.

                                            >You remember what you told her that night, almost a year ago.

                                            >If she slipped back into her old ways, rejecting your orders, talking back, she was gone.

                                            >You meant it then. It wasn’t a bluff.


                                            >But your mind also conjures up images of the months after that incident.

                                            >Of the work she’d done. The relationship, master and slave, that had grown to something more complex.

                                            >You look out the window and see the flowers popping up into view. She’d planted them, into neat little rows and groups all around the house.

                                            >The room which has been rearranged, all around you. The new kitchen tile she’d helped put in with you, and not to mention, picked out of the catalog.

                                            >It looked great.


                                            >But most of all, you realized that you, genuinely, had come to enjoy her company.

                                            >Talking with her, even joking with her. Cooking her nice things, even though they had to be veggie, as a reward for both of you for a hard day’s work.

                                            >Even her showing you how to cook her favorite quiche. Pony recipes may all be vegetarian, but it was the best tasting quiche you’ve ever had.

                                            >You remember all she did was just ask you that morning, bright eyed and bushy tailed, if she could show you her favorite recipe.

                                            >She did it for you. It was a fond memory…


                                            >More and more happy times passed through your mind, until you got to the last few days.

                                            >Then, your smile that had been growing on your face, disappears. You sigh.

                                            >Those weren’t good times. She had reverted back to her old self, the pony you’d gotten from the first day that had shaped up to be a nightmare to work with.

                                            >Not only that, she had purposefully tried to manipulate you tonight.

                                            >Hiding the brush like that, evading a punishment she knew she deserved…


                                            >But was it really worth throwing all of it away?


                                            >Rarity today cried harder than you ever saw her cry before.

                                            >Harder than when you walloped her ass, even.

                                            >Hearing she was leaving you, being sold, had broken her.

                                            >It destroyed her. You can see that, now.

                                            >It destroyed her in more than one way. Those weren’t just fearful cries, they were heartbroken ones.

                                            >And now that the anger you felt from before is fading away, you’re starting to cry, too.


                                            >You get up and wander around the room, pacing.

                                            >Eventually, though, you came to the right conclusion. You couldn’t sell Rarity.

                                            >You just couldn’t.

                                            >But she couldn’t do something like THIS ever again. Not just reverting back to her huffy, snooty ways, but you especially couldn’t afford to be deceived, lied to by your pony.

                                            >That was something you would never, ever, tolerate. You still had to punish her.

                                            >And it was going to be a doozy for her.


                                            >You take a deep breath to calm your nerves, drink a glass of water, and walk back to your room, mentally preparing yourself for what is to come.


                                            >You are much more reserved when you enter the room for the second time. You hold your breath when you turn the doorknob, and you gently open the door.

                                            >You look down where Rarity had been lying before, and she’s still there when you enter.


                                            >Her body is limp. She lifts her head when the door opens, but as soon as you walk back in, she cringes and pulls her head away.

                                            >Her legs ball up and cover her head and belly. She shivers, badly.

                                            >The tense fists you hold at your sides begin to relax as you watch the pony dissolve in front of you. The big brush is also in the exact same place as it was before, in front of her face.

                                            >Seeing her like this gives you pause.

                                            >You don’t say anything, standing in what must feel like to her an ominous silence.


                                            >Rarity’s whole face is red. Her snout is covered in snot, and her eyes are swollen.

                                            >She is motionless.

                                            >The harsh words you spoke to her, are coming back to haunt you.

                                            >Well, not even harsh really. Cruel is more like it.

                                            >You know she remembered the happier times you shared over these last several months, too.

                                            >Now you realize how badly she’s been crushed.

                                            >You have to be the first one to speak. Rarity wouldn’t dare speak first.


                                            >“Rarity… I’m not selling you. I’m not selling you, ok?”

                                            >You want to get that news out of the way first. It’s the first thing that needs to be said.

                                            >As soon as this breaks the air, she gives a tiny gasp.

                                            >She flinches, and then her puffy, bloodshot eyes look up at you with shock.

                                            >When you connect with them, you almost take a step back. Her stare is very intense.


                                            >Her lip quivers, and even though she already cried her eyes out, more tears fall to the floor.

                                            >She shuffles and rolls back onto her belly, and kneels in front of you, losing it all over again.

                                            >“Oh, ohhh thank you… thank you thank you thank you, Master, ohh thank you…”

                                            >Rarity grovels and sniffs and sobs.

                                            >The relief she feels is something you actually begin to feel yourself.


                                            >But while you want to leave it at that, you owe her more. You owe her an explanation.

                                            >You owe her more.

                                            >“I’m sorry, Rarity. I am so sorry. I know I told you after the last time I punished you that I would get rid of you if, well, this sort of thing ever happened again. But I don’t want to do that, throw away everything just because you’ve been struggling again lately. It’s been a long time, and you, Rarity, proved yourself. You’ve been great since that day. But you still messed up badly tonight, Rarity, and this past week, too.”

                                            >You see her ears flop down in nervousness. She still sniffles and cries gently.

                                            >“When you hid that brush, I took it personally, Rarity. You wanted to mislead me, lie to me, in a way. I took it as a sign that I really couldn’t trust you, not anymore. But I think that’s too much, and I see that now. I like to keep promises, but when that promise is dumb, then I think I should reconsider. So I’m not selling you.”


                                            >She sobs with joy.

                                            >It makes you feel more aching in your heart, and you grit your teeth with guilt.

                                            >Rarity slides forward on her belly toward you, averting her eyes.

                                            >“Master, oh Master, thank you…”

                                            >She reaches your foot, and you resist pulling it away when she kisses your sock covered foot with her lips, over and over.

                                            >“Thank you, mwah, thank you, mwah, thank you! Thank you…” Kiss, kiss, kiss, over and over. “I’m so sorry, Master, thank you…”

                                            >You’re probably a horrible person for thinking this slightly amusing, even if it’s only for a second.

                                            >The gravity of how desperate she is isn’t lost on you.


                                            >After this goes on for several seconds you finally pull your foot away. Rarity’s nose thumps on the floor, where she leaves it.

                                            >You step back, and then, with a shake of your head you get down on your knees.

                                            >Gotta set this straight, now.


                                            >“I’m not going to sell you, Rarity. It’s worth it to punish you on those occasions where you need it, rather than throw you away like trash. A mistake like this isn’t deserving of that.”

                                            >You run your hand down her head, fingertips brushing her horn. Rarity nuzzles your arm back, and you feel her wet snout on your skin.

                                            >She whispers again, “Thank you, so much… I-I thought it was all over…”


                                            >You cringe.

                                            >“I know, and I’m sorry Rarity.”


                                            >“I don’t know what I would do if you sent me away… I’ve been ungrateful…”


                                            >You can’t really disagree with that, but she doesn’t need to dwell on this.

                                            >She was going to pay for her defiance tonight, which was the culmination of this shitty week for her, but after that it was over.

                                            >Rarity continued crying.


                                            >“I was afraid… b-but I didn’t hide the brush c-cause I wanted to lie to you, I just was just too afraid, it hurts... I’m s…”


                                            >“I know you’re sorry, Rarity. But if you’re going to be afraid of punishment, then please just let that fear dissuade you from bad behavior next time, ok? Don’t try to escape the thing you earned fairly, just don’t earn it to begin with. Understand?”


                                            >“Yes, Master, I understand… Master?”


                                            >It takes you a second to realize she said your name as a question.

                                            >Interesting...

                                            >You say, “Yes, Rarity?”


                                            >She asks the floor the question. She is still wary of meeting you eye to eye.

                                            >“Are you… still going to punish me, today?”


                                            >It’s really just a curiosity question, you can tell from her tone.

                                            >It’s much different than the first time you punished her, when she fought you every step of the way.

                                            >In fact, it’s like she isn’t even worried.

                                            >Perhaps, you think, she’s just happy you’re keeping her.


                                            >Unfortunately for her, you still planned to go through with it.

                                            >You nod.

                                            >“Yes, Rarity.”

                                            >She only gives a slow nod back at you. She nuzzles your hand again.

                                            >She whispers, “Yes, Master. R-Right now?”


                                            >You think about that for a second.

                                            >Rarity breathes soft. She’s relaxed, submitting under your hand.

                                            >Today was a nightmare. You didn’t want it to last any longer. No use in delaying it.

                                            >You sigh.

                                            >“We may as well, Rarity. No point delaying it, having it hang over our heads, ok?”

                                            >Rarity nods her head, sniffles and wipes her nose.

                                            >“Ok.”


                                            >You pat her head one more time, and stand up.

                                            >Time to get this done.

                                            >“Ok, now. Stand up.”

                                            >You are straightforward with your words, but you don’t bark commands at her at all. You know she’ll obey you.

                                            >This isn’t last time. She’s a different pony than then. She really is.

                                            >But her reversion has been obvious these past few days, and it all coming to a head with the hiding of the brush behind her curtain, she still has a punishment coming to her for sure.

                                            >While you wait for her to get to her feet… or, hooves, you pick up the scrubbing brush.

                                            >Rarity wobbles a little, but she isn’t going to need to stand up for long.

                                            >She turns around, tail tucked in, eyes cast down, and you pat the bed.

                                            >“Come here, Rarity.”


                                            >The little unicorn obeys you. No resistance like last time.

                                            >She takes wobbly steps and then gets over the bed. She actually even moves her tail herself, this time, too.

                                            >She’s resigned. She probably just wants you to get this over with, too.

                                            >You never should have said what you did. Never.


                                            >You step up with the brush brandished, but as you look, you have a change in plans.

                                            >You step to the side and give the “come here” motion with your finger.

                                            >“Actually, Rarity, could you stand up for a moment?”

                                            >It’s a rare question you ask her, but she knows it’s not like it’s an option or anything.

                                            >A little confused look on her face, she does what you ask. Rarity crosses her hooves.

                                            >“Uhh, yes, Master…”


                                            >You sit down on the bed, and then call her over again.

                                            >The spoon pats your thigh.

                                            >“Alright, now lay down here, Rarity.”

                                            >You are taking her over your legs this time. You don’t want to have to deal with her kicking hooves hitting you, and the last time your position was very uncomfortable for both of you.

                                            >She nods, a little blush on her face. This is much more childlike, but considering how she acted today, well… it fits.

                                            >You suppose.

                                            >Teary eyed, she does what you say.


                                            >You pick her up and put her down on top of your legs. You want this position to be comfortable and secure at the same time.

                                            >Rarity scrunches up her body and holds on to the bed covers.

                                            >The way pony’s back legs were, unable to bend back at the knee, she really could not give you any trouble with her kicking. You had her secure.

                                            >“Ok, Rarity, I hope this is more comfortable than last time.”


                                            >It sounds weird. You know she’s going to be in pain in a short time, but you want to make it different for some reason.

                                            >Last time just felt so… angry, out of control. Like you were tonight, and you didn’t want that again.

                                            >You couldn’t explain it, but feeling more in control of her helped you be more in control of yourself, too.

                                            >Rarity was going to be ok.


                                            >The sniffling pony does actually nod in agreement with you.

                                            >“Yes, Master. It is…”

                                            >Good.

                                            >Then it was time to start.

                                            >You grab the brush.


                                            >You touched the brush down on Rarity’s flank and focused down.

                                            >Rarity balls up a bunch of the bed covers and uses them like a pillow. She whimpers.

                                            >“How… hard, Master?”


                                            >You strengthen your hold on her and pull her toward you. Her butt, your target, is in good position.

                                            >The sad question demonstrates her acceptance of your punishment of her, but she’s very scared.

                                            >She should be. This is not going to be over that quickly.

                                            >“Hard. You earned it, Rarity.”


                                            >Rarity whimpers again, and holds the covers in a tight squeeze.

                                            >No point in waiting. Let’s get this done.

                                            >You relax your arm, raise the brush, and spank her left buttock with the flat side.

                                            >WHACK!


                                            >“Wuhaa, OWW!”

                                            >Rarity immediately kicks her legs out and hollers.

                                            >Her butt clenches when the brush gives her a good POP, and you see the round spot of pink showing on her white skin, through her thin and soft coat of fur.

                                            >You waste no time and deliver spank number 2, out of more than you’ll care to count, on the other side.

                                            >WHACK!

                                            >“AH! OH, Masterrr!”


                                            >No, not going to work, Rarity.

                                            >Begging wasn’t going to stop your brush from giving her a well-deserved ass roasting.

                                            >Eyes on her butt bent over your thigh, and with a firm hold that assures she’s here to stay, you begin the spanking.

                                            >WHACK, WHACK, WHACK…


                                            >“OW! Oh, noo… OWW! Oh goodnessssOOWW! OWWW!”

                                            >Rarity’s white rump does little hops back and forth on your lap, but your arm on her croup keeps it in place.

                                            >She’s not getting away.

                                            >“OOOHH OWWW!”

                                            >WHACK, WHACK, WHAACKK! WHAAACKK!


                                            >As you hoped and expected, Rarity’s little horsie legs can’t truly get in your way as they kick and buck and cross over and spread out…

                                            >Her hooves hit the mattress, thumping it like a drum

                                            >You spank up and down and all around her soon to be red backside with the brush, and her wailing fills up the room

                                            >It’s a little hard to hear, you admit.

                                            >But you aren’t stopping yet.

                                            >This was a much better arrangement than last time you punished her, more stable for you and her.

                                            >Rarity tries to wiggle and kick, but she’s helpless.

                                            >“OHHH OW, OW, OWW! OH CELESTIAAA!”

                                            >WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!


                                            >You sometimes spank from side to side, left buttock and right

                                            >and sometimes you paddle four or five times on the same cheek, top to bottom, before doing the same to the other

                                            >It’s all getting burning red in short time.

                                            >Rarity whimpers and cries and gives breathless little begs in between howls and “OWW”s, and even reaches back with one of her front hooves

                                            >Now that’s held in your hand, too, and the unruly mare’s round buttocks continue to jiggle and clench and bounce on your lap when the scrubby brush wallops them good.

                                            >WHACK, WHACK, WHACK, WHACK…

                                            >“OHHOO! NOOO! OWW, OWW, Master! MASTER! OWW!”


                                            >You don’t miss a beat. Still spanking, you raise your voice over the sound of her crying.

                                            >“Rarity, I expect things to be different here after this!”

                                            >WHACK “AHH!” WHACK “OHH, OHHHH!” WHACK “OW, Yes, Master, YES MASTERROWWW!”


                                            >You spank her a good dozen more times, and now she’s getting desperate.

                                            >Gasping and wailing, she stomps her back hooves down on the bed, and she tried to push herself up and forward over your knee.

                                            >Unluckily for her it actually only lifts her ass up higher, and expose her upper legs right beneath her lava red hot butt.

                                            >With haste you really paddle her fast and hard, thwacking and smacking her buttocks and thighs while they’re basically pushed up into your face.


                                            >“AAAAHHHH OWWWW! OWWOWOWOW OW OW OW OW…!”

                                            >You keep it up until her legs fall, and she collapses down. Then, you resume at a much slower speed.

                                            >Rarity sobs and gasps and moans in unbridled, unrestrained agony.

                                            >It’s probably mean, but you wanted Rarity in this state.

                                            >Her rear end was whupped red as a raspberry, and she was sweaty and exhausted.

                                            >Lucky for her you’re almost done.

                                            >Almost.

                                            >With a move of your arm you push down further up on her back, closer to the withers

                                            >Then, you tap the sobbing little unicorn’s leg with with the brush.


                                            >“Rarity, get your butt back up in the air for me.”


                                            >You feel Rarity’s sobs on your lap, through her belly.

                                            >She cringes up and wipes her snotty face on the bed, and whines

                                            >“Ohhh owww, owww…”


                                            >You’ve definitely given her bottom something to remember for a looong time.

                                            >Squirms and whines leave her, but you give her a second.

                                            >You want to see what she does next. What she says, too.

                                            >Your arm keeps its firm hold over her withers and your hand grabs her curly, wavy tail.

                                            >She’s trying to mouth some words, but she sort of hiccups them away.

                                            >But then…


                                            >“I, aooww… Yes, m-master, yes mas…”

                                            >Her voice dies a little bit in a squeak and moan.

                                            >She is obviously in pain, and quite a bit of it.

                                            >Come on, Rarity, come on…


                                            >And then she does it.

                                            >Rarity gets her hooves under her, and straightens her back legs with a whimper.

                                            >She shivers, and she sounds miserable, but at your command, she gets her paddled flanks up in the air.

                                            >The little unicorn sobs and quivers, but obeys with a teary eyed apology.

                                            >“I’m s-sorry, Master, sorry…”

                                            >She braces herself, eyes squinted shut.


                                            >You let go of the scrubby brush.

                                            >It falls down on the carpeted floor.

                                            >And with that, you give a smile of relief.


                                            >This was a test, and Rarity, the poor thing, had just passed.

                                            >You sigh, and with a little tap of your hand on the little pony’s leg, you announce the end to the whole ordeal.

                                            >“Ok, Rarity, you can lay back down. It’s all over, no more, ok?”


                                            >As soon as you say that, Rarity seems to go quiet, with the occasional snort and sob.

                                            >It takes time to sink in.

                                            >Her butt is still bent up high in the air for a good time off the clock before she understands what you just told her, obviously confused and shocked.

                                            >You know she was expecting that brush to take full advantage of her butt’s position, to set her ass aflame.

                                            >You know this was probably anything but expected.


                                            >At last, she lets her legs back down, and her hips land hard on your thigh.

                                            >And then, she whimpers and moans with relief, and lets out a huge sigh of air.

                                            >Rarity turns her head around, and her legs begin to squirm

                                            >“Why, Master, why’d you… oh Master, is it truly done? Ohhh owww…”


                                            >She’s still crying breathlessly, and her body is sweating a lot.

                                            >You look down at her rump, and you know you went hard enough.

                                            >The whole thing is red hot enough to the touch that you can feel it radiating from her buttocks to your holding hand on her tail.

                                            >Sitting down on that was certainly going to be an ordeal, you think.


                                            >You nod, and a warm, endearing wave of light seems to rush through you.

                                            >“Yes, Rarity, it’s really over. And as for why? I asked you to do something, something that you surely knew meant much more pain and discomfort for you, but you did it anyway because you were willing to take the punishment. You passed the test, Rares, so that was the end of that. No more spanking necessary. You’ve proven yourself again.”


                                            >You then let go of her tail, and reach around her body with both arms.

                                            >Rarity feels pretty limp when you pick her up, grunting with the weight of the pony in your arms

                                            >She sniffles and tears drip down like little raindrops from her nose. You ignore that, however.


                                            >A couple of tears spring to your eyes when you think about the horrible words you said to your Rarity, before.

                                            >And now, after suffering such a hard punishment, you needed to let her know everything was going to be alright.

                                            >With Rarity still sobbing and squirming from the pain in her butt, you pull her in on your lap, into your arms.


                                            >And right away, the sorry, sniffling little unicorn melts in your arms as you hug her.

                                            >You cuddle with her tightly, and Rarity’s tears drip everywhere.

                                            >You’re leaning back so she doesn’t have to sit down on her roasted rear, and you “shh” and pet her head while she burrows into you.

                                            >This poor girl is going to need a moment, and you wanted to give that to her.

                                            >Rarity even nuzzles your chest while you stroke her mane and neck, something which stirs a feeling of warmth in your heart...


                                            >“I… I l-lo…”


                                            >Your hand, as the beginnings of words begin to emerge in gasps from Rarity’s mouth, suddenly freezes on her head.

                                            >Rarity nuzzles you again, and then heaves with a loud sob while she cuddles in close to your chest.

                                            >But despite everything that happened, there is one other thing you notice, something that gives you a sense of pause.

                                            >A slight, contented little smile on her heavily tearstained face.


                                            >And then, she says it. Words you will never forget.


                                            >“I love you, Master…”


                                            >And then, with a look of pure shock on your face, you feel a tender, soft wet kiss on your cheek.