Coco Pummel by KrishnaKarnak

(Chock-full Carafe / Coco Pommel)

F/F, hoof, leather strap, otk, over couch, semi-consensual

 

(05/01/2016)

 

 

---

 

“How’s ya bid'ness, miss?”

 

“Meh. Could be bettah, I ‘spose.”

 

The stallion paid for his popcorn, tipped his hat, and walked off. Chock-full Carafe snorted as he walked away, rolling his bit on the top of her cart. The middle-aged mare knew when she was being sneered at.

 

Normally, she’d be found nestled comfortably behind her own counter at her diner just off Bridleway. Ground and Round, she called it, as she specialized in coffee and donuts, in addition to usual diner fare. Or, as the young punks and her sister teased, because she had a coffee cutie mark on a flank with puppy fat that she never grew out of.

 

Carafe pressed a button and the popcorn maker whirred to life again, preparing to pop more kernels as she added more of that heavily trans fatted pseudo-butter topping to a bowl that would slowly ooze on top of the popping snacks.

 

Some more customers came by and bought some popcorn. Mostly teenagers, some colts, the occasional filly. She enjoyed the smell and the pop-pop noise of the crackling kernels until a blur whizzed by.

 

“YA GOTTA BE FUCKIN’ KIDDING ME!”

 

The heavy cart had wobbled back and forth dangerously for a few seconds. Chock-Full Carafe was too slow to grab it before the whole contraption tipped sideways.

 

Brand new! That cart was brand fucking new and that ditzy idiot crashed right into it.

 

“Oh! Gosh, I'm so, sooo sorry! I-I was in such a rush, I've got an appointment with La sans Couture and… gosh, I'm sorry! Chocolate Charade, isn't it?”

 

“CHOCK-FULL CARAFE,” she answered, nearly spitting with rage.

 

Her name was Coco Pommel. Or That-Coco-dummy-needs-a-Pummeling, as she often thought. Always running around ragged and letting this stupidly chaotic town beat her ass because Coco was incapable of slowing down and getting her bearings. The perfect image of a well-intended dipshit.

 

“Son of Celestia!” the coffee-marked mare roared, causing the coffee-creamer-coloured idiot to recoil in fear. “Dat cart cost me a fortune and I ain’t insured ‘er yet! Ya have any idea how much that’ll cost me? Huh?!”

 

She knew Coco Pommel was by no means well off, but at that moment she was quite eager to sue the stupid scarf vest off her. Manehattenites settled most disputes in the courtroom.

 

“Sorry, so sorry!” Coco bleated, bowing her head sombrely while Carafe continued to storm at her. “But I simply must dash… Is there any way we could discuss this privately?”

 

Not only was she just going to jet, but she was clearly trying to avoid getting lawyers involved if she wanted to talk privately.

 

“Listen, ya little whelp!” Carafe started, but Coco was already rushing off again. “FINE! TOMORROW EVENING AT MY DINAH, YA CLUMSY BRAAAAT!”

 

She picked up the corner of the cart and smashed it over all over again while onlookers sped the fuck out of there.

 

Chock-Full Carafe dragged the busted piece of crap down the street on one working wheel, fuming as she made way for her diner and the loft above. Sure, the popcorn street vending wasn't really her career, just a test venture to see if it was worth hiring somepony to sell from her cart so she could get some extra funds to renovate her real business. But now, not only was she not making extra cheddar, she was fourteen hundred bits in the red.

 

She threw the cart into the locked cage around her dumpster in the adjacent alley, swore to the sky, and stormed into her establishment.

 

Her sister was manning the counter, talking idly to one of the patrons. Candy Mane had her own business to worry about, but her eldest daughter was looking after it so she could help Carafe out.

 

Candy took one look at the blood lust in her sister's eyes and sighed.

 

“Best chow down quickly, kid,” she advised the lone customer. “Big Bertha over there looks a smidge upset.”

 

“I heard dat,” Carafe huffed, collapsing into a booth and rubbing her temples. “I just lost my freakin’ sideshow!”

 

Five minutes of raging was enough to tell the whole story once the customer had made himself scarce. Candy sat in the booth across from her sister, listening carefully.

 

“That's pretty unlucky, C,” Candy sighed sympathetically. “Coco's barely keeping her own business afloat, especially considering that community theatre project she recently restarted with my cousin's help is nonprofit.”

 

“So, what? Are ya tryin’ to guilt trip me into not suin’ her into fuckin’ oblivion?” She paused a moment. “Hey, wait a tick, some fancy pants fashion mare spoke to me ‘bout dat project. Whatcha mean, ya cus?”

 

“It was two of ‘em. Anyway, I’m not necessarily saying don’t sue her for damages, that bit will depend on her.”

 

“Depend on her… how?”

 

“Hear me out, sis,” Candy began, sipping her coffee. “I think I can help you. But you have to promise me you’re going to try to help her.”

 

***

 

Carafe finished mopping her floor. Yet again, she shot a glance at the clock behind the counter. It’s after closing time, but no sign of her. Sighing, she put her weight against the mop’s handle and rubbed her forehead. She spent a full day mellowing the fuck out over this. And for what? Coco Pommel to no-show? Maybe this will call for some high octane fireworks.

 

There was a knock on her diner door. Unable to believe her eyes, Carafe watched Coco waving nervously on the other side of the glass. So, this might actually end up resolved, huh? She swept over to the door, unlocked it, and let the younger mare inside.

 

“Hey, sorry it's so late; I had to lock up shop,” she greeted, exhaling nervously, gritting her teeth, and putting her her most innocent expression. “I’ve been beating myself up all day over what happened yesterday.”

 

“Uh huh,” Carafe replied simply, locking the door again. “Come up to my loft.” She retreated to the back and went through a door opposite the kitchen. Opening it, she ascended the stairs to her apartment. “I’m cuttin’ the lights down theah.”

 

Coco followed her upstairs and into her hallway. Closing and locking the shop entrance, Chock-Full Carafe lead her to the sitting room. It was a cozy spot, if a little bit cramped. It came with the area, Carafe had long accepted; if she wants to run a shop in the tourist borough, she’s not going to have some spacious home. Considering she always lived alone unless she had a friend over poundin’ her twat, this wasn’t an issue.

 

“Come sit down,” Carafe offered, gesturing to an armchair across from her coffee table. She sat down on her couch. “Can I get yas a coffee?”

 

“Um… tea, if you got it…” Coco responded meekly.

 

Rolling her eyes, Carafe shrugged her big frame back off the couch and put the kettle on. All she had was Trottingham Jasmine, so that’s what Coco was getting. Pouring herself a coffee she left sitting on the burner for a couple hours—Carafe preferred it strong—she brought out the drinks, as well as a small server of milk and a few squares of sugar.

 

“Now, to business…” Carafe said once all settled, sipping her coffee and giving Coco a sober look. “Dat cart cost me fourteen hundred big ones. Now, some fault is mine, I was stupid enough not to get some insurance on the effin’ thing. Howevah—”

 

“No, no,” Coco said quickly, taking a deep sip on her tea and looking apologetic. “I didn’t balance my projects yesterday, I was too harassed and wasn’t watching where I was going. I’ll pay for the full cost.”

 

Chock-Full Carafe snorted softly. “Listen, toots, we both know ya ain’t got dat kinda money to just piss around. Changin’ jobs really arsed you over, good, and I’m gonna need some sorta reinvestment quickly before the counter downstaeahs falls apart.”

 

“B-but, since I’ve started my own business, I—”

 

Carafe shook her head. “No, Coco. I’m gonna make ya an offer. If ya refuse, we’ll need to find some ottah way to deal with dis. I’d really rather not have ya sued.”

 

Coco looked like she was going to cry on that last word. Since flipping her old boss the bird, Coco Pommel could barely afford her own business’ insurance premiums. It was a bit of a neighbourhood running joke that she was optimistically broke. A lawsuit would destroy her, as the legal fees would drive the pot far beyond the cost of the cart.

 

“Ideally, you’d help me with my dinah. I’d spin some gimmick or throw out some new donuts, generate some interest, increase my patrons in the evening. I’d mitigate my losses in a few days, with luck.” Coco listened carefully, but looked concerned. “‘Course, ya own schedule don’t allow time for dat.”

 

Coco nodded solemnly, but Carafe stood up and towered over her, leaning over the table with both hooves and glaring. The younger mare’s aspect changed and she let out a squeak of panicked surprise.

 

“There’s a fix. Too long, Coco, ya let dis stupidly chaotic town beat ya ass because she ya was incapable of slowing down and getting ya bearin’s.” As she spoke, Carafe got closer and jabbed the other mare in the chest. Coco Pommel’s lip trembled fearfully. This was almost too easy. “Maybe it’d do ya some good to spend some time screaming over somepony’s lap, getting dat ass beat proper, huh?”

 

Coco’s expression flatlined. “W-What?”

 

“Somepony oughta teach ya not to bite off so much.” She straightened up, pushing her coffee table aside. “Coco, ya ain’t too old yet not to learn a hard lesson before it’s too late and fix dat chaos ya calls a work schedule.”

 

“Wh-what do you m-mean?” Coco asked, trying to shrink back in her chair, but it was clear to Carafe that she already knew what she meant. “I’m con-f-fused!”

 

“Ya ever gotten spanked before?” Carafe asked nonchalantly, moving around to the armchair and reaching for her hoof.

 

Coco’s mind was clearly going a mile a minute. “N-no! And I don’t want to be, either!”

 

“Ya’s about to have a bad night, then.” Carafe seized her and dragged her to her hooves. Coco whimpered in protest, tugging against her. “Stop it, ya foolish filly! Dis is part of the deal, unless ya wanna get lawyers involved!”

 

“N-No, please! It'll hurt!” Coco begged, but Chock-Full Carafe was a bull compared to her. She yanked her right to the couch, sat down, and threw her over her lap. “I'll d-do some work for you!”

 

“Oh, I know ya wills,” Carafe agreed, “but ya don't manage ya time well enough yet for dat theah yet!”

 

“Please! I'm a grown m-mare!”

 

“Ya ain’t nothin’ but an oversized filly! Ya ain’t never been spanked, but ever had a good smack theah, maybe by a lover?”

 

“N-no!” Coco responded, pushing vainly against Carafe’s thick thigh. “I’ve… never been with anypony!”

 

“Oh, dis’ll suck, honey,” Carafe promised, with the slightest little flutter of pity. Being fucked by the biggest horsecocks she could find in this crappy city was phenomenal.

 

Carafe pulled her tail over her back, just as her sister had instructed, and pinned it down with her forehoof. Coco Pommel squeaked and wiggled her hooves. Carafe was so robust, Coco was completely off the couch, unable to reach the floor and wrapped around the bigger pony's knees.

 

“Get this silly thing off,” Carafe said offhandedly, tugging at the sailor collar’s strings at the back, which came loose and fell to the floor.

 

She kicked it under the table and readjusted the younger pony, who was begging and pleading nonstop, totally at her mercy. Her hoof travelled to the completely virgin bottom, rubbing it lightly, gradually moving to deeper pressure.

 

“Coco, I’m gonna have ya heah until yer bawling like a little foal, dat is a sincere promise, so we don’t want ya lovely collah gettin’ all messed up. Every time ya think of takin’ on too many projects at a time, I hope ya remember what’s gonna happen heah now.” Coco was shaking horribly with fear, even mumbling ‘please, I’m scared!’ amongst her pleading. “Ya might think ya are all grown up and think ya can actually fight back this city before it eats ya up…”

 

She started. Coco let out a cry of pain. Chock-Full Carafe’s massive hoof clapped down against the right cheek, flattening it easily and causing the blue maned filly to throw her right hoof back to block. Unfortunately, she could barely get around the restraining forehoof and came an inch short of her bottom.

 

“So I’m warning ya right now!” She continued with another two swats, Coco breaking down into real tears as early as the third hard smack to her ass. “Ya ain’t gonna make it heah, ya ain’t gonna make it ANYWHEAH—” Smack! Smack! Coco Pommel threw her hair down into her hooves, desperate to stem the flow of her tears as her wails started to get louder, no longer adorable little squeaks of pain. “—at the rate ya are goin’ at now. Ya can barely afford to eat, tryinna make it on ya own, but ya gotta put ya head down, focus, and work on one thing at a time!”

 

“Pleeeaaaaaaahhhh! Pleeeaaaseee! N-NOOO MOOORE!”

 

“I WANT YAS—”

 

The hard smacks, jolting the young mare forward with each hit, were really starting to paint the whiter fanny in brisk autumn colours now. Carafe was alternating cheeks, avoiding the same spots, whacking without missing a beat as she continued the rough scolding and rougher spanking. The left was getting most of the attention right now, being struck in the middle, top, bottom, top, middle, before the spanks returned to the right and centre.

 

“—TO PROMISE ME ONE THING RIGHT DIS INSTANT—”

 

Coco’s hoofy-kicks started to pound away at the air and Carafe’s calf, kicking wildly back and forth.

 

“—THAT YA SLOW THE FUCK DOWN AND CUT YA THE PROJECTS YA TACKLE! FOCUS ON BIGGER—” The spanks were really getting hard now. Coco Pommel continued jumping forward with each whack, bawling heavy and choking on her sobs, gripping the legs beneath her and screeching towards the floor. The large hoof pinning her tail to her back kept her from sliding off, however.“—HIGHER PAYIN’ PROJECTS THAT YA CAN DIG INTO! MAYBE THEN YA WON’T RUN ALL OVER THE NEIGHBOURHOOD AND BARREL OVER CARTS?”

 

“WAAA-HAAA-AAAHHH I PROOOMIIISEEE!” Coco Pommel cried at the top of her lungs, thick globs of snot hanging loosely from her snout as she thrashed.

 

“Promise me… what?” Carafe insisted, leaning into the spanking now, her hoof falling directly down on target as she pressed harder against Coco’s back, knowing she was really trying hard to to get free now.

 

“I W-W-WON’T T-TAKE ON TOO MAAA-AAAH! TOO MANY P-PROJECTS! I’LL T-TAKE IT EASY! PLEASE S-STOOOP!”

 

Satisfied with the answer, Carafe leaned back and let her neighbour screech and sob where she was. She gave her twenty seconds to catch her breath and collect herself.

 

“Sorry, huns, but we ain’t far enough to stop just yet,” Carafe told her, pushing against her side slowly so that Coco braced to catch herself as she was pushed off. “Come here.”

 

Carafe eased off her couch again, taking a good breath and feeling the sweat on her face. She took Coco firmly by the ear, the younger mare immediately dancing on the spot, and dragged her around the side of the couch. Carafe got a good look at the blotchy mess on Coco Pommel’s face. Her blushes came out in freckles which were smattered with tears, her trap glistening wet with salty runoff. Carafe pulled her down over the arm of the couch, bending her low enough that her back hooves came off the floor again. Coco didn’t even resist, simply hung there and wrapped her hooves around her face and shook with continued sobs.

 

Leaving her, Chock-Full Carafe went to her kitchen table and opened the bag Candy had left earlier that day. The advice on how to do the spanking on a grown wasn’t all her sister had given her. Inside the bag was a thick leather strap, jet black and smelling of rubber. Carafe stared at it for a moment, shuddering. Holy cow.

 

This’ll need careful aiming and would definitely impact like a truck.

 

She brought the weapon back to the living room. Coco was still positioned, sobbing lightly. Carafe lifted her tail again, draping it over the arm with her. She studied her charge for another couple moments, taking note of the deep pinks and lighter reds already shining on that thin bottom, growing lighter as they travelled into the crack. What really surprised her was how easily Coco was allowing this all to play out. Was she easily bullied? Or…

 

“Maybe part of ya agrees with all dis, eh? How long have ya needed a really, really good spankin’ to come along, Coco?”

 

She didn’t reply. Carafe held up the strap, pressing the cool material against the burning cheeks and watching Coco’s entire body seem to cringe away. The older pony told her in a very clear voice to take a deep breath and that it was okay to thrash or scream as loudly as she wanted, because this would fucking hurt.

 

Holding Coco by the croup, Carafe swung the strap back and brought it forward. It hit with an almost sickeningly sharp thwack, biting deeply across the middle of the tush. Before Coco had finished howling in reaction, her back hooves curling against each other and the muscles quaking, Carafe had swung it back again. Thwack, thwack, thwack, thwack. Coco Pommel thrashed, indeed. She tried to roll side to side, her soft voice echoing in a crescendo as she screamed out in pain. Three of those smacks hit her in the sit spots, where Carafe had so far avoided.

 

“I ain’t gonna lie and say I didn’t wanna bash ya head in,” Carafe assured her, watching deep red splotches already appearing on the upper thighs as she gave the cheeks more love with the next three smacks. “But the Manehattan way is we look out for each ottah. ‘Ya mess with one of us, ya mess with all of us.’”

 

Carafe continued the sonorous lacing, Coco Pommel’s roaring crashing on her eardrums now, but she was still confident the younger mare was hearing her every word. More smacks hit the sitspots and Coco was practically clawing her way forward now, but Carafe’s hoof to her croup was all that was needed.

 

“I wanna know ya improvin’ yaself, or I'll take liberties and throw ya back over my knee again, capiche?”

 

Chock-Full Carafe laid the final three whacks in a bit harder, all across the middle, in quick succession. She had even stood up properly to do it, aiming with the other forehoof and swinging with all her might. Then she rolled the strap up in her hooves, feeling it was a job well done.

 

“I’m gonna look out for ya, kid. Dat’s my own little promise. I just hope ya ain’t gonna hate on me for all dis, but if ya smarten up, ya might see it’s for the best.”

 

The burly mare left her to catch her breath again and returned the strap to the bag. In the hallway closet, she took out some spare pillows and a sheet. She didn’t think a young mare oughta walk the streets of Manehattan this late alone… especially with a glowing red bottom that was probably going to end up bruised.

 

“Ya can sleep here tonight, honey. I’ll be just in the other room if ya need me.”

 

Coco’s voice was a barely coherent squeak. Carafe leaned in.

 

“Eh?”

 

“I’m s-sorry…”

 

Carafe snorted again, but not unkindly. “I figured dat.”

 

Coco slowly got off the couch arm, very shaky on her hooves, and turned to collapse against Carafe’s chest. She started to cry all over again. She repeated the apology again, squeezing her tight.

 

Chock-Full Carafe never really had any experiences with this sorta thing. She might’ve had to take her niece Creme Egg over her lap once or twice years and years ago, and Scorecard more recently, but she never really tried the comforting thing. She compromised by patting Coco’s mane and feeling bewildered.

 

“Turn on the TV if ya want and get some rest, Coco. We’ll figure out some sorta work schedule tomorrow, when ya had time to sort ya work all out in ya head.”

 

Coco nodded, wiping her snotty schnoz and thanked her for the hospitality. Carafe rubbed her back for another few moments before leaving the room and going to bed, turning off the sitting room light as she went. She felt… accomplished.