Takes the Cake by KrishnaKarnak

(Cup, Carrot / Pound, Pumpkin)

F/m, M/f, paddle, otk, corner, non-consensual

 

(05/08/2014)

 

 

---

 

“Phew, my bones are just about worn through!” Cup Cake said with a yawn, lying low in her armchair with her eyes closed, listening to the gentle 'tick tick' of the clock. “I can't believe how bad the evening rush was! AND I can't believe they weren't there to help. I'll be cutting their allowances!” She exhaled, blowing a raspberry. “At least Pinkie was here.”

 

“Yes, dear, but you need to calm down,” Carrot Cake said gently, lying across three couch cushion with his limbs crossed. “Where are they, again?”

 

“I don't know, love,” his wife sighed, rubbing her tired face with her hoof. “Pound said they were going to a party 'round four, but it's already nearly nine! Luna's moon has been up an hour!”

 

“Why do you call it 'Luna's' moon?” her husband asked wearily. “They don't actually own the sun and the moon, sweetcakes.”

 

“Hush.” Cup threw a light couch pillow at him. “Anyway, their curfew is seven-thirty on a school night, you know! They are getting one hell of a mouthful when they come home!”

 

There was a quiet ringing noise as the bell above the store's entrance tingled. Neither of the ponies moved, listening carefully to see if their children had returned. The sound of several hooves echoed off the tiled floor in the adjacent room. Judging by the voices, it was the Crusaders. Of course, it had been years since those mares got their cutie marks, but the group name stuck.

 

“It's your turn,” Mrs. Cake informed her husband, eyes still closed.

 

“I got the last two customers!” Mr. Cake protested. “It's YOUR turn, honey.”

 

Silence for a few seconds. “So it is,” she conceded.

 

Carrot breathed a deep, satisfied sigh, listening to his wife of twenty long and happy years venture out to greet and serve the trio. He opened a bleary eye and stared up at the clock. The twins WERE late getting home, but no need to worry. Yet.

 

Mrs. Cake returned five minutes later and dropped back into her chair, exhaling. “That Scootaloo... She bought a dozen pecan delights! She's going to get fat if she's not careful, and I should know.”

 

“Nonsense,” Mr. Cake said dismissively, waving an airy hoof. “You're as gorgeous as the day I met ya!”

 

She gave a disbelieving huff, but sounded mollified by his flattery. The two lapsed into another lazy, sleepy silence, listening to the clock ticking on and on. As the minutes passed, however, Carrot did start to get a little concerned.

 

“I'll go looking for them, I suppose” he decided eventually, swinging his legs off the couch and getting to his hooves. “This is getting a bit ridiculous. I'll take Pinkie, since she can cover a lot of ground when she gets going.”

 

“Somepony say my name?!”

 

The plant in the corner rose a few inches as Pinkie's head appeared from below. She held the plant high and crawled out, replacing it neatly behind her. Studying her handiwork minutely, she backed away a few paces and turned to face the couple, beaming.

 

Cup Cake glanced to her husband before raising her eyes to the heavens in an exaggerated roll. That Pinkie... Over fifteen years since they invited her into their home, Pinkie had more or less been exactly the same: hyperactive, random, sweet, and loved like their own child. A constant in their lives, the pink mare had practically been as much a caretaker to the twins as Mr. and Mrs. Cake. It was natural that she was being called upon once more.

 

“Uh, right...” Mr. Cake began uncertainly, shooting a look with his wife. “Pinkie Pie, could you help me go and look for the twins? They're not home yet.”

 

Pinkie looked taken aback, but recovered quickly. “Okie dokie!” she agreed with a fervent nod, always willing to help.

 

A few minutes later, Carrot was walking down the street in one direction while Pinkie Pie bounced in the other. He checked the main stretch of Ponyville, around the town hall. No sign of them. He asked around, but none of the late night workers or revellers had seen tail nor mane of Pound or Pumpkin. None of the twins' friends that Carrot interrogated could give him an answer, either. It was very strange. He caught the Crusaders before they reached the club where Sweetie Belle was to perform her latest set, but it was just another dead end.

 

As Mr. Cake rounded back toward the main street and toward Sugarcube Corner, he could feel his heart rate thundering in neck. Where in Equestria were his children? This wasn't like them. They were never late, for a start.

 

Pinkie came galloping into sight as he came to a stop outside of the shop's main door. Carrot opened his mouth to enquire, but Pinkie Pie forestalled him with a grimace. She jerked her poofy-maned head toward the door and moved through it. Curiously, Mr. Carrot followed her.

 

“They'll be home in ten minutes...” Pinkie told him in a stage whisper, looking slightly apprehensive.

 

Mrs. Cake, who had left the living room to serve another customer, rounded around the counter and approached them.

 

“Pinkie Pie, what's wrong, hun? Are they alright?” she asked quickly, face blanching as a sudden surge of fear stabbed at her. “Oh, no! What's happened?!”

 

“They, uh... with the Princess. Princess Luna has them.”

 

In no time at all, the adults were standing stock-still, eyes locked onto the doorway. A long, shimmering, sparkling mane blowing as though caught in a high wind preceded Princess Luna through the entrance to the shop. Mrs. Cake immediately sank into a very deep bow. Mr. Cake imitated her at once, sinking low on his limbs. Neither parent had quite recovered enough from the shock of having a princess in their shop again to question the goldish gray pegasus or the light yellow unicorn, both seized amidst Luna's magical aura. The twins were looking shifty and wrong-footed. Pumpkin Cake waved nervously at her father, grinning.

 

“Uh... hi!” she said in what she evidently felt was a causal, winning voice. “We're home...”

 

Mr. Cake didn't reply to her. Pound, meanwhile, had his tangelo eyes locked onto his mother, tapping his hooves together nervously. Mrs. Cake was not predisposed to be sympathetic. She glowered at her boy. Quickly taking his gaze from her, he lowered it to the floor.

 

“I do believe... these two are yours,” the alicorn said simply, floating the pair of them forward and releasing her hold upon them. Pound landed carefully, but his sister hit the floor with a smack to her hindquarters, having been partially sitting while floating along. “Do forgive their lateness. That blame is with me; I had taken them.”

 

“Not at all,” Mrs. Cake breathed, frowning down at her daughter long enough to satisfy her concern for Pumpkin's well-being. “Pinkie Pie tells us that you took it upon yourself to lecture them. What happened, Your Highness?”

 

“It wasn't nothin' major, Mom...” Pound mumbled, shuffling his weight nervously from hoof to hoof, working front set to back and back again.

 

“Yeah, just a bit of... you know, fun!” Pumpkin added, biting her lip and staring at the wall to her left.

 

“Fun?” Princess Luna repeated imperiously, raising an eyebrow.

 

“What did they... ah, do, Your Highness?” Carrot asked in a measured voice.

 

“They vandalized the Appleloosa memorial monument,” Luna explained, closing her eyes and shaking her head. “It will require extensive repairs to restore a broken spire and requires thorough cleaning; it is covered in graffiti.”

 

“It wasn't just us...” Pound protested, scowling as he sank to the floor, huffing.

 

“You be quiet!” Cup said with a snap in her voice like a mouse trap. “Continue, Princess.”

 

Carrot glared at his daughter, who had the grace to look ashamed. Cup's face was reddening with both embarrassment in her children antics and anger because of them. Pinkie was looking between the Princess, the parents, the preteens, and back again. She shook her head.

 

“I shall handle the costs myself, rest assured,” Luna continued, “I simply felt duty bound as a watcher of the evenings to inform these children of the severity of the road they place themselves upon. And, of course, to bring this destructive behaviour to the knowledge of those who matter to them. Good evening to you all.”

 

Luna gave Pinkie Pie an acknowledging nod and left the shop, closing the door behind her. Pound and Pumpkin drew closer together, waiting for the fireworks from their mother's mouth.

 

Mr. Cake watched his wife pace back and forth. With each pass, her eyes locking onto the unicorn and pegasus in turn. Finally, she came to a stop in the middle of the floor, moving close and towering over the sitting adolescents.

 

“You...” she snarled, eyes widening in her fury, “you two were stupid enough to mess up a WAR MEMORIAL and get caught by PRINCESS EFFIN' LUNA?! I thought I was going to DIE OF SHAME! WHAT MADE YOU DO IT?!”

 

Mr. Cake wanted to ask his wife to keep it down when a customer could enter the shop at any moment, but at the same time he was fully on her side. Now that the royalty had left, he couldn't even look at his two children anymore. Pinkie Pie stood on the side, ears drooped and looking a little afraid.

 

“It was Pumpkin's idea!” Pound blurted out, smacking a hoof against the floor. “Her friends were gonna do it so she was all 'we'll go too' and I said 'no, Mom would kill us!', and—”

 

“What?!” Pumpkin shrieked, throwing him a look of deep indignation. “They were YOUR friends and YOUR idea! They were the dumb assholes you dragged me to that party with, and—”

 

“That's... that's enough.” Mrs. Cake ran a hoof down her face, deflating somewhat. “I'm disgusted, you two. You both... you both know better.”

 

“I want the truth,” Mr. Cake interrupted, speaking with a very stern voice, though his eyes displayed cold disappointment. “What happened?”

 

Pumpkin took one look into her father's eyes and sighed. “It was Pound's friends... but my idea to go with them. It was just a stupid idea for a bit of fun, Daddy,” she said truthfully, but as far as both parents could tell, with as much feigned-sweetness as she could. “I'm so sorry, I wasn't in my right mind. What you must think of me...”

 

“Yeah,” Pound added, cottoning on, “we shoulda listened to our common sense. I felt so sick with myself when Princess Luna flew by. It was my idea to actually do stuff to the memorial, but I am not afraid to admit when I'm wrong. I just wanted to be cool.” He gave a theatrical sigh. “We're very sorry we were so dumb,” he concluded, bowing his head. “Won't ever happen again.”

 

“You're right. It won't,” Mrs. Cake said briskly, striding past the twins and closing the door. Reaching into her apron, she pulled out a key and inserted it into the door, which locked with a loud click. She then flipped the 'Open' sign around, so that 'Closed' would be visible from the outside. “Right. Pound and Pumpkin, you can both march your rumps into the sitting room. Take a corner each against the far wall.”

 

There were a few seconds of silence. Pinkie Pie blushed a little, having her own experiences with the corners of the little sweet shop. The twins were both gaping at their mother, heads twisted around to the door to keep her in view.

 

“Well, you heard Cup.” Carrot sat down and folded his front hooves over his chest, looking expectantly at the preteens. “Put yourselves in the corner.”

 

“Uh...” Pound began uneasily, biting his lip. “B-but we're twelve, you know? Why are we getting time out? We know we messed up, but...”

 

“Age has got nothing to do with it!” Cup told them sternly. “You both acted like youngsters, so you're going to be punished like youngsters!”

 

“Wh-what?!” Pumpkin squeaked in a panic, her azure eyes widening. “D-Daddy, YOU don't think Mom's right, do you?” she asked nervously.

 

“Considering how the pair of you are acting, I think she's absolutely right.”

 

He got up and walked forward, helping Pumpkin to her hooves and taking her by the ear. Pound was mumbling protests as his mother took him likewise. Pinkie stood aside, still looking embarrassed as the twins were dragged into the sitting room.

 

“Mooom, please!” Pound protested, his voice rising in hysteria now. “The b-blinds are open! Anypony could see us through the window, it's embarrassing! Please!” His wings had sprang open uncontrollably.

 

“What's embarrassing is what the townsfolk are going to be saying about our family if word about the memorial gets out!” She delivered a smack to his rear with her free hoof. “Move it, mister!”

 

“Ow! Mooom,” Pound groaned, face red with humiliation. “Don't smack my butt like I'm a baby!”

 

Mrs. Cake dragged him to the back left corner and slapped the wall, indicating where she wanted him to stand. “For your information, I'm going to be paddling your backside until it's as red as icing, young stallion!”

 

Pound's eyes were wide as saucers. “Mom, no, I'm too old! Please!”

 

“You're in no position to bargain, Pound.” She dragged him by the forehoof into his spot, so that he was staring at both walls. “Pumpkin, stop fighting with your father and take the other one,” she continued, for Pumpkin had immediately started tugging against Carrot's hold on her ears the moment Cup had mentioned a paddling. “I'm VERY disappointed in both of you! A pair of paddled bottoms for a pair of teenagers who need to be reminded that there's consequences for their actions!”

 

“Please...” Pumpkin whimpered, already on the verge of tears at the very thought. “I'm sorry, Mom and D-Dad...”

 

“I believe you're sorry now, hun. A lot sorrier than you were when you pretended earlier!” She did not contradict him; Pumpkin Cake merely held a hoof to her eyes as her father positioned her against the wall. “But you can be a bit more humbled, I think. Pound, too. You both got a bit of growing up to do, and you can start with taking a well deserved punishment without a fight.”

 

Both shivering, nervous children quivered in either corner opposite the large window. Pumpkin continued to sniffle softly, while Pound kept his wings wide open in the vain hope to conceal himself from any onlookers. Mr. Cake directed his attention to the window himself, but didn't see anyone out there.

 

“Pinkie, come in for a moment,” Cup called out to Pinkie Pie, who was still in the storefront. When the pink mare entered the room, Cup gave her a reassuring smile. “It's alright, dear. Can't imagine why you're acting so shy. Could you watch them for awhile, make sure they don't move a muscle?”

 

Pinkie nodded solemnly. Mr. Cake wasn't surprised by her timidness; Pinkie Pie never enjoyed being around whenever the twins got punished. She couldn't even escape the fate herself sometimes. He knew his wife was going to ask that Pinkie remain for the whole ordeal, as well, just to ensure the memory would stick with the twins even longer.

 

Mr. Cake ventured toward the staircase leading upstairs. While Mrs. Cake busied herself closing up the shop and putting away some of the displays, he reached the upper landing and moved to his bedroom. Into the closet, he retrieved a pair of birch wooden paddles.

 

Each twin had their own, as they generally had a knack of getting into trouble together. However, the spankings had decreased over time, so the paddles were a bit dusty. Each was about nine inches in total length, with the paddle head about five long, and three wide. Both were a quarter inch thick. Light, but very sturdy and capable of a great sting.

 

Mr. Cake picked up one of them and brushed his hoof over the surface, cleaning the dust off. A unicorn horn was carved into it; this was Pumpkin's. He repeated the gesture on Pound's wing-engraved one and grasped both handles in his mouth. His mind was on Pumpkin's. He was always the one who disciplined their daughter. It had been almost one and a half years since he had to take the paddle to her, too… she certainly wouldn’t be getting it as lightly as last time.

 

Cup Cake leaned against the doorway to the sitting room, watching the pair in the corners. Pound whispered something irritable to his sister, who hissed in return, causing a watchful Pinkie to remind them that they weren't really allowed to talk. The cerulean mare spotted her husband walking down with the paddles and nodded to him.

 

“Few more moments,” she whispered.

 

He nodded, too, and removed the implements. He held out the pegasus wing one and she took it, examining it minutely. Pinkie was looking over at them, shaking her head sadly.

 

“She never liked nights like this,” Mr. Cake mused quietly. He drew Pumpkin's paddle between his hooves like a knife and moved forward.

 

“Alright, you two,” he spoke commandingly. “Pound, you go with your mother.”

 

Both twins turned around slowly, nervously. Pumpkin looked absolutely mortified as her gaze hit the paddle in her father's grasp. Pound hesitated, perhaps to try and argue his way out of his own paddling, but he instead stared at the floor. His hoof-falls were loud, as though he had to convince his body to keep walking.

 

Cup Cake moved to her armchair and sat down, pushing forward a little so there was enough room on her pudgy lap for her growing colt. Carrot sat in the middle of the couch, eyes locked onto his daughter.

 

Pinkie made to leave the room, but Cup asked her to stay. Pound immediately found his voice.

 

“M-Mom!” he croaked, sounding as though he was holding back a sob. “Please!”

 

“That's enough,” Cup told him firmly, seizing a tight grip on his front right hoof as soon as he was within reach. “None of this is your decision. YOU made up YOUR mind when you and your sister messed up earlier.”

 

“But, Mom! P-please...” Pound sniffed hard and Cup Cake caught sight of a sudden wetness to his nostrils. “This is so embarrassing...” He looked over to the window, blinds still wide open and the warmly lit sitting room visible to the world beyond.

 

“This is a punishment,” she said with awful finality, jerking him forward so that he climbed awkwardly onto her lap, “so it'll be treated as such.”

 

“Mom, wait! Wai—” Crack! Mrs. Cake had delivered the first hefty whack, even before he was properly in position. He hissed sharply, wings flapping as the wooden paddle left the underside of his left cheek, the side Cup was going to favour as a left-hoofed pony. “Yikes! Warn me next ti—OW!” Another, to the right.

 

She took the opportunity as he arched his back to seize his tail and place it between the wing joints, resting her right forehoof over it properly. He gave a fruitless squirm and sighed, defeated.

 

Mr. Cake tore his eyes from this sight to see his daughter, looking fearfully into his face. Before she could open her mouth to beg, he wrapped his hooves around her back and pulled her forward. Her face flinched as the sound of another CRACK! came from the area around the armchair.

 

Lifting his strangely obedient daughter up, he carefully placed her across his lap, positioning her waist just to the right of his own. Moving her tail to her back, he wrapped his long forehoof around it and her waist, securing her. Pound gasped in pain again and she shuddered.

 

“Remember, Pumpkin…” he reminded her sternly. “No magi—”

 

“Daddy, no!” Her resolve had shattered and she immediately began resisting. “I don't want this, pleee-eeease! I know I was stupid and it was wrong and please just ground me or something!”

 

Mr. Cake quieted her with a comforting rub to her vulnerable rump. “Sweetheart, but consequences are consequences.” He stretched the hoof out and retrieved the paddle lying on the arm of the couch. “Brace yourself.”

 

Mrs. Cake was having a bit of a difficult time keeping her pegasus restrained. Pound's wings were beginning to get quite powerful and weren't so easy to keep pinned beneath a limb. However, a carefully controlled flurry of hard smacks to the sitspot were doing their part to sap his morale, though his struggles were getting stronger. He was biting his lip, tears already sparkling in the corners of his eyes until at long last the smacks deviated to the fattest part of his bottom: the cheeks.

 

Pound was whimpering and moaning quietly, taking rapid, raspy breaths as he recovered from the twelve initial spanks that had his upper thighs an unpleasant peach colour. Mrs. Cake was normally not quite so brutal, but nopony could claim this wasn't justified.

 

Meanwhile, Carrot Cake had begun. He laid one, two, three, four heavy whacks to his daughter's behind. Pumpkin howled with early misery, always quick to break during a spanking. Each smack of the paddle was delivered across both cheeks, though the right seemed to take most of the impact. He started high and worked his way low, first across the nerve heavy peaks of the cheeks, then across the middle, then the droop, then the sitspot. Pumpkin's hooves kicked out and thudded in agony against the couch cushions. Imitating his wife, Mr. Cake began hitting the sit spot again and again, intending to really light the fire in his daughter’s backside. Pumpkin rocked side to side, but he held her securely.

 

Pinkie Pie was sitting on the floor between both parties, rubbing her forehooves together nervously and biting her lip. Her ears twitched with each and every crack of the two paddles now painting their respective charges’ bottoms cherry, and with each wail from the twins. Her raspberry tail instinctively swished to cover her own flanks. She couldn’t imagine the embarrassment and shame going through either of them, knowing she was there to spectate their foalish punishment. She jumped a little when a bookshelf started to wobble, glowing a bright azure. Looking over at the father and daughter, she saw Pumpkin’s horn discharging magic randomly. Another flash after a sharp smack to her right cheek caused some books to fall.

 

“Pumpkin…” Carrot sighed warningly, delivering another whack to her right cheek.

 

“I c-c-can’t h-hel—Aaah! Ooow! I CAN’T HELP IT DAD—” She hiccuped. “—D-Daddy!”

 

Over on the armchair, Mrs. Cake continued her rapid ministrations to her colt’s hindquarters. Pound was holding up well, but he was beginning to wear down fast. The opening beating his undercurve endured made sure that every smack that landed past his cheeks hurt a little extra, as the area was so sore and sensitive already. The colouration from the paddle was starting to resemble a pink mushroom cloud, with the fierce, reddening base, and the spreading colour on the cheeks. After the paddle smacked the left sitspot again, he let out a real cry.

 

“Aaargh! Mooom! That's enough! Stop! STOP!”

 

“You hush up, Pound, and take this like a big boy!”

 

Pinkie Pie noticed Pound's face was growing just as red, as though the burning, building heat in his backside was spreading to his head. His muzzle separated as he let out another wail, getting closer and closer to blubbering like a foal. She moved forward to give him some comforting words, but she caught Mrs. Cake's eye. The older mare shook her head, silently intimating that Pound had to endure his full tanning first.

 

Pumpkin sobbed quietly across her father's lap, face buried into her crossed forehooves. There was still the occasional expulsion of magic, but Carrot was not penalizing her for it. When the twins were younger, the spanking would've been over by now. However, they were older now, and Mr. Cake increased the pace of his practiced swings of the paddle. This would not be over so quickly.

 

Without the pause to brace herself or attempt to control her whimpering, Pumpkin was wincing horribly with every smack, tears spilling off her snout and into her mouth. Her father was putting more focus on her sitspot now, almost giving the blazing, darkening cheeks he had been working on a breather.

 

“Daaa-aah! Daaa-aaa-aaadd-dy!” she bellowed, throwing her head back and roaring with pain.

 

Mr. Cake had to ignore her and continue. His hoof was aching from his grip of the paddle's handle, but he had to overcome that discomfort, which was nothing compared to Pumpkin's. Pinkie Pie continued to observe him and his wife, looming from one, to the floor, then the other, then back to the floor. He and his wife would need to apologize for having the pink mare endure this. Throughout all the long, long years, Pinkie Pie hated seeing the twins hurt in any way.

 

Another two minutes came and went without incident. Pumpkin was really beginning to collapse by now, writhing and trying to turn around over Carrot's lap. The paddle had most of her rump good and blasted, with a deepening red sitspot, a red left cheek and and even sorer-looking right. Every time her back rose as her lungs swelled with breath, Mr. Cake tightened his grip slightly and gave her a strong smack. With every breath, though, she let out a true bellow of pain, screaming loudly as the tears splashed down her face.

 

“STOPSTOPSTOOOP! DADDY, I'M SORRY, DAAAD-D-D-DDDY!”

 

Pinkie covered her ears with both hooves, flattening them and closing her eyes. Mrs. Cake glanced over at her husband. As their eyes met, she nodded.

 

Carrot delivered the last twelve smacks to the sitspot, the same method that Pound's spanking had opened with: a smack for every year. Pumpkin's bawling voice was completely unintelligible as he did so, striking each cheek equally and both of them at the same time just as much. As the unicorn laid broken over his knee, he placed the paddle down beside him and stroked a hoof over the red, welted backside. The heat rising off of it from all the blood at the surface of the skin was incredibly warm. Two small bruises were forming at the bottom of either cheek.

 

Pound's experience had been similar. Cup Cake was taking great wide swings with the paddle, clapping it hard, almost grazingly, across his reddening cheeks. While his sister had already begun falling to pieces at that point, he was holding on. Even as his tangelo eyes swam with salty tears, he fought to keep them from spilling any more than they had already done. His cheeks were clenched tightly against the fury of the punishment, his muscles stiff and unrelenting.

 

The act of clenching had slightly elongated his sitspot, which his mother exposed more so by lifting her knee. Already sore from the earlier bombardment, Pound Cake couldn't hold up this time. With an almighty CRACK!, the paddle bit into the tender skin. With a gasp of breath and a shudder, her colt slumped where he lay and started to cry. His body heaved with every sob as the spanking moved once again to the burning butt cheeks.

 

“I pray you and your sister are going to think better of your behavior from now on, Pound.” Cup's voice was crisp, but not unfriendly. “You're both getting older and ponies your age need to start taking on real responsibilities. You cannot, and you WILL NOT, let brazen ideas get away with you! I expected a lot better from the pair of you than messing up a memorial just to show off. Am I clear, young stallion?”

 

Mrs. Cake had punctuated every couple of words with a good thwack of the paddle, focusing on each cheek individually. Pound yowled like a wounded animal with every smack and rocked back and forth, writhing intensely over the little bit of lap he had. Both cheeks were equally darkened now, deep pinks and reds, especially along the upper thighs. With the final word, she delivered three smacks across both cheeks, nailing the same spot and nerves each time.

 

“Y-yes! Mom, I promise I'll d-do better!” Pound panted once he had caught his breath. His lip was trembling and tears dripped freely from his muzzle to the floor.

 

“I hope you heard that as well, Pumpkin,” Cup Cake called over to the couch, patting the paddle against her right hoof while Pound regained himself.

 

Carrot helped her to her hooves. She moved very gingerly, wincing as the pain no doubt continued to thunder through her rump. “Y-yes, Mom...” Her mane was stuck to her face from the tears, and she brushed it away.

 

Cup Cake helped Pound to push himself off her lap by placing a forehoof under him and pressing into his chest. Once he was standing, she lead him back over to his corner. Pumpkin joined him in the opposite, her father behind her.

 

“Five minutes,” Carrot said in a clear voice. “Then you two can go to bed and we'll put this behind us.”

 

They raised no objections, but instead leaned their foreheads into the walls and gratefully stroked their blistered bottoms. They always had corner time after butt tannings, but they were always allowed to rub.

 

“And... I'd like you both to apologize to Pinke Pie,” Cup Cake said, five minutes later, once her husband had taken the paddles back upstairs. “She loves and cares for you two as much your father and I do. Your actions hurt her as well, and I don't think she very much enjoyed having to witness you get spanked.”

 

Both twins turned away from their respective corners, each looking awkward. However, they each mumbled an apology, the shame of the entire situation weighing upon them once more. Pinkie approached Pumpkin first and hugged her tightly. She gestured for Pound and he moved over carefully, his gait slow from his tender butt. He found himself pulled into the bone-crushing embrace as well.

 

“You just made a bad decision,” Pinkie whispered sweetly to both of them. “You're still my favourite babies ever!”

 

“We're twelve...” Pound sighed. “But... thanks, Pinkie Pie.”