A Sore Shopping With Score (Edit) by KrishnaKarnak, SkyeHigh and Pan

(Candy Mane, Chock-full Carafe / Scorecard)

F/m, coat hanger, hairbrush, otk, non-consensual, aunt

 

(06/03/2016)

 

 

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Small scene edit from Pan. Change begins after "***" and ends after "for a long time!"

 

“BUT MOOO-OOO-OOOM!”

 

Candy sighed. It was one of those rare moments where Scorecard actually called her ‘mom’ properly. But, gosh, the way his voice tore when he said that. He was fast approaching his preteens and puberty would be an amusing affair, but now that scratchy voice was just painful on the ears and brain.

 

She prayed he’d never say that line again.

 

“I don’t want to hear it! You knew this was coming, so grit your chops and suffer it out. A week, that’s all.” Candy closed her handbag and turned to double check the saddle bags. “And where are the candy canes?”

 

“The OTHER pouch, hun,” Streamline told her, yawning as he strolled by the open door to the master bedroom which seems such a weird fucking description for this modest middle-class family of city folk.

 

“C’mooon, Mama, take me toos!”

 

“That’s enough, now! Listen, go finish packing your things. You ain’t going to be able to run off to grab something once you’re at Auntie’s, you know.”

 

“Argh!” Scorecard bellowed savagely, realizing at long last that he was not getting his way.

 

“Hey!” Candy snapped, wheeling around to face him and jabbing a hoof to his snout, squishing it. “You watch who you’re snarling at, young colt!”

 

“Uhm…” Scorecard meep’d, scrunching up his face even moreso. “Yessum.”

 

“Pack!” Candy commanded, giving him a good smack on the rear as he turned to flee.

 

“Yiiikes! Mamaaa! Don’t whap me like that!” Score demanded, stomping his hoof down on the wooden floor in what seemed to be the start of a tempter tantrum.

 

“Scorecard!” Candy warned him dangerously. “Don’t think for even a second you can do what you want because we’re short on time... you’ll get way more than a simple ‘whap’.”

 

But of course that was all in vain already as the angered little colt just went on as usual when he was like this. Score went a little red in the face and puffed his cheeks up.

 

“HMPF!” he let the air out of his mouth, stomping his hoofies again in a savage fashion. “You’re always mean like this to me and never Babs cuz she’s your favorite! I wanna go Ponyville toos!”

 

He positively fumed but having said his piece, the little colt was just about to turn and leave and flick his tail for good measure when his head jerked back courtesy of a hoof gripped tightly on his right ear.

 

Candy Mane pulled her disobedient son back and got down on eye level, mustering him with a piercing glare. “I will neither tolerate your tantrums nor your defiance here in this house, young colt! And I believe it’s high time you’ve gotten another reminder of this.”

 

Against the squeals and whines and owws she pulled him firmly towards the bed, moved the bag aside she was packing on and sat her shapely rump down. Score by then snapped out of his tantrum and realized the trouble he was in.

 

“Maaaa--”

 

“I don’t want to hear it now, Scorecard! All I want to hear from you is crying and your usual ‘sorries’ that won’t help you anyway!” Candy snapped angrily.

 

She hoisted him up under the stomach and expertly and swiftly placed the squirming colt wrapped around her knees, head to the left, tail to the right and rump right in the middle and raised up. The candy maker grabbed his tail with her left and pressed it firmly into the colt’s back, rendering his struggles useless.

 

“Maaamaaa, p-please!” Scorecard tried desperately a final time.

 

Candy however simply ignored it, moving her rump on the bed she adjusted her position, rocking all 4 of Score’s hoofies in the air doing so. Then unceremoniously and without announcement she smacked her battle-trained right hoof against Score’s right cheek, making her son draw in a sharp breath at the sudden pain.

 

Time was against her and Candy had the bedroom clock in her view. This had to be short yet effective so she went for the stinger right from the start and drawing her hoof up after every quick spank. The added sting wasn’t lost on Scorecard who openly struggled to get away from his mother’s hold from smack #3.

 

“Stop that!” Candy Mane scolded and distributed the next volley of glancing blows to the sides of Score’s bottom and then to the tops of the cheeks, making it all shine pink quickly.

 

The harsh spanking showed effect instantly, Scorecard was writhing and sniffling and kicking all of his limbs uselessly in the air, feeling the pain in his haunches piling up alarmingly fast.

 

“MAAAHHAMAAA!” he cried, banging his free hoofies against his mother’s thigh and flank in an attempt to alleviate the pain.

 

“This all could’ve been avoided if you knew to behave, Scorecard,” she stated as a matter of factly.

 

Candy checked the time again and wrapped this up. Quickly, precisely she gave the sitspots the same flicked spanks, making Score writhe and cry in earnest. Her hoof found all the right spots due to years of practice and all of Score’s bummy started glowing brighter and brighter.

 

“WAAHAAAA, MAAAMAA!” Scorecard bawled freely into his hoofies, muffling the noises a bit. His legs were still active as ever and kicking and bucking like wanting to put their hick of a cousin to shame.

 

At last, after another particularly hard series of smacks and spanks and whaps all over Score’s squirming rump, Candy stopped and pressed her hoof into a well chastised bottom for a bit, feeling the warmth. She listened to the cries and sobs of her boy and then directed her attention to her still half-way packed bag.

 

She reached over and took hold of one of the wooden coat hangers inside. “This’ll do...” she mumbled to herself.

 

With practiced ease, she quickly trapped Score’s legs between her thighs tightly and pulled his right hoof back to join his trapped tail on his back.

 

Scorecard gave an alarmed loud whimper but could do nothing to escape the additional restraints, only pulling uselessly against them. All the while Candy had rotated the metallic hook on the top of the hanger away from Score as not to really hurt him and pressed the hard, flat surface of the wood into his heated up, chubby, chips fed cheeks.

 

“Are you going to throw a tantrum at Mommy like this again, Scorecard?” Candy asked in a calm and collected tone before drawing the hanger up and bringing it down across both pink cheeks with a mighty

 

CRAAAAACK!!!

 

“WAAAHHOOOOWWWWWW! NOOOO, MAAAAA!” Score howled and writhed in agony.

 

A broad red stripe appeared squarely across both of Scorecard’s bummy cheeks and it looked like it was pure blazing pain.

 

“Are you going to be defiant like this again to Mommy, Scorecard?” Candy went on.

 

CRAAAAACK!!!

 

“BWAAHAAAAAAAA! NOO-OOH-OHHH, M-MOMYYYY!” Scorecard bawled again, all modesty lost as his thick tears rolled down and mixed with the snot of his nose in his snout.

 

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SkyeHigh's inspiration: NSFW

 

 

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“Are you going to be Mommy’s good little colt from now on, Scorecard?” Candy took careful aim again and painted a third stripe across Score’s sitspots.

 

CRAAAAACK!!!

 

“YEEEEE-HEEE-HEEESSS! WAHAAAAAAHH!”

 

Candy held Score like this for a little while longer with locked limbs to let him soak in the moment and remember it. Then she released him and cradled his quickly in her arms. The comforting scene only lasted for a few moments though. Moments that Score relished nonetheless, freely bawling into his mother’s chest and shoulder which made the blazing pain in his bummy a little more bearable. Candy set him down on the floor between her legs, holding his hoofies in her own and letting him stand on his hoofsies.

 

“Listen to me, Scorecard,” she fixed him with a no-nonsense look, “wash your face, pack your stuff and get ready. We don’t got much time left. No more defiance now you hear?”

 

Score was quite busy with his little war dance on his hoofsies with his smarting and burning bummy but got the message.

 

“Y-yes, M-Mommyyy.”

 

“I finished early. If we weren’t so hard pressed on time you’d spend another minute or so bawling your eyes out across Mommy’s lap. So you’re on probation, mister. If I hear a single complaint about you from my sister we will continue this right here, right when we come back! Get me?”

 

“Y-y-yes... Mommy...” Score now had a real scared look on his face and was glad he wouldn’t have to suffer more... for now.

 

“Skedaddle!”

 

And Scorecard ran off quickly after finishing giving his poor rump a few good rubs.

 

Candy sighed wearily as she heard him reach his room and, hopefully, begin packing.

 

“Do me a favour,” she mumbled to her husband as he returned to the room, looking for his briefcase, “and fuck me stupid the moment we get there?”

 

“C-could we drop Babs off to the farm first?” Streamline stammered in a false, shocked tone.

 

Candy whapped him on the snout.

 

***

 

“He might be a little pouty today. I had to give him a quick spanking on his little rump before we left."

 

"Mama! Quit embarrassing me!" Scorecard scrunched up his snout, blushing furiously as he recalled being dragged over his mother's lap and being forced to demonstrate the new shade of Ponychrome Red. He imagined Chock-Full Carafe picturing him bawling like a blankflank foal, draped across his mother's powerful back legs, kicking every-which way. Quite the opposite of the mature pony he wanted to look like.

 

"Hush, Scorecard. Mommy isn't saying anything anypony couldn't already tell from your little fire-engine red tush."

 

And… yeah, that’s it,” Candy finished, “We’ll be out a week, and like I said, I wanna hear if he gets out of line: he’ll have another spanking in the books. Ya hear that Scorecard?” She ushered her youngster up the stairs with a smack to his hindquarters, the only thing that seemed to get through to him these days. He scampered off, mentally cursing at the injustice of his humiliation at the hooves of his mommy and auntie.

 

“Yeah, yeah, ya tolds me. I ain’t a flippin’ doof.”

 

“Yes, yes,” Candy said airily, looking uneasily after Scorecard. “He’s at that hyperactive age before hormones mellow him the hell out. Think you can handle him?”

 

“Get out of me diner before yas miss ya fuckin’ train,” Chock-Full Carafe advised her by way of a friendly, loving farewell.

 

She could tell Candy took it as such when she rolled her eyes, hugged her, kissed her cheek, and left with a wave.

 

“Take care, Score!” she shouted toward the stairs. “Mommy loves you! And be good, or you won't be able to sit for a long time!”

 

Chock-Full Carafe headed upstairs for a quick word with Scorecard before she had to return to the diner properly; this close to lunchtime meant customers would be waltzin’ down Bridelway towards her spot pretty soon.

 

“Now, listen up, smallfry! While yer…”

 

Scorecard was already on the couch, lazily flipping through channels, with an open bag of potato chips beside him.

 

“Hows in the hell do ya even play sports?”

 

“Wuzzah, Auntie?”

 

“Hey!” Chock-Full walked over and stood in front of him, almost bumping into her coffee table.

 

“Hey,” Scorecard echoed.

 

Seems like the supposed downer mood Candy mentioned he was in had run its course early. It appears he was now proceeding to the ‘sass’ part of the bad attitude roulette.

 

“S’long as ya heah, ya gonna listen to me, obey me, and do as I say. Got me?”

 

“Ain’t all that the sames?”

 

“Shaddap! Now, I gotsa mind my customers for a couple hours, so ya can busy yaself up heah and watch TV and stuffs, but clean up any mess ya makes and don’t makes too much noise. We gots a week togetheah, we may as well be friends, a’ight?” Carafe suggested, extending the olive branch.

 

“Yup,” Scorecard agreed, apparently, as he looked her in the face as he said so.

 

“Goods,” Carafe mumbled, feeling relieved.

 

A hooffull, Candy had described. Yeah, right! Get outta town, sis. Literally. Chock-Full Carafe could handle this.

 

“Holy hairy homosexuals…” she exclaimed in a low hiss, seeing the customers waiting at the counter when she got back downstairs.

 

She invited Scorecard down to the diner for dinner and introduced him to some of her regulars, only a few of which had even heard of Candy's family, even with the famous candy store. Manehattan was simply too big a city.

 

At bedtime a quite amusing task befell her. She was helping little Score to get into his pajamas even though he was a fucking ten year old, or eleven, or whatever... it was cute. As the colt stepped into the legs and got on all fours again to get the arms, Chock had a front row seat to view the remaining pink splotches of her sister’s hoofwork on his cheeks. Seems like she did a quite thorough job judging by the still intense color even this much later.

 

Chock chuckled quietly to herself and zipped up the zipper on Score’s belly and got him into bed, telling him to be a good boy or he’d be sleeping on his stomach for some time.

 

This all felt very routine after a while. By the third day, she only had to shout at Scorecard four or five times. Fuck, she roared at regulars more in the run of a week, and even ran off some kids who were arguing with her over donut prices. Wasn't all easy, though…

 

That evening, she was stupid enough to give him coffee before she burned the fucking fuck out of it. Freshly brewed, she poured him a cup and added three packs of sugar to it, knowing it would be bitter.

 

Coffee. Sugar. Scorecard. It was amazing she didn't need the fire extinguisher. However, it was time to set a warning up. Even if it was partially her fault, which she acknowledged.

 

“You've had lotsa free reign, but ya gots me shouted hoarse lately,” she told him, sitting him where he had no business being, according to him: on her lap. Apparently he was ‘too old’. But cute was cute. “I wantcha to starts mindin’ me a bit bettah than ya’s been doin’. Warning ya nows,” she said, emphasising the next bit by patting his kiester, “keep the attitude up and I ain't against wearin’ ya out!”

 

Scorecard flinched a little and clearly got the message, though there also seemed to be vague misgivings on his face. She didn’t think he thought she’d ever ‘wear him out’ like her sister would.

 

“Yeah, yeah, Auntie, I hears ya! I'll be good!”

 

“Looks like we understands each othah…” She tapped him on the chest with her hoof. “I’m guessin’ ya don’t wants another whuppin’ so soon.”

 

That look or not, she honestly believed him. She liked her sister's kids, loved them as though they were her own, so she'd put her faith in him 100%. Maybe that's why she got so pissed off the next day.

 

***

 

“Auuughhh! Ow! Ooow!”

 

She dragged Scorecard right to the corner of the living room. She made him stand on his hind legs and stay there or else he would certainly be sorry. Then she returned down to the diner to do some tidying up.

 

She had almost ripped the ear off as she pulled him into position. Still fuming, she started mopping the floor. She had taken him with her as she closed the diner early, it being Sunday, to go shopping. Scorecard's promise to behave was challenged there.

 

He was already on thinner ice when she caught him swearing feverishly when they stopped by the arcade for a short few minutes on the way there. Admittedly, Carafe thought it was funny as hell, but knew a colt his age shouldn't be talking like an asshole.

 

So, she had to warn to watch his trap or else she'd soap him, ‘’cause that's what ya ma would do’. But once they were in the store, he complained that she wouldn't pick up organic granola bars with a zebra mascot; Scorecard had to have everything zebra related, but organic foods were well out of Chock-Full Carafe’s price range.

 

Scorecard even went so far as to fake a tantrum, stamping his hooves angrily, but his eyes remained dry. She had warned him again.

 

“Keep that up and ya gonna get somethin’ to cry about!”

 

He still didn’t believe her. It wasn't until they got to the cashiers near the front that it got bad. Scorecard saw this sports digest on a panel with a label advertising a subscription service. Carafe had just denied him a candy bar, since they had some donuts after lunch and would eat some after dinner. But she denied him the magazine, too, because he was talking about her getting him a subscription. That was more Candy's area. So, Scorecard snarled at her in rage, angry at being denied so many things, even after she explained she never had a lot of money on her. Had she known he had already raged the same way at her sister a few days prior, she would've put a stop to it the first time he threw that pseudo-tantrum.

 

Carafe was super embarrassed, surrounded by fellow shoppers and the employees. Ignoring him best she could, she paid, and hauled ass out of there.

 

So, now he was in the corner, knowing full well he's got an unpleasant experience incoming. However, she wasn't saying when and felt a good timeout for him to think it over was very prudent.

 

Twenty minutes later, she pulled him from the corner and into her firm grip. Right to the bed. Scorecard shook silently, pleading with great big eyes not to get a bum bruising from a bruiser of a mare, even if he knew he very well earned it for repeating the same awful behaviour after Candy already made him kick and howl. She even had wooden coat hangers if need be, see how he'd enjoy round two.

 

She pulled him close, standing him tall between her legs and scolded him fiercely, inches separating their faces.

 

“Nows ya went and got me REAL pissed off, Scorecard!” she hollered, causing those wide, fearful eyes to twitch with fear, matching step with his tail. “Remember me warning ya? Remember what I told ya?!”

 

“I doooos, I doooos!” Scorecard defended hastily, dancing on his two hooves as she wrenched an ear good. He was quickly realizing just how different disciplinarians his mother and aunt were, but it was just the beginning.

 

“WHAT DID I TELLS YA?!” she demanded, eyes boring a hole into the middle of his snout.

 

“YAS SAID YA’D W-WEAR ME OUT!” he answered quickly with a stutter, plainly hoping being cooperative would help.

 

“We're gonna talk about this s’more later,” she concluded once she was satisfied he'd continue thinking of nothing else a while. She released his ear. “Go get Auntie yer jams! YER TWO PIECE!”

 

Scorecard darted over to the hamper and Carafe wondered if he knew of the greater scolding he'd get later. She waited, tapping her hoof impatiently on the floor to sped him on his way back. Once he gave it to her, she slipped the shirt on and helped him step into the pajama bottoms, which would soon be at the bottom of his thighs.

 

“Why am I in my pajamas, though…” Scorecard mumbled, clearly apprehensive about provoking another shouting.

 

“Yer gettin’ an early bedtime!” Chock-Full warned him, saying ‘early bedtime punishment’ in her head. “And yas can stay in heah until dinner time!”

 

Scorecard gave a moan of protest and went to stamp off, but jerked back wickedly as Carafe seized him by the hoof and dragged him back to her.

 

“I’m startin’ to think I oughtta tell ya Ma alls about dis behaviour, huh?”

 

Scorecard’s jaw dropped.

 

“No! Nooo, ma’am! Don’t tell my Mama! I might get the coat hangah again!”

 

Chock-Full Carafe already knew about the improvised implement, but she had to bite her lip to prevent herself grinning when she took it the wrong way. Scorecard made it sound like Candy had already attempted a self-abortion before he was born and if he kept it up, she’d try again.

 

“Candy already told me all about yer little whuppin’ before ya left ya house. Ya might just gets worse then dat!” she informed him.

 

Scorecard blushed fiercely red, ears and tail low as he ducked down as though trying to avoid the color being seen. Carafe yanked the neck of the jams to straighten him back him. She grabbed his chin so that he couldn’t look away.

 

“I promise ya one thing! If ya keep up this bullshit attitude, ya definitely gettin’ a good hard spankin’ from my sister IN ADDITION to ANYTHIN’ ya gets here!”

 

All of it was starting to get to him and his mouth opened with a little shudder, his eyebrows slumped with his ears, eyes growing watery. But she was determined to stifle that immediately.

 

“Ya can stay in here with one of ya books until dinner’s ready. Go grab one and sit on the bed, got me?”

 

Well, the prospect of having some form of entertainment seemed to mollify him. He sniffed and nodded, defeated at long last. Chock-Full Carafe gave him a swat to get moving once he turned and he broke into a trot.

 

For dinner, she made some onion, parsley, and man fuck horses tuna casserole and Scorecard’s mood improved a little with some good food in the belly. She permitted him to watch a bit of television to expire the last few moments of peace before she concluded it was time to start his punishment properly.

 

She stood up from the couch herself and shut off the television.

 

“Alright, Scorecard, it’s time for bed.

 

“Aww, can’t we hang heah for five more minutes? I wanna see how they stop the transmutation circle…”

 

“No,” Chock-Full Carafe told him very firmly, waving her hoof toward the bedroom. “I wantcha to go in theah and wait for me in the middle of the bed, ya understand? We’re gonna have a chats.”

 

She moved away before he really had time to answer her. She retreated down into her diner to double check everything was all closed up properly so she could get a good start the following morning. While there, she had herself a coffee, allowing Scorecard another few minutes to wait. However, she tossed it half-finished; she’s had him waiting alone half the fucking night and it was starting to feel cruel.

 

Carafe trotted back up the stairs and right into her bedroom. She found Scorecard sitting dead-centre of the bed, looking seriously nervous now.

 

“I meant the middle of the edge of the bed…” Chock-Full Carafe gave a light chuckle, shaking her head in minor exasperation. It was her intention of sitting down in front of him on the floor and lecturing him for awhile first, but she decided to improvise. She sat down on the edge and extended her hoof toward him.

 

“I said we’d talk abouts dis later and heah we ares.”

 

“O-okay… we'll talks.” He didn't move, just remained in the middle with his tail wrapped protectively around him. Carafe was still twisted around, hoof still extended. “Am I bein’ scolded still?”

 

“Ya most certainly are!” Carafe leaned back and took him by the ear again. “Get ovah heah!”

 

Scorecard whimpered and crawled forward slowly on his belly, his hindquarters very hesitant to leave the warm spot his tush put in the middle of the sheets.

 

“I said get ovah heah!” she repeated, adding her other hoof to the mix once he was within child-snatchin’ distance.

 

She muscled the now-squirming youngster into position… directly across her lap. Scorecard started to howl in fearful protest, but Carafe’s big frame kept him balanced across both knees, the hoof she tossed over his back completely preventing him from touching anything below his chest.

 

“Y-ya said ya’d scooold m-me!” Scorecard whined in a mad panic as Carafe ran her hoof along his waistband.

 

“Oh, yup,” she said, gripping the band over the right side and pulling it down a bit, moving to the left and repeating the gesture exposing and a bit of his cheeks to the air already. “Ya ain'ts avoidin’ a talkin’ to!”

 

She continued slowly rolling down the pajamas as he squirmed and kicked his little hoofsies feebly. Left and right, inch by inch, she slid them down, using his movements to help unpin the fabric that his weight pressed into her thigh. Scorecard begged her, pushing against her thigh for freedom to no avail.

 

Chock-Full Carafe stopped when she could pull the fabric inward toward the opposite side, right between the insides of Scorecard’s thighs, his pudgy butt completely exposed. She pulled the tail up and secured it under her strong hold.

 

“Pleeeaseee-eee-eee!” Scorecard begged much more heartily, his voicebox tearing slightly by the sounds of it.

 

Chock-Full placed her hoof comfortingly over his bottom. She moved to the left, dragging it across in a deep rub.

 

“Tells me, kiddo,” she started, making wide circular motions, traveling up one cheek and down the other, back and forth, cheek to cheek, fluidly like moving a cloth through water. “Tells me why ya think ya can fuss and stamp and scream at me?”

 

“I d-don’t thinks I can f-fuss and stamp at ya!” Scorecard whimpered, his hooves kneading against her thigh.

 

“You don’t?” she asked in mock surprise, still rubbing very deeply, feeling the thin hairs and feeling the warmth of the skin below. “That don’t explain why ya think ya can make a freakin’ scene at the store when ya don’t getcha way. Ya knows I ain’t got s’much money as ya parents?”

 

“Y-yes, ma’am! I'm sawwy!” he apologised, giving a hard sniff which had a snotty, snorting sound, as though he was starting to cry.

 

“Not yet, ya ain't! I'd be flippin’ mad not to light this little ass on fire right now!”

 

“NOOOOOOOO!” Scorecard howled in a long cry.

 

“No? What would ya Ma do, huh? Ya been acting up after I WARNED YAS! Ya embarrassed me and shamed yaself at the store and I told ya, I wanted no more troubles!”

 

It kind of hurt to admit she was embarrassed over her nephew's behaviour. Chock-Full Carafe had a belly fulla dynamite and a booty like pooooaaaawwaaah; she had a high opinion of herself and her stoicism, for lack of a better description. She tended not to care what others thought, but knowing Score like she did, or rather, one of her sister's kids like she did, it was close to say disappointed shame that her own skin couldn't brush off.

 

“I know! I know what ya said, Auntie, and I'm sawwy!” Scorecard tried to twist around to look meekly at her, maybe throw in those puppy dog eyes, but she held him so close, but stiffly, that such movements were impossible.

 

The entire time, she caressed and kneaded his bumcheeks, rubbing them so tenderly, like massaging a lover's aching legs after a long day in the field or factory. She was marinating a steak, she was so focused.

 

“Ya never answered me, Scorecard! What would ya Ma had done?”

 

Scorecard was sniffling in earnest now, wiggling his hooves and snorting back the snot collecting in his sinuses.

 

“S-she’d s-s-spank m-me…”

 

Chock-Full Carafe pulled him to a kneeling position, keeping a firm hold on his pajamas as though to remind him where she wanted them, and pushed him off her lap. Setting him on his hooves, she gave the final malediction.

 

“Ya bring me my hairbrush, young colt. Bring Auntie the big cherry brush and ya get ya ass right across my lap again! MOVE!”

 

Scorecard moved immediately. He waddled to her dresser, almost hopping from his front hooves to the back since the pants were still around his thighs. Scorecard was shaking with sobs now, wet tear tracks flowing down his face, craving fresh trenches through the hair. Her cherry brush, painted cherry red, was not a large object or a particularly heavy object, but it was solid and very study. A finely crafted tool. Score would feel the full impact and power of each and every smack. Obediently, he gave her the dreaded weapon, sobbing and shaking, and climbed over her knee again, as Candy had instructed him once or twice before, but it had to be a lot more difficult with a different pony doing such an intimate corrective task.

 

She locked the tail under her hoof, pressed the cool wood into the pudgy tush, overly sensitive from her ministrations, and started to pound him.

 

She swung the brush wide, away from target, and smacked it back where she had pressed it. Both hooves kicked out as Score squeezed her thigh with his front. He opened his mouth wide and howled. And did it again when she dished out another smack.

 

Carafe was merciless. Her massaging was the build, because she started with firm strength, making that tiny brush feel like the widest weapon Candy Mane would use. She already felt Score would fear her brush like any of his mother's after she scolded him. And judging by his flailing during this meticulous opening flurry, he'd be right.

 

“WAAA-AAA-AAAH! NOOO-OOO-OOO! IT HUUURTS, IT HUUURTS, PLEEEAAAAASSSEEEE! AUUUNTIEEE!”

 

CRACK, CRACK, CRACK.

 

“Ya had all evening to give this a thinkin’ over, Score! Ya shoulda known Auntie would be tannin’ ya blood red before all was said and done, so ya lie there and kick and scream as loud as ya wanna if it helps, because Auntie’s got a big, hell of a job to do, wearin’ this skin raw!”

 

Her spanking sounds clashed with Scorecard's bashee wailing, the brush making contact so fast it was hard to really notice any welting or redness that would form this early. The fattest part of Score's cheeks, the parts that resisted gravity the best, were taking the brunt of the attack. Both cheeks’ centres flattened constantly, often together as the solid brush crashed across the crack, and after awhile, the pink was showing on them most.

 

Her nephew screeched and bawled, pounding her leg as hard as she worked the fanny, but a grown, burly mare's tolerance was a mountain compared to a bad little colt getting a well deserved and long earned brush thrashing.

 

If there was any part of Score's mind that felt that howling loudly would ease Carafe into early mercy, he'd be sadly mistaken. He's going to be spanked until that ass was downright scarlet, she decided.

 

She started to notice an immediate increase in the franticness of his crying. Maybe Score really was trying for an early reprieve. Once it was clear Chock-Full Carafe was unmoved, real terror was setting in.

 

 

“AUUUNTIEEE-EEE-EEE!” Score screamed agonisingly, both hooves rapidly swishing through the air as he thrashed and struggled, the tail yanking hard against the underside of her hoof.

 

CRACK! CRACK! There was definitely colour now. Scorecard's bum was showing the battlescars. The brush bruised both cheeks independently now, jumping from one to the other, equally discriminating and equally painful. Scorecard was still screeching like his life depended on it, but Carafe wasn't throwing in the towel yet.

 

“Dat’s right, ya kick and bawl to ya heart's content. We gots all night and just us heah! Ya think good and hard and ya let dat burning bummy helps ya out, all about how much ya bad behaviour hurt Auntie and how much ya bad behaviour is hurtin’ right now. Think ya Ma gonna be real happy with ya? Huh?”

 

Her swinging was starting to grow exhausting, but that just meant a good job was being performed. The cheeks were nicely painted, pink all over with red along the centres and along the crease, but the upper and lower cheeks were barely hit. Chock-Full Carafe migrated higher. The sensitive, nerve dense upper cheeks around Scorecard's dock fell under the relentless thrashing. Scorecard’s head was low, mouth open in a constant howl, drool, tears, and snot leaking out. The mucus around his snout was so bad that when he pressed a hoof to his face uncontrollably, it came away connected with a thick, sticky, viscous strands.

 

“If ya lucky, dis’ll be the worst of it and Candy won't be whuppin’ ya again. I'm warning ya nows! One more mess up and we're here again and ya Ma is bein’ told everythin’.”

 

Score just cried and cried, well beyond any intelligible answer. The red brush continued correction against the reddening tush, finally moving down to the lower portions… and the sit spots.

 

Scorecard revived a little as his writhing picked up considerable steam. His kicking became so violent that he eventually worked the pajamas down to his legs, then one leg, then the closet’s doorknob. What a great kick, but too bad it wasn't intentional.

 

Carafe laid hard into the sitspots, telling her nephew that she was rarely so upset or disappointed with anypony and that she hoped he'd never, ever forget this.

 

When she ended with a final flurry against the middles again, she left the rump twitching and sweating, shaking and quaking, while a very nasally Scorecard screeched towards the floor. He was choking and coughing violently, and for a moment, she was overcome with a fear that she had gone too far, but he regained himself and cried on. Feeling utterly pooped herself, she gently pulled him into an assuredly uncomfortable sitting position and rubbed his back. She deposited the brush on the floor with a dull thunk.

 

After awhile, she got him and laid him down, bent over the bed, his backside glowing like the setting sun, radiating enough heat to melt the ice caps. It would the final time she'd be leaving him alone for any reason other than to serve customers, as long as he behaved. Scorecard could enjoy some peace and privacy to collect himself before they both went to sleep. Meanwhile, this coffee-addicted beastly mare could enjoy another bitter, burnt, WONDERFUL coffee.

 

She walked out to her kitchen, confident there’d be no other problems this week

 

His jammies were still on the knob.

 

END