The Punishment of Zecora - Zecora spanking poem by UF


                                            The Punishment of Zecora - Zecora spanking poem by UF

                                            (Anon / Zecora)

                                            M/F, paddle, stocks, juridical, poem, non-consensual


                                            (26/04/2013)


                                            https://desuarchive.org/mlp/thread/10072566/#q10118099


                                            ---


                                            Of the many powers of authority

                                            And its hold over morality

                                            You discovered first-hand as you approached the stocks

                                            And the zebra trapped between them, held fast by the locks.

                                            Zecora glanced backwards, her eyes lacking belief,

                                            Which you returned with a grimace that offered no relief.

                                            Her head to the floor, her rump to the air,

                                            Her tail raised high so that all else lay bare.

                                            A good friend she had been, and an acquaintance most kind.

                                            Surely hard pressed you would be for a better ally to find.

                                            Yet both fate and those who govern would grant you the power

                                            Over justice and punishment to be delivered this hour.

                                            Her crime was most laughable,

                                            A sin almost affable

                                            But yet sentenced she was all the same

                                            To fifty beats until surely she would be lame.

                                            Different as she was, it was considered a crime

                                            To talk to Gods in little more than a rhyme.

                                            This group of those who held prejudice

                                            Did surely seek to encourage this

                                            For to them, zebras could not ever belong

                                            And that her very presence was nothing short of being wrong.

                                            Though no charges could be pressed

                                            They waited till a moment best

                                            For them to frame her for a theft

                                            And thus an excuse was found to abuse her cleft.

                                            And you would have to play your role

                                            To reduce her to nought but a foal,

                                            For all the humiliation of being beaten by a friend

                                            Would surely bring this façade to a satisfactory end.

                                            Taking the saddle,

                                            Being given the paddle

                                            And with it the powers of justice.

                                            You couldn’t help but feel that something lay amiss

                                            As you held the tool in one clenched fist.

                                            There had to be a detail that everybody missed.

                                            Princess Celestia would observe the proceedings

                                            And be there to monitor every one of the beatings

                                            To her sides, stood two guards

                                            Disgruntled from being taken away from their cards

                                            And surely in a state most surly

                                            That they would compensate by emphasising their figures most burly.

                                            Yet how could this monarch let herself be so fooled?

                                            Surely all the authority with which she ruled

                                            Could be used to prove this poor zebra’s innocence

                                            Or at least offer some other form of penance.

                                            And yet she stood by with a grin most teasing

                                            Waiting for that moment in which you would begin pleasing

                                            Her majesty with your brutal beating

                                            Of a friend until and after she began with her bleating.

                                            “Zecora of the Everfree forest, you have been accused”

                                            She began with a smirk that suggested she were amused,

                                            “Of villainy against the people of Ponyville.

                                            For your crimes of theft you will be beaten until

                                            The count of fifty and my satisfaction reaches its peak

                                            Until then, no objection, I wish not to hear a squeak.

                                            As for you anon, you are charged with deliverance

                                            Of this punishment, which I trust you will not show any resistance

                                            To, nor suggest you are against, in which case the task

                                            Will be put to my guards, a cruel fate for which surely you would not ask.”

                                            There seemed to be no other option but to go on with the proceedings

                                            You clenched Zecora’s buttocks and begged she would not begin with the pleadings.

                                            As you pulled the paddle behind your back,

                                            And readied yourself to deliver the smack

                                            Zecora drew in her breathe and waited for it to begin

                                            And Celestia stood back and watched with a grin.

                                            You thrust the paddle downwards and clapped it against her rear

                                            And she grunted in return, not from pain but from fear.

                                            You turned to the princess, in hopes she might relieve you

                                            Of duty, though instead she simply said sweetly: “Please, continue.”

                                            Though you knew you didn’t want to, you returned to your duty

                                            And slapped the paddle again and again onto her undeserving booty.

                                            Fifteen more times you smacked it against her

                                            Watching the reddening of her once monochrome fur.

                                            She hissed between her teeth at the paddle’s cruel bite

                                            Yet stayed where she was without any hint of a fight.

                                            Surely her behaviour was enough for freedom to be given to

                                            Her, yet again was it said: “the punishment requires you to continue.”

                                            With the paddle in hand you struck a mighty thwack

                                            Bouncing against her ass with a merciless crack

                                            Her pain was clear, though she tried to stay proud

                                            You could hear her complaints as she mumbled aloud

                                            “Forgive me my crimes; I must have done wrong,”

                                            “But surely no action merits torment this strong!”

                                            Heavy fell her words, of which you were inclined to agree

                                            The paddle in your hand felt like the source of all villainy.

                                            Yet as you turned and tried to beseech the princess

                                            The monarch just sighed and continued to profess:

                                            “It is absolutely essential that you continue.”

                                            Added a guard: “Surely abandonment is what a coward would do.”

                                            A gag was put in place to prevent any coercion

                                            And the guards moved closer to prevent your desertion.

                                            You didn’t want to continue but you knew you had no choice.

                                            Authority’s command led you on with authority’s voice.

                                            What difference did it make what you thought wrong or right?

                                            A punishment would be delivered no matter who held the might.

                                            Surely for the both of you things would surely be best

                                            If you stayed where you were and completed the rest

                                            You were thirty strikes down with only twenty to go

                                            And with the zebra now gagged, nothing would break your new flow.

                                            The paddle struck home and her cheeks wobbled hard

                                            The finely sculpted rump, thick as though inflated with lard.

                                            There was strange satisfaction to be seen in the motion.

                                            Watching as though hypnotised, you were struck with the notion

                                            That perhaps you were aroused at holding this power

                                            At the idea that because of you now, Zecora did cower.

                                            As strike number forty rang in the air

                                            You still sighed from the guilt and wanted to free her from despair

                                            Celestia in turn rolled her eyes in her head and said “Come now, anon,

                                            You have no other choice. You must go on.”

                                            And so go on you did, because that’s what you were told

                                            For surely to show resistance, you could not be so bold.

                                            Authority’s command would obscure all emotion

                                            And you would oblige its decrees with pure, cold devotion.

                                            Forty five spanks hung heavy on her cheeks

                                            Leaving a sting would surely remain for weeks.

                                            The tears flowed freely down her damp, sodden face

                                            Chasing each other, as though engaged in a race.

                                            The forty sixth swing and now barely were you thinking

                                            So lost in your task, in your mind you were sinking.

                                            For now as forty seven was brought down with a crash

                                            From this situation, you had made yourself detach.

                                            Her guttural moans of pain and pure anguish

                                            Were enough to make anyone wish

                                            That someone else had been selected for this divine right

                                            And that if they were in charge, they might have been of greater moral height.

                                            Forty nine became fifty and a small cheer was raised

                                            Satisfaction abound, as Zecora’s ass blazed.

                                            She was removed from the stocks and carried away

                                            And you hoped that soon she might forgive you, if not then someday.

                                            Celestia approached and with yet another grin,

                                            She began to taunt you once more: “You are guilty of this sin.

                                            The paddle was not fixed in your hands, yet you complied.

                                            Had you simply said no, I would have revealed that I lied.

                                            Though she was due to be punished, I would not have my guard

                                            Lay a hoof on her backside or cause it to be marred.

                                            You punished this zebra, because I asked you to.

                                            Not because of whatever it was that you wanted to do.

                                            So before you blame me, please think on yourself

                                            And be sure to consider your own mental health.”