+++
title = "Striped Rear"
names = ["UF"]
date = "2014-02-19 15:07:22"
tags = ["M/F", "paddle", "stocks", "juridical", "poem", "non-consensual"]
spankers = ["Anon"]
spankees = ["Zecora"]
posts = [""]
+++

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.”