+++
title = "Fluttershame"
names = ["KrishnaKarnak"]
date = "2016-02-08 09:45:00"
tags = ["M/F", "cane", "stocks", "bruises", "blood", "juridical", "non-consensual"]
spankers = ["Guard"]
spankees = ["Fluttershy"]
posts = [""]
+++

>You check your watch.
>1500 hours.
“It's time, Warden.”
>The surly old goat grunts.
>He gestures toward two unicorn guards, one of whom nods, before both disappear through the open door they were guarding.
>“Do you need to go over the procedure, Doctor?”
“No,” you answer. “You just need to repeat the details for the offender, that's all.”
>The Warden nods his satisfaction.
>“Very well. You have ultimate authority during these proceedings, anyway.”
“You don't need to give me exposition on my own job, Warden.”
>The sounds of steady marching hooffalls and a struggling individual reach your ears.
>Here they come.
>“Please! P-please!”
>“C’mon, Toots, move it. They're waiting!” said a guard.
>Fluttershy was dragged forward, moving awkward with her back hooves shackled.
>The Warden ripped a green tarp off of the contraption in the middle of the darkened room.
>Your eyes fall upon a short bench, supported by broad, spread legs on either side.
>Fluttershy is placed in front of it, held steady by the guards.
>“Fluttershy, we ask you now for your full cooperation. The doctor, here, will examine you carefully before we proceed to the recitation of your crimes and the repeat of your conviction. If at any point before or after we start, the doctor does not deem you fit for the punishment, it will halt and time remaining converted to jail time.”
>Most of these words elicited squeals of frightened horror from Fluttershy.
> “I un-d-derstand!” she sobbed softly.
>You stroll forward and place your bag on the bench beside her.
>Unable to look at you, she stands there in her shackles, a tight leather jacket wrapped about her torso to keep the wings from interfering… and leaving her bottom exposed.
>Ignoring her shaking, you open the bag and remove a stethoscope and a blood pressure monitor.
>Silently, you begin the examination.
>Her pulse, quickened; her breathing, sharp and rapid.
>“P-please! Oh, p-please, tell t-them… t-tell them I’m no good for it! I’ll take jailtime! Please!”
>You ignore her whispered pleas.
“She’s fit,” you inform the Warden. “Normal time.”
>“Very good,” he says, addressing Fluttershy again while you retreat a few paces away to lay aside your bag.
>The Warden only goes over the procedure after the medical, to ensure the guilty party’s full and undivided attention is on their fate.
>While the Warden recites the various crimes Fluttershy’s furfaggotry have entailed, such as the semi-destruction of Ponyville due to parasprites, the incident with Princess Celestia’s pet phoenix, the Breezies mishap, and the more recent emergency situation where she interrupted the migration of a flock of sea birds, you test your stop watch.
“Normal time…” you repeat in a low voice, watching it run through a full minute to verify it was in working order.
> “As a result,” the Warden concluded, “your sentence, again, is as follows: you are to be caned without interruption on the unprotected, bare rump for a full three minutes. Should the doctor call off the punishment, each remaining second will be converted into a full day of imprisonment. The doctor will also be our timekeeper.”
>While he spoke, unnoticed by anyone but you, the Royal Disciplinarian entered.
>He was a red-coloured, beefy earth pony stallion, with well-toned legs and a sharply defined jawline.
>He was even larger than the other red stallion, down on that apple farm.
>In his teeth, wrapped in a velvet cloth, was the weapon.
>Three foot long, a quarter inch thick, made from a very flexible wood, and soaked in salt water for three days.
>Offenders must wait three days before the punishment, anyway, to ensure the cane can be prepared.
>As he removed it from the wrap, Fluttershy took notice and began to panic properly.
>The two guards standing by her had to act quickly to seize her and position the struggling pegasus in front of the bench.
>Bound or not, she was making a real bid for freedom.
>Forced down, Fluttershy lay on top of the bench, where a leather strap was wrapped about her torso and tightened in a thick buckle.
>Her forehooves were placed in leather cuffs chained to the first set of legs on the bench.
>Her back were then released from their steel shackles and secured in the leather, same as the front.
>One guard magicked a ring on another leather strap down from the ceiling and slipped Fluttershy’s tail through it, tying it neatly, and magicked it up a foot or so, placing it on a hook.
>Tears were already falling thick and fast from Fluttershy’s face as she struggled completely uselessly against these efficient restraints.
>“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! C-Celestia, I’m s-sorry!”
>“Young lady, that will do,” the Warden said curtly, nodding to the Disciplinarian. “You may proceed, sir.”
>You mumble a word of accord.
>The big stallion picks up the cane with his right hoof and rears, placing his left on a support beam beside the bench.
>Towering over the shivering backside, completely exposed and vulnerable, he raises his hoof and strikes it down like a sword.
>Click.
>The stop-watch begins and you watch the first few seconds creep by with an incessant ‘tickatickatickaticka’.
>Fluttershy yells out in pain immediately as one, two, three, four, five rapid, vicious FWIP!s echo throughout the room.
>It doesn’t take long for individual yells and howls to give way to a low, shaky screech.
>You watch the spanking critically, occasionally glancing down at the time.
>The steep angle of the swing is maximizing the brutality of the thwacks.
>Every single hit of that flexible cane connects from the top of the left to the bottom of the right.
>However, he is altering his target by a few inches to ensure an even spread.
>Thin, pink stripe marks are slowly beginning to emerge, tracing the path of each whack.
>Though the cane is moving too rapidly to really gauge precisely where it lands, the marks are a give-away.
>He travels further down, straight across her cunt, and down onto her thighs.
>Even lower, and then back up again.
>Tickatickatickaticka.
>Thirty seconds have passed.
>Fluttershy is screaming a terrible, mournful, endless cry of agony.
>You see her struggling harder and harder against her bindings, but there is simply no getting free.
>Meanwhile, the cane continued to fall.
>Fwip, fwip, fwip, fwip, fwip, fwip, fwip, fwip.
>Some of the first pink marks to appear were deepening in colour with each additional layer of pain inflicted upon them.
>Welts were already raising on her lower cheeks and upper thighs as thin red lines which thicker, dark red outlines.
>Fluttershy coughed after a particularly heavy scream.
>This was only getting started and from dock to hooves, she was attacked all over again, the Disciplinarian now striking at random.
>“STOP, STOP, OH CELESTIAAA!” she wailed. “STOP, STOP, STO-AAAAAAAAAHHH! AAAAAAHHH!”
>Yeah, he'll stop…
“In two minutes,” you say to yourself, clicking the first elapsed minute.
>The Warden keeps his eye on you, waiting to signal the closest guard to the Disciplinarian if necessary.
>But this is nothing yet.
>“AAAAAAHHH! NOOOOOOO!” she continued roaring at the top of her lungs. “I'M SORRY, I'M SORRY, PLEAAAHHH! PLEASE STOOOOOOOOOP! STOP, STOP, AAAH!”
>You can see her abdomen contract forcibly as she took rapid, painful breaths between yells.
>Each time the cane crossed her cunt, her screams hit such a pitch that it stung your ears.
>A steady series of fwips to her lower thighs have struck gold.
>The skin, practically evaporated by multiple contact with the cane, was splitting.
>Shockingly scarlet blood began flowing down the back of her legs, staining her buttery hair, and the cane itself, with droplets.
>It collected in the hairs, flowed freely off her fetlocks.
>Just because she bled did not mean he was done with that spot.
>Wherever the bloodied cane made contact, ripping into the flesh and hair, it painted in streaks of red.
>Her lower right cheek, along the curve of the sitspot where the thigh met, tore open on the next fwip.
>A gentle ‘drip, drip’ was soon barely discernable under the loud thwacks as it approached a minute thirty-five.
>Fluttershy’s blood was pooling around her hooves.
>All limbs were shaking.
>The muscles and nerves quaked in protest.
>Her endless screaming and pleading, just moments before so loud that they rose hairs on the back of your neck, were dimming.
>Her pussy looked swollen with angry crimson marks across it.
>A few thwacks even licked across her asshole now and then.
>But now she had fallen deathly silent for a few seconds, lying limply on the bench.
>A feeble twitch here and there in response to the relentlessly beating cane, striking the left so violently that it tore a clump of hair clean off when sticky blood knotted it together.
>You gesture to the Warden.
>The caning stops when the signaled guard intervenes.
>Click; the watch stops.
>You approach the defeated pony.
>Pull back an eyelid, seeing that she's barely responsive.
“Fainted. Give that water bottle here.”
>Unscrewing the top, you examine her face.
>Drool and tears and snot stained the whole of her face and snout.
>She was red as a beet.
>Fluttershy’s eyes flutter open slowly after you splash her twice with the water.
>Looking around in drowsy confusion and mumbling a soft ‘wh-what?’, she begins to hiss and pant from pain.
>It doesn't take long for it aaall to come back to her.
>“N-no more! No more! I can-can’t… can't take it anymore! Please…”
“A minute and… ten left, gentlecolts,” you inform the guards, the Disciplinarian, and the Warden. “You may proceed.”
>It was actually only 65 seconds left, but you doubt she was aware of the last five seconds, so best repeat them.
>“Wh-WHAT?! NO, NO, NO, I CAN'T DO IT! PLEEEAAAAAARRRGGGHHH!”
>A brutal strike across the torn right sitspot had extorted a guttural moan of horrendous agony.
>The room again fills with the sounds of screaming and ‘FWIP, FWIP, FWIP, FWIP!’, the former elevating in a crescendo.
>It’s practically banging off the walls.
>You click the watch back on after five seconds and then click the second minute.
 >Fluttershy was soon covered with gruesome, bloody rips in her skin where it had split.
>Drenched with thick blood, gushing down, especially on the lower thighs and legs where there was less fat between the skin and the muscle.
>The areas between the wounds were growing darker, turning purple.
“Excellent…”
>She’s thrashing so intensely now, shaking the bench.
>Her stomach and chest are convulsing violently.
>You raise your eyebrows, knowing what was coming.
>With a splatter, Fluttershy vomited all over her forehooves, the bench, and the floor.
>She’s gasping for breath like a mare choking to death.
>The Warden looks at you sharply, but you glance at the watch and look back expressionlessly.
>Two minutes twenty seconds.
>She’s hardly the first offender to puke.
>FWIP, FWIP, FWIP, FWIP, FWIP, FWIP!
>Blood is starting to splash whenever the cane made contact with a bloodied area.
>The floor is peppered with droplets around the edge of the widening pool.
>A small, fleshy piece of skin is hanging off her left thigh after the last two thwacks.
>Two minutes thirty seconds.
>She’s still panting and gasping, convulsing again.
>It looks like someone took a knife across both cheeks now.
>The cane had bitten deep, the fat itself was nearly oozing out from the intensity of the caning.
>Like a frying pig.
>Fluttershy threw up again, her voice a scratchy, strained mess of torment.
>Two minutes thirty five.
>Click.
“Enough, Warden.”
>You slip the stop-watch back into your pocket.
“Twenty five seconds left. The punishment is over.”
>The Royal Disciplinarian dropped the cane back onto the velvet cloth, the blood upon it wet and washing it with the colour of wine.
>The guards undo her restraints.
>Fluttershy is clearly incapable of elevating her tail and it falls hard against her fragile, destroyed flanks.
>What a sickening, wet slapping noise.
>She has to be helped from the room, unable to walk herself.
>They escort her out, blood still dripping, plotting her path.
>“Thank you, doctor. Twenty five days,” said the Warden.