+++
title = "I'll think of one later"
names = ["Nomine"]
date = "2018-09-27 23:54:11"
tags = [""]
spankers = ["Dad"]
spankees = ["Colt"]
posts = [""]
+++

It had been many years since the incident at naptime, and the little family had stayed together for the whole of it, the father still working and getting promoted through the ranks of the guards while the mother stayed home for the first few years of their foal’s life, before picking up a job to help set some bits aside for later. Indeed, it was a fairly idyllic life for all of them, the son included, as he grew into a fine preteen stallion.

Still, there were those moments when his childishness reared its head, and when he got bad grades at school, moments that often resulted in the month-long loss of a joyboy, or in having his free time cut in half to do extra chores around the house.
But the worst of all were the spankings…oh, how the colt dreaded and hated those things, reserved for the worst of the worst. Papa only spanked him when he made F’s on his cards, or when he…in papa’s own words…committed a crime that ‘As a guard, I cannot ignore’.

Today, though, was not going to be one of those days! Today was his very first time working the grill! Dad had promised to teach him how to grill corn and carrots, and they had spent the morning out at the shops, the colt learning all about different kinds of cooking methods. At one stop they had discussed spices and salts, at another what kind of corn and carrots and potatoes went well on the grill and what didn’t.

Then, at the final stop before they wound up home, Papa had taught him all about the difference between grilling over hot coals and grilling over a gas flame, helped by a friendly salespony who had been happy to teach the colt all about propane and propane accessories!
The only downside to the whole trip, though, was when he accidentally forgot to put something in their cart onto the belt for the register, causing the alarm to go off!

Papa hadn’t believed him when he told him it was an accident…or, rather, he had, but he had also told his young son that “accidental crimes are still crimes, and are punished accordingly.” as he had sat down on a bench, dragging the struggling youngster across his knees.

The first spank had landed, causing him to cry out in pain as he pleaded with his Papa…more for appearance’s sake than anything…his Dad never stopped until he had gotten as many spanks as he had years of age…and he had just turned nine last week, he realized as a second crack echoed through the area!

Spanks three and four struck down across his vulnerable tush, the colt starting to sniffle and whine as he felt his hindquarters reddening, knowing this was going to mar an otherwise perfect day…

“OWWY! DADDY NO!” he yelped out as a particularly painful fifth spank landed on his sit spots, the colt wriggling now. “I’m sorry!” he begged, just praying his Dad got it over with quickly, as he whined and looked at the floor.

His prayers were soon answered, and the poor pony cried out as four fast, hard swats landed on his tender cheeks before Papa set him back down on the ground. “Nine spanks delivered…see you remember this lesson.” He ordered, in his sternest guard voice.

As the colt nodded, he whined more, rubbing his flank and looking all around at the ponies staring at him, blushing furiously under his tear-streaked face until Papa lifted his head and gently wiped his cheeks before nuzzling him and pulling him into a hug. “Let’s get home, kiddo.” He had said then.

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But all that was in the past, and now he was standing in front of the grill, carefully preparing the metal grates, wiping them down with oil and giving them a good scrub before another wipedown occurred, the colt taking his time with the job, as Papa expected.

Finally, though, the grates were done, and he grinned as Papa turned on the flames, reaching back to rub his behind again before he turned his attention to the food, carefully peeling and scoring the carrots with a fork. “Okay…sauce and marinade for carrots…put them in it to sit…” he said to himself, remembering the lessons he had been coached on that morning. “Wash and slice the potatoes in halves so they get good grill marks, but don’t remove the skin.”

As he worked, he smiled up at his Papa, seeing the stallion nod approvingly before the colt turned his attention to the corn, carefully husking it out, stripping away the threads and stalk before laying each one onto its foil wrapper, grabbing the saltshaker and liberally coating each cob before slathering them in melted butter!

Suddenly, out of nowhere, his Dad gave him another crack across the rear, and the colt yelped and spun around, tail swinging down to protect himself as he glowered at his Papa! “D..Dad! What was that for?!” he yelled…or tried to, anyways. His voice came out as kind of a squeak, really.

“You know the rules, son. I have to respond to any crime being committed in my presence.” Papa answered him, looking deadly serious as he pointed in front of him.

Gulping and trotting over, the son complied, looking up at his Dad with a bit of apprehension, but an indignant look. “A..And what charge am I under now?”

Dad looked down and nodded, patting his head. “Good lad, taking responsibility. The charge is…”
“A salt and buttering with intent to grill.”
