+++
title = "Shining"
names = ["SeaSwirl"]
date = "2014-02-19 14:41:24"
tags = ["M/M", "paddle", "otk", "juridical", "bruises", "blood", "non-consensual"]
spankers = ["Anon"]
spankees = ["Shining"]
posts = [""]
+++

"We are here today to witness the punishment of Shining Armor. He has been found, proven beyond any measure of doubt, to be guilty of extramarital affair. He is to be stripped of all titles and ranks, to have the pain of a broken heart inflicted upon him, and to be cast from the Crystal Empire."

The announcer spoke in a perfectly level tone, reading the script without emotion as his glowing horn amplified his speaking voice to the crowds below. The accused stood on display, at as perfect military attention as the guards flanking him yet obviously wracked with guilt. Cool breeze tousled his mane in the wind and came over to ring in your ears, giving you something to lose yourself in as the announcer preached the evils of Shining's misconduct.

You knew, of course. You knew from the beginning.

---------------

"I just, I just can't stop thinking about her, Anon."

He spoke to you, harsh whispers by candlelight. You and Shining had become friends shortly after his false wedding, before even his real one. In the two weeks it took the city to be repaired, cleaned, and reset for the correct ceremony Twilight kept her brother close and you spent a lot of time together. He took a liking to you, trusting his sister's judgement and opening up to you immediately. Soon you spent time together without Twilight, and before long you were bros. This was especially appreciated from your end, it was impossible to get more than two words out of Big Mac and most of the Ponyville stallion turned a cold shoulder to you for your odd shape, it wasn't until you grew close to Shining had you realized how much you missed bro time.

You confided in him your darkest secrets, fearing his lack of response and long, soulful looks out the windowpane meant he couldn't handle what you'd told him about Rainbow Dash. To your relief he brushed them aside with his own confession.

"The month I spent with her, the month the real Cadence was trapped in the caves, I was never more in love." 

"It wasn't magic. I know it wasn't. It was her, it was her true self. Everything she did and said, just, just the feeling I got from being near her, talking to her, the games we played. I was never more excited or in love than I was in the days before the wedding, it made everything with the real Cadence seem like hollow puppy love."

You had no idea how to respond to this. Shining confessed to you he was in love with another woman, testing you and feeling out your reaction. You'd know him for a year at this point, but he was opening up to you as though childhood friends. Perhaps you should have shunned him then and there for his own good, but you doomed him by supporting him and encouraging him to chase his love.

He reached out to you, and you reached out into the world. You spent your time in the wild taking long journeys, getting in touch with her brood and setting up illicit rendezvous between the two. From the office Shining appointed you in his realm you shepherded various comings and goings between the two, and although he always looked wracked with guilt as you left him, you could never remember him looking happier or more rejuvenated while coming home.

You covered his tracks perfectly, but he was still found out. It was futile to try and hide an affair from one who's power was to sense love. Cadence let it go on until she had enough evidence to be damning, and sprung her trap. Shining was to face a crippling public paddling and to be banished.

And you, were to be the one to do it. She knew you were the vehicle of his infidelity, and thus she felt it right that you would be the one to destroy his bottom as well as his marriage. Far from being paddled yourself, your punishment was the lifelong appointment to a position deep within the palace. Many long years by the side of the cold Princess, never to see your bro Shining again.

You'd almost prefer the paddling. 

"The adulterer is now to be stripped of all title and rank, as performed by the Captains of the Crystal Guard and Crystal Levy."

Shining obediently walked to the waiting Captains, one dressed in gold plate and the other in silver. Although they were both unicorn they went about their business without magic, pulling off Shining's clothes with their bare teeth. The crown was batted from atop his head, medals torn from his jacket and spit to the ground. Announcer called out each rank, even those of Canterlot designation, as they were stripped from Shining. Nipping at his flesh they tore off his red dress jacket, leaving him naked in the breeze.

You shivered emphatically, feeling the chill wind on your own skin. Miss Harshwinny herself, as appointed by Cadence, oversaw the preparations of the public punishment. As the paddler you had an extremely specific dress jacket, pony sized measurements carved in stone a thousand years ago, stretched over your chest like a toddler's shirt. It had taken two hours of arguing to be allowed to wear underwear, and she only relented after it kept flopping on her muzzle while she was talking to you while being jostled by passers by in the bustle of the preparations.

"The adulterer is now to be dressed for the punishment, by the Mistress of the Palace."

Shining against walked of his will another step across the stage, this time to an older mare, the head of the sundry staff around the palace. From her basket she pulled out a bridle, Shining taking it into his mouth in as dignified a manner as possible. Her lips moved silently to you, the kind old woman reassuring Shining as she buckled and tightened the straps on his neck and chin. The tight leather cut obvious lines into his snout, clamping his mouth tightly shut onto the bit. He raises his head now, looking in your direction for the first time.

You catch his piercing blue eyes for the first time since he was caught last week, trying to hold his gaze reassuringly. 

Trying to hold his gaze as reassuringly as holding his hoof you almost miss the two servants behind Shining. They lift his tail high, binding it tightly and docking it. Long, silky strands of blue hair blow away into the crowd as while the girls try to pick it up and spit it into the wastebasket.

Although his face is toward you the thought of his shamefully exposed buttocks and privates almost makes your own face flush. It's almost impossible to suffer through simply watching your bro being treated like this, your foot starts fidgeting hard enough the tremors work up to your knee and thigh. You're as jittery as if you'd drank a gallon of coffee, but Shining is calm and cool.

"The adulterer is now to be paddled, as performed by the Minister of External Affairs."

It was, in retrospect, an extremely unfortunate but unavoidable pun.

The Mistress leads Shining to you by the reign, his forlorn gaze keeping your eyes locked on his.

She brings him to the paddling table where you're sitting. Normally the pony would lay on the table while the paddler stood behind, but during setup you demonstrated that with your physiology it would be easiest if he laid across your lap. His side brushes against your chest as he climbs into position across your lap, settling down and leaning into your chest.

Despite his otherwise graceful you feel his chest against your thigh, his heart is racing just like yours.

You have no idea how you're going to get through this.

Taking a deep breath, you force out your one ceremonial line.

"This punishment represents all the pain of a broken heart caused by an unfaithful lover, fifty pangs of the the paddle."

All eyes are on you, smothering you with the weight of the attention. Your left hand runs through Shining's mane, braching his head against the side of your chest.

Your right hand raises the paddle. 

The paddle is wide and heavy, and menacingly gorgeous. It's heavy iron body is inset with dozens of small, toothy gems that glitter in the sunlight. More akin to a cheese grater than any paddle you've seen used before, this weapon is a crippling tool of punishment.

You must hold it high above your head, as practiced and brutally criticized by Miss Harshwhinny for hours. It must be brought down and swung with enough force to explode a melon. You were absolutely disgusting with melon pulp and juice by the time practice was over, and had trouble sleeping last night imagining the gore of your best friend wetting your lap instead.

Raising the heavy paddle, your muscles ached with soreness from the exercise of yesterday. As you elevate it high above your head the diamonds and sapphires twinkle, and across the entire Empire there is deafening silence. Not even the the wind dares to blow in your ears.

Frozen, the entire world waits. High above your head, excessively high you hold the paddle, almost afraid to stop raising it, knowing that bringing it down would be the next step. With baited breath, the crowd collectively leans forward, even those at the fringe of the crowd nearly out of sight straining their ears to hear.

Shining's ear twitches, flicking against your neck, snapping you back to reality. He groans one word to you through his tightly grit teeth, an unmistakable "Now!"

It's a powerful, full body motion, each muscle in your body constricting to slam the paddle down upon his butt. The incredible crack echoes off the crystal architecture, Shining's entire body jerks forward under the transmission of power. You feel his body tense, each of his strong muscles turning into strained iron cords beneath his skin. The tightly chomped bit serves it's purpose well, straining inside Shining's jaw

"One." 

You raise the paddle high again, dropping it down once more with all the power your can muster, the only two sounds in the world being your speech and the sound of impact.

"Two."

Again.

"Three."

There is a cadence you must follow, each strike must be perfectly on beat, neither too fast nor too slow. You had to practice to a metronome for Miss Harshwhinny, and you dare not ruin the performance. Shining likely couldn't survive a second round of beatings.

Raising the paddle into the air and slamming it down once again, Shining shudders in your lap as you call out "Four." He can no longer force himself to relax between strikes, his body remaining tense and taught on top of you.

You strike him again, his tense body taking the shock much worse than when relaxed. His chest still in your arm, you feel the impact transfer through his entire body. You're forced to brace yourself, having to hold him tightly to keep him from being driven off your lap.

"Five."

Striking Shining the sixth time creates a louder, wet smacking noise instead of the first dry procussions. Tilting your head you peek at his bottom. His sorely beaten ass is weeping now, clear fluid from the worn skin and light streaks of pink already color the thin coat on his flankcheeks.

Sighing and shuddering almost as hard as the shuddering pony in your lap you raise the paddle, unable to miss a beat. The wet smacking continues, seven, eight, nine, ten.

Then, rest.

It is not a merciful rest, it is part of the punishment. What kind numbness there was fades away as inflammation sets in, the light scratches across his cheeks already puffing out and weeping their pink tears. The paddle in your hand has already caught bits of hair it in, chewed off under the scraping teeth.

Shining's head brushes against your bicep as he suppresses the urge to convulse in pain. All you can do for his is reassuringly scratch his mane and cradle his head, holding him tight in the crook of your arm. 

The rest is short, and Shining groans in grim anticipation as you bring your hand back down to bracing his chest. You raise the heavy paddle once more, and resume the assault on his cheeks.

Slamming the paddle down on his now supersensitive butt causes Shining to lose his composure for the first time. He cries out from his clenched teeth, a shameful, sobbing groan. He can't keep silent anymore, with each strike he groans, with each wet slap chased by his echoing cries.

You call out eleven through twenty, holding Shining tight through his shivers and spasms, feeling the weight of his sorrow along with his body.

The crowd starts to talk to themselves now, a droning murmur as they whisper to themselves. Cradling Shining's head again you dare to look down at his eyes, starting straight forward towards an imaginary point a thousand yards away, welling tears. You look to the right at your paddle, bits of skin mixed in with the mane. Shifting over to peek at his bottom you're horrified to see most of the coat has worn off, nothing but bare weeping skin to absorb the strikes.

Time is short, and you dare to whisper to him that he's going to make it.

The third set of ten comes too soon for Shining, and he seems to groan 'no' as you brace him in your lap once more.

The twenty first strike hits home, spattering fine droplets of thin, pink gore onto your forearm, and eliciting the worst cry yet from Shining. It's a deep and guttural cry, a throaty scream from his bound mouth. You continue the relentless assault, grinding the skin off his rump with every strike of the paddle. Your arm is already growing tired, and your strikes grow sloppy. You cannot break the rhythm, and as your paddles become less 'square' strikes and being to slide they shear off more and more skin with each blow.

As you hit thirty you know for certain you've drawn thick blood, and your forearm has grown damp.

You're just barely halfway done, but Shining is nearly broken. 

During the third rest the breeze picks up again, caressing the sweat on your brow and stinging your best friend's sore bottom. He struggles against his urge to flee, writhing within your lap in pain. He's moving too much now, the Mistress of the House is summoned to bind his legs.

You say nothing, holding his hoof tightly as he is tied, rubbing circles on his frog with your thumb. The Mistress steps away, leaving you to your task. Your exhausted arm burns with fatigue, lifting the heavy paddle once more, but your hand is stayed for a moment.

He's shivering, shuddering in your lap. It's fear, for the first time he's showing fear, the loss of his bound limbs amplifying the dread and tension one hundred fold inside his head. You hear his breathing, fast and raspy, struggling to hold back tears. You feel your own eyes stinging, screwing them shut and bringing the paddle down.

Wet, throaty screams drown out the sound of your paddle impacts for the fourth set. Shining screams out all his pain and sorrow through the bit as you beat his ass, dampening your thigh as the blood rivulets drop down his flank, his tears smearing on your chest as his head thrashes and rubs against you. You're crying too, you come to realize, the guilt of doing this to your closest bro already sinking in.

His legs strain at their bindings, involuntarily attempting to buck, to kick, to run, anything to get away, anything to stop the pain. Shining's bottom is beaten raw, each strike of the paddle leaving his ass looking similar to hamburger, large swatches of skin completely removed, blood and albumin seeping free and spattering with each strike.

The crowd isn't cheering, but they are making their fair share of noise. The shock of the first full severity adultery paddling in centuries had worn off, the sanctity of the moment had been cast aside once Shining had lost his composure. They jumped and reared for better views, hooting and shouting along with Shining and mocking him. 

You strike fourty, reaching the fourth and final pause. Shining whimpers softly now, his voice painfully hoarse. Your jacket is soaked with his tears and drool, and your legs are sloppy and sticky with his drippings. You lean down to encourage him, to remind him it's nearly over, to look in his eyes and silently apologize, but they're tightly shut. You kiss his sweaty brow, earning a mean glare from Harshwhinny, and whisper into his ear that it's nearly over while caressing his head.

Against your will your arm raises itself, the slick crystals dulled with chunks of skin and hair, no longer glimmering. Shining convulses as he feels you shift beneath him, wracking you with pain and doubt. You bring it down for the last set, trying to end this as quickly as could be allowed. The strike that breaks the rest is the worst of the set, destroying Shining's bum beyond any measure of pain he's felt before in his life.

He screams hard enough to fleck blood in his drool, shuddering in your lap. He loses his last measure of dignity, you feel your lap grow warm as his uncontrollable spasms relive himself upon you. The warm fluid pools between your thighs, soaking into your pants, wicking along his coat, running down your legs and pooling at your feet. You feel his smoldering shame, even beneath the incredible pain he radiates, continuing the beating without acknowledging it.

Past his crowning moment of shame, as the final strikes come home Shining grows less reactive. Tears pour like water, but the cries fade into rasps, the spasms lose their ferocity. As you stike fifty he lays upon you limply, drained of life or any fight.

You breath a sigh of relief, dropping the crystal paddle onto the stage floor with a loud 'thunk' as it takes a chunk out of the wooden boards. You cradle your bro's head tightly with both arms now, whispering to him "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I lo-"

"The adulterer will now be banished from the Empire, as performed by the citizenry." 

The guards come forward, pulling Shining off of your lap by his reign and letting him fall to the floor, unable to break his fall. They cut his bindings and yank at the straps of his bridle, pulling it off roughly and tossing it away. Forcing Shining to his feet, they drive him into the crowd for the long walk to the front gates of the city.

His rear end sags low to the ground, beaten raw. The ponies in the crowd clear the way for him, making a gauntlet of jeering, jabs, and spitting. It pains you to see them act so cruelly, but you can pragmatically understand why. The Crystal Empire, the Crystal Heart, the Crystal Queen, the emotional currents across Equestria, they all relied on a happy Queen. Shining had destroyed her heart, he destroyed the heart of a people, and all the ponies in the crowd tossing rocks at him had been slaves in the mines of a crystal King with a blackened heart.

This was fear, and you understood why.

But you couldn't take it.

You stand up, Shining's blood and urine dripping from your body, and walk off the stage. Into the crowd, a giant above the common pony, you march along Shining's trail. You roughly scoop him into your arms and continue your brisk march through the crowd.

Shining whispers your name in surprise, but loses the rest of his comment in a gasp as your arms chafe his devastated butt. Carrying your bro you wither the slings and jabs of the ponies he has wronged, horseshoes bruising your legs and hips. Even those who held back on the wounded man feel encouraged to take a swing at the giant protecting the adulterer, and you suffer greatly carrying Shining to the front gates of the Empire capital.

Just as Shining's twenty minutes of paddling must have seemed to be an entire lifetime for him, the journey to the gates seems to take a year in the endless sea of bucking hooves and hard rocks as your tired arms struggle not to drop the heavy pony within them. 

He made it, just like you promised Shining. You made it together.

There is no vigilante justice, no murderous mob outside the city. The punishment ceremony is complete, and though Shining is permanently scarred, his high flank telling a story of his sins to any who could see, but no more physical harm could befall him.

The train station is within sight of the plaza, a short walk along a rather nicely laid pavestone pathway. His train will leave within the hour, and he will be on his own. You cannot follow him, you can never see him, you can never even write to him again. As soon as he leaves your sight, he may as well be dead.

The last thing he says to you is "Thank you."

You're not sure why it made you cry worse.

---------------

Years pass, Cadence keeps you by her side, serving out your life sentence as a minister in her court. You never leave the walls of your crystal prison, sending out dozens of agents and feelers out into the world for you, taking reports on frivolous things as well as national affairs, such as Canterlot plays, Manehatten fashion, you even have an agent make friends with Pinkie Pie to receive letters on your older friends.

The one pony they can never find though, is the only one you'd trade the world for to see one more time. There are no bros like him here, nobody willing to be your true friend. You sit in the same room in the tower he told you his damning secret in so long ago, looking out the same window he had when he was longing for the company of another.

"I just... I just can't stop thinking about you, bro."