+++
title = "Colt's Club"
names = ["Nomine"]
date = "2016-04-24 04:58:31"
tags = ["m/f", "over desk", "paddle", "non-consensual"]
spankers = ["Colts"]
spankees = ["Sweetie Belle"]
posts = [""]
+++

Rumble sat on a cushion, a good thick one, as he banged his gavel in the middle of the wooden clubhouse. Around him sat some of the other colts of Ponyville, among them Pipsqueak, Featherweight, Snips, Snails, and their friends. All of them chattering away and chowing down on snacks as Rumble continued to bring the toy hammer down with a clack on his desk.

“Order! Order in the clubhouse!” he finally shouted, his voice carrying over the sounds of eating and talking. Slowly, the various colts calmed themselves down and took their seats, all save Snips, whose job it was to keep the prisoner contained. He stayed sat on an overturned laundry basket (swiped from Pipsqueak’s Mom) so that the pony beneath could not make a break for it.

Reminded of the prisoner, Rumble shifted on his still-pained flanks and looked over at her. Small, white, and looking alarmingly like a marshmallow, Sweetie Belle sat huddled beneath Snips, looking around her with fear in her eyes. Rumble nodded…first time being captured in the eternal game. Maybe be gentle with her.

But first, back to business. “All rise and salute the Tiger, for let us never forget that Tigers are Great, the Toast of the Town!” he cried, following his own advice and standing to salute a tiger plushie they had mounted on the wall, a reminder of their clubs illustrious founders.

The saluting finished, Rumble sat back down with a yelp, one that earned more than a few snickers from his “friends”. Casting them a dark look, he shifted on the cushion and opened the club’s book. “By my decree as Dictator-For-Life of the Ponville Chapter of the Get Rid Of Slimy girls (GROSS) club, I now call this meeting to order.” He called out, beginning to work his way down the list.

“First, we must take attendance. Let all who are here, say Here!” he said, only to be answered by a chorus of “HERE!” from various voices, even one confused Sweetie Belle. Giving her a glare, he made a shushing motion with his hoof. Girls didn’t speak in here. To make sure they were all gathered, Runble scanned the chairs. Three empty seats. One sitting on Sweetie Belle. One loyal member still deep undercover. And one red-maned pegasus who had been cast out for being caught…Rumble shuddered…KISSING.
Nodding to himself…all present and accounted for, Rumble moved on. “Admiral Featherweight will now read the minutes.” He said.

Featherweight glanced at the clock and then cried out. “It is now 10:57 AM!”

“Thank you, Admiral. Now, the news. First, it is with great regret that I must inform you that an entire platoon of soldiers perished in a great fire recently. While the perpetrator has been punished, other penalties were meted out that were just as harsh to the innocent…”

“Which is why you’re sitting on a cushion, Spanky?” called Snips, taking advantage of his role as prisoner keeper to not have to answer to the inevitable challenge. “The way I heard it, you started it by burning Thunder’s book and your Mommy gave you a hairbrushing!”

Rumble blushed as red as his bottom, dipping his head as the other colts laughed. There was no coming back from a shot like that…not when it was true. Finally, it quieted down.

“As I was saying, with the loss of a platoon of soldiers to the great fires of Tartarus, the war between Ponies and Griffons must be delayed until new troops can be recruited.” Rumble then continued. “As you all know, we are missing two members. One we cast from us last week, for the crime of kissing and snuggling a girl. Unlike Checked Reality, this one went quietly.”

Rumble paused for a moment as a collective shudder went through the room. Checked Reality, the colt who, despite having been caught red-hooved, tried to pretend they were changing the rules to spite him, and stormed off in a babyish temper-tantrum.

“The other remains deep undercover in girl territory, seeking to learn their secrets and their ways, that we may better infiltrate them and capture them to rid the world of their menace.” He continued, looking over at their prisoner.

“Which brings us to the reason for today’s meeting.” He said, glancing at Sweetie Belle again. “Bottle-Cap medals of honor are in store for Tender Taps and Button Mash, who did capture a GIRL and bring her here to stand trial for that most heinous of crimes…being a female.”

With that, Rumble beckoned that the prisoner be brought forth to face her just sentencing under his rightful rule. Rather than give her the opportunity to escape, Snips had two other colts drag Sweetie Belle’s basket, with him still on top of it, into the center of the room. Once there, Rumble gazed at her through the bars of the basket.

“The evidence before this court is incontrovertible, and there’s no need for the jury to retire.” Rumble intoned, copying his lines from one of Thunder’s CD’s he had swiped while his big brother wasn’t looking. “In all my years of judging…uh…um…how’d that go again?” he petered off, to the snickers of a few of his cohorts.

“Either way!” he hastily continued. “You are guilty, Sweetie Belle, of the ultimate crime! And thus, you must face the ultimate penalty! Who among us can tell me what that is!”

“They hang you by your hooves in a dungeon!” one called, prompting a facehoof from Rumble. “This is NOT Harry Trotter!” he called back.

“They feed you to the sharks!” called a surfer-style colt

“It’s not James Bond either!” Rumble cried.

“They shove a living snake up your ass!” one called, prompting a gasp from everypony present.

“oooh.”

“He said a bad word.”

“I’m telling!”

“What? I heard it on some movie my Dad let me watch when Mommy wasn’t home, about the world’s history!”

“ORDER! ORDER IN THE COURT!” Rumble screamed across the clubhouse, banging his toy hammer down again. “None of those are correct. What the true sentence is….General Mayhem, fetch the instrument of punishment.” He ordered.

The aptly named colt…yep, it was his real name, and he earned it in school…went to the back and returned, carrying an object that brought forth a gasp of surprise from everypony, and one of fear from Sweetie Belle.

Nestled on a couch cushion was Miss Cheerilee’s teacher’s paddle. Thick, heavy, and studded with holes, it had been missing for over two weeks, forcing Miss Cheerilee to rely on time outs and lack of recess for discipline.

“No doubt you colts had been wondering where it went.” Rumble said with a grin. “In a secret operation, Agents Double-O-Awesome and Double-O-Cowabunga did make away with this most dreaded of items. Now it is ours, to be used in the service of Good. That is, in punishing those who dare to be…Eugh….GIRLS.” he informed them.

Sweetie Belle, who had been quiet up until now, uttered a squeak of protest, prompting everypony in the room to turn to her. Unbeknownst to them, one young colt slipped out the door while they all stared at her. Then Rumble spoke once more.

“Sweetie Belle, by my authority as Dictator For Life, you are declared as guilty as sin, and are hereby sentenced to…um…well, it’s 12 spanks from each of us, and there’s 15 of us in here, I think…hey, Right Angle! What’s 12 times 15!”
“A hundred eighty.” Came the interested response.

“Sweetie Belle, you are sentenced to One Hundred and Eighty Strokes of the paddle upon your unprotected flank!” Rumble pronounced, prompting a frightened gasp from Sweetie Belle as Snips jumped off the basket, pulling it away and letting two other colts grab the hapless little filly, taking her and (very gently) bending her over a desk.

As Rumble shifted, a twinge of pain from his own rump made him pause. “Uh…actually, guys…let’s make it just six from each of us. We don’t wanna actually hurt her, right? I mean, we could get in big trouble if we do…”
Murmurs of agreement met this idea, some of the colts had been worried about their own flanks when the filly inevitably tattled on them. Now, though, it was less than a hundred spanks, they should be safe.

With Sweetie safely held over the desk, kicking her legs and protesting vehemently, the colts all lined up to accept the paddle. Rumble hoofed it off to the first one, then walked around to face Sweetie Belle and whisper to her. “Just take it like a big pony, and it’ll be over before you know it.” Just like his Mommy said to him.

That done, he nodded to the first colt, who began delivering the spankings, whipping Miss Cheerilee’s heavy paddle down into Sweetie’s tender white bottom.

Just from that first spanking, Sweetie burst into tears, tears that continued to fall as the second and third spanks fell on her soft cheeks, rapidly turning them red. After the first colt was finished, she kicked back to try and push the second one away, only to have it met by the paddle spanking hard onto her thighs in punishment. The next six after that fell right beneath her tail, aimed towards turning the top of her bottom as red as her cheeks.

Sweetie Belle was left writhing and crying by the third set, before Rumble ordered a break for her to catch her breath. Inspecting her bottom, the dictator found it to have been rendered a nice pink color from just those eighteen spankings. Nodding to the fourth colt in line, Rumble took up his position by Sweetie’s bottom once more.

Once again, Sweetie started crying on the first set of spanks, bawling and sobbing as tears fell down her cheeks. Begging and pleading with her captors, she thrashed and whined and screamed out, but to no avail.

Colt number five spanked his six up and down her flank-cheeks, painting them red with painful marks.

Number six concentrated on her sit spots, causing Sweetie to shriek and squeal with pain and suffering.

On and on the colts spanked. Finally, it was Rumble’s turn. Taking up the paddle, he counted the colts who had already performed their six, then frowned.

“One…two…three…four…five…six…seven…eight…nine…ten…eleven…twelve…thirteen…wait, Where’s…” he started to ask, but then the door of the clubhouse burst open to reveal three Mares. Rumble’s Mommy, Sweetie’s Mommy, and Miss Cheerilee herself.

It was Pipsqueak that uttered the only appropriate line to being caught, paddle raised, about to spank Sweetie’s already bruised flank.

“Oh bugger….”