+++
title = "First Timers, Serial Offenders Pt2"
names = ["KrishnaKarnak"]
date = "2014-03-02 09:44:19"
tags = ["F/f", "M/f", "hairbrush", "leather belt", "otk", "over bed", "non-consensual"]
spankers = ["Candy Mane", "Streamline"]
spankees = ["Creme Egg"]
posts = [""]
+++
 
You pause in the open doorway of your bedroom. Behind you, you can hear Streamline rummaging in Babs Seed's dresser for a pair of pajamas for her. Your sleepy child is still on her father’s back. Stepping inside your room, you close the door, knowing your little filly is in the best hooves.

Your eyes fall upon your eldest. Creme Egg is sitting on the bed, limbs folded, nose resolutely high in the air and away from you. 

“Evening, sweetie,” you say playfully, testing to see whether or not she took the time to calm down. Why she was so angry, you weren't even sure of.

Creme turns and glares at you. It took everything in you not to grin; your daughter was giving you the most impressive sour puss you've ever seen her wear, even worse than that one time you told her she wouldn’t see one sign of her friends if she didn’t do her chores. Eyes narrowed, cheeks puffed, lip curled, she looked like a filly that was not to be messed with. You sigh in exasperation and move forward.

“Creme…” you begin, but her temper flares at once.

“Suppose you're here to yell at me like some savage banshee? I know I messed up, so can we drop it? I'm really not in the mood…” she growls, laying her head on the sheets.

“Excuse me?” you bark. “Drop the attitude, young lady! We will NOT be just letting this go, Creme! Do you have any idea how much trouble you're in?”

“What do you mean?” You couldn’t tell if she was actually trying to piss you off or not. Nevertheless, you’re unable to stop your swearing.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Creme? You’re stupid enough to sit in your room all night writing to that cunt of a coltfriend of yours while your LITTLE SISTER WALKS OUT OF THE HOUSE!”

Creme’s surprised at our outburst; you never swear in front of your kids if you can avoid it. However, she gives a shrug, as though unconcerned.

“Timerlogs isn’t a ‘cunt’!” she snarls indignantly. “And Babs shoulda never have left. I told her ‘no’, so it’s her fault this all happ—”

“Don’t you daaare,” you stress dangerously, marching across the room, “put all the blame on your baby sister. Besides, Babs has already been dealt with. This isn’t about her right now: it’s about you.”

“Yeah, I know… I could hear it,” Creme mumbles, ignoring the part about herself.

You sit down on the floor, fuming, and glare at her. “Do you have anything to say for yourself, young lady? Besides ‘I know I fucked up’?”

“No.”

You sit there, shaking your head, trying to master your anger. It’s taking everything you’ve got to not walk over there and smack the face off of her. What is she trying to pull?

“C-Creme…” you mumble, voice shaking. “We p-put you in charge… of your brother and sister… you begged us for MONTHS to let you foalsit, because you wanted us to trust you with the responsibility! You are fourteen years old, and—”

Finally, she erupts. “You think I don’t know that, Mom? This hurts me, too, y’know! I wanted to prove I’m not some immature b-blank flank…” Creme Egg pauses briefly, her tail swishing to the flank that was visible to you. She’s a very, very late bloomer, just like you were. “That’s all gone now, so do you and Dad gotta keep rubbin’ it in? Just leave me alone! This is embarrassing enough as it is!”

“I daresay it is, half the neighbourhood already knows, I bet! Look, I’m sorry, hun,” you say, much more gently this time, “but we’re not going to just ‘leave you alone’. You realize you’re going to be punished, don’t you?” You get to your hooves, a vein throbbing over your right eye as you struggle to keep your emotions in check.

“What do you mean, ‘punished’?” Creme demands, although with the slightest hint of apprehension. “I’m too old for a spanking and you can’t… can’t ground me, Mom! The dance is this week!” Her eyes widen at the very prospect of missing it.

“That dance is out of the question, Creme Egg.” Her jaw drops and she leaps off the bed, mouthing wordlessly at you. “And nopony said you were too old for a spanking.”

“B-but I’m too big to go over your lap! And please, Mom! Look, I’m not gonna mess up again! Let me go to the dance!”

You shake your head. “Maybe you are too big for me to give you a spanking, Creme Egg, but you aren’t too big for your father! And you are going to be grounded for the next three weeks, maybe a month. You can consider that Mom’s punishment.”

“No!” Creme wails, dropping to the floor. “He can’t! You can’t, Mom! And I… I have school tomorrow! That’s going to be so embarrassing!”

“Your father has every right to spank you, especially after today. And like I said, the neighbours already know what happened tonight, so it shouldn’t be a shock when your friends see you with a sore fanny tomorrow. We’re not going to talk about your grounding, though, Creme,” you tell her sternly.

Her panic continues as she bites her lip.

“Dad wouldn’t punish me…”

“You sure about that?” you ask her, raising an eyebrow. “What happened last time you thought that?”

Your daughter blushes a little. It was several years back: You were in the twilight weeks of your pregnancy with Babs Seed. You had warned Creme Egg, again and again, what would happen if she didn’t improve her grades. That report card came and it fell upon your husband to administer a hairbrushing to her rump, as you were in no condition for discipline. It was the only time the brush had ever been used on any of your foals, and the only time your husband ever spanked one of your kids.

“Please, Mom!”

“Creme Egg, that’s enough. Just stop,” you bemoan. “You think this is easy on your father? He thinks the world over you. He always has. Take your spanking like a big girl and make it easier for both of you.”

The door clicked open and Creme’s anxious eyes darted toward it. You turn and see your husband walking in. He stops just inside the room, closes the door, and looks toward your daughter. He doesn’t yet say anything, simply gazing at her. You know at once that the battle is won. Creme’s attitude and everything should now be out of the door.

“Daddy, please! I’m so sorry, I should’ve paid attention to Babs, I… I… Daddy, I’m sorry!” Creme begs and begs, already having rushed up to him and threw her hooves against his chest, imploring him. “I’m so sorry I yelled at you!”

“Your mother just told you that’s enough! I could practically hear every rude word you were saying to her… and I am not pleased. I am going to leave it at this: are you going to go wait quietly in the corner until I get back from my workshop and take responsibility for your poor judgment, or are you going to make difficulties?” Streamline says, laying down the law.

Creme Egg is trembling, terrified. However, she seems determined to have one last try to save herself. You shake your head as she speaks, not wanting her to dig herself a deeper grave.

“N-no, Daddy… I s-said I was sorry and I’m t-too old for a sp-spanki-aaah!”

He snatches her by the left ear. “As long as you are living under this roof, Creme, you follow our rules. If Mom and I think you need a spanking, you will get one. Your carelessness put your baby sister in danger and you’re determined to avoid taking your medicine for it. You are acting like a child! Do you know what happens to little fillies who are naughty?”

Creme Egg spluttered non-stop as he spoke. She tried to yank her ear free of his grasp, but nothing doing. Streamline was standing on his hind legs, pulling so hard against her ear that her front was raised slightly, her front hooves kicking at the floor trying to reach it. Her father’s words were making her face glow with embarrassment. Your husband was not going to allow her any mercy.

“Honestly, Creme! It’s just a spanking!” No dice, however. She continued to struggle for release. “If you’re going to try and worm your way out of this like a little filly, then you can go across your mother’s knee, just like when you were a foal!” Streamline fell back down and walked three-legged to the dresser, dragging Creme with him. She was fighting him with all her might, trying to resist being hauled around like freight. “Candy, could you give our daughter a warm-up for me?” he asks, taking your very own large, oval-shaped wooden hairbrush in his mouth.

“NO! NOT THAT! MOM, DAD, PLEASE!” Her words were doing her no good. You were approving of your husband’s methods as you cleared your throat and told him clearly: ‘of course I will’.

You move to the left side of your bed and take your preferred spot. Halfway between the top and bottom of the bed’s length, you sit on the edge and wait. Creme Egg continues to struggle, but Streamline is far too strong for her and drags her over to you. Leaving his daughter standing next to him, a hoof still clutched to her ear, he bends low and dropped the brush in your lap. You pick it up and lay it beside you, waiting for your daughter.

Streamline releases her. “I want you over her knee, Creme.”

“Dad, please!”

“Creme, you listen to me. Now.” She flinched at the forcefulness of his voice, sinking low to the floor. He softened it very slightly. “You aren't getting out of this. If you want us to treat you like young mare, then you can take your punishment like one. Get across your mother's lap. I will not ask you again! Move.”

Defeated, Creme Egg looked up into your eyes pleadingly, but obeys her father. The bed springs creak as her weight is added to your own. You readjust your sitting position, brush the hair from your eyes, and pick up the implement in your right hoof. You can feel your daughter shaking. This was strange in and of itself, since Creme always took spankings like a champion. Perhaps upsetting her father was really stinging her?

“Hoof, please,” you order, tapping her left shoulder. She holds her left hoof up and you seize it, thrusting it between your legs and squeezing your thighs tight over it. Seizing her right, you prepared to pin it to her back. First, you turn the brush around and move the bristled side through her tail. Sweeping the tail over her back, you tug on the brush to free the hairs and clamp down on it with her right hoof.

Creme gives a small whimper, but is otherwise still composed. You look up to Streamline. His face is set; you’re impressed with how he’s handling this. As for Creme, you’re sure she’s restrained enough to comfortably hold such a big pony when the spanking begins.

“Candy, I’m going to go get it. I’ll be back.”

“Get what? Dad! Get what?” Creme asks, twisting her head and watching him walk away. “Mom, what’s he gett—” Creme shuts up immediately, tensing up and hissing.

You rubbed the back of the brush against her rump. She starts begging again, but you tap it lightly against her right cheek and she falls silent. You’ve never used the hairbrush before, so you give it a few high swings through the air, trying to factor in the weight of it. Holding it in front of your face, you study the size and texture. It’s made of oak, about nine inches long with a five inch oval head that’s three inches across. It’s heavy, about half an inch thick.

You need to do this properly. Regardless of her actions this day, Creme Egg is a young mare and she’s growing up fast. You may never have her over your lap again… so you’re going to make this count, even if it’s just a warm-up. It might just be the last opportunity you have as a mother to advise her oldest with a firm hoof.

“Mo-ooom…” Creme whines. “Please, don’t do this… it’s so embarrassing!”

“Creme, you should’ve thought about the consequences of not paying attention to the filly and colt you were supposed to be watching. You’ve earned this, young lady.” You raise the brush high.

Creme gives a startled yelp. The brush lands hard on her rump, dead centre and across both cheeks. You raise it again and crash down on the bottom of the right cheek, and repeat it once more, this time near the centre. Three pink, oval marks have already appeared; these smacks were heavy! Your eldest's pale gold cheeks quiver in pain and fear, but as you land a few smacks on her left, moving top to bottom, she’s staying quiet.

But not for long, however.

Whack, whack, whack, whack, whack. You can feel her shiver. The arm between your thighs pulls against you and her tail and right hoof are struggling for freedom. As a right-hoofed spanker, you favour her right cheek and that’s where most of your blows are landing. As you smack the brush down at an angle, Creme gives a cry of pain.

You have an idea of what your husband has planned for your teenager’s cheeks, so the next spank deviates slightly smacks hard against her right flank, where her cutie mark would be.

“Aaaaooow! Mom, stop!” You answer with another hit in the same spot. Her hooves kick out. Dropping the brush on her back, you spread your legs, swing your right over her own, and lock it all in place again before she has a chance to free her left arm. “MOM!” She gives a jerk, but you have her completely restrained as she struggles over just one knee now.

You pick the brush back up, and resume the spanking. Heavy blows impact her cheeks as you start to alternate, the beautiful dull whacks echoing through the room each time her rump deflates on impact. With every smack, Creme starts to whimper and whine. She’s turning pinker and pinker. No matter how much she pleads, you continue to bring the hairbrush down without mercy. It’s only been a minute or two, but you’ve lost count as you continue to paint her.

“Ow! Mom! Ow! OW! Mom! Ple-OW! MOMMY! MOOOMMY! STOP! PLEASEEE! P-p-please…”

The hard spanking has finally started to shatter your daughter’s iron will. You can hear her ragged breathing and shudders as she begins to sniffle, unable to maintain her steely resolve. Again and again you connect with that hard brush, beating a terrible rhythm against the canvas drum that is Creme Egg’s clenching bum. Low wails are coming from her as she tries to evade the brush by wiggling her backside. Before you have her howling too badly, however, the door opens again. With another hard whack to both cheeks, you lay the hairbrush aside. Her entire rump is a medium pink due to the quick, but hard paddling.

Streamline enters and, yet again, bars the door. He’s holding a long object in a cloth sheath. You already know what it is. Spreading your legs again, you free your daughter’s limbs and her hooves immediately jump to her rump. It’s time to get her in position for her father. With pressure against her back, you quietly instruct her to move from your lap and onto the bed. Normally, you suspect she’d object to such a compromising position, since her private parts would be so visible. But something, possibly the dull burn in those still-quivering cheeks, made her obey.

Creme Egg maneuvers slowly into position, crawling across the sheets, shoulders shaking. She’s keeping her tail resolutely still, hanging in front of anything she wouldn’t want seen. You help guide her and, once her back legs are jutting out over the edge of the mattress, you place your right hoof against her hocks to keep them there and tell her to extend her upper body across the rest of the bed. Once she is where you want her, you shuffle away from her and turn to look at your husband.

Streamline has the sheath laid against the dresser and is loosening the string around the opening. He reaches inside and seizes the handle. Creme exhales as she regains control again, and cranes her head to catch a sight of her father. Her face blanches.

“N-no! Daddy, please! PLEASE!” She falls into a real panic now, half rising off the bed. Springing forward, you place a hoof against her croup. “Mom’s already spanked me enough! I’m sorry I wasn’t responsible and was rude! DADDY, PLEEEASE!”

“Creme—” he sighs, holding up a thin, two and three quarter inch wide and twenty five inch long russet belt with small holes and doubling it up. The holes line up nicely. Doubled, it is about the thickness of your brush. “—we’ve been through this.”

“No-ooo!” she continues, voice cracking as her father moves forward and sizes up his target, shuffling a little to his left. “I understand what I did wr-wrong! I get it!”

“Creme Egg,” he says sternly, smacking the strap against his hoof with a deadly, heavy-sounding slap, “we aren’t talking about this. If your mother has to hold you down, it might just get a LOT worse than it would’ve been otherwise. This is your punishment, so lie still and take it like a big girl.”

“P-p-please…” Creme is crying more fully than at any time during her recent trip over your knee. “Dad, I’m so-so-sorry…”

“Creme, you should be grateful that Babs was found by Scorecard and that officer. What if she got foalnapped or run over by a carriage? This strapping is going to be nothing compared to what guilt and grief you might have gone through if your indifference lead to your baby sister’s death. I KNOW you can get through this, hun… so be strong for me, because I’m making it forty whacks. Babs was lost for forty minutes, so it’s a fair trade off.”

“DAD! NO! PLEASE, DADDY!” she shrieks, squirming under your restraining hoof.

“Candy, back away from her, please. Creme Egg, I’m warning you now: every time you move from position or reach back, I’m adding five. One, two, three, four, FIVE. Is that clear?”

All your daughter can do is whine and bleat that she isn’t going to make the same mistake again. You can tell, even though his face was set and his eyes were blazing with determination, that this was costing your husband something great. 

“I asked ‘is that clear’?”

“But… y-yes, Daddy…”

“Good. Turn your eyes forward, Creme Egg, and keep your tail up and your rump elevated.”

“But... n-no, Daddy… that's my vagi—”

“Who changed your diaper when you were a foal? Who bathed you until you were old enough to do it yourself, Creme? This is my last warning! Lift your tail, there's nothing there I haven't seen before.”

It takes Creme several seconds to dredge up the courage. Very slowly, her tail rises, quivering fearfully. Eventually, it’s high enough that it’s properly out of the way. Streamline acts immediately.

CRACK! Creme throws back her head and lets out a roar of pain in surprise. Over the dull pink of your warm-up spanking, you can see a darker strip across the top of her bum, where the strap had landed. You can hear her breathe in through her nose roughly, steeling herself for the second hit. That one lands dead centre. Creme groans softly, tugging at the sheets with her hooves. Leaning back on the bed, you glance at her face; Creme's eyes are shut and her mouth is screwed up. Her jaw trembles on the third crack.

Streamline connects the forth against the lower portions of her rump, the upper thighs. Creme Egg squeaks and kicks against the bed, a single tear leaking from her closed eyes and running down her left cheek. She lets out an even louder yelp as the fifth lands in the same spot.

“D-D-Daddy…” Creme whimpers, voice trembling as the sixth and seventh connect to her backside, adding two new, darker strips of pink to her already-well-painted cheeks.

Crack. Eight. Crack. Nine. Creme sniffles loudly and you see a bubble of snot burst at the tip of her snout. As the punishment reaches the first little milestone, a quarter, Creme lets out a long, quivering cry.

It pains your heart to see your child punished so viciously, but you also can't help but play the events of the last few hours over and over in your head. For her to be so arrogant in her attempts to evade punishment was too much. Regardless of how she acted, you still love her, so this is painful to witness. As the belting passes eleven and twelve, you silently applaud your husband's stoicism for having to discipline Creme Egg, whom he STILL refers to as 'little angel', even though she is a teenager. Thirteen, fourteen, Creme roars in agony and writhes on the bed. Fifteen. You were so shocked to hear her yelling at him in the kitchen, they had been so close to each other Creme's whole life... she loves her daddy beyond anything and everything in the world. Of course, both you and your husband love your children equally, but if he had to pick a favourite, you know it would've been the howling young mare lying against the edge of your bed, face buried in the sheets as the sixteenth, seventeenth, and eighteenth strap smacks bit into her flesh, the holes burning small angry red circles into her rump.

She'll learn from this.

Nineteen and Creme is swaying back and forth, yearning to evade any further spanks. Streamline tells her to keep still, breathing deeply with the exertion of what he had to do. He connects again to the reddening sitspot. Creme screams in agony. Unable to stand it any longer, she turns to the side, hooves flying down to cradle her bruised bottom.

“Creme,” Streamline groans in a pained voice. “Get back in position. We're going to forty five now. Get back on your belly!”

“Dad, no…” she whimpers, her whole body shaking. “I've l-learned my lesson... Please!”

“Creme Egg, I’m going to make it fifty if you don’t move right this instant.”

“Dad!”

You reach forward and tug at your daughter’s hip, rolling her over and back onto her belly before her father adds any more. Taking her hooves, you firmly pull them toward her front and hold her tail up yourself, lying down on your side to keep an arm firmly wrapped around her back.

“Creme, you have to listen to your father,” you tell her, echoing something similar that your husband had said earlier that night. “Go ahead, Streamline.”

Whack! Twenty one and you feel Creme Egg practically jumping under your hooves. Whack! Twenty two and she lets out a long, pitiable screech. You shush her gently, locking eyes with Streamline, giving him a nod of approval; you know Creme’s got plenty left in the tank.

The next six cracks off the belt bring Creme’s strapping to a whole new pitch. Streamline brings them down in rapid succession and Creme screams again, writhing beneath your hooves. Again and again, the sound of the implement biting into your daughter’s darkening bum and her bawling in misery assaults your ears. Smack, smack, smack, smack.

She’s starting to get harder to hold down. You silently pray that Streamline continues this rapid spanking, but the next two come at their usual speed, with a brief pause between each. Whack and Creme Egg’s back left hoof bounces off the edge of the mattress while the right curls up to her bottom. You drop her tail and flatten the leg down, before picking the tail up again. Whack! With number thirty, she moans out loudly, mouth hanging wide and bawling, her breathing ragged.

“N-n-no…” she gasps, her struggling renewing suddenly. “NO MORE! PLEEEASE!”

“Creme, calm down, breathe…” you tell her sternly, holding her down with all of your might as she fights to free herself.

“Fifty, Creme,” Streamline says firmly. “If you can’t control yourself, we’ll be here until you literally have no energy to move anymore. It hurts me to do this, but—”

“H-h-h… hurts y-you?” Creme cries, shaking her head against the mattress. “I h-hate you, Dad! I HATE YOU!”

CRAAACK! Streamline brings the strap down with the heaviest force so far and Creme’s scream of agony is almost otherworldly. You glare fiercely at your husband, but he’s already dropped the strap to the floor and is pacing back and forth, waving his head back and forth in agitation. Several long seconds pass, with Streamline half-picking up the weapon before leaving it where it is. Finally, he breathes deeply, stoops to pick up the strap, wraps it around his hoof, and pauses.

Creme is taking advantage of the reprieve to catch her breath and calm herself down, lying limply beneath your restrainment. Your husband looks at you and jerks his head toward the top of the bed, silently commanding that you move away. You arrange your features in a look that says quite plainly to Streamline that if he’s about to lose his temper, you will have something to say about it.

“Creme Egg…” he breathes, taking your spot next to his daughter. “You will watch what you say to me from now on, young lady… Now, if your& mother is having trouble keeping you down, then we’re going to have to change things, aren’t we?”

“D-Dad, I—”

She can’t finish, however, as Streamline wraps his hooves around her and lifts her bodily with very little effort. Positioning her across his lap, he lays his left arm across her back and tail. Strap still wrapped around the right, he starts again. This time, you don’t think he’s counting.

Steely faced and straight-backed, Streamline begins to lace her rump fiercely. Every inch of her backside falls under attack as he swings the strap down without prejudice or hesitation. Top, bottom, middle, from all sides, wrapping around to her cutie mark spot and assaulting the upper thighs. With each and every snap of his wrist and every loud crack, Creme’s intense wailing grows wilder and wilder. Creme’s hooves are flailing everywhere, but her father’s strength keeps her in place easily. Tears and snot continue to cascade down her face, dripping onto the edge of the mattress or the floor as she wiggles around.

Her father continues to completely thrash her rump non-stop for another full minute. The crease in her cheeks has grown a nice, dark shade of red while the rest of her rump is a cherry-colour, with darker crimson outlines showing where particularly sharp belt strikes had landed or where the holes in the belt had lined up well enough to dig into her flesh.

As he finishes, he maneuvers his daughter from his lap and to the edge of the bed, where she slumps against it, knees bent and face pressed deeply into the sheets, hollering and choking, coughing and roaring in complete and utter misery. Without a word, he gets up, moves over to the dresser and picks up the cloth that was acting as a carrying case for the belt. Placing it back inside, he pulls the string tight and moves over to the closet, placing the strap up on the top shelf.

You make to move back over to your daughter and jump into your motherly role, but Streamline shakes his head and gestures for him to follow him. You’re reluctant. However, he gives you an exasperated look, as though there’s something you don’t understand, and you begrudgingly get to your hooves and follow.

You join him in the living room and sink down onto the couch. Streamline buries his face in his hooves for at least a full minute, looking physically exhausted as though he had just galloped a marathon.

“I told you that once I was done, that would be it… and it is,” he sighs. “It was hard to… control myself earlier. I’m sorry I frightened you, Candy Mane, love…”

You brush his cheek gently. “I wasn’t scared. I got a little pissed off for a second there, but I wasn’t scared.” You smile weakly.

“It just… hurt. What she said to me, the way she was yelling in the kitchen earlier, having to do all of that… it hurts. Do you go through this every time?”

You nod. “Was it the same as when you had to punish her during my pregnancy with Babs?”

“Yeah…”

You throw your head back and stare at the ceiling, thinking. After a moment, you speak up again. “Why didn’t you let me comfort her?”

Streamline gives a little chuckle. “C’mon, honey… Creme is embarrassed enough as it is, tonight… I wanted to give her time for everything to settle, to sort out her thoughts. When she’s ready to face us with all of this behind her, we’ll be there for her. You know the way she gets when she’s hurting and you try to mother her to death. She always pushes you away, doesn’t she?”

There was truth to that, you supposed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right…”

The pair of you fall into silence. You’re once again reviewing the last two hours in your head. Eventually, you hear your bedroom door open. Hooves down the hallway. You crane your neck and watch Creme Egg trot into view. It looks very, very painful, as she’s wincing with every step as her cheeks and thighs rub together. Creme pauses, however, and turns her head to look back down the hallway. Then you hear what distracted her: more hooves, softer and more rapid.

“Babs?” Streamline asks, looking as well as your youngest patters into view. “It’s your bedtime, sweetheart.”

“Couldn’t sleep, Papa…” she mumbles, rubbing her nose with a hoof and glancing up at her big sister.

“H-hey, squirt…” Creme says hoarsely, avoiding her father’s eye as he looks toward her.

However, Babs doesn’t yet speak and her ears drop as her eyes find the floor. Creme approaches the couch and sits down, giving a little ‘aah...’ of pain as she does so. Her mane is a disheveled mess, with strands knotted together by her tears and nose runoff and her cheeks and eyes are both very red. She opens her mouth to speak, but by now, Babs had followed her over. With difficulty, your youngest little filly climbs up into her sister’s lap and wraps her hooves around Creme’s belly.

“I’m sawwy I got you in trouble, Sissy…”

Creme’s taken aback. So are you, honestly. Your breath catches in your chest as you watch the emotion cross Creme’s face and you’re suddenly doubly fond of both of your daughters. Wiping her eyes, Creme speaks again.

“S’not your fault, kiddo… I’m the one who messed up.” Creme returns the hug, embracing her sister tightly. “I let you put yourself in danger. It was my fault…” Streamline wraps a hoof around her shoulder. She turns to look him full in the face. “Dad, I’m sorry…”

He shakes his head. “Nothing to be sorry for, Creme. I know you’ve been acting childish, but it’s dealt with. And… I know you didn’t mean what you said. I just hope you’ll keep what happened tonight in mind next time you foalsit.”

“I’m… still allowed to foalsit?” Creme asks, aghast.

“Of course,” you chip in, leaning towards her and placing a kiss against her forehead. “That is… if you still want to do it. Mom can find someone else if you aren’t comfortable with the idea anymore, that’s not an issue.”

“Whatcha think, squirt?” Creme asks, smiling down at her sister. “Still want to hang out when Mom and Dad aren’t around?”

Babs nods quickly, beaming at her sister. “Yup!”

“Remember, Babs Seed,” you state sternly. “You listen to your sister. Alright?”

“Yes, Mama…”

“And you listen to your common sense, Creme…” Streamline suggests, giving her a playful little shake with his arm.

“Yes, Dad.”

“Well, then, I’m going to bed,” Streamline says with a theatrical yawn. “Coming, Candy? We’ve had such a… very long day.”

Suddenly, the drowsiness you’ve been feeling since your husband had finished with Creme Egg vanishes on the spot. You know what he’s getting at by that delicate inflection in his voice. “Mmmyes, absolutely,” you agree, smiling at him.

Your children are temporarily squished between you and Streamline as you both give them a swift hug at the same time. He gets up and stretches. You get up as well.

“Want to tuck your sister back into bed, Creme?” you ask her, glad for everything to be back to normal.

“Better yet… wanna sleep with me, Babs?” Creme asks her sister, yawning. “I could use the company…”

Babs nods and slips down from her sister’s lap. “Yeah… um, I don’t wanna sleep alones, either… goodnight, Mama!”

You stoop down low on your hooves and nuzzle her face. “Mommy loves you, Babs!”

“Love you too, Mama!”

As you and your husband leave your children behind, you quietly push open Scorecard’s door to check on him and find him fast asleep. Closing it again, you continue onward to your bedroom, ready to relax at long last as you walk side by side with your husband, your tails twirling together. Into your room, you close the door, lock it, and the pair of you share a long, wonderful kiss. Quickly, you shove him toward the bed and he collapses onto it, smirking up at you.

Relax? Yeah, right. You’ve been looking forward to this all night.
