Three Cadets

by Dangerous_Creature

Addendum

This a a piece that was sent to me by a fellow author who has expressed a desire to remain anonymous. It explores the same incident from the point of view of Cadet Dimple Dash.

Dimple Dash stood rigidly in the middle of the courtyard, fighting the waves of embarassment that coursed through her. The fact that her two best mates Springtime Rain and Roaming Cloud were at her side did little to help the tension that was steadily building up in her chest. Even now, she still struggled to remember exactly what happened on that crazy night. She had however, managed to piece together most of the picture, and inferred the rest...

The cadets of the prestigious and challenging Royal Guard Cadet Course were in their advanced stages and fast approaching the end of their course. Everypony was looking forward to the passing-out parade, where they would be officially commissioned and bestowed the responsibilties of a Royal Guard by the Princess herself. The cadets had completed the most grueling parts of their training, and were only left with a couple more advanced lessons and a summary test or two. At this stage of the course, the instructors of most batches usually saw fit to give their cadets a break by letting them kick back and relax a little. This year's course was no different, and free nights were becoming more common.

This night was no different, and the cadets exchanged happy glances with one another when Lieutenant Straighthoof announced at the five o'clock last parade that the company would be granted a free night as the training schedule had nothing planned, and the performance of the cadets thus far 'had met expectations'.

Free nights were exactly as the name suggested. Cadets were free to roam the Castle grounds, leave to go to the city, or simply rest in the cadet's mess, as long as they reported back to the barrack Watch Officer before midnight.

Dimple, Springtime and Roaming, affectionaly known by their coursemates as "the three musketeers", gathered at the main hall after the company had been dismissed. They were given said title due to the fact that they got along very well and treated each other like brother and sister. It was easy to see why, though. All three were friendly and outgoing, all three were well-liked by their peers, and all-three had a mischevious streak in them that, while often garnering a amused chuckle from their instructors, would land them in trouble time and again. In fact, throughout the course, the three had found themselves cleaning the non-commissioned officer's bunks, marching around the courtyard, or performing extra guard shifts for a variety of pranks and misdeeds. Both instructors and coursemates alike knew however, that the three were genuinely good ponies at heart who just so happened to forget about consequences occassionally.

"So, what should we do tonight?" Dimple asked, catching up with the two colts as they made their way towards the barracks. "Lots of guys are going out to the city, but I'm beat, sure could use a relaxing night like this to chill out." Roaming quipped, yawning as he did so. "And I have just the thing to make this the best night ever!" Springtime said, with a hint of evil glee in his voice and sly grin on his face.

Of the three, Springtime was the only one amongst them who had been promoted to Cadet Corporal a month or so back. Cadet Corporal was a rank that was given to cadets whose performance during the course had been consistently good, and had displayed leadership qualities during the many tests that the cadets were made to go through. A typical course typically had around 20% of the cadets being promoted during a simple ceremony at the beginning of the final training term. Amongst a few extra privileges during the course, Cadet Corporals were usually given deputy non-comissioned officer roles after comissioning and essentially 'fast-tracked' into Sergeantship, making it an attractive goal for cadets to strive for.

The three were finally back at the barracks, and found themselves in front of Springtime's locker. "Dude, what did you bring us here for? To look at your dirty clothes? That's your idea of a relaxing night?" Roaming said with a snort. "Hey shut up man, just check this out okay?" Springtime retorted, rolling his eyes as he did so. He opened his locker to reveal a keg of cider resting at the bottommost rack. "Woah, how did you get that in here?! Don't the Gate Sergeants like, perform random checks on the bags?" Dimple said, in awe. "Psh, when you're Cadet Corporal, they tend to assume that you're clean. T'was easy as cake. I just stuffed it into my kit bag along with my training armour. Didn't suspect a thing." Springtime replied, with an air of superiority.

It was probably convenient that most if not all the other cadets had either already left the castle for the city, or were at the mess by this time, leaving the barracks empty except for the three. The events that transpired soon went down the slippery slope of most alocohlic endeavours. Again, Dimple struggled to remember what happened clearly in the hours that followed, but all that came back to her were fragments of a great time, a couple of broken windows, a chipped statue in the main hall, a Sergeant's office filled with leaves, a couple of torn flags and a very messy barrack room.

The investigation that followed in the days after was swift and straightforward. After waking up sober the next day and realizing what they had done, the three were more than willing to cooperate with the Watch Officer. While they were prone to mischief, and happened to lose control that night, they were not ones to shirk responsibility for their actions, and it would be an understatement to say they were not repentent. While initially irked, by the time the investigation was complete, all affected parties had practically forgiven the lovable three. It was due to their sincerity that Shining Armour, Captain of the Royal Guard, had decided to offer them the option of summary discipline instead of a court martial, where they would most certainly be kicked out of the course for Prejudice to Good Order and Discipline. At the very least, they'd be suspended from the course until the next intake, which would mean a year long wait in confinement for the three. At such an advanced stage of the course, few ponies in their positions would have chosen a court martial. They had come so far and were so close to graduating, and Shining Armour recognized that.

And so, Dimple found herself snapping out of her daze of flashbacks and returning to reality. Springtime had just received his final lash and was being unbuckled from the restraints of the flogging frame. Tears were flowing freely from his eyes and pooling into a small puddle on the marble below. It was evident that he was in great pain and his rear legs quivered as he dismounted himself from the frame and made his way back to stand next to her. His rump was a radiant shade of pink with thirty painful looking stripes criss-crossing each other, and the sight of the freshly whipped colt ratcheted the fear level in the filly up by many notches. Before she could think further however, the guard pony on punishment detail read the sentence out. "Cadet Dimple Dash, twenty-five strokes." he said, in an emotionless voice. Two guard ponies led Dimple to the flogging frame, as they did with Springtime.

The flogging frame was an unassuming piece of furniture that had simple leather restraints for all four legs and one for the body. A pony would be bent over a padded bar and his or her tail would be lifted up and tucked underneath the body restraint, so that it did not interfere with the whipping. Once secured, the unfortunate pony would be bent at a roughly 60 degree angle, ready to be punished.

Dimple's face flushed a hot red as she tried to avoid eye contact with the crowd, and worse, her distraught parents, whom she had spotted out the corner of her eye at the back of the Cadet Corps. She had already apologized countless of times to her mother for putting her through this, but the pool of guilt that had accumulated in her heart had yet to dissapate. Putting on her most dignified face amidst the torrent of emotions she was feeling, Dimple mounted the frame and waited for the guard ponies to secure her.

All that dignity went out the window though, as her train of thought was rudely interrupted by her tail being lifted up and tucked under the center restraint. A couple of colts in the crowd craned their necks discreetly to get a better view. At this point, Dimple was thankful she was facing towards them rather than away. Female cadets were not unheard of in the Royal Guard, but they were rare nevertheless, and having one being sentenced to a flogging was even rarer.

In this humiliating position, Dimple shot a glance towards Shining Armour. As the captain of the company, he had given the three of them a good long talk after the investigation was over. Amongst the things he had said were how disappointed he was in them, and how they'd come close to squandering an opportunity that other young ponies would jump at, but also how he understood why they did what they did, and why they would have to be punished. By the time they were done, all three felt like little fillies whose parents had caught with their hooves in the cookie jar. Despite being firm, Shining Armour was fair and related well with his cadets, earning him their respect and admiration.

Amongst the small handful of fillies who were accepted into this year's course, Shining had a soft spot for Dimple, as she would always try her best to emulate Springtime's example and had a rebellious streak in her that reminded him of Twilight. Casting a sympathetic glance towards her, Shining Armor turned to Sergeant Ivory Lance and nodded.

Dimple heard a whoosh but before she could react, a loud crack echoed that rivalled the volume of Springtime's earlier ordeal echoed through the courtyard. Her eyes shot wide open and she released a small gasp as the whip made first contact with her unprotected rump.

"BUCK! You've gotta be kidding me!" Dimple thought to herself as she clenched her teeth. Waves of pain coursed through her body as a angry red stripe appeared on her backside. As the effects of the initial stroke began to subside, she heard the dreaded whoosh again, and again the whip fell with a renewed vengeance onto her hindquarters. The effect was immediate and she put in all her effort to not make a sound and ride out the pain. Holding her breath, Dimple did not hear the whoosh as the third stroke made contact with her rump, causing another loud crack to ring out in the courtyard. She did not have time to prepare and had the air blown out of her lungs by the shock of the impact. "Shit! That hurts like BUCK!!" Dimple yelled out in her mind, trying her best to remain in control.

Sergeant Ivory Lance adjusted his grip on the whip. In his twenty years of service with the Royal Guard, he had "tanned the hides of many a young cadet", and while having the years creep up on him, was still in great shape. Years of experience had taught him how to apply every stroke with the same amount of force and in an even distribution across a wayward cadet's butt. The fact that Dimple was a filly made no difference to him, and he was a firm believer of fair but hard discipline.

Without missing a beat, Ivory Lance swung the whip, the whoosh-and-crack again filling the courtyard. Dimple jerked as a fourth burning stripe was painted onto her butt. Many of the cadets flinched at the methodical efficiency of the Sergeant's strokes. Her mother watched in dismay from the back of the crowd at the sight of her beautiful daughter, tied down and exposed, being chastised by a full-grown stallion. She could only imagine the agony that Dimple was enduring and gripped her husband's hoof even tighter.

The next two strokes that followed saw Dimple progressively beginning to lose the control she had initially managed to muster up. By the seventh stroke, Dimple finally let out a whimper, as tears began to form involuntarily in her eyes. As the eighth stroke fell, Dimple felt the last strands of control begin to break down and tried to move her legs. This was a futile endeavour however, as the restraints were well thought-out, and she was well-secured, unable to move an inch in either direction.

Thus far, the only quiet weeping that could be heard came from the rear of the crowd... the cadet's mother weakly repeating "I never wanted her to join... I never wanted her to join" over and over again while her equally upset husband tried to soothe her.

Tears began to stream freely from her eyes as the ninth and tenth stroke left their marks on her backside, a testament to the efficacy of the whip. The regulation whip was a rather average looking implement, being comprised of nine waxed cords with a couple of knots to 'increase the sting'. It had been designed to inflict maximum pain, rather than leave lasting damage onto a cadet's bottom. It was not a heavy instrument, unlike the barbaric implements described in some fantasy novels. Nevertheless, in the right hands, the sheer amount of pain this unassuming instrument could put out was impressive, as demonstrated by the Sergeant's deft handling.

Of course, this was not good news for Dimple, whose eleventh stroke saw the last strand of control wave goodbye to her. After the crack sounded, she released her first vocalization in the form of a sharp "ah!". Ivory Lance knew from experience that it would only be a few more strokes before she would break and submit fully to her punishment. Cadets would usually try to keep an air of dignity by attempting to maintain a stiff upper lip throughout their punishment, but he knew that unless they had buns of steel, it was close to impossible to last through 25 consecutive strokes.

With this in mind, Ivory laid on the next three strokes with a steady and consistent vigour. He did not have to wait long, as he drew the whip back and brought it down for the fifteenth time onto Dimple's sorry hide. The whoosh, which had now become a familiar sound to all who were present, was proceeded by an energetic crack. This was too much for Dimple to bear. The cumulative pain from her strokes thus far, coupled with her total inability to move from this vulnerable position, finally broke down whatever willpower she had to think about her dignity. She began to sob freely and gave up trying to prepare for the next stroke. All she could think of now was how sorry she was and how she'd never make such a mistake again. Yes, this was one truly repentant filly, and Ivory Lance recognized it immediately. He cracked a small smile and said quietly to himself, "That's it right there. Hang in there my little filly, just another ten more to go. It'll all be over soon."

The next few strokes that followed were what Ivory liked to term "the wrapup phase". This was the point where a cadet being punished would finally realize their wrongdoing and begin to regret the action that led to the current situation. Now that Dimple had broken, she was crying out loud with every stroke. While she still jerked in pain after each stroke, her body was limp as her mind began to accept the punishment being meted out. There was now no doubt in her mind that she had done wrong and each stroke only served to reinforce and drive home the point that some actions had.. undeisrable. consequences. All she wanted now was for the punishment to be over and to be accepted back into the corps by her fellow cadets.

Eventually, Dimple managed to pull through the remaining strokes and made it to the last one. "Good job, Dash. You did well. Just one more." Ivory Lance quietly congratulated her for enduring her ordeal thus far and began to line up the whip for her final stroke. It was a long-held tradition in the academy that the last stroke was usually the hardest one, as a form of 'conclusion' to the session and a strong reminder of what would happen if any further transgressions were to occur.

Dimple was not aware of this tradition, but unfortunately for her, it was how Ivory Lance was trained and intended to carry out. Taking a deep breath, the Sergeant raised the whip and brought it down as hard as he could to meet it's target. A deafening crack reverberated through the courtyard as the whip landed diagonally across the previous 24 strokes. Dimple's eyes shot wide open and she released an almost primal-like howl.

Dimple was now fully exhausted and lay in place, continuing to sob quietly, unaware that her punishment was finally over. After a moment, the two guard ponies came over and proceeded to undo the restraints. Her backside was a radiant pink, twenty five angry red stripes criss-crossing each other in a seemingly random fashion. A couple of purple welts were visible where the knots had struck. Roaming Cloud swallowed nervously as his turn drew nearer.

Feeling the restraints release, Dimple quickly gathered herself and proceeded to dismount the frame. Her butt was still on fire and ached like Tartarus, and with great effort she managed to bow her head to Ivory Lance and Shining Armor, before making her way back to stand next to Springtime Rain. As she did so, both the Sergeant and the Captain gave her a reaffirming nod. She had taken her punishment bravely and was forgiven.

"Cadet Roaming Cloud, 25 strokes." The day was far from over.