Divine Punishment

Notice- Contains Spanking

The final incantation passed his lips, and the circle was set alight with power, arcane sigils acting as wards to confine Abzigal, the World Ender.
Light blinded him, even shielding his eyes, it seemed to shine through his arm it was so powerful. Blinking away spots, he slowly uncovered his vision, and was surprised by what he saw.
Porceline skin and golden-blonde hair adorning a youthful, yet maternal face. Easily standing six feet tall, with thick, powerful, yet soft limbs, all wreathed in modest wrappings that somehow made her even more beautiful, she hovered radiantly within the confines of the circle. Most shocking of all though were six wings that erupted from her back. The boy uttered a single word. It was then her eyes opened.

She had been created before mortal memory to serve as a buffer between them and their doom. She had no name, only a mission; Punish the one who calls forth Abzigal.
It took her a moment to remember herself. She was a person, with form, thoughts, knowledge, and yet she existed in a purgatory of time and space, and being summoned to a material plane put her out of sorts. Fluttering her eyes, she saw a boy, disheviled black hair haphazardly falling over his youthful face, with thin-framed spectacles clearly too large for their current wearer. He stared at her with confusion, before speaking the word that reminded her of her purpose like an electrical surge.
"...Abzigal?"
Her eyes widened. This boy? It was no accident, this boy knowingly sought the end of mortals? Her shock was clearly noticed by him, as he scrambled to search through his grimoire.
"No no no, this- you're not-!"
Sigils that were formerly dim began to glow like hot coals, and the angel leapt forward just in time to avoid being desummoned by the maelstrom of energy.

The ritual to send her back had failed. She easily punched through the barrier designed only to contain demonic energy. But he had a bigger problem now.
His parents always taught him a creature summoned is a creature bound, a creature unbound serves no master but itself, and will exercise its new freedom on your soon-to-be corpse.
He had nothing, no way to defend himself. She stood to her full height, eyes boring down on him, as he shook.
"Mortal spawn." Her voice boomed. "You have committed an unforgivable sin, and I have come to serve your punishment."
He clenched his eyes shut, waiting for the end. At least I'll see you again... Were his final thoughts.

She knew what she had to do, the punishment was clear: Death to those who seek the end of mortals. And yet...
The boy looked young, even before holding his head in his hands and shivering like a leaf. Hardening her heart, she steeled her resolve, and reached out.

He felt himself yanked off of the floor by the scruff of his threadbare shirt, and placed on his belly over something soft, yet jutting. Before he could take in what it could be, a chill nipped at his bottom as he felt his pants pulled down. He made no sound upon the first impact.

No, she would not kill him, not a boy of this few years. Yet her tenets were clear; Punish the one who calls forth Abzigal. There was a way though to preserve both conditions.
The Penance of the Open Hand.
He was so light, she thought as she lifted him easily over her knee. Pulling free his shoddy trousers to his knees, she formed the ancient sign, five fingers extended and not touching, and brought them to his rear.

The slap shattered the silence of the dead house, and sent his hands to his mouth, eyes wide with shock. He gasped on the second strike, finally crying out on the third.
It hurt, physically yes, and yet it went deeper than that, he had no way of knowing and yet could tell, he could feel the pain he was going to unleash on others, and it hurt just as bad as his flesh.
"Ah! Ah! Ah!" He cried against every strike, tears blurring his vision and staining the lens of his father's spectacles.

She was in agony, hearing his cries was hard, but the Penance of the Open Hand was more than that, it was true sympathy. The punished is made to understand the harm their actions would bring onto others, but the punisher is made to feel the pain that drove the punished to commit such a crime.
Every hit brought forth a new memory, a man and a woman screaming as flames consumed them, hateful stares burning all around, being dumped in a shoddy orphanage and escaping. Begging your way onto a caravan, only to have your youth and innocence exploited for personal desire- that one made her shudder with revulsion.
Scarlet cheeks and puffy eyes decorated the unconcious boy's frame as he lay there on the cold floor. She ran her hand over his skin, the bruising vanishing beneath her divine touch.
"...You've suffered enough." She stood up. Where was she to go now? What was she to do? What was her purpose?
Before she could answer any of those questions, fingers wrapped around her ankle. He was concious already? Whipping around, she-

"Mommy..." His eyes were shut tight as a newborn puppy's, his hand desperately pawing for something, anything to protect him from his lonliness. "Mommy, don't leave me, please don't go, I... I...!"

-...Stroked his face, brushing the hair out of his eyes. Feeling the touch, he instinctively gripped her hand, as she used her other to scoop him into her arms.
Perhaps my purpose is not finished, she thought, as they both exited the skeleton of the boy's abandoned family home.