Time Management

Warnings: Use of the paddle in a semi public setting, mention of the belt,
mention of public play and a few swats in front of others.

Bailey rolled his shoulders as he tried to think happy thoughts. Nope, not
working…time to fiddle with the radio stations …maybe some tunes would settle
him down.

The past few months of being assigned to the DC office had more than tested his
patience. As he crested the hill on Rt. 29, the sea of red brake lights ahead
of him made him groan. He, for once, had remembered to check Traffic.com before
heading out. The holiday weekend travelers had started early according to the
web site which had 95 N showing in red. Ditto for 295, so his only option for
possibly getting home before Brett and being ready to on time was to take the
back roads. He had gotten pretty good at slithering his way through DC
neighborhoods in the past few months, and he had made not great but decent time
until he had to get on the two lane highway. Groaning out loud, he debated
calling Brett now and letting him know he would be late for their dinner plans
with Mark and Eric. Not good, not good, not good, chanted over and over in his
head.

As he inched along the highway, watching the mile markers that were slowly
bringing him closer to home, he began trying to justify being late yet again.
Every excuse he came up with and every possible explanation he tried out in his
head came out with the same result--landing across Brett's lap facing the wrong
way.

He loved Brett's lap most definitely. It was his favorite place to snuggle in
to just talk in the evening or just plop down on in the mornings while he tried
to wake up with that first cup of coffee. When they first started dating, Brett
would joke that they would ever only need one chair since Bailey never seemed to
sit anywhere but on top of him. He especially loved Brett's lap when he was
warming his bottom in the fun way building up that sting nice and slow taking
time to rub and squeeze before exploring the cleft in his bottom. UGH--a hard
on in a traffic jam. Not his goal. Focus. Focus.

Brett's lap, definitely good in most instances. Brett's lap, bottom up with his
pants around his ankles and his boxers flying at half mast to discuss his time
keeping issues not good in any way shape or form. They'd had this discussion
one too many times. And from experience and in all honesty fair warning, this
was a paddle offense. Brett could just not fathom how someone who made his way
in the world managing software implementations and upgrades could not manage to
get home at the time they had agreed upon when they had established plans.
Coming home late on a night when it was just the two of them hanging out was not
liked, but not a biggie. Impact the lives of anyone else and being late became
a spanking offense.

Brett had tried offering advice this morning. He'd flat out told Bailey traffic
would be hell on wheels – take the train and plan accordingly. To his own
credit, Bailey had tried to take the train but he'd been side tracked at the
house. The dishwasher had needed to be emptied to put the breakfast dishes in.
After all, who in their right mind could walk away from a dishwasher full of
clean dishes and leave dirty dishes in the sink? Not this boy, no sir. Oh,
and there had been the laundry basket full of folded clothes which Brett had
left on the bed. Bailey couldn't leave before clothes were put away. It would
have bugged him all day. So, all the little extras he'd insisted on doing made
him miss the train. When he'd looked at the reduced holiday schedule, it seemed
more prudent at the time to just drive and remember to leave early enough.
Well, leaving early just hadn't happened. All day it seemed there was just one
more email which needed a response or one more client who just needed a few
minutes of his time, and before he knew it he was leaving an hour later then he
intended.

Tapping his fingers feverishly on the wheel, Bailey glanced at the clock on the
dash then shifted his gaze to the exit sign ahead. Seven minutes until Brett
walked through the front door and he was still at least forty-five minutes away.
Brett was punctual at all times. Maybe he had to be; judges had a tendency to
frown on attorneys who showed up late. But it went beyond work; Brett always
managed to arrive on time. He seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to
deciding what time to leave, and whatever time he selected seemed to always
work.

Sighing and running one hand through his dark hair that was a bit all over the
place by this time of the day, Bailey tapped the side of his bluetooth and used
the voice command to dial Brett's number. Brett picked up on the second ring.

"Hey, sweetheart," Brett answered the phone. "Where are you stuck in traffic,
and how long do you think it will be before you get home?"

"How did you know I was calling to say I was stuck in traffic?" Bailey sputtered
in an indignant tone.

"Aren't you?" Brett quipped back in a tone that Bailey could almost see the
smirk on his face.

"Well, technically, I am running a little further behind than I'd planned on,
but again how did you know that was why I was calling? Are you home already?"
Bailey questioned.

"I'm pulling into the neighborhood as we speak," Brett answered. "And how is
quite simple, we have been together long enough for you to know that you always
earn brownie points for letting me know you're running late rather than me
coming home to an empty house wondering where you are."

"Oh," Bailey replied.

"So again, where are you?"

Taking a deep breath, Bailey quickly said, "I'm just coming up on Rocky Gorge
Reservoir, so not far off."

"I see. So, at best 30 minutes away?"

Bailey groaned not really wanting to answer that one. Thirty minutes he would
be cutting it close but still could possibly pull off a miracle of being ready
by the time Eric and Mark arrived. Right now, even his estimate of forty-five
minutes didn't seem realistic.

"Hey, babe, are you still there?" Brett asked.

"Yeah, I was just trying to calculate how long it's going to take me in this
traffic. You know how bad the roads get the day before a holiday. Everyone and
their brother seem to be trying to exit DC on 29, so I'm guessing I'm
atleastforty-fiveminutestoanhourout," Bailey mumbled.

"Forty-five minutes to an hour? Eric and Mark will be at the house in
forty-five minutes and dinner reservations are in an hour and a half at
Victoria's which is at best twenty minutes from home," Brett said. Bailey could
hear him fumbling with his keys, letting him know Brett was now officially home
and the long weekend had started.

"Yes," Bailey growled. "I am quite aware of where we need to be and when."

"Hey, Bailey baby, word to the wise when you're already facing dinner squirming
on a paddled backside, you may not want to growl at me unless you want to go all
out and aim for me taking my belt off this evening. I do distinctly remember
nudging you along this morning and suggesting you make sure you take the train
to avoid the jams," Brett said in a tone that set warning bells off in Bailey's
head.

"The belt? Umm, nooo… no need for you to even think about that path. I'm
sorry if I growled," Bailey stammered. The belt was something he avoided at all
costs. It was rarely used. Just the threat of it worked wonders. However, he
also knew his partner well enough that any more lip or attitude and he would not
hesitate to go down that path.

"Amazing how that one word can adjust your attitude each and every time," Brett
said. "I'm going to hop in the shower so I can be ready to entertain our
guests. Can you call Victoria's and see if you can move our reservations out by
thirty minutes please?"

"Yeah, sure, I have the number in my phone. It shouldn't be a problem. Armand
made a comment when I made them that he was working tonight, and you know he can
work miracles for his regulars."

"Good," Brett replied. "Oh, and when you get home can you choose the paddle
from the drawer, either the black leather one or the Lexan then come get me. We
will get your spanking out of the way before you shower."

"We are doing this before dinner? Shouldn't we wait until after since we're
running late?" Bailey asked, knowing he was probably not going to like the
answer. He hated being spanked when any of their friends were visiting. Well,
if he were being honest, he hated being spanked for real. Paddled for fun was
an entirely different story. It excited him to play in front of others. As a
couple, they occasionally played publicly at a few private clubs in DC. Spanked
in front of Eric shouldn't bother him; it wouldn't be the first time, and with
his track record it would not be the last time. Eric had been Brett's roommate
in college when Bailey first met Brett and then again in law school. Eric
lived in the same type of relationship with Mark. Also, it wasn't as if Eric
hadn't spanked Mark in front of both of them before, but still this evening was
going places Bailey really didn't want to go.

"You knew before you left this morning that if you didn't manage your time
appropriately and be here and ready to go on time you would get paddled," Brett
said bluntly. "I even made sure to email you and text you, trying to get you on
the road so you would be on time. Now, if you want to debate the timing or your
choice in paddles again, I can make it very easy for you. I will just use my
belt to spank you-end of conversation."

"Yes,Sir. And, since you put it that way, I really don't see any need to debate
anything with you. I love you. I'll see you in a bit," Bailey said, making
sure his tone was appropriate. The dreaded belt had been mentioned twice in
this conversation- two strikes. He knew Brett's thought pattern. If it had to
be mentioned a third time, Brett would follow through, call it strike three and
use the damn thing.

"I love you too. Drive safe."

Bailey clicked off the call and quickly dealt with moving the restaurant
reservations. He continued to inch towards home and began to contemplate his
paddle choices.

The wooden one wasn't in the running. That would have been an easy choice.
Instead his choice was the blasted Lexan that stung like a bitch and would
reduce him to tears in no time. It also came with the promise of him squirming
in his seat throughout dinner. He never sat comfortably after a paddling with
that thing. Or behind door number two was the black leather paddle. This one
was equal to the Lexan on the dislike scale. The feeling was well- harder- less
sting, more bite. It should have come with a guarantee to reduce any naughty
boy to tears in minimal strokes. It would also be felt well into the next
morning.

Safe, sane, and consensual were the words they lived by. He could always refuse
to be spanked and life would go on. Brett would still love him and they would
still share their life in the little stone Cape Cod in the rolling hills of
Clarksville. But Bailey knew and accepted the way he worked and the way they
worked. He liked being Brett's good little boy. He liked the fact that when he
screwed up or felt out of kilter, Brett knew what to do to sort him out. He
knew by choosing which paddle he was giving his consent. That was their way of
doing things and life stayed balanced. So, which paddle is the lesser of two
evils? That was the great question.

He finally exited the highway and headed down the winding roads that lead into
their neighborhood. Three turns later, he could see their house perched up on
the hill. Parking behind Brett in the driveway, he noticed that Eric and Mark
had arrived. Crud. Part of him had hoped they had been slightly delayed just
long enough for him to get home, grab the paddle and get that spanking out of
the way. No such luck. Deep breath. It was time to do his dance and dazzle.
The goal to hopefully be distracting enough that Brett wouldn't force the
spanking before dinner issue.

He opened the front door and took a quick right into the study and dropped his
laptop bag in the room. Making his way over to the oversized antique desk they
shared, he grabbed the clear paddle from the bottom drawer of the desk. Laying
it on the bottom step of the staircase just in case his attempt at delaying the
inevitable didn't work, he quickly hung his coat up in the hall closet and
worked on wiping the `oh I am in trouble' look off of his face as he entered the
great room.

"Hi. Happy Friday! I'm so sorry I'm late. Has Brett been doing a good job of
playing host without me? You both look wonderful by the way. Married life is
definitely agreeing with you!" Bailey chattered.

Mark grabbed him as he walked in and hugged him hard. Eric smiled. Unfolding
himself from the chair, he enveloped Bailey in a hug. "Happy Friday to you too,
little one"

"I'm hoping you two brought pictures from your cruise. I've always dreamed
about sailing the Mediterranean so I can't wait to hear all about it," Bailey
jabbered.

Brett was resting his hips against the bar, arms folded, feet crossed in front
of him. His hazel eyes scanned Bailey, and with one eyebrow crooked up and a
smirk on his lips, he waited. Bailey stared back. Sometimes, it was hard to
believe that this 6'3" package of sheer male dominance and sexuality was his.
When Brett looked at him like that whether the outcome would be good or bad,
Bailey's pants had a tendency to get a little tighter through the crotch area.

Bailey walked over to Brett and snuggled into his neck, pressing his body
against the length of Brett's. "Hey, I finally made it home. I'm so sorry that
I'm late. I'll let you hold down the fort while I get I showered. Guys, give
me fifteen, and I will be ready to roll, and we can let this evening's
festivities begin," Bailey said, smiling as he leaned up and brushed Brett's
lips with a kiss. Pulling away he headed for the steps.

"Little boy, are you forgetting something?" Brett asked, catching Bailey by the
hand. His hazel eyes locked in and held onto Bailey's gaze, causing Bailey to
start to blush.

"Umm… no?"Bailey stammered.

"No? Really? "Brett spun him around and landed three sharp swats on Bailey's
backside. "Care to rethink that answer, little boy?"

Bailey reached back and rubbed his backside. "You said you wanted to discuss
being late before my shower," Bailey whispered.

"Glad you remembered, baby. Eric, if you and Mark will excuse us, my naughty
boy and I need to discuss his lack of time management skills, again. Did you
choose a paddle?" Brett asked as they headed out of the room

"Yes, the Lexan was the lucky winner," Bailey groaned as he leaned down to pick
the paddle up off of the step, handing it to Brett.

Brett took the paddle. Hand in hand they made their way up the stairs to their
room.

Bailey looked at the expression on his partner's face; it was an odd combination
of ticked off and loving. There was no doubt in Bailey's mind that Brett loved
him with every fiber of his being. Brett told him that often enough that Bailey
always felt reassured by his love. Yep, he was one lucky guy: safe, secure,
loved and cared for.

Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, Brett placed the paddle down next to him
and pulled Bailey to stand by his knee. Brett asked, "Anything we need to
discuss before you pull your pants down for me, little boy?"

Bailey briefly thought about it and knew at this point all had been said. Any
whining on his part had the very distinct possibility of Brett taking the worn
black leather belt off and using it to blister his butt so no nothing to
discuss. Shaking his head no, Bailey fumbled with his belt and then the
buttons on his dress pants. Looking Brett in the eye, he let go of his pants
feeling them slide down his legs and pool on the floor around his ankles.

"Little boy, boxers too, please," Brett requested. Bailey's eyes started to
water as he pushed his boxers off of his hips lowering them just below his
bottom. Brett patted his thighs and waited.

Bailey quietly arranged himself over Brett lap. Feeling the softness of the
worn jeans beneath him, he jumped a little as he felt the firm caress of Brett's
hand on the small of his back.

"Easy little one, you're OK. We've done this plenty of times before," Brett
murmured.

After tugging his boxers lower, Bailey felt Brett's hand gently stroke his twin
round globes. The caresses stopped, and the same hand that had softly rubbed
his bottom a few moments before began to slowly and firmly spank, increasing the
temperature of his bottom. The swats continued to rain down in a circuit,
building in intensity. Bailey felt his breath begin to hitch, and as if on cue
Brett adjusted the squirming body to secure his boy a little tighter. There
was a pause and before Bailey could try to squirm out of the way, Brett brought
the clear paddle down with a loud SNAP on the wiggling target.

"Owww. I'm sorry. Please, I'm so sorry. I will do better, I promise," Bailey
pleaded and wiggled, trying to lever himself off of his Top's lap.

"I know you're very sorry right now, little boy. I'm sure you know I'm not
happy. You do not make others wait on you. It's rude and you will always get
spanked for it. Brett continued to crack the clear paddle against the red
bottom.

"I know. I know. I'm sorry, please stop. It won't happen again, promise,"
Bailey wailed.

"Little boy, do not make promises you may not be able to keep."

As the Lexan continued to snap out a pattern on his squirming backside, Bailey
could picture his skin turning from rosy to red. Not able to take it anymore,
Bailey's survival instinct kicked in, and he darted his hand back to protect his
bottom. Brett, with a skill developed over time, knew to watch for and secure
Bailey's hand when it flew back, keeping it safe from the paddle and out of the
way.

Bailey stopped caring who was hearing him as the Lexan blazed across his
backside and his pleas turned into escalating sobs. Soon, Bailey could do
nothing but sob as he lay across Brett's lap accepting the spanking.

It took a few minutes for Bailey to realize that the new blossoms of pain had
stopped, and the only thing touching him was Brett's strong hand rubbing slow
circle on his lower back. He listened to Brett murmuring, "My good little boy,
so brave, so beautiful."

Hitching his breath a few more times, Bailey scrambled to be right side up on
Brett's lap. Brett just rocked, holding his boy and rubbing his back as Bailey
calmed down. Nuzzling into Brett's neck, Bailey whispered,' I'm sorry"

"I know, sweetheart. I'll say we're doing this way more often than I like since
you have been working in DC. I'm giving you warning. You still have four
more months assigned to that office so you need to figure a way to manage your
time to my expectations."

Bailey listened and nodded, "I'll try to do better."

Brett pressed his lips onto Bailey's forehead, "I know you will and I'll provide
you with a little incentive. Next time if you make us late for plans that
involve anyone else, there won't be a choice of which paddle, little one, we
will go straight to the belt. Am I clear?"

"I hate that thing," Bailey mumbled into Brett's shirt.

"Yes, love, I know," Brett replied, kissing his boy's forehead again. "That's
why it will make such a good incentive for my little boy, won't it?"

"Yes, Sir," Bailey replied knowing no other answer would be acceptable.

"Oh, and one more thing, if you ever try to override my decision on when a
spanking will take place like you did this evening, I will do more than land a
few smacks on your backside. I will have you pull your pants down right then
and there and blister your bottom on the spot. Am I clear?" Brett asked in that
toppish no nonsense tone he saved for laying down the law.

"Crystal clear," Bailey whined, knowing that while Brett would follow through
with that threat in front of some friends, but he would never cross the line and
do anything that would embarrass Bailey in front of anyone who did not know
about their lifestyle.

"Good – now shower quickly, Beautiful, we need to head out in less than twenty
if we want to make our reservations," Brett said as he nudged Bailey off of his
lap.

From previous experience, Bailey knew Brett wouldn't be able to help staring as
the perfect rounded, glowing red globes as he moved around picking up his pants
and underwear to deposit in the hamper on the way into the master bath.
Knowing he had an audience, Bailey made sure to add a little wiggle. Knowing
those little moves and wiggles would capture Brett's attention and Brett would
be anxious to enjoy his boy's body later tonight and would make it writhe in
pleasure.

Bailey hissed as the spray of tepid water danced across his backside. If
nothing else could be said about Brett, he was always thorough when he felt a
spanking was due. Showering quickly, Bailey grabbed the towel and carefully
dried off avoiding his stinging backside. That, he thought to himself, could
drip dry. Searching his drawer for the baggiest, most worn, yet acceptable
jeans, he quickly pulled them on. Adding a sweater and running his fingers
through his unruly locks, he made his way down the steps. His backside was
still stinging like crazy, but all the stress that had plagued him all the way
home was gone. He was back in balance and back to being Brett's good boy.

The End