Reactions

Bailey paused to check his reflection in the hall mirror. His eyes were still
slightly red, swollen and watery. He undoubtedly had the look of a well-spanked
boy. There were a few ways to re-enter the room after having your butt toasted
within ear shot of others. He could saunter in pretending nothing happened and
hope no one had heard anything. The problem with that idea was there was no
doubt that Mark and Eric had heard him. Heck, it was possible people in the
next town heard him howl. Quiet was utterly impossible with the Lexan so no
sense in pretending it didn't happen. He could be the shy boy and just run in
and cuddle right into Brett. Although, they knew him too well and shy he was
not. Last option was he could play it up a bit more for sympathy. That
sometimes worked, and sometimes Brett saw right through his dramatics. Playing
it up he decided was the only way to go for this evening. Running his fingers
through his damp hair one more time, he made his way into the family room. 

Sniffling loudly as he entered the room with his lower lip quivering and looking
up through his lowered damp eyelashes, he slowly started crossing the room to
the brown leather sofa where Brett was sitting watching him, wincing as he
walked.

"BRAVO!!! BRAVO!!!!" Brett said as he stood up and clapped enthusiastically. He
winked at Bailey. "The Oscar for best performance after a paddling goes to
Bailey Laws-McHenry."

Bailey tried to hold his injured boy look through Brett's applause, but he felt
his mouth begin to twitch as his smile broke through. "Stop, that's not funny. 
That Lexan paddle is wicked! My butt is still stinging!"

"As your bottom should sting if I paddled it correctly, my naughty boy," Brett
said, sitting back down and holding his arms wide open.

Diving in for a quick cuddle, he savored the feeling of the strong arms that
engulfed him.

"I'm really sorry, I made everyone late for our dinner plans," Bailey said from
his safe perch. "I'll try to make sure I leave in plenty of time the next time
we have plans."

"Hey little one, it is okay no one here starved to death. I'm glad to see you
actually did survive your close encounter with Brett wielding the Lexan. I'm
not trying to rush anyone, however, we need to get on the road in order to make
the new reservation time," Eric replied as he got up from the armchair.

"Thanks," Bailey said. He was glad that Eric and Mark treated hearing his
spanking as just a common occurrence in their world.

Brett nudged Bailey off his lap. "Up, babe. Eric's right. We don't want to
miss the reservations."

Leaving the house, piling into Eric's SUV, they headed for the restaurant. 
Pushing his knee against Brett's in the backseat, Bailey threaded his fingers
through Brett's. Brett's thumb began tracing slow circles against the palm of
Bailey's hand.

Mark, who had been quiet since Bailey had come back after his spanking, finally
piped up, "Bailey, I thought you'd conquered being on time a long time ago. Is
everything okay at work?"

"I'm not sure if conquered is the right term, but I did have it under control
until this whole DC mess started. Now, nothing's working right, and my butt's
feeling every misstep I make," Bailey groaned.

"Did I miss something? Since when do you actually work in the city?" Eric asked
from the front seat.

"I have a local client who wants me on site and not just supporting them from my
office or home. And, well money talks. They are willing to pay extra for more
in-depth software support and custom programming, and my boss had no problem
reassigning me to work out of the client's DC office temporarily," Bailey
explained.

"Ahh, so now you're dealing with DC traffic and working in an office instead of
at home in your PJ's," Eric said.

"That's it in a nutshell," Brett replied. "Bailey, unfortunately, never did
really conquer his timing issues. He'd just switched working from home on days
we'd had plans. Smart thinking, it worked like a charm. It's hard to be late
when you have never left the house."

"Well, if being on time is all you have to tackle, just set up an appointment on
your outlook calendar for whatever time you need to leave and stick to it," Mark
replied. "It went much further when I first worked in the city. Not only was I
late which Eric's an ogre about, but I developed some under-appreciated driving
skills which meant trouble."

"Oh, God! Eric said. " I'd forgotten the flurry of red light and speed camera
tickets that started showing up in the mail. My poor arm never had such a
workout. That was when we discovered the Lexan with many thanks to Brett –it
worked wonders."

Mark replied, "I can laugh about it now, but at the time, it was horrible. It
seemed like there was a new ticket in the mailbox every few days for weeks on
end. DC's notoriously behind in processing those dang cameras so by the time I
realized where the cameras were and started paying attention I'd had been
snapped many times. It turns out; they have cameras on what seems like every
side street I use to escape the main flow of traffic."

Speed cameras? Traffic light cameras? Bailey felt the blood drain from his
face as he thought about his own newly acquired driving skills. He had noticed
that even when he wasn't running late he drove a little faster and certainly
pushed the edge of the envelope when it came to yellow lights. He'd never even
thought to look for cameras. So far, nothing had shown up in their mail box,
but still…

"Mark, are you telling me that sweet Eric didn't grant you any type of amnesty
on those tickets?" Bailey asked, half joking.

"No! Eric's anal about safety and he's never heard of the word amnesty. My
butt paid dearly for each of those tickets. I will echo your thoughts here –
that paddle's wicked. Plus, the money had to come out of my fun money account,
which put a huge damper on my finances for a long time."

Brett laughed. "I'm sure you didn't plan on using your splurge account to pay
for traffic tickets." His tone then turned slightly more serious, "I hope you
aren't trying to tell me something, little one, because I value your safety
above everything. Trust me; you don't want tickets showing up at our house. 
I'll promise you a sore bottom."

Eric pulled into a parking spot, turning off the ignition, before Bailey could
reply. "Here we are guys. Right on time! We'd better head in. I'm starving."

"You make it sound like I never feed you," Mark quipped back, closing the truck
door as he headed for the restaurant.

Brett and Bailey followed, and the conversation about tickets was quickly
forgotten.


Several weeks later, Bailey pulled into the driveway surprised that he was the
first one home. That was odd; he was never the first one home. He opened the
front door, and the savory smell of pot roast was filling the hall indicating
Brett had been home at some point. Removing his phone from the front pocket, he
dumped his laptop bag in the study. Stopping to hang his coat up in the hall
closet, he made his way into the kitchen. Seeing a note on the counter along
with an un-opened envelope he read:

Sweetheart,
I tried to reach you several times with no luck! Left messages and texts! Also,
tried your office number with no luck! I'm at my brother's house. Justin has
water coming into the basement. I'm taking the shop-vac over to him and staying
to help with the clean up. Pot Roast will be done at 6:30. Please, turn it
down to warm if I'm not back. Also, please be ready to discuss the envelope on
the table when we talk tonight.
I love you!
B

"Ahh Friggit!" Bailey said out loud to the empty room after glancing at the
envelope. Grabbing a Diet Coke from the fridge, he made his way back to the
table. Pulling out a chair, he sat down and stared at the envelope from the DC
Department of Motor Vehicles. Taking a gulp of the cold soda, Bailey carefully
opened the envelope.

Well, no doubt about it. That was unquestionably his Mustang zipping down the
road. Scanning the notice, the amount of the fine made his mouth drop open. It
was the max for the automated system, two hundred and fifty dollars. Reading
the notice more carefully, he realized the speed camera had clocked him at
twenty-nine miles over the limit.

That just didn't sound right. Bailey gladly admitted to stretching the speed
limit a bit but never that far. He knew better. When he first bought the
Mustang and was driving a bit recklessly, Brett tattooed the commandment "Thou
shall not speed" on his backside with the paddle and underlined it with the
belt.

Bailey read the notice more carefully, the location seemed off. The car in the
picture without a doubt was his, but he worked on the northwest side of DC so
driving around on the southeast side of the city would be odd. He grabbed his
phone, ignoring the missed calls and messages, he opened his internet
application. Checking his calendar to see if there had possibly been a meeting
that day on the southeast side, Bailey began laughing out loud. This was going
to be good. Heading into the study with the notice in his hand and opening the
bottom drawer of the desk, he grabbed the wooden paddle. Placing the paddle on
top of the fine notice on the desk, Bailey headed up to shower and change,
whistling as he went.

Bailey looked up from his Kindle when he heard the back door open. Glancing at
the clock, 6:15, Brett had made it home in time for dinner.

"Hey gorgeous, is everything under control at Justin's?" Bailey called out from
the sofa.

"Yes, what a mess though. His hot water tank sprang a leak sometime during the
morning when Haley was volunteering at the elementary school. He has a plumber
there replacing the tank, and we were able to suck up most of the water." Brett
said, walking into the great room. "Did you find my note?"

"Yes, Sir, I found it along with the envelope," Bailey said, tugging Brett's
hand to pull him down on the sofa.

"So little one, do we want to discuss it before or after dinner?"

"After of course," Bailey said, scrambling onto Brett's lap, straddling it and
wrapping his arms around Brett's chest. "Dinner is about done, and it smells way
too good in here to wait much longer."

Brushing Brett's lips with his, Bailey ran his fingers through the wavy hair
that was gelled into perfect submission. "Do we need to head back over after
dinner and help out with the rest of the clean up?"

"No, Justin said he could finish it up although he knows to call us if he needs
help," Brett said, dipping his head lower pushing past Bailey's lips with his
tongue to kiss him thoroughly.

Bailey felt Brett's large hands run down his back to cup and gently squeeze his
bottom. "Have I told you today how much I love you, little one?"

"Of course but you can always tell me again," Bailey said with an impish grin.
"I love you Bailey Regan Laws-McHenry with every fiber of my being. You make me
happier than I could have ever imagined," Brett said looking in his eyes. "That
doesn't mean we won't be discussing a few issues after dinner, Bailey babe. Up.
I know the pot roast is done."

"I know that if nothing else you're diligent in your responsibilities," Bailey
said, rolling his eyes and grinning as he made his way into the kitchen.
Dinner was spent bantering back and forth about Justin's basement and whether or
not they should replace their old hot water heater. They cleaned up together
afterwards, loading the dishwasher and putting the leftovers away.

"I'm surprised, little one, usually if we have to discuss something you are a
bundle of jitters. The fact that we have two issues to discuss I thought for
sure you'd be over the edge," Brett said.

"Two issues? Huh? Did I miss something? You said we needed to discuss the
envelope," Bailey stammered. Racking his brain quickly, he came up empty with
what else they could possibly need to discuss.

"Go get my note, little one, maybe that will jog your memory as to what has me a
little peeved," Brett said in a toppish tone.

Quickly grabbing the note from where he left it on the counter top, Bailey did a
quick re-read and came up with zilch, nada, not one damn thing.

"Brretttt…," Bailey whined. "There's nothing else here to discuss."

"Oh, there's something else to discuss, and I'm not letting it slide by. Think
about the note, you'll figure it out. Let's go, Bailey. We need to finish
this in the study." Brett said, grabbing his boy's hand and interlacing their
fingers.

Entering the study, Brett released his hand. Bailey watched as Brett eyes
focused in on the ticket and the wooden paddle.

"Why's this out, Babe? I don't remember telling you to pick a paddle," Brett
said, grabbing the wooden paddle with one hand and snagging Bailey's arm with
the other. Turning Bailey into his hip, Brett brought the paddle down across
Bailey's bottom with a loud SMACK that was followed by an equally loud yelp.

"You know better than to try to take control of any discipline," Brett stated.
Bailey quickly rubbed the back of his jeans. Glaring at Brett through watery
eyes, Bailey said "It was for me to use. I thought it was the best one to spank
you with."

"Spank me? Little boy, I'm not sure what idea is running amok in your mind. In
this house, there's only one bottom that gets spanked, and it's not mine.
However, I'm open-minded so humor me as to why you thought you'd be spanking
me."

"The speeding ticket isn't mine. I was working on-site in Detroit when the
Mustang was snapped going 29 miles over the speed limit. I don't speed. You
blistered my butt enough that I just don't do it at least not to that extreme. 
It's one of our "do not pass go-do not collect two hundred dollars-go straight
to the belt" offenses. You can't spank me for the car speeding. I wasn't behind
the wheel. You're the only person I let drive my baby, so you were the one not
driving responsibly. Going that far over the limit is dangerous and you know
it. You deserve a spanking." Bailey stated firmly, still glaring.

"Stop glaring at me. You were in Detroit?" Brett said as he grabbed the ticket.
Scanning for the date, he muttered, "If he doesn't paddle Mark's ass for this I
will."

"Mark? Mark? As in Eric and Mark? That Mark? I can't believe you allowed
Mark to drive my baby! Mark? The king of fender benders? I can't believe it! 
Why?" Bailey said, his voice steadily rising. "I'm so pissed. You had no right!
Did you lose your mind?"

"Stop! You, boy, do not raise your voice to me. It's rude. I suggest you rein
it in. You're still in trouble for your other misstep today, and your mouth is
adding to the list." Brett stated, locking in on Bailey with his warm hazel eyes
turning to ice. "Now, you can go stand over there in the corner while I make a
call and work on calming yourself down, so we can talk this out like two adults
who love each other. And not one more word out of you."

"I don't want to stand in the damn corner, and you had no right letting that
maniac drive my baby! He drives like a freakin' fidiot! If you want someone
standing in the corner then you go stand in the corner!" Bailey ranted loudly in
defiance.

Brett's jaw dropped, and his eyebrows shot up. Realizing he ran full steam over
that imaginary line in the sand, Bailey quickly began moving towards the corner.
"Freeze! Take your pants off, little boy. Now!" Brett said, never raising his
voice.

Glaring, Bailey quickly unbuttoning his jeans, he pushed them off his hips along
with his boxers.

"Pick them up and place them on the desk neatly."

Knowing he was pushing all kind of wrong buttons with Brett, Bailey quickly
folded and placed his clothes on the desk.

"Bring me the paddle you nicely put out for me, please, as well as the black
leather paddle," Brett said.

Grabbing the wooden paddle from the top of the desk and the dreaded black
leather paddle from the drawer he took them to Brett.

"Bend over."

Bailey quickly bent forward and rested his hands on the edge of the desk. 
Bracing for the swish of the paddle, he heard it before it kissed his cheek. 
Hissing loudly, that stinger on his right cheek had wooden paddle written all
over it. Almost immediately the other paddle was swishing through the air
connecting with his left cheek. Bailey, howling, stood up grabbing his left
cheek. The leather paddle didn't sting; it flat out bit.

"Bailey, are you trying, in your own way, to tell me something? Do you need a
spanking with the leather paddle? I didn't think so, but your bid for my
attention is making me second guess myself. Now, go stand in the corner like I
asked you to do and think about what type of spanking you need."

Scowling, Bailey made his way over to the corner, rubbing his bare bottom. This
wasn't how this evening was supposed to go! It wasn't fair! Feeling his temper
start rising again despite his stinging cheeks, Bailey started pulling his leg
back…freezing when he heard Brett.

"Don't you dare! You may be upset with me, and you may want my full attention.
But so help me if you kick the wall, I'll blister your butt three shades of red!
Now, last chance, wipe the look off of your face and stand in that corner
correctly. You're going places you really don't want to go with me," Brett
warned.

Easily recognizing Brett at his absolute limit by the tone of his voice, Bailey
gently lowered his leg and after positioning himself properly in the corner took
a deep breath. As usual, his stinging, red bottom placed on display began to
work its magic, calming him down and helping him step away from the edge.

"Thank you, sweetheart" Bailey heard followed several seconds later by "Hey
Eric, I have a problem that showed up in my mailbox that involves your speed
demon" Brett's voice grew quieter and more distant indicating he`d left the
room.

Feeling more centered it was time to focus, what else ticked off Brett? Brett
said the other issue was in the note. The note was about Justin's flooded
basement. That's not it. What was it about the note? Brett always leaves
notes when he doesn't get an answer on the cell. Ahh… FRIGGIT!!! His cell was
buried in his bag and on silent. He never even thought to look at who the
missed calls were from. Crap. Major pet peeve in the book of Brett. Brett
hated the fact the he blew by missed calls and messages on his phone. They had
talked about it actually at length last week when Brett locked his keys and
wallet in the trunk of his car and needed him to run spares over to the office. 
And, again two days ago, when Brett needed him to pick up sinus medicine from
the store. No wonder Brett went flying over the edge today. Repeat offenses
were never appreciated. Damn it!

Bailey heard Brett's soft footsteps as he entered the study. Turning around was
not an option. Brett would tell him when corner-time was over. He learned the
hard way a long time ago, coming out the corner without permission was a
definite no-no.

Bailey continued to ponder. He didn't flout Brett's authority. He didn't
disrespect their relationship. He didn't usually tantrum. Oh God, that
word-tantrum. If he's calling it a tantrum, chances are that Brett's calling it
a tantrum also. Tantrums were never good. It would be better if Brett saw it
as what they called a little blip or even a big blip on the radar. Tantrums
earned spankings. Blips were a handled differently. Brett would still remind
him who was in control but in a different way. Usually, a blip guaranteed what
Brett called "every step you take and every move you make" consequences which
equated to either time locked in the chastity device or time with a butt plug
seated in his bottom or even both in the case of an extreme blip. Things he
would feel every time he moved. Erotic little devices from their toy box to
remind him who had control in their relationship. But this wasn't actually a
blip. This was an over the edge tantrum. He actually needed for Brett to pull in
tight and spank him hard. But Brett using the blip methodology, to enforce who
was in control, could be just as effective as a spanking and so much more
enjoyable. His cock twitched in agreement seconding that thought.

"Little one, are you calm enough to talk with me?" Brett asked in a gentle tone.

"Yes, Sir."

"Come here, sweetheart."

Turning Bailey saw Brett sitting in the oversized comfy rocking chair in the
corner of the room. Bailey made a beeline for Brett's lap maneuvering himself
into his favorite position for talking.

"I'm so sorry," Bailey said.

"Shh," Brett said softly kissing his temple. "I'm sorry for not tracking you
down and asking before allowing Mark to borrow your car. He was in a bind. 
They needed him at the clinic in DC and his car wouldn't start. The other
doctor for the day was out with a bug. You and I both know from volunteering,
people in that neighborhood depend on the clinic being open and that a doctor
will be there to take care of them," Brett explained quietly as he stroked
Bailey's back.

"If he had come to me with that reason, I would've gladly let him borrow your
car. The time he works at the clinic means a lot to him. I know I always feel
better about myself and the world in general after helping out just in the
reception area for a day," Bailey murmured.

"My car?" Brett laughed, "no, not my car. I hate driving your car plus Mark was
like a little kid in a candy store when his receptionist brought him over and he
saw the Mustang looking all pretty in the driveway. I couldn't refuse him."

"I would have, he's a menace with a car that does more that putter. He
shouldn't be licensed to drive anything other than a golf cart. Was Eric very
upset?" Bailey asked.

"Oh, that may be the understatement of the year. Enough about Mark's driving or
the ticket, that's Eric's problem not ours. We have our own stuff to deal with,"
Brett said, running his fingers down Bailey's back until his hand rested on
Bailey's bare bottom. "Babe, have you figured out why I'm not at all happy with
you. And, I'm not referring to your temper tantrum."

Crud. That little outburst was just officially designated a temper tantrum, not
a blip. "My cell was on silent buried in my bag. When I got home, and saw that
note that said you had tried to reach me, I still didn't bother to return your
calls." Bailey mumbled into Brett's neck while playing with the buttons on his
rugby shirt.

"Ignoring calls is something we just talked about last week and again this week.
It's down-right rude, Bailey, and it's been happening on a regular basis." Brett
said drumming his fingers against Bailey's bottom.

"I know," Bailey replied, "It's a bad habit that seems to be back in full force.
You told me last time that if it kept happening I was heading for a spanking."

"Mmmhmm, I think you have officially arrived at the spanking point. Maybe that
will give you some incentive to return missed calls," Brett said quietly as he
slowly rocked. "Let's talk about the temper tantrum. Today's was pretty
impressive, a definite four-star performance."

"I didn't kick the wall," Bailey said quietly, not liking where the conversation
was heading.


"No, you didn't. Kicking the wall would have moved that to a category five
temper tantrum. I would have taken my belt off for that type of performance.
Flat out defying me is not okay. Yelling at me is not okay. It is actually
terribly disrespectful to our relationship. You know better, and I won't
tolerate that type of disobedience. If you honestly think about it, it's
actually quite easy. If I have asked you to do something that is not going to
harm you in any way, you do it without glaring at me or raising your voice. 
It's okay to be upset with me. I'll always be willing to talk things out with
you in a calm manner. But it's not okay to throw a tantrum. You're the only
one in control of your actions. You let them get out of control like they were
earlier and you'll go to bed with a remarkably hot bottom. This is nothing new
to us."

"No, it is not new. It's how we work. I'm sorry. I was beyond pissed off over
who drove my car. I went way over the line."

"You did, little one, and I know can't remember the last time you had a full
blown hissy fit. I honestly thought you were actually going to kick the wall. 
Go ahead and bring me the paddle, love." Brett said.

Hopping off of Brett's lap, Bailey made his way over to the desk. Brett had not
specified which paddle which meant the choice was up to him. Brett did this
when Bailey was over the edge. Letting him choose which paddle he needed to
bring him back. Grabbing the black leather paddle without hesitation, he headed
over to the chair Brett was sitting on and held out the paddle.

"Going for the big guns tonight, sweetheart?" Brett asked as he took the paddle
from his hands.

"Yeah, I haven't gone over the edge like this in forever. It was disrespectful,
and that's not how I ever want to treat our relationship."

"You did blow right through our lines. It was extremely disrespectful." Brett
replied moving forward on the chair he patted his thighs, "Over you go, love."

Leaning forward over Brett's knees, Bailey carefully balanced placing his hands
on the floor. Shivers ran down Bailey's spine as Brett's long fingers stroked
his bottom. Relaxing into the position over Brett's knee, the stroking stopped
and was quickly replaced by a sharp sting as Brett's palm connected with his
bottom. Hissing as Brett's palm continued to map out a circuit on his butt,
Bailey could feel his eyes start to water. Slowly the temperature of his bottom
began to increase in conjunction with the start of the little gulping sounds
that came before actual crying.

"You do not get to ignore calls from people who love you. It's rude," Brett
began to lecture punctuating every word with a sound swat to his sit spot. 
Moving equally between his two cheeks, Brett continued. "When you realize you
have a missed call – you will pick the phone up and return the call. Don't
leave anyone, especially me, wondering what happened to you."

By this time, the gulping noises had changed into full-fledged soft sobs, and
his legs and bottom were in wiggle motion trying to get out of the line of fire.
Responding to the wiggling, he felt Brett pulling him in closer securing his
hand. Tensing, Bailey waited for a split second before howling at the impact of
the leather paddle against his stinging bottom.

"Little boy, you do not disrespect us. You do what I've asked you to do, and
you do it respectfully! If you're upset with me, you talk to me in a calm
manner. You do not throw temper tantrums to get my attention. Am I clear?"
Brett said, raising the paddle.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!! I'll listen next time! I promise! Please!" Bailey
wailed as the paddle cracked down again and again against his bottom. Brett
began concentrating on the tender underside of his bottom where he would feel it
when he sat causing his promises to turn into loud, continuous sobs.

"I should hope so," Brett said, landing the final swat on his burning butt. 
Realizing the only thing touching him was Brett's long fingers tracing circles
on his back, Bailey slowly maneuvered himself to a sitting position on Brett's
lap cuddling up. Making sure his bottom had no contact with Brett's hard
thighs, burying his face into the front of Brett's shirt as the sobs slowly
changed back to little gulps.

Brett slid back in the chair and began rocking slowly. "My good boy. So
precious," Brett murmured.

Bailey snuggled in tighter loving that Brett was never in a hurry to let go
after a spanking. He would always hold him for as long as Bailey needed him to.
Tonight, there was no rush. Nothing else needed to happen other than just being
held by the man he loved.

2 comments:

  1. hey, i really love this!! and i think these 2 are amazing characters and they are brilliant together!! i really hope you write more soon!!

    ReplyDelete
  2. i really love the series, I hope u will write more stories about them.

    ReplyDelete