Meeting Needs

Written By: LJ

(A DP Philosophy question posted on our WL Group: Has your Brat ever hidden or disposed of a potential implement when expecting trouble?)


Hello, my name is Dennis Taylor. I am the senior partner and Top in our family of three or, as Dusty lovingly likes to refer to me, duly elected Chief Despot. Pardon me; I better make that our family of four to avoid upsetting my youngest Brat. Skyy insists his pet hamster, Nugget, be included in the count.

It is quite a coincidence, my discovering the latest DP question at this particular time. I have no doubt my partners will eventually find my reply. I am willing to place bets they have already seen the query but deliberately failed to mention it to me, it being a rather sore subject at the moment.

Dusty is presently sprawled facedown on the floor here in the study, working on an essay pertaining to the safety precautions to be taken when mountain biking. Skyy is keeping him company and sitting nearby at the coffee table. He is supposed to be writing out the following line two hundred times, ‘I will not in any way tamper with or relocate anything not belonging to me, unless first getting permission from the owner.’ Trust me when I say neither assignment is being done in a chastened and deferential manner. Instead of concentrating on the tasks at hand, they’re complaining about overzealous tyrants. They are also as noiselessly as possible, entertaining themselves by throwing minute particles of eraser and small wet wads of paper more commonly referred to as spit-balls at one another. All of which I am patiently trying to ignore. I’ll let you decide for yourselves which one of them started the shenanigans as many of you know my partners almost as well as I do.

Getting back to my tale, last night while Skyy and I attended an amateur musical production at the local playhouse, Dusty was involved in a very dangerous activity. Several friends, including Dominic’s two Brats, were out for a Friday evening of fun and apparently felt the need to let off steam by doing something physically taxing.

I was unaware of any trouble until we got home and found a message that had been left on our answering machine ten minutes before. “Dennis; it’s Dominic. There is no need to panic but would you get over here to the emergency room as soon as possible. Dusty is not badly hurt. However, he is in need of a complete change of clothing.”

Skyy quickly gathered up clean underwear, jeans and sweatshirt. Then he crammed them into a bag while I found Dusty’s other boots and jacket. We were walking through the hospital doors less than fifteen minutes later.

Slade and Jayden were huddled together in the waiting room. They nervously watched our approach before breathing out a sigh of relief when they saw Dominic come out of an examining room and walk over to greet us.

“Your oldest Brat has been asking for you, Dennis. Dusty has several abrasions that have been cleaned and bandaged as needed. He was also suffering from a mild case of hypothermia, but a tepid saline drip and a couple of warm blankets have taken care of the problem.”

Dominic led us into the room where our injured partner lay on a gurney. Dusty’s eyes filled up when he saw us and he impatiently pushed at the restrictive bed linen in order to hold out his arms. I enfolded him in a tight hug; taking care not to disturb the needle in the back of his left hand, and whispered words of comfort. When his clutching movements became less frantic, I pulled Skyy into the embrace.

“Den, I-I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have gone along with them. It was a stupid thing to do. I-I know…” Dusty stammered.

“Hey, it’s okay! You can tell us all about it at home, love.” I looked up at Dominic and received his go-ahead nod. “First, let’s see about getting this IV out and you dressed.”

I marvelled at Skyy’s ability to curtail his natural exuberance and curiosity. Instead of bouncing and requesting details, he quietly assisted Dusty before packing up the pile of filthy, drenched garments his fellow-Brat had been wearing. Once the release forms had been signed, last minute instructions given by the nurse and farewells exchanged with our friends, we headed home.

“You were doing WHAT?” I demanded more sharply than I intended, causing Dusty to shrink away from me. We were relaxing in the comfort of our own living room and Dusty was sharing the evening’s events. I lowered my voice and inquired as calmly as I could. “Did you just tell me you were mountain biking in this weather, at this time of year and in the dark?”

“I’ve done it before, Den!”

“Yes, a couple of times a few years ago! And, I might add, in much better circumstances! Do you really think you have enough experience to attempt such a feat under the conditions you had tonight?”

“Aah, no. I guess not,” he mumbled, squirming around and trying to look anywhere but at me.

“Dustin!”

“All right, all right;I know it wasn’t the smartest thing I’ve ever done. We just wanted to do something different. We didn’t think anything bad would happen.” He was getting teary-eyed and close to throwing a tantrum. It was late and we were all over-tired. I didn’t want him digging himself in any deeper, so I herded both my Brats upstairs and through the nightly routine of getting ready for bed.

“We’ll discuss this further in the morning, Grease-monkey. Everything will be fine!” I assured him. I kissed his head before releasing him and letting him turn away to stretch out beside me. Moments later, I heard his gentle snore and turned my attentions to lulling Skyy asleep. My youngest partner had been quietly observing and taking in all that had been said or done since we arrived home.

************

“I just want to make sure I have this straight, Dusty,” I said and took another sip of my coffee. I watched him shovel a spoonful of cereal and fruit into his mouth. We were in the midst of the discussion we had been unable to finish last night. After hearing as much as he wanted to, Skyy had left the room in search of something else to do. I realised he was uncomfortable with the direction this conversation was headed.

“One of the guys came up with the brilliant idea of mountain biking over rough terrain in the foothills and the rest of you jumped on the bandwagon and went along with it. Only it wasn’t as easy as you remembered, was it?” I didn’t expect him to answer with his mouth full, so I continued. “At some point in time, you skidded and lost control. Then together with the bike you were on, you rolled down a hill and landed in a pool of muddy water.”

Dusty swallowed and croaked. “It was dark and I couldn’t see where I was going!”

“Which only brings up another hazard to add to the ever growing list,” I stated, frowning at him. “What I am really having a problem with, is you were not wearing any protective gear. No helmet, goggles, pads, nothing! What were you thinking? Or were you even thinking at all?”

“I don’t know,” he whined. Although, giving credit where credit is due, he tried not to.

“Next, while Mitchell, Garth and Adam stayed behind to take care of the bikes, Slade and Jayden helped you walk for almost an hour to the nearest highway. You were fortunate that man stopped and gave the three of you a lift to the hospital before anything worse happened.” I took a deep breath and work at calming down.

‘Thank God, Dominic was on duty last night,’ I thought. Anyone else would have had a difficult time keeping this Brat of mine calm and co-operative. Of course, I’m sure Dom’s Brats would have preferred such had not been the case. I remembered the expressions on their faces when Dominic was ushering them out to the parking lot while muttering threats of retribution.

“You’re angry!” Dusty accused.

“I am not angry!” was my rebuttal.

“Disappointed then!”

“No! I’m concerned!”

“I promise not to go mountain biking again, Den!”

“It is perfectly all right for you to go again, Dusty, provided you do it safely!” I kept my eyes on him and drained my cup. “There are consequences to be faced, young man!” I put the empty mug on the table and got to my feet.

He nodded dejectedly and murmured, “I know!” Then he placed his hand in mine and we walked down the hall to the study where I stood him in his corner with instructions to think about what he should have done differently. I bent over and opened the bottom drawer of my desk, but the object I was reaching for wasn’t there!

I sat down and thought out my next move. Several minutes later, I got a scratch pad and a couple of pencils out and placed them next to the computer. I stood up, took a few steps over to my cornered Brat and put my arms around him.

“Dusty, I want you to sit down and begin work on a two thousand word essay about the safe use of mountain bikes. You can log on to the Internet for reference material.” He seemed a little bewildered but obediently sat down and turned towards the computer. Knowing I had one Brat safety occupied, I went in search of the other.

“What did you do with it, Skyylar?” I demanded, after I had towed him over to a kitchen chair and had him straddling my lap.

“Huh? Whatcha talking about?”

“Don’t you dare give me that wide-eye innocent look of yours!”

“Ooow!” he wailed and rubbed at my handprint blazing across the seat of his pants.

“Where did you hide the paddle, little boy?” I firmly let him know I had no doubts as to who had taken it.

“It’s not fair, Den.” He spoke softly, enabling me to pick up the supplication in his voice.

“What’s not fair, baby?”

“That you paddle Dusty when you only use your hand to discipline me.”

I sighed and put my forehead against his. “Skyy, you have been with us for two years now and how many times have I paddled Dusty?” He didn’t answer. He simply stared into my eyes, obviously expecting me to answer my own question. “This will be the second time, assuming you consider the two smacks I gave him last year for keeping something from me as the first time. I do not need to use the paddle, Skyy. It is Dusty who needs me to use it.”

I took a few moments to get my thoughts in order. I wondered if I would be able to explain it without adding to his confusion. “Skyy, we both know Dusty is an outgoing, fun-loving, good-hearted man. He’s a what-you-see-is-what-you-get kind of guy. But we also know he’s had his share of unhappy times. Mind you, the unpleasant incidents are now fewer and further between than they once were. It was only after we included discipline in our relationship that Dusty was finally able to find the security and acceptance he’d longed for. Like you, he found it within the boundaries we jointly set up and maintained for him. But, unlike you, he needs very clear-cut levels in the seriousness of the infractions and the severity of the consequences. The paddle is only used when Dusty has done something to endanger himself or others. Do you understand?”

“I guess, but I still don’t like it!” He pouted and glowered at me from beneath his eyebrows. I kissed the end of his nose to prevent myself from smiling and causing him to think I wasn’t taking our conversation earnestly enough.

“You don’t have to like it, Sport, but you do have to return the paddle!” I sternly informed him. When he failed to show any signs of complying, I decided to use a different approach. “Skyy, if Dusty feels he has not been properly punished and is unable to forgive himself, in all likelihood his guilt will cause him to act up and get in further trouble. Would you want that to happen?”

“Nooo!” He slowly pushed up off my lap, threw one last silent plea my way and walked out the back door. He returned a few minutes later and begrudgingly handed me the paddle.

“Thank you!” I pulled him against my chest and kissed his hair. Then standing back and looking him in the face, I apprised him of the consequences for taking something that didn’t belong to him.

“What! Two hundred lines? So how fair is that?” He was absolutely outraged but after contemplating the choices, decided it was better than being spanked. “But will it be okay if I go visit with Nonna while you and Dusty take care of things here?” he calmly requested.

“That sounds good to me, honey.”

In a matter of minutes, he had grabbed up his jacket and helmet and was running out of the house, leaving the door to slam behind him. He has his licence and owns a car, but prefers biking whenever possible.

“Don’t kill him, Den!” he shouted as he jumped on his bike and peddled down the driveway.

‘Brat!’ I chuckled to myself.

I stood at the window long after he’d disappeared. Then, taking a deep breath to strengthen my resolve, I returned to the study and quietly closed the door. Dusty glanced up uncertainly when he heard me. Dropping the paddle on the coffee table, I sat down on the leather sofa and looked expectantly at him. He signed off, came over and reluctantly curled up on my lap.

“Do you have anything further to add to our discussion, Dusty?”

He looked up and shook his head. He was fully convinced of my competence in assimilating the thoughts running through his head and the feelings brought about by contemplating on how much worse things might have been. It was difficult for him to silently admit to himself, let alone verbalize to me, just how frightened he had been. His emotional resources had probably been at an all time low as he’d trudged through the woods; hurt, bleeding, soaked to the skin, shivering cold in near zero temperatures and wondering when or if they’d find help.

“It’s all right, baby! We have every reason to be thankful for things turning out as well as they did. It is so much better having you home safe and sound than having you sick or injured enough to be hospitalized.” I gently rocked him and waited for my assurances to sink in. He sighed and I felt the tension drain from his body as he relaxed in my arms and murmured his agreement.

I knew I had to bring this peaceful interlude to an end and move on while I still had the fortitude to see it through. “Up you get, Dusty!” I softly ordered as I patted his hip.

He got to his feet, stepped out of his sneakers, removed his jeans and dutifully lowered himself across my thighs. He pulled over a pillow to hold on to and wiggled a bit to get as comfortable as possible. He had deliberately avoided looking at the paddle.

I tugged down his boxers, wrapped my left arm around his waist and lifted my right hand before landing a resounding wallop on his bare bottom. He jerked and grunted, but didn’t beg off. By the time I stopped spanking, Dusty’s rear end was a uniformed shade of crimson and he was sobbing into the pillow he had clutched in his arms. He groaned and tried lifting himself up when he felt me lean over to pick up the small, oval paddle. He howled as each of the ten solid swats made contact with his already tender cheeks. I tossed the implement I had just used to scorch my lover’s backside onto the table. Next I more than willingly began the long process of soothing him.

That was several hours ago. Skyy returned home to find his fellow-Brat slightly frayed around the edges but still very much alive. Dusty and Skyy took an hour to cuddle and talk things over. Then Skyy asked for and received permission to help Dusty in his search for reference material. I must admit to indulging myself as I watched them laughing and joking around on the computer.

As I said earlier, both my guys are now diligently getting their writing assignments done. Okay! So maybe ‘diligently’ isn’t an accurate description of how they are accomplishing the task, but at least they’re being fairly quiet about it and have made it possible for me to post my response. And, besides, it really all boils down to picking your battles, doesn’t it?

The End.