Signs

Written By: LJ

(A DP Philosophy question post on our WL Group: Do your Brats have any behaviors that tip you off that they have done something they think they will be punished for?)


Hello; Dennis Taylor here once again. I hope it is not too late to answer this but I only just stumbled onto it a short time ago while checking some older e-mails.

At the moment both my Brats are quietly standing in their respective corners. Pardon me; let me rephrase that. Dusty is quietly standing in his corner; Skyy is performing on-the-spot callisthenics in his.

The entire weekend has been leading up to this. Between Dusty’s sombre, ‘get-out-of-my-face-or-I’ll-bite-yours-off’ mood and Skyy in road-runner mode, it was bound to happen; a knocked-down, dragged-out fight. That’s right, folks. I separated them just moments ago and I am still trying to figure out what their problems might be. I know they are having problems because the signs are all there.

It was partly my fault as I should have sat down and discussed things sooner, rather than procrastinating and tackling the mountain of papers needing to be marked for one of the courses I teach instead. Hindsight gets you every time.

I have a suspicion that Skyy’s uncertainties may have something to do with the forbidden activity of text-messaging. He started this a few months back when introduced to it by Dusty. It all too quickly became an obsession for both of them. After a couple of near traffic accidents while attempting to drive and text simultaneously, I confiscated their BlackBerrys last week for an indefinite period of time and gave them cell-phones with no extra features. Deciding to check our Sprint account online, I discovered the several hours spent text-messaging from Skyy’s number this past Friday evening. I’ll have to find a better hiding place for those impossible-to-resist toys. You’d have thought next to the paddle would have done the trick. Apparently not!

Believing I had unravelled what was worrying my youngest Brat, I turned my thoughts to my older one. Unfortunately, I came up empty; no idea whatsoever as to what could be troubling Dusty.

I better take care of the situation before either of them suffers a nervous breakdown. Unchecked, Dusty will brood himself into getting sick to his stomach and Skyy will remain hyper until he drops from exhaustion. I promise to get back to answer this question when the dust has settled.

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

I’m back! It’s been well over an hour but all is now quiet on the home front, aside from the soft snoring from Skyy who is curled up on my lap sleeping and the intermittent sighs from Dusty, who is belly-down on the sofa watching me trying to type single-handed.

I will now attempt to fill you in on what transpired since I last sat here at the computer. This is going to be slow going as I only have the use of one hand, the other occupied in holding on to my youngest partner to prevent him sliding onto the floor. In case you are wondering why I don’t put him next to Dusty, it is because my Brats are not the only ones in need of comfort after discipline. I am as much in need of the physical contact and cuddling as they are.

Anyway, let me get on with the happenings of the past hour.

“Skyy,” I had called softly so as not to startle him. “Come here, please.”

After having spent almost two days buzzing around like a bumble-bee on amphetamines, he slowly inched his way across the room at a pace that would do a snail proud.

I wondered why he kept glancing apprehensively at the piles of folders on my desk. Did he resent my taking time from him to finish up my workload from the university? He never had before, but my workload in a course I was teaching had doubled recently when I had to fill in for another professor.

“We have to talk, Sport.” I started the conversation with hopes of him participating but he sat stiffly on my lap, apathetically shuffling the papers on my desk and bending up the corners. I pulled his hand away and asked, “Care to tell me why you took your BlackBerry from the drawer?”

“Huh?” He looked at me in surprise.

“I saw the activity on our account,” I explained and watched as his expression turned to one of confusion. Believing he was faking it, I firmly stated. “Skyy, you have never out-and-out lied to me before and I certainly hope you are not about to start.”

“He didn’t take, Den. I did.” The confession softly spoken from Dusty’s corner completely threw me.

“Thank you, Dusty. We’ll discuss that shortly,” I answered and turned my attention back to Skyy. I once again had to pull his hand away from the items on my desk. “I’m sorry, Sweetheart; for jumping to the wrong conclusion. Please tell me what you’ve been fretting over. If you are worrying about your History paper, I’m afraid I haven’t marked it yet.”

He shifted uncomfortably and mumbled. “I didn’t turn it in.”

“You did finish it though?”

“Yes.”

“So the problem is…..?”

“I don’t want you marking it. Aaron and the guys have been saying you’ll mark me easy because we’re partners. They say that’ll be the same as cheating.”

I had wondered if he would receive any flak over me teaching one of his courses. “And this is why you’ve been working yourself up all weekend?” Getting a nod in reply, I sighed and patiently informed him we had other options. “Professor Aitken may not be recovered enough to return to work, Skyy, but he is well enough to mark a paper or two. Even if he wasn’t, I could have asked Professor Brennan to do so.”

“Oh,” the light dawned. “I didn’t think of that. Ah, am I gonna lose marks for turning it in late? Are you going to punish me for not talking to you?”

“No to both questions. While I wish you would have saved yourself a lot of unnecessary anguish by talking to me, I am not going to punish you for not doing so. You’ve already done a fine job of that on your own. Nor will you lose marks as I extended the deadline to this coming Monday morning at ten.”

I waited for this to take hold and then reminded him of the second issue we had to address. “What precipitated the fight between you and Dusty? When I came into my study, you were working off excess energy in the yard and Dusty was pretending to read in the living room. Ten minutes later, I’m having to separate the two of you.”

“I came in for a drink of water at the same time Dusty came into the kitchen. It just kinda happened.” Skyy shrugged his shoulders. “Things just sort of erupted; one minute we were trying to out-glare each other and the next we were rolling around on the floor.”

I can count on one hand the number of times my two Brats have physically fought and have a couple of fingers left over. “What happens in this household when a rule is broken, Skyy?”

“We get spanked,” he sadly murmured.

I hugged him, got us to our feet and steered him towards the center of the room, grabbing up the straight-back chair that stood against the wall. Once he was over my knee, I asked the inevitable question necessary to ensure we were on the same wave-length and received the appropriate answer.

Relieved when it was over, Skyy calmed down quickly and then reluctantly settled at one end of the sofa so I could concentrate on Dusty.

My other partner had his shoulders hunched up in an effort to prevent him hearing his fellow-Brat’s chastisement. An added consequence to fighting is having to stay in the same room while the other was being punished.

Dusty moved over to me the moment I called his name. Now that the truth was out, he desperately needed closure. The fight with Skyy had only compounded his feelings of guilt.

I took both his hands in mine, gazed up into tearing, gray eyes and thought as my heart swelled, ‘God, I love this man!’

“Why, Dusty?”

“Slade and Jayden got into an argument and Jay took off so I was helping Slade look for him. I needed to text because we were checking out different clubs and there was too much noise to use a cell. In my hurry, I grabbed up Skyy’s Blackberry by mistake and didn’t have time to exchange it with my own.”

“I see. You didn’t happen to get carried away and text while driving, did you?” I asked and braced myself for his reply.

He shuffled awkwardly, exhaled noisily and stared directly at me. “Yes, sir, I did.” He often resorted to using the title when admitting what he considered his worse transgressions, as if answering to an authority figure was easier than doing so to a partner and lover.

“Get the paddle, please.” I heard a gasp of dismay and turned to smile reassuringly at Skyy. It did nothing to alleviate his fears if his hands tightening on the arm of the sofa until his knuckles turned white were any indication.

All too soon Dusty was bare-bottomed and face down across my thighs. I proceeded to administer the same punishment to him as I had to Skyy for fighting, then I picked up the paddle I had leaned against the side of the chair and gently placed it on Dusty’s glowing red backside.

“Would you please get your History paper, Skyy, and bring it to me.” I didn’t have to ask twice. In a heartbeat, he had scrambled up from the corner of the couch and bolted from the room, firmly closing the door behind him.

“Why are you being paddled, Dusty?”

“For taking the Blackberry,” he tearfully mumbled.

“Not quite; more information please,” I prodded.

“F-for driving and t-texting,” he hitched, his voice rising.

“More, Baby,” I insisted.

“For endangering myself and others,” he wailed.

I rapidly raised and lowered the paddle five times on each cheek, steeling myself against his cries of pain. We both knew it was what he expected, needed and on some level, wanted.

I dropped the paddle on the floor and removed his sneakers and tangled jeans, before gently turning him over to sit on my lap. I kept my legs spread just enough to prevent his scorched skin from coming in contact with anything other than air. He clung onto me, sobbing out his misery and remorse while my stomach gradually unclenched.

Skyy silently slipped back into the room, set his paper on the coffee table and quietly slid into his seat. His expression was one of concern for his fellow-Brat.

Once Dusty had calmed enough, he kissed my cheek, pushed himself off me, pulled up his boxers and joined Skyy on the sofa. Knowing they needed this time together, I picked up Skyy’s History project and left them to it.

Returning the chair and the paddle to their proper places, I sat down at my desk to peruse the papers in my hand. I had just finished reading, pleased with the knowledge Skyy had aced his assignment, when he came over and curled up on my lap.

As you can see, the signs were all there; Dusty’s edgy moodiness and Skyy’s surplus of impossible-to-contain energy.

It’s getting late; my youngest Brat is starting to stir and my oldest is getting restless. I’ll close for now so I can share with the loves of my life, the TLC the three of us crave at times like this.

The End.