Marc is "outed" at work

Hello everyone.

Marc here.

I truly hope everyone had a nice and blessed holiday season. As much as I love the season, I am also equally glad when it is over. That is a sad commentary on our society, but there is just too much stress at times. In any case, we actually did make the most of it and had a nice holiday season.

So today I was given the task of writing a blog post. It has been a while since I have written here (for various and numerous reasons), so I wasn't sure what to write about. One reason is that lately Cleo and I not really had much, if any, D/s adventures to write about. Much of this is due to the busy nature of the season, but some of it is also due to our own lack of inspiration to get off our lazy asses and do something about it. We have been in a "funk." Time to change that.

There is, however, one story I can tell...plus a few thoughts I can share about where we are mentally...and my intent is to bring my thoughts back full circle to the new story itself in a way that connects the dots.

So first the story. I am reluctant to even mention it because I know from past experience that this kind of story often leads to readers giving advice to Cleo as to how she should kick my ass. (Some of the advice is, actually, very good and has been used more than I care to admit).

I am a NOTORIOUS procrastinator. Everyone who knows me in the least quickly picks up on it. I drive my family crazy with it. If there is an extended family gathering planned to start at 5:00, they will tell me it starts at 4:00 knowing full well that this is their best chance of having me show up by 6:00. I am not lying. Just ask Cleo. My procrastination is EASILY the biggest single source of spankings throughout my life. When I was spanked as a child it was usually because I put off until some later time what I was supposed to do today. I received more than a few red butts as a kid because of this (nothing abusive at all - I assure you), and the pattern is being repeated now as an adult with my Bride. My very frustrated bride...who knows how to wield a paddle far more wicked than anything I experienced as a child, will easily confirm it.

Sooo...you can see where this is going, can't you? We had a situation with the tabs on our license plate expiring. Of course, like usual, I procrastinated. Bottom line...one day about 3 weeks ago, Cleo got pulled over by the police. She got a ticket (the first she's had in over 15 years!) and it was my fault! What's worse, she felt totally and entirely embarrassed and humiliated being pulled over while a jillion cars drove by.

I was at work when this happened. When she got home she called me at work to tell me what happened. Let's just say it was not a pleasant conversation and she was so mad at me she could spit nails. Had I been home at the moment she would have bloodied my ass whether our kids were home or not - she was that angry (rightfully so). Fuck the
"no noisy punishment" rule. At least not then.

So I dodged a bullet by being at work while she cooled off. I was terrified driving home that night. What the fuck would await me when I arrived home? To my relief (sorry readers, I am sure you are hoping for a world-class ass beating), she had calmed down and, rather than being mad, she was sad and disappointed in me. That, for me, is far worse. I hate disappointing others, whether it is my wife, my children, my parents, siblings, or friends. But she felt hurt and humiliated. I don't blame her. One thing about this blog is that I want to always be honest. And that is the honest truth.

By coincidence, we had recently been reading a few other blogs and message boards about domestic discipline. The bottom line, within the context of those contributing to these message boards, is that the dominant person in any given situation was of the opinion, strongly so, that if someone had done something truly deserving of a spanking, that that person had lost their rights, privledges, and privacy - at least during their punishment. And this meant not only a spanking, but much more. The offending party would be punished in the living room and whoever happened to be in the house at the moment would be able to witness it, nudity and all. They would be stripped naked and verbally chastised before others. If the offender happened to be a male, and he would happen to have an erection...too bad. Then the spanking followed by corner time so everyone in the house could see the red butt. But the key was this: if the "offended" was embarrassed in front of others due to the misbehavior of the "offender" - then that person deserved to be likewise embarrassed and humiliated in front of others. And this concept struck a chord with both Cleo and, honestly, myself. It - this concept - only seemed fair.

Quick interjection - there is zero chance we would do anything like this in front of our kids, even though they are adults right now.

So here was Cleo...pulled over by the police getting a ticket that was my fault. She was embarrassed and humiliated...and this happened at the same time we were reading and discussing the merits of the concept that humiliation should be just as important as the spanking itself when it comes to punishment. Karma sucks.

I drove home that day, as I said, terrified at what might await me. Cleo was, surprisingly, calm and did not act angry hardly at all (other than a few choice words). Then it hit me. Then I was really terrified. The impending spanking was a given...there was no getting out of that. So she did not need to get worked up about it - the kids were home and there was no sense at all in traumatizing them with the kind of really noisy spanking I would, eventually, have coming to me. So she was biding her time in that regard.

But what REALLY fucked with me and my mind was the new mindset that a punishment experience MUST also include an element of humiliation and embarrassment. And that was exactly what Cleo was focused on.

Later that night, when we were alone in bed, she spoke at length about how she REALLY REALLY REALLY wanted to find something to especially embarrass and humiliated me. This was far more important than spanking me (although that has its own special appeal as well). Think think think. No immediate ideas came to mind. This was, partly, because in a perfect world, she wanted to personalize it. In other words, it is one thing to humiliate me in a public setting in front of strangers we will never see again...it is a whole other thing to do this in front of friends or family. And therein lies the rub. It would be sooooooo delicious to humiliate me in front of people we actually know...so that was her mindset at the moment and that is what we talked about that night (to my utter distress - and her delight).

Fortunately, for me, or unfortunately, for her, no realistic ideas came to mind, considering that neither of us wants to impose our new lifestyle on family or friends that would not be open to it. Such is the life of newbies that don't have a network of other D/s folks to play with.

This mental tug-of-war went on for a number of days. Cleo would tease me with what she "wanted" to do, but it was always tempered with the reality of the situation. The pressure continued to mount because we both knew that I really did have some kind punishment coming my way - and lots of it - but there was no solution in sight. Not even when it came to the spanking part of it. The holiday season was upon us in full force, and that just wasn't going to happen in the short term. So...tick tock...what to do?

Karma intervened in a fearful way. Karma does suck.

As readers of this blog already know, I am in training. Part of this training involves me being forced to wear panties at work. One day a couple of weeks ago, Cleo made me wear these:

Notice the little red ribbons at the bottom of the straps. This is important to the story.

So, a few days after Cleo got the ticket and she was truly in a tizzy trying to decide how to humiliate me in a special way, I went to work wearing those particular garters. I was not wearing stockings, but in retrospect I so wish I was.

I was wearing nice business/casual slacks and a large warm sweatshirt that barely went below my waistline. Barely. Late in the afternoon I ventured down to the accounting department to take care of some business that concerned one of my customers. I am in sales.

So I talked to the accounting ladies (all women in that department) and we fixed whatever problem I was vexed with at the moment. As I turned to leave and walk through their door, one of the accounting ladies stopped me dead in my tracks.

She had a HUGE shit-eating grin on her face, and she said in front of the other two women present (one of whom happens to be the Director of HR), and said with a smirk, "Marc, what's up with the red ribbons hanging out of your pants???"

OMG!!!!!!!!!! OMG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OMG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I could totally fucking die. Right there. Please, take me out and shoot me. Totally.

To say I was shocked and stunned to be asked that question is an understatement. Really?? REALLY??? Did THAT just happen? OMG.

Sure enough...as I reached around behind me, and ventured a look back there...SHIT!!!!!!!!!!!! There were BOTH black straps with red ribbons just flapping around behind my backside. To this day I have no fucking clue how long I was walking around the office with my garters showing. I could fucking die.

I did not know what to say. As I looked at the three women in the room I was even more embarrassed. ALL of them had HUGE grins on their faces and they were VERY interested to hear my pathetic explanation.

It was the surprise of it all that was the worst. I was not prepared for it at all. Apparently, throughout the workday, since there was nothing like stockings to keep them locked down in their place, the straps worked their way up and outside of my waistline.

As I said, I was fucking stunned and speechless and did not know how to respond to the very happy and very grinning ladies. I am sure I blushed at least as red as Cleo has ever made my ass. And that's pretty fucking red.

So I muttered something lame (which I am sure none of them bought) about the ribbons being attatched to the sweatshirt I was wearing and that it was Cleo's shirt I was borrowing (that part was true). Lame as fuck - but that was all I had considering the surprise of it all. Later on...a couple of friends of mine, correctly, suggested that a much better explanation would have been to say that I was wearing garters because I lost a bet or that I did it on a dare. But neither of those explanations occured to me at the time.

Now...side note before I bring this back to Cleo...one saving grace is that the three women in Accounting LOVE my guts. I make their jobs SO much easier than the shit that my sales peers foist upon them. My paperwork is almost always pristine and exactly right. My peers tend to be sloppy and makes the Accounging department's work hell. They love me for that and constantly tell me how much they wish more salespeople would emulate how I do my work. Not bragging, it's just the truth. Beyond that, on a personal and on a personality note - they honestly like me as a person - and it is mutual. Soooo...if I am "outed" at work by anybody I am lucky it was by people I honestly consider to be friends and friendly to me.

Breaktime has been interesting lately to say the least. None of them has said one word to me about it, but I cannot help but wondering what they really think about me and what they are saying behind my back. I take it as a good sign that they are saying nothing - I want to believe they have forgotten about it - but in the real world I feel the real reason they are silent about it is that they really do like me and don't want me to be enbarrssed for being the pervert that they now know that I am - LOL.

That said, all it takes is for one word to be said to others in the company and the story will spread like wildfire. I am fucking mortified.

Sooo...

I drove home that night with a jillion thoughts crowding my brain. When I told Cleo about it...considering how much she had been fretting about how to humiliate me because of the ticket thing...she laughed so hard I honestly thought she would pee her pants. Seriously. The next zip code could hear her laughing.

While she had a certain amount of empathy for me (this does, after all, affect my work and career), it was still so funny and the perfect sort of humiliation she was hoping for, even if it happened without her direct participation, that she "let me off the hook" and said that she requires no more humiliation from me as payback for the ticket. Karma took care of that for her. Now all that remains is a really serious spanking - just to personalize it.

As I have already said, real life has messed with our ability to do normal D/s things like spanking. But that day is looming...perhaps as soon as this coming Friday. I don't want to make predictions because it seems like every time we plan something out in advance...real life doesn't read the script we have written in advance in our minds...and shit happens - or it doesn't happen. But sooner or later my bare butt will be over her lap...and in a very real sense...I am okay with that. I have it coming. I much prefer a "maintenance" kind of spanking than a punishment kind - but let's just get this fucking thing over with. A month is more than enough. Get it on.

Marc