[As always, comments--except stupid, hateful ones--are encouraged. - Cyanlot]
Part III: The New Normal
It was the worst weekend of my life. The hours dragged on. I was unable to eat or sleep much. When I was able to get a little sleep, it wasnāt restful. I had terrible dreams. The whole horrible scenario of my debasement kept replaying in my mind whether I was awake or asleep. Was this a watershed moment in my life? Would I ever again be able to have a semblance of normalcy in my life?
While the hours dragged on seemingly interminably, Monday still came too soon. How was I going to face the employees who had been thereāall direct reports to me? Iād held the menās cocks in my mouth and sucked them until theyād filled my mouth with their spunk. And everyone in the room had watched me do this.
I counted it as an act of courage that I was able to get dressed and go to work Monday morning.
When I walked into my office suite, Lori was already at her desk outside my office door. She acted completely normal.
āGood morning, Mr. Simmons. I hope you had a good weekend.ā
The bitch!
She knew perfectly well that Iād had a terrible weekend. She, and her co-conspirators, had made it terrible. I just grunted and headed toward my office door.
āOh, by the way, Mr. Simmons, you have a meeting scheduled this morning at 9:00 with all of your direct reports. It will be in the conference room, of course.ā
That wasnāt a meeting that Iād called. But I wasnāt calling the shots now.
The meeting went as I would have predicted. Lori acted as the spokesperson for the group, reiterating all of the complaintsāabout my conduct and the policies Iād enforcedāthat the group had raised over the past few months. I canāt say they found a more
sympathetic
ear but they did find a more
receptive
one, even if it was reception under duress.
Throughout the meeting, no one said a word about last Friday night. I didnāt even detect any smirks. An observer would have thought it a very ordinary meeting except that the nominal boss was clearly not in the driverās seat.
Oh, sure, I was the one who said, āWe can do that,ā and āThatās reasonable.ā But it was clear that I was acceding to every request.
But despite the absence of any words or facial expressions that even hinted at last Fridayās degradation, I found the meeting incredibly uncomfortable. I knew that every one of the five guys in the meeting had blown their loads in my mouth. They had to be thinking about that all through the meeting, too. How could they not be.
And the women, they were complicit, too. So much for the ākinder, softer sexā shit. It wasnāt just Lori, though she acted as the ringleader. They were all in on it and, in my mind, all equally guilty. These people, over whom Iād exercised institutional power and to whom Iād felt superior, were now, in effect, my bosses, even if the org chart said otherwise.
The meeting ended. Theyād gotten everything theyād asked for, so they were happy. I was happy only that the meeting was over and I could hide in my office.
I didnāt want to see anyone. I didnāt go out for lunch, or for anything else except to take a piss. And I did that when I saw that Lori was on a break even though that meant I had to hold it for longer than was comfortable.
Happily, I didnāt see anyone on the way to the menās room. Unhappily, as I was taking very relieving piss in the urinal, Terrell walked in. He was the Black guy who Iād blown Friday night.
āHello, Mr. Simmons,ā he said cheerily as he walked to the urinal right next to me even though there were others further away. (Who does that. Itās an unwritten but well-known rule that, when possible, a man always leaves at least one space between him and another man. Terrell didnāt.)