The Executive Lifestyle Experience Ch. 05

Author's note: This is the continuing story about a shy young wife exploring her submissive desires, under coercion at first, then with greater enthusiasm as the story progresses. It is a fantasy, set in a fictional world where there is no risk of STDs, and there is no downside to casual sex with multiple partners... As I said, fantasy. Don't try this at home.

Chapter Five: Lunch at the Penthouse

Sara got back to the office just before 1:00. She ate her salad as she sat at her desk, reviewing files on her computer. Her feelings surprised her. She felt relaxed, and full of energy. The Chef Salad she had been unable to eat at lunch was now quite appealing. She finished it all, finding it to be quite delicious.

The rest of the afternoon was uneventful. Sara concentrated on her work, and was able to get done quite a bit. By the time she quit for the day, she had successfully completed most of the arrangements for the new product introduction she was working.

That night, after dinner, we were sitting in the Family Room, watching TV. I made a half-hearted pass at Sara, expecting to be rebuffed, as she was in the middle of watching one of her favorite shows. To my surprise, she turned off the show and turned her full attention to me. We started making out, and soon progressed to an all-out session of erotic passion, right there on the couch. Sara took the lead, getting on top, and giving herself to me in a very hot session of lovemaking.

The following afternoon, Saturday, something similar happened. It was late afternoon, and I had just taken a shower after working in the yard most of the day. Sara was sitting at the kitchen table, reading a magazine. I approached her from behind, bending down to wrap her in a hug as she read. As I nuzzled the back of her neck, she sighed contentedly. When I reached down to gently caress her breasts, outside her blouse, she let me do it for a few moments, then excused herself.

"If you're really serious," she said, "I'll need to take a shower. Why don't you wait for me in the bedroom? I'll only be a few minutes."

Somewhat astounded at my good fortune, I quickly agreed.

Sara headed upstairs ahead of me. Knowing she would be a little while, I took a moment to sort the mail, throwing most of it in the recycling. Then I headed up to the bedroom.

I could hear the shower running as I undressed. I thought briefly about trying to join Sara in the shower, but I knew she wouldn't like it. Despite her obvious beauty, she was far too shy, too self-conscious of her nudity, to be willing to shower with me.

I slipped into the bed, naked, pulled the covers over myself, and waited for Sara to join me. She came out a few minutes later, slipped into the bed with me, and proceeded to seductively make love to me.

We were suddenly having romantic interludes with the frequency of a newlywed couple. I didn't completely understand it, but I certainly wasn't going to complain. Sara seemed to be enjoying it as well.

I began to notice that Sara seemed open to any proposition I put her way. It was like sex had gone from a 'had to be scheduled in advance' activity, that was often trumped by other priorities, to 'drop whatever you're doing, and let's go.' The spontaneity was intoxicating.

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

Whether it was the emotional benefit of frequent sex, or the fact that Sara had subconsciously come to terms with her new status as Scott McCafferty's sex slave, she was doing quite well. Sara found she was energized and decisive at work. She kept telling herself she didn't want what was happening to her, but she was no longer sure that it really mattered. As McCafferty had said, she needed to turn off her conscious mind, surrender her inhibitions, and submit to what she was ordered to do. So she tried to do just that, with at least some success.

By late-morning Wednesday, Sara had completed her new marketing campaign and was well caught up with what she had to do. She let Louise know she would be having a working lunch with one of her consultants, and might be gone a few hours.

By 11:30, Sara was at the Visitor Lot, and immediately recognized McCafferty's Mercedes. She went over to it, and got in the front passenger seat.

"Hello, Sara," McCafferty greeted her. "You look lovely. I trust you are well?"

"I am, Mr. McCafferty, and thank you," Sara replied.

"I wouldn't say it, were it not true," McCafferty chuckled.

When Sara had herself safely buckled in, McCafferty pulled out of the Visitor Lot and headed over to the Interstate. Soon, they were headed South, into the city.

"So tell me," McCafferty queried. "The last time we met, I gave you an assignment."

"Yes, Sir," Sara acknowledged. "To see to my husband... To not refuse any of his advances."

"And so..."

"I have complied with your orders, Sir," Sara replied. "I have not refused Brian, at any time."

"And so..."

"We have ended up making love every day since I last saw you, Master Scott," Sara admitted.

"You're welcome," McCafferty chuckled.

"Yes, Sir," Sara admitted. "Thank you, Sir."

"I'm sure Brian would also thank me, if he knew," McCafferty observed. "But that will have to remain our little secret."

"Yes, Sir," Sara replied. "I suppose you are correct."

"Well, Sara," McCafferty continued, "I am relaxing the 'Can't say no' order for the foreseeable future. I will no longer insist that you may not refuse any of your husband's advances,"

"Thank you, Sir," Sara replied.

"But I want you to keep in mind that responding to your husband's initiatives is the best way to keep him happy. Your willing participation in sexual activities with him is a service you can render for the betterment of the marriage. I well understand that sometimes, you just may not be in the mood. But don't be lazy or complacent. Pushing yourself, for the sake of your husband, is a very good thing. You are now at your own discretion, but use that discretion wisely. I don't want to hear that you are not making adequate effort to see to Brian's sexual satisfaction."

"Yes, Sir," Sara replied. "Thank you for allowing me my own discretion, and thank you for trusting me to act wisely."

"Indeed," McCafferty commented.

They drove into the city, and arrived at the Coventry Building, adjacent to the harbor. Sara had never been there, and looked around with some curiosity. The 1^st floor of the building was mainly occupied by the Harbor Grille, which had an excellent reputation as a 5-star local restaurant.

McCafferty parked the car in a reserved spot, just outside the Lobby, then led the way in, escorting Sara. He led her to the elevators, which they took up to the 41^st floor. When the elevator had dinged to a stop and the door opened, McCafferty led Sara into the Security Lobby. As usual, there were 2 uniformed security guards manning the check-point, one behind a console desk with an array of computers, the other standing beside an airport-style metal detector.

"Hello, Mr. McCafferty," the guard behind the desk spoke up. "Are you heading up to the penthouse?"

"Yes, Mike," McCafferty replied. "Sara is my guest, and I'll vouch for her."

"Yes, sir," the security guard replied. He looked at his clip board. "Sara Robinson?"

"Precisely," McCafferty replied.

"Very well, sir," the security guard replied.

"I'm expecting some lunch from the Corner Deli," McCafferty told the guard, "so please send the courier up when they arrive."

"Very well, Mr. McCafferty," the lead guard replied. "Have a nice day."

McCafferty escorted Sara over to the private elevator leading up to the top floor, the penthouse. After a quick, 2-story ascent, the elevator dinged open into a little lobby. McCafferty led Sara to the door to the suite, then opened it, and escorted her inside.

He closed and locked the door, then led Sara past a hallway into the Great Room. Sara looked around her. The penthouse was luxurious and spacious, with elegant furnishings. The Great Room was a very large, open room, that encompassed both a living area and dining area. A well-equipped kitchen was part of the same open space, but was separated from the main area by a massive kitchen island that ran the length of the kitchen before flaring out to form an octagonal countertop for breakfast seating. There were chairs set at each of the octagonal facets of the countertop.

The living area and dining area were both part of the same open room, and were defined by the furnishings (Couches and chairs for the living area, and an impressive mahogany table and chairs in the dining area). Down the hall, Sara had seen enough doors to other rooms that she could see it was an impressive amount of space. The Great Room opened onto an outdoor terrace that provide a spectacular view.

"Before we get started," McCafferty told Sara, "We need to take care of some administrative business. As a result of your new status as my slave, we need to be able to communicate discretely, without any possibility of anyone else intercepting those messages. That capability is provided by a secure messaging app that installs on your phone and, once installed, allows us to send private texts to each other."

"As you wish, Mr. McCafferty," Sara replied, not really understanding.

"Please hand me your phone, and I will install the app."

Sara obediently handed over her phone, then watched as McCafferty activated her web browser and typed in a URL. While he waited for the download, he explained more detail to Sara.

"This is a custom app, developed exclusively for me, per my specifications. It uses a non-descript star icon, with the name "STM" as the app identifier. If anyone finds it on your phone and asks you about it, you simply say you have never used it, and don't know what it is."

He showed her the installed icon and how to activate it.

"You activate it like any other app, by hitting the icon, like this."

When he selected the icon, the screen turned solid blue, as if it were the proverbial "Blue Screen of Death". There were no markings of any kind on it, however... No text, no options, no error messages.

"There are no prompts or other visual indication, beyond this innocuous blue screen, to indicate you have actually activated the app. You have 10 seconds to begin typing in the password, which is 'Master Scott', case sensitive. If you don't type the first letter within 10 seconds, or allow 10 seconds between letters, the app will simply close without showing anything. As you type the password, these white dots appear, each indicating the successful entry of one of the letters, but the letter itself is not shown. If you mis-type, the screen will close as soon as it receives an incorrect letter. Thus, you can only get in if you type the password successfully, and there is no prompt to indicate that a password is required."

He handed the phone back to Sara and asked her to activate the STM app. Sara did so, typing in the password successfully. Once in, the app looked like a normal text messaging application.

"You can use this app to text me securely, but only me. It is a direct line to me, and cannot be used to text others. All messages are automatically encrypted. It will auto-delete your message after you send it, leaving no history on your phone. For incoming texts, again from me only, the text will auto-delete after you read it, unless you explicitly save it. If you do save it, it will auto-delete after 48 hours, once again leaving no history on your phone. The intent here is to commit the message to memory, leaving no record for anyone to potentially find. The save feature is incase that cannot be reasonably done; if there are complex instructions that you will need to refer to again later."

McCafferty looked at Sara pointedly.

"When you get a message, read it and commit it to memory. The app will close itself within 30 seconds if it does not see activity from the keyboard, and when it does, the message will be gone, as if it never existed. If you lose a message, due to the app closing out before you have memorized the message, you can always text me, asking me to repeat it."

McCafferty smiled meaningfully.

"Of course, if that happens, you should expect to be punished for carelessness."

"Is there a notification that you have sent me something to read?" Sara asked.

"Not in the STM app," McCafferty explained. "It is designed to be a stealth messaging system. Instead, you will receive, in your normal text messaging system, what looks like a spam greeting from a randomized phone number. If you see something like 'Hi', 'Hey there', 'what's up', or something similar from a random phone number, with no other content to the text, you should assume there is a message waiting for you in the STM app, and check it promptly."

"I will, Sir," Sara responded. She watched as the STM app closed itself, having seen no keyboard activity for the past 30 seconds. Sara put the phone away, slipping it back into her pocket. "And thank you. You know I am worried about Brian finding out. This helps."

"You will find I am very discrete," McCafferty assured her. "Be sure to obey me, and you will be kept safe."

"Thank you, Sir," Sara replied.

McCafferty escorted Sara over to the windowed wall overlooking the harbor and let her look out. The view out the undraped floor-to-ceiling window was breathtaking. It overlooked the entire harbor. She wondered if this was where he lived.

"Sara..." McCafferty began. He had stepped away from the window, moving toward the center of the room. "While you are here with me today, you will address me as 'Master Scott.' Do you understand?"

Sara felt a thrill go through her as she heard those words. There was no doubt what would happen when she became openly submissive, as he had ordered.

"Yes, Master Scott."

McCafferty looked at her intently. "I'm going to take you, any way I want, any time I want. You are here to serve me, to attend to my pleasure. If you can find pleasure in doing that, so much the better. But, first and foremost, it is my satisfaction that matters. I have made you my slave, and I intend to use you as such. Do you understand?"

Sara felt her heart speeding up. Despite her trepidation, she realized that she was becoming very aroused.

"Yes, Master Scott, I understand." She spoke softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Good. Now take off your clothing."

McCafferty's order was startling with its abruptness. Sara tried to recover her composure as she quickly assessed her options. He had left her standing in front of the window. She turned to move away, to find a place suitable to carry out the order to strip herself.

"I didn't tell you move," McCafferty observed, stopping her. "I said to undress."

Sara's looked back at the undraped floor-to-ceiling window. She hesitated.

"Please, sir... the window is undraped."

McCafferty glared at her. "Do you think I don't know that? Do you suppose that alters, in any way, the fact that you have been given a direct order? It doesn't. I expect your obedience."

Sara's face flamed red, but she knew she had to obey. She was utterly mortified by the thought of being naked, in broad daylight, in front of an undraped floor-to-ceiling window. But she reluctantly obeyed the order, while McCafferty watched.

Sara began by toeing off her shoes, then she reached down and removed her socks. She placed them with her shoes, a little off to the side. She then straightened back up and reached for the top button on her shirt. She unbuttoned it, then continued down, one by one, until all her buttons were undone. Sara slipped the blouse off her body, folded it neatly, and laid it on top of her shoes. She then undid the snap on her pants and drew down the zipper. Blushing under McCafferty's steady gaze, and mortified to be in front of the undraped wall of glass, she dropped her pants, and stepped out of them. These too, she folded neatly, and laid on top of her shirt.

Clad now in only her bra and panties, Sara took a deep breath, summoning her courage for what she must do next. She reached behind her and unfastened the strap of her bra. She shrugged it off, baring her breasts, then dropped it on the little pile of clothes beside her. Acting quickly, before she had too much time to think about it, she skinned down her panties, letting them drop around her ankles. She stepped out of her discarded underwear, then used her foot to kick the panties onto the pile with her other clothes.

Naked now, she stood erect, hands at her sides, waiting for McCafferty's next command.

McCafferty stood there, completely clothed in his business suit, simply watching her.

Sara felt an overwhelming feeling of self-consciousness. She was not comfortable with being naked, in general. Having to stand, naked and exposed, in front of her Master, while he was fully dressed, and in front of a window, no less, was an intensely humiliating experience. Her cheeks were flushed from the embarrassment. She was naked to the world, and the feeling was humiliating in the extreme.

McCafferty simply watched her, letting Sara squirm. She was quite shy, he knew, and making her stand in front of him naked had pushed her well outside of her comfort zone. The window, of course, made it far worse. He let her wait, carefully watching her, enjoying her discomfort and submission to his will.

"Place your hands behind your back."

Sara meekly obeyed. She realized that her pussy was beginning to swell with arousal... she could feel it, and feared that he could see it, or smell it.

McCafferty just stood there, looking at her. His eyes roamed over her body for a long time. Sara felt violated, and he hadn't even touched her yet. She looked again at the window. McCafferty followed her gaze.

"Not that it matters, but no one can see in. From the outside, at this time of day, all that anyone would see would be a blue glass mirror. That will change, of course, when the sun goes down, but even then, we are on the Forty-third floor."

Sara felt hugely relieved when she heard that. Still, she felt overwhelmingly naked. It almost startled her when McCafferty walked toward her, and then around behind her. He was studying her body so intently that it almost seemed he'd never seen her naked. He pulled her arms together behind her back, and secured them there with a pair of handcuffs.

With her hands cuffed behind her, Sara was helpless. She was fully on display, her nakedness accentuated by having her hands secured behind her back. She could do nothing to hide.

McCafferty walked over to a desk on the far side of the room. He opened one of the drawers, reached inside, and pulled out a strip of black leather. Sara watched him, not knowing exactly what he was doing. She soon realized it was a collar... a slave collar, complete with steel D-rings set into the leather in several spots.

As Sara watched helplessly, McCafferty approached her. He held the collar in front of her, where she could see it clearly.

"Sara Robinson, you are my slave," McCafferty proclaimed, looking into Sara's eyes.

"Yes, Master Scott," Sara acknowledged.

McCafferty then fitted the collar around Sara's neck and buckled it into place.

"This collar is an outward sign of your slavery, that I now own you, as a Master owns a slave. Whenever you wear it, you will be reminded that your sole responsibility is to obey me. That responsibility is absolute. Your obedience must be immediate, without question, and always to the best of your ability. Anything less will get you punished."

When he was done fastening the collar, McCafferty reached down and grasped her bare ass, gently stroking his naked slave. Walking around to the front, he studied her again, admiring his slave.

"Spread your legs."

Sara moved her legs apart.

"Wider. Shoulder width."

Sara obediently spread her legs to the width of her shoulders, feeling horribly exposed as she did so.