The Executive Lifestyle Experience

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 Six: At the Apartment: Meeting Lisette

McCafferty left Sara alone for almost a month. He was very involved with some business deal he was working, and evidently didn't have time for "Extra-curricular" activities. During this time, I continued to notice that Sara seemed to be more open to my sexual advances. I often made casual passes at my wife, surprising her in the middle of some activity, like doing the laundry or cooking dinner. I would snuggle up against her, kissing her, or petting her affectionately. Usually, I'd make some suggestive remark, or maybe make a proposition for a quick interlude, even when I knew it wasn't really practical to do so. Where Sara had typically slapped my hand away before, or rebuffed my amorous proposals, she now often let me have my way, passively submitting to me slipping my hands under her clothes, affectionately petting her, or claiming her mouth in a passionate kiss.

More often than not, these impromptu sessions never really progressed beyond a few minutes of heavy petting, but the spontaneity kept up a constant undercurrent of eroticism. She seldom refused me, even though I pursued her often. We frequently ended up having sex, or at least snuggling affectionately. Sara playfully chided me for being insatiable, and complained that I was wearing her out... but she seldom begged off, or shut me down.

For my part, I couldn't believe my good fortune. I had no idea, at the time, that Sara was acting under orders from McCafferty, that she had been strongly encouraged to not reject my advances. I simply thought she was losing some of her inhibitions, coming out of her shell, as it were; and I was grateful for the progress we seemed to be making.

Early on a Thursday morning in the 2nd week of May, Sara received a text, shortly after she arrived for work, from a number she didn't recognize. The text simply said, "Good Morning". She deleted the text, then logged into the STM secure messaging app. Sure enough, there was a message:

"Expect a FedEx envelope this morning. Follow instructions exactly. Acknowledge receipt."

Sara realized she was about to once again be forced to submit herself to Master Scott's control. She knew, with visceral certainty, that she would yet again be forced to have sex outside her marriage. Despite her reluctance to participate, her desire to avoid being violated yet again, she felt herself beginning to get excited as she thought about it. She could feel her breathing and heart rate accelerate. This man was blackmailing her into being an obedient slut for his sexual pleasures, which she absolutely despised on an intellectual level. But why, she wondered, did her body betray her like this?

Sara knew, from experience, that her time with Scott McCafferty would likely be a challenge for her. She told herself she didn't want to do this... But she had no choice... Her life would be utterly ruined if any of those blackmail pictures got out.

The last time McCafferty had forced Sara to meet him for sex, she had been humiliated by her reactions. He had taken her to his downtown penthouse, where he punished her, used her, humiliated her, taken more of those awful pictures... and yet she had become so aroused, she orgasmed violently... Three times.

That day, after McCafferty had dropped her off back at work, Sara had mixed feelings. On the one hand, she was very conscious of her violation. She had been forced to again have sex outside her marriage, and there had been nothing she could do to prevent it. As McCafferty had so firmly told her, he owned her. She had been enslaved, and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. She was his slave... every bit as controlled as "O" had been.

On the other hand, the forced sex when McCafferty demanded her submission was undeniably enjoyable. He was making Sara to admit to herself what he had somehow found out: that she enjoyed submitting to a strong Master. For some incomprehensible reason, she found it extremely arousing to be forced into sexual situations that she otherwise would have never chosen for herself.

McCafferty had told Sara she was a natural submissive. Perhaps he was right. The thought scared her... and aroused her at the same time.

Over the past four weeks, Sara hadn't heard a word from McCafferty. When she had first been enslaved, she had been worried, sure that Master Scott would demand her constant sexual service, that the time required would impact her job and her family. She worried I would eventually realize she was having an affair. That thought terrified her.

Then, as the days stretched into weeks, Sara realized McCafferty was not calling her constantly, not demanding her undivided attention. After several days had gone by, she began to relax somewhat. She still struggled to understand her feelings, the complex mix of emotions she felt at knowing she was McCafferty's slave...

A sex slave! The very thought was terrifying. He could order her to do absolutely anything, and she would have no choice but to comply.

And yet, every time Sara allowed herself to think about it, she would get so turned on, she could scarcely function. Her pulse would race, her breathing become deep and ragged. She could feel the stiffness of her nipples, the wetness between her thighs. Ultimately, she would have little choice but to sequester herself in the ladies room and quietly "Rub one out."

Sara kept thinking about the way McCafferty had treated her, the way she'd been blackmailed and violated. He could command her to do anything. What would he make her do?... Would he punish her cruelly?... Whip her, as the men at the Chateau Roissy had done to "O"?... Would he dress her as a slut, and humiliate her in public?... Give her to his friends?... Whore her out for their amusement?... Force her to entertain his business clients?... Each new thought quickly turned into a fantasy sequence. Sara imagined herself being forced into various sexual situations in which she had no choice but to submit to whatever carnal desires her Master might have. It bothered her that she continued to get aroused by it. It didn't make sense to her, but she couldn't control it.

Sara made sure she was at the Department Admin desk, talking to Louise, when the FedEx delivery arrived. She quickly located the envelope addressed to her, and took it, as Louise sorted through the other packages.

"Thanks, Louise. I'll be in my office," Sara told the Admin.

Sara headed back to her office and closed the door, then sat at her desk and opened the envelope. Inside, as before, there was only a second envelope, also sealed. It was marked "Personal and Confidential: For Your Eyes Only. Open in Private."

Knowing what she was likely to find, Sara carefully opened the inner envelope and extracted the pictures inside. On top, was the one that McCafferty had declared as his favorite picture... The one from San Francisco that showed Sara laying on her back, her legs spread wide for the camera. The one with white cum oozing out of her pussy, drooling thickly down toward her ass... In which her pussy was red and swollen, flowered open... In which it was quite obvious she had just been recently fucked... her nipples turgidly erect... her upper body flushed red from her recent orgasm... that smile of relaxed satisfaction on her face.

Another showed her standing naked, in front of the window at the penthouse, her hands cuffed behind her, and her legs obediently spread to shoulder width, as McCafferty had ordered. There was a slave collar around her neck. Another showed her bent over the couch, chained down by her collar and ankles, along with a close-up that showed the view from behind, her legs widely spread, her ass standing up, fresh from being fucked, her pussy pink and swollen, semen oozing out, dripping down her thighs...

There were 12 pictures in all, each one an 8" x 10" glossy photograph. Sara thought she should have been repulsed by the pornographic photos. They were clearly intended to be coercive, to blackmail her into further submission. But there was something undeniably erotic about those pictures. They were images of a slave... of her. Instead of being repulsed, Sara found herself becoming aroused.

The envelope also contained a lanyard with a metal house key, and a note:

"This afternoon, go to the Wintergreen Apartments on Wilson Rd, in Longview. Be there, at 5:30 PM, and bring these pictures with you. As you enter the complex from Wilson, turn left onto Cherry Tree Lane. Locate the Meadowview Building at 216 Cherry Tree Lane. Park nearby. Find Apartment 305 (on the third floor). The key will give you access to the building and to the apartment."

"When you get to the apartment, I will be there. I expect to be busy, on a teleconference of great importance. Do not disturb me. Do not knock. Do not speak. Quietly let yourself in, then close and lock the door behind you. Come into the living room."

"In the living room, on one of the end tables, you will find a collar, a pair of handcuffs, and a blindfold. Put on the collar. Once you have done so, remove your clothing. When you are naked, kneel in the center of the room, knees apart, to shoulder width. Place these pictures on the floor, spread out so each is visible, arrayed in a circle around you. Once you have done so, put on the blindfold. Then cuff your hands together, behind you back. Wait for me. I will join you when I am ready."

Sara felt her breathing accelerate as she read the note. She could feel the swelling in her nipples, the moist heat in her pussy. She was being commanded as a slave... and she knew she had to do as she was commanded. But still, this was another big step. She had been ordered to strip herself naked in a foreign environment, then render herself completely helpless... handcuffed... blindfolded! Could she do it?

Sara found herself imagining following the orders from the note. Going by herself to a place she had never been before, some random apartment. Letting herself in with the key... Who would be there? McCafferty said he would, but who else? Who owned the apartment? What if he was not alone? It would be hard enough to strip herself naked under the watchful eye of her master. Could she do it if someone else was present?

She had to do it, Sara told herself. She had to find the strength. It didn't matter that the thought of following these orders scared her. She had been given a command from her Master. She had to trust him. She had to obey.

Sara logged into the STM secure messaging app and sent her acknowledgement:

"I have received the package and will obey the instructions."

Then Sara phoned me and explained she was going out with some friends after work, and would likely be out late. She said she would try not to stay too long, but in any event, I shouldn't wait up for her. I wished her a good time and thought no more of it. I was blissfully unaware of my wife's submission to blackmail.

Sara was nervous all afternoon, but she knew she had no choice. She had to obey the orders given to her by her Master. Soon, the end of the day was upon her, and she knew she needed to get going.

Sara had looked up the address on Google maps earlier in the day. She found it was not that far away, only about 10 minutes from her work, but it was in an area with which she was not familiar. She arrived at the apartment complex a little early, guided by GPS. She found the Meadowview building, and parked her car.

Sara sat nervously in the car for a while, trying to compose herself, to slow her racing heart. Finally, she took a deep breath, picked up the envelope with the compromising pictures, left and locked her car, then went over to the Meadowview Building.

The building door was locked, but she was able to get in with the key, just as the note had indicated. She went upstairs, to the third floor. Apartment 305 was down the hall, at the end. She stood before the door, holding the pictures and the key. The note had said, "Don't knock, Don't speak." But how could she just walk into some stranger's place?

'Oh, well,' she thought as she fitted the key into the lock.

Sara slipped into the apartment, closed the door behind her, and threw the deadbolt. Then she turned and looked around. She was in an entrance foyer that opened into a living room on the left, and a Kitchen / Dining area on the right. Straight ahead was a hallway leading to other rooms.

Sara could hear voices coming from the first room down the hall, on the left. There were a group of people on speakerphone. She heard McCafferty reply then; she knew he was there, in conference, speaking remotely with others.

Sara moved into the living room and looked around. There was a couch against one of the long walls of the room, facing a big screen TV on the opposite wall. A loveseat was adjacent to the couch, arranged at a right angle to it, positioned such that the TV was visible from it as well. The loveseat was positioned so that its back was along the open side of the living room, effectively dividing the open wall of the living room from the adjacent hallway and entrance foyer. There was an end table between the couch and the love seat. At the other end of the room, in the corner, was plush Lay-Z-Boy chair, with another end table adjacent to it. There, on the far end table, was a collar, leash, handcuffs and blindfold, just as the note had said there would be.

Sara hesitated, steeling her nerves. Did she dare to do this? Could she dare to not?

She moved over to the Lay-Z-Boy chair. She placed the envelope of obscene pictures on the end table, along with the key, then picked up the collar and examined it. It was a plain, black leather collar... Sara couldn't be sure, but it looked like the same one McCafferty had placed on her the first time she had visited the penthouse. She carefully fastened it around her neck. The prior time she had worn a collar, she had ended up completely helpless... Chained down and bent over a couch, unable to move even a few inches as McCafferty had punished her, then used her... raped her, really... What would happen this time?

Nervously, Sara removed her shoes and socks, then placed them next to the chair, under the end table. She then unbuttoned her blouse and removed it. She folded her blouse carefully and placed it on top of her shoes. Once she had done so, she stood up and unfastened the snap of her pants and drew down the zipper. She pushed the pants down her legs, then sat down in the chair and pulled them off her feet. Now feeling very exposed, Sara took a moment to carefully fold her pants and place them on the little pile of clothing.

Sara took a second to compose her nerves. She could do this, she told herself. She had to do this... She reached behind her and unfastened the clasp to her bra. She shrugged the bra off, exposing her breasts, and placed it with her other clothes. Moving quickly, before she lost her nerve, Sara stood and removed her panties, pushing them down her legs and stepping out of them. Naked now, feeling horribly exposed, Sara retrieved her panties and placed them with her other clothes.

Sara reached over to the end table and picked up the envelope. She removed the pictures from it and set the empty envelope back on the end table. She then gathered the blindfold and handcuffs, then moved to the center of the room. She knelt down, facing the hallway. She obediently laid out the 12 pictures in a circle around her, one for each point of a clock face, feeling humiliated and aroused as she did so. He was testing her, she knew... Humiliating her, by making her display those graphic, obscene photos in a circle all around her. It was like he was insisting that she debase herself, that she publicly acknowledge herself as a slut.

It couldn't be helped. Sara had been ordered to do so, and she complied as ordered. She turned her attention to the final two items she held.

The blindfold was one of those airline sleep masks, simple to put on. Simple, but effective, she knew. Sara placed the handcuffs in front of her, where she could easily locate them once she was blindfolded. Then, she slipped the sleep mask over her head and positioned it carefully. As she had expected, Sara found it shut out absolutely all light. She located the handcuffs by feel and locked one of the bracelets around her right wrist, tightening it until it was snug, but not uncomfortable. She then placed her hands behind her back, felt around for the open bracelet, and locked it around her left wrist.

Sara knelt and waited... She was naked, in the living room of a strange apartment, wearing a slave collar and kneeling on the carpet, her knees spread to shoulder width, her hands cuffed helplessly behind her. She was completely exposed, completely helpless, and completely aroused.

Sara was unsure how long she waited; it seemed like hours, though it may have only been a dozen or so minutes; she had no idea. What she did know was how naked, exposed and vulnerable she felt. She could hear McCafferty's voice, still in teleconference in the other room. He was listening to others most of the time, but he spoke often enough that Sara knew he was still occupied. Nor did it seem likely the call was about to end.

Sara was startled to suddenly hear a set of footsteps coming down the hall. She didn't think they could be from McCafferty; they had started beyond the door to the den, and were lighter than a man's footsteps would be. Her worst fears were suddenly confirmed. McCafferty was not alone.

Fighting rising panic, Sara had to force herself not to try to run. Not that it would have helped; she couldn't see a thing, and was naked and helpless. To where would she run?

With a feeling of intense mortification, her cheeks flaming red, Sara heard the footsteps approach the foyer, coming ever closer. They slowed suddenly, then turned and came right up to her, where they stopped.

"Well, well," It was a women's voice. "Isn't this interesting?... You must be Sara. What a delicious little slave you are."

Sara said nothing. She was completely humiliated to be in her current predicament. She wasn't even sure if she could speak.

The woman said nothing more for a little while. She slowly circled the place where Sara knelt, naked and humiliated, bound and helpless. All the while, Sara was acutely, mortifyingly aware of just how she must look.

"Oh, my," the woman teased. "Such sexy pictures... Have you been fucking my husband?"

Sara wanted to die. 'OMG!,' she thought, 'How do I answer that?!'

"M... Master Scott is your husband?" Sara gasped.

"Yes... Scottie and I have been married 14 years," the woman replied.

"I didn't know... I swear."

"Would it have made a difference?"

"I... I...," Sara didn't know what to say. "I didn't have a choice."

"So... He raped you?"

"Not really," Sara replied. "He seduced me... took pictures and blackmailed me... He enslaved me. I have no choice, now. I am his slave."

"Yes... Scottie is such a bad boy that way," the woman acknowledged, sounding playful. "But the fact remains, you have been fucking my husband. What am I to do about that?"

Sara had no idea what to say. "I'm sorry," she offered.

"Really?" The woman sounded dubious. "Scottie seems to think you enjoy it immensely."

"He's told you about me?" Sara asked, disbelievingly.

"We don't keep secrets, dear," the woman replied. "Why do you think you're here? I wanted to meet you."