Executives Slut Ch 04

CHAPTER 4: NORMALCY... NOT

The days and weeks that turned into a few months provided consistency and a sense of what could be expected that tempted me to wonder if it was my new normalcy. Was this going to be what my life was going to be like? The routine calls from Mr. or Mrs. Baldwin to go out to dinner and then their house, or just to go to their house for an afternoon or evening, or to go to their house for the weekend? Knowing that each call would involve sexual acts with one or both of them at their whim? Frequently receiving packages delivered to the house ordered by them that contained intimate apparel, stockings, negligees, or sexual-aid toys? Being given explicit instructions by one or both of them on how and when to use the toys? Being taken shopping for increasingly revealing dresses, higher heels that took time to adjust to, half-shelf bras, and tiny thongs? To be put into increasing situations of exhibitionism at dressing rooms, cars, and generally in public while wearing the new clothes that provided plunging necklines and mini-length skirts?

Normalcy? The usual, regular, habitual expectation to occur with some usual frequency in the week? I hoped so!

The first few weeks after deliberately and willingly committing myself to this strong, confident, and powerful couple were a whirlwind of emotionally and physically testing experiences. I supposed those first weeks were necessary as a reality check for me. First, being taken by him orally and vaginally in his office with Sarah right outside the door at her desk. Then, spending the Saturday night with them at their home with no clothes for myself, giving and receiving pleasure, them partially clothed at times but me always naked. Then, being ravaged by Mrs. Baldwin and her two friends just days later. What would I accept? What would I respond to when asked? Would I reject anything? Would I balk at anything? I am sure they needed to know. Would I withdraw into my old self after some time to reflect and consider what I was doing and what they were expecting? I am sure they had questions if I might accept this for the long term or if I reacted from a sort of desperate need to be quickly fed and then regretted.

None of those concerns, if they had them, ever materialized, emerged. I never felt anything but a deeper desire to serve and please them, to show my obedience to their needs, to prove my commitment to that task. I never questioned, doubted, or weighed the actions I was taking. I only found myself continuously anticipating, even yearning, for what might come next.

The times between my visits with the Baldwins took on something of a routine. But not necessarily boring or frustrating. I took care of the house and yard. I was instructed to be naked as much as possible. Although the yard was fenced, it was not a privacy fence so I had to be dressed but was challenged to increase my exposure with bikinis, halter tops that sagged open at the top and sides, tight shorts, or short loose shorts without panties. Inside, I was always naked unless there was company. I would have to scurry for a covering when the doorbell rang but I was instructed for it to be revealing or suggestive like a loose robe or towel as if I was just preparing for a shower. I was given specific instructions on using the toys they sent to me. BenWa balls in my pussy, small anal plugs, small vibrators in my pussy, or fitted against my clit in panties. There were bigger toys, long or thick or vibrating dildos, that I was instructed to use for specific periods during the day. I would set my smartphone timer for those times to be sure to satisfy the instruction but usually found myself recovering from an orgasm or two and the timer had long ago ended, the buzzing reminder having stopped on its own. I found myself taking increasing pleasure in cooking more interesting and extravagant meals for three or four, the leftovers going into the refrigerator for another meal by myself. But it evolved that I began cooking meals for the Baldwins when I spent a weekend with them until it became a routine if we didn't go out to a restaurant giving them an opportunity for some form of exhibitionism fun with me. I was generally naked or erotically dressed when at their house, always easily available to the touched, probed, or used at any time. While with them, it was never unusual for one of them to find me being used by the other somewhere in the house or yard or me giving oral pleasure or receiving it. They both believed in what became a mantra: the focused intention of giving pleasure results in the most pleasurable experiences.

Reflecting on those months, though, it was still a period of growth, evolution, and careful expansion. I was, after all, a married woman even if I wasn't acting like it. Did I have regrets about what I was doing? No. Should I have? It didn't seem so. It truly felt that I was coming into my own, realizing my true nature, becoming what I deep inside was and should be. It strangely felt separated from the married woman I also was, as if I was in a chrysalis stage of development before breaking completely free and showing my wonderful, beautiful, free, and liberated self. And, the Baldwins were patiently, carefully guiding.

It wasn't all just them, though. The women and other women were sometimes involved in similar activities. I learned to use the strap on as they had used on me. But only one time was another man involved and when it happened as a random-seeming situation but carefully orchestrated. I had been instructed to pick up a stranger in a hotel bar and go up to his room with him only to find out later that it had been prearranged, though at the time it felt quite dangerous and exciting. Another test, I was sure.

The headphones were a continuity through it all, too. The headphones were at the beginning and continued as a source of quiet, peace, and calm. They were also a continued source of inspiration, validation, and corroboration of who I wanted to be and was intent on becoming. The music would periodically change but it maintained the same strange combination of calm and inspiration. When I asked Sarah about that during one of her routine follow-ups, she reminded me that they had upgraded the WI-FI in the house and the headphones to better receive updates on the headphone programming but also to allow better management of what the headphones contained for playback so it would never become mundane and too repetitious for me.

Usually, when I met with Mr. Baldwin, it was at his home or some neutral location like a restaurant if he was at work. A few times, however, he asked me to meet him at his office. I was to still dress provocatively when I did this. A few people might have had a vague familiarity of who I was but not many. Even so, in a business setting like that, I drew attention, though I told myself nobody would really know why I was there and why I had access to the Executive Suite of offices. Sarah, though, never failed to look me up and down, smile, and give me an approving nod as I walked past her desk to knock on Mr. Baldwin's office door. I got the sense that Sarah had a better sense... even understanding... of why I would spend time in his office privately.

It was about the two-month time frame that I understood that Sarah knew. It would be much, much longer before I understood her role in how everything came to happen to me.

Mr. Baldwin was out of town on business. Not a rare occurrence by any means. In the middle of a morning in the workweek, Mr. Baldwin called me. This was rare, though. Knowing he was out of town for work it was a surprise to see the caller ID on the screen, Sir. He was just checking up on me, he said. I flushed. I always do with his appreciative attention. He asked if I was using one of the toys at the moment. I blushed. The presumption of sexual stimulation and openness of discussion was always upfront with both Mr. and Mrs. Baldwin. I knew, from experience, my pussy would have increased lubrication if it hadn't been for the vibrating egg inside me that already had me highly stimulated. I told him about the egg inside me and he had me describe the feelings. My free hand went to my erect nipples as I talked to him, trying to hold off an orgasm that quickly built in me from the eroticism of describing the sensations as much as the actual sensations. They didn't have to be with me to send thrills pulsing through my body.

I had long since dropped the duster I had been using and was leaning against the back of the sofa, one hand holding the phone to my ear, the other moving from nipple to clit and pussy where I could feel the buzz of vibration inside me. I was gasping, fighting to maintain some control to verbally respond to him. He continued to tease me, to prod me, as I was sure he could tell how aroused I was by my responses, the quivering of my voice, the hesitations, the way words and sentences were interrupted by gasps and soft moans.

Then, he did it... "Karen... are you my obedient submissive?"

"Oh... God, yes... sir..."

"COME NOW."

I should have been sitting down. I should have had the foresight but he doesn't always do this to me in this way. Not when he was out of town. Usually, this is when he wants to see me, to build up my need. Peculiarly, these orgasms don't siphon off arousal tension as might be expected but the verbal aspect of them seems to add fuel to the fire burning inside. My legs became weak as the orgasm I was holding off crashed over me. I cried out with unintelligible words and sounds, moans and groans, and panting for breath. I dropped the phone as both hands clutched at my quaking body and I sank down the back of the sofa to the carpeted floor. It was a full minute or so later that I heard his voice. At first confused (I was alone), I remembered the phone. It had bounced off the carpet under the sofa. I squirmed to grab it, each movement of my lower body highlighting the movement of the egg still vibrating in my pussy.

"Sorry, sir... I..."

"You did well, Karen. I could hear. You have always made me happy, dear."

Spent, the orgasm subsiding but the buzzing continuing inside my pussy, I remain on the floor, my legs splayed and my free fingers gently playing over my drooling pussy. A tired smile of satisfaction forms on my face. Physical satisfaction, sure, but also the satisfaction of having pleased him.

"Karen, there is something I want you to do." He doesn't wait for me to respond. He knows I am ready for anything. "Sarah has been very helpful, hasn't she?" Yes. "Have you benefited from the sessions she has led you through at the office?" Yes. "Do the headphones she maintains variety continue to help?" Yes. "You've thanked me in many ways, haven't you?" Yes, of course. "Shouldn't you do something for Sarah, too?" I pause. I respond, Yes, because it makes sense that I do something. But... "I know she would be pleased. You like Sarah, don't you?" Yes, of course. She's wonderful, so helpful, so caring. "Call her then, Karen. Tell her you to want to meet with her." Yes, sir, but... "I want you to serve and please her." Those words. Serve and please... "You understand, Karen?" Yes, sir. Of course. "It will make both Sarah and me happy, Karen." Of course, sir. "Karen... you can use the empty office." That warm feeling flooded over and through my body.

As I enter the main doors of the office building, the receptionist gives me a big smile and welcomes me by name. I don't sign in or show my driver's license as identification. She checks the clock for the time and signs me into her register by the time I reach her curved desk. She holds out an Executive Suite pass with a smile. A lot has changed in these few months since I first came to this building as the shy, reserved, wife of a lowly welder being sent on assignment to India for two years. That is not the thought that goes through my mind, though. In fact, that thought hasn't surfaced since the first couple of weeks. As I moved with familiarity to the elevators to take me to the fifth floor Executive Suite offices, my thoughts are focused on the coming opportunity to please Mr. Baldwin with my service. This time it is different, however, as he is not the one I am intent on pleasing, at least not personally. I feel a shiver of anticipation as the elevator begins its rise. My body is responding already to what I am intent on doing. This is different, though. I won't be in Mr. Baldwin's office to suck his cock or be fucked by it in one of many positions he has used there. No... this time I will need to seduce Sarah to thank her the way Mr. Baldwin wants me to. I press my thighs together and know my thong is soaked. My fingers are drumming an unknown beat in anticipation. Since being instructed, I have focused in my mind on her in a different way. I have always appreciated and respected and relied on Sarah for all she has assisted me with. All the times in the office at the computer, the headphones, the financial assistance bonuses, gym membership... everything has flowed through Sarah. She was the smiling, reassuring face of the company that provided so much support.

Then, everything shifted to Mr. Baldwin. That Friday afternoon when everything changed and Mr. Baldwin became my singular focus. Then, that same weekend when Mrs. Baldwin was included. The company... and Sarah... retreated. It and she were still there but in the background of my attention. Now, Mr. Baldwin has thrust Sarah to the front, again.

As I used the pass card to allow me to open the large, heavy wooden doors, Sarah looked up from her station and gave me a huge smile. She nearly jumped up from her chair behind her desk to come around the side to me with her arms open for our familiar hug. As usual, the other offices were quiet. The Executive VP's were either out or busy behind closed doors. I rarely interacted with them on my visits.

Sarah Thomas was a strong, assertive woman. I always supposed it was an attribute for handling the dominant male personalities she worked with. My eyes focused on her in a new light as she approached to take me into her arms. She was a few years younger, 35 years old, her body was soft and a bit overweight but not surprisingly so for someone who spent long days sitting behind a desk and a husband at home she doted over. She was an inch taller than me barefoot but I was taller in the high heels I always wore now. Her makeup was office-appropriate and her shoulder-length hair very stylish. Her dresses are to her knees and closed at the neck. If she wore a necklace, it was close to her neck. Her earrings were generally studs. She was dressed exactly that way... predictable, comfortable, professional.

After the hug, she stepped back but continued to hold my hands in hers. She was looking at me and her eyes traveled from my eyes to my feet. I didn't even have to think about my dressing, anymore. My old clothes were pushed to the back of the closet. What I wore was always what would please Mr. Baldwin, even if I wouldn't be seeing him. The specific outfits would depend on if I was seeing him or not. If not, my outfit was provocative but subdued. If I was seeing him, it would depend on the occasion or reason. Sometimes it required me to look downright slutty. Other times I am erotic and provocative intent on teasing and exhibitionistic temptation. I am dressed now subdued but still provocatively. The bodice plunges to show the insides of my breasts, barely covering the lace of my bra. The skirt is mid-thigh. The entire dress is molded to my body. My heels are spikes and 4 1/2 inches with straps. When I sit, I have to be careful or the lace tops of the thigh-high stockings might show. My knees have to be tightly together or the lace thong could be peeking out. I always giggle inside when I see someone's eyes recognizing what they see when I relax too much. It is not a dress most 39 year-olds would be comfortable in. I don't think about it, anymore. Not unless someone draws my attention to it. As Sarah now does.

"God, girl... you are stunning!" She makes no reference or comparison to the past. It is just a compliment... and, yes, I blush. I blush a lot. When someone compliments me like now when I catch someone ogling me, when I catch my image in a darkened window along a street, or when I catch a waiter hovering over my shoulder or someone shifting their location to gaze at my legs when I am sitting. I blush a lot. Mr. Baldwin loves it.

I am the one who asked to meet with her. It was at Mr. Baldwin's direction, yes, but it was initiation with Sarah so I am under the assumption she has no prepared agenda. She motions to the extra office, which is where we had privacy in the past. Inside the office, as she is closing the door, I drop my small purse on the empty desktop, and turn, stepping up to her. She looks slightly startled by the sudden move that puts us physically close, certainly inside customary personal space. She gives me a slightly nervous and inquisitive expression. I've changed in the several months she has known me. I can act directly with others when I was a reserved wall-flower before. My change is only the result of following the lead from someone else, which she knows, so her expression quickly softens with the understanding that I probably was directed to some behavior.

"Sarah... I... I want to thank you." The words come out in a stammer but I hold her eyes. Mr. and Mrs. Baldwin give me directions to practice interactions with others. If our time together isn't purely sexual release, there is some agenda, some purpose for me to learn. Her eyes are fixed on mine as I lean forward to bring our faces even closer together. I now whisper, "You've done so much... given so much... been so caring ever since... since... I want to thank you, Sarah."

I close the remaining gap between our faces, my lips lightly brushing against hers. I hear her sigh. I pull back an inch, maybe less. "I want to thank you especially, Sarah. We all have needs, physical needs, soulful needs. I've learned that. Your caring and attention have helped even if you didn't know it." Her eyes had fluttered closed as the tension built between us but they come open quickly with those words. Little did I know how much she knew.

When I closed that inch or less again it was to plant a kiss on her lips. She sighed, again. I pulled back to consider her reaction. Seduction. I was seducing someone else? It didn't seem possible to me. I watch her tongue poke out between her lips and lightly move over her upper lip. Our eyes meet, again, before she moves into me, this time not only closing the space between our lips but our bodies, also. Though she moved to me in acceptance, I press against her with more urgency. We take an awkward step before pressing against the closed door. The kiss continues and transforms into a mutual expression of mutual desire.

One hand moves behind her head to press my kiss firmer and more passionately. The other hand moves to her hip to press my desire and intent. She responds with her own hands moving behind my neck and upper back. Her legs part as my thigh pressed against her. She breaks the kiss to hold me tightly as she moans and shivers her response, her groin pressing against my firmly pressed thigh between her legs. She is hugging me tightly, her face buried in my neck. My hand on her hip moves to her butt and we press even more firmly together. I feel her shiver within our embrace as she presses her groin harder against my thigh.

I whisper in her ear, our faces lost in each other's hair. "I want to thank you... I want to please you." She shivers and moans, again. I pull my face back to look into her eyes and press my intention. Her eyes are searching mine, my face, my mouth. Her lips open. They move, forming a word, a word I can read, but no sound follows behind the movement. "Can I please you?" In a desperate response, her head begins nodding enthusiastically. I press her even more urgently into the door with another kiss that becomes ever more passionate and consuming. The hand at her butt slides up her side to firmly grasp her breast through her dress and bra. She moans, again, and our tongues come together with open mouths.