"Executive Woman" - by C. Maxwell
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--

Well, here it is.  As requested.

Let's see, I'm sitting here in my office, and as usual the door is
open.  I'm wearing my olive-green business suit, with the skirt
you told me to shorten.  I'm a little worried that I've gotten the
back of the skirt very wet, especially since I'm not wearing any
underwear.  Just the act of writing this is making me very wet,
and I really should be wearing panties, but you told me to leave
them at home, and so I did.  I'm worried that someone knows,
because this skirt is so short and maybe somebody saw something
today.

So, you said you wanted me to write down how this began, and how
it felt.  Well, I thought about it a little, and decided it would
be best to start by describing my frame of mind when you ``caught
me."

So, first thing's first.  My name is Ms. Paula Harwill.  Miss
Paula Harwill, I guess.  I'm 32 years old and still unmarried. Not
that it wouldn't be nice to have a husband to go home to. But,
well, I haven't had much luck with men.  I keep my body in good
shape by working out, and my mind in good shape by reading
relentlessly, and my wallet in good shape by working hard. In
fact, I have the highest executive position in my company held by
any woman, and this at only 32.  I'm very proud of that.  I think
it scares many of the men away, though.  You can see where this is
going: there are no men in my life.

I know what you've told me: perhaps it is because of the way I
dress.  It is true.  I have for my entire career dressed in very
conservative, corporate clothes.  Loose-fitting pants, prim
blouses, and always a suitcoat.  Minimal heels.  I do often wear
skirts, as they can look very professional, but they are straight
cut and always go well past my knees. Once, when I first started
with the company, my boss suggested that I wear a shorter skirt to
a meeting with some clients, and I threatened to report him for
sexual harassment. That scared him into promoting me! But you
know, women who dress sexy only go so far in this world.  We are
not taken seriously if we look good; to be treated as equals, we
must dress like men, since men aren't about to start dressing like
women!

But, despite my dress, I /am/ a sexual woman.  I have desires.  In
fact, my male secretary, Todd, turns me on a lot, and I have to
see him every day!  What a role reversal that is!  But of course
I've never told him.  I express my sexuality in ways that are
supposed to be secret.  For example, in my lingerie.  On days when
I am feeling particularly excitable, I will wear a long,
conservative skirt, but underneath I will wear a very lacy,
elaborate garter belt and stockings with very lacy tops.
Sometimes I'll even wear a matching bustier.  I think I look
incredibly sexy in these things, but under my conservative skirt
suit no one knows I am wearing them.  At least, no one is supposed
to know.

So here's what happened that led to you getting those pictures.
Normally, my day-to-day arousal builds up at work, especially when
I am wearing my lingerie, and then after I get home at night, I
eat some dinner and go to my computer.  I have a very fancy
computer and I pay for high speed internet, because I love to read
erotic stories online.  There are so many stories, about any kinky
fetish you can imagine, and they always arouse me greatly.  Of
course, I would never do any of that stuff---after all, they are
extreme, cartoonish views of reality.  That just makes them
sexier. And I will usually come a few times per night just reading
stories.  It is my nightly ritual and my guilty pleasure, and
fortunately the supply of stories seems to be infinite.  Who's
writing these things, anyway?  I never know, nor do I care.  I
just like to read.

Well, the weekend before this started my computer died.  I mean,
it died.  There was smoke coming out of the power supply.  And
this was when I turned it on, before I could read any stories!  I
was so frustrated I could burst!  The next day at work I ordered a
new, top-of-the-line computer online, but it would take weeks to
arrive! I simply could not survive that long without my nightly
naughty stories!

So, I took to reading stories at work.  I know I shouldn't be
using company bandwidth for my little reading habit, but it was
only temporary, and after all I've given this company I felt I
deserved it.  And besides, it was always after hours, alone in my
office.  Like now.

On Tuesday, I had been feeling really naughty, so I decided to
wear my stockings that day, and some really sexy g-string panties
I had just purchased.   Of course, no one knew what I was wearing
that day, and it was business as usual.  After I ate dinner, at
about 7pm, I went back to my office to start reading my stories. I
had been doing this every day that week; usually I would read a
few stories and masturbate myself through my pants.  Well, on this
Tuesday I found this very sexy story I had never read before about
a housewife who was blackmailed into being her neighbor's maid.
Her neighbor was a really kinky woman who had her do all these
humiliating things! It's actually embarrassing that I found it
arousing at all, but I sure did!  At home, I often read my stories
wearing only a really short night gown, so my pussy is easy to
reach.  At work, I couldn't really undress.  While I usually just
rub myself through my pants, today I was wearing this long skirt
that really prevented it---so I just hiked my skirt up to my
waste! I was so glad I was wearing those stockings, since I could
easily slip my hand into my panties and touch myself directly,
which seemed especially naughty in my office! I also like to pinch
my nipples, so I unbuttoned my blouse past my bra and shoved my
breasts out of the cups to get easy access. So I'm reading this
story, and one hand (my left) is constantly at my crotch, in
between my bare upper thighs, teasing my lips and my clit, and the
other hand alternates between my nipples and the keyboard,
clicking on the next part of the story. It got to the part of the
story where the blackmailed maid had been teased and aroused for
days, was begging to come, but was only allowed to lick her
mistress neighbor to orgasm and give blowjobs to her friends.
Imagine giving so much to others and not being allowed to come
yourself!  Something about that sent me over the edge, and I had a
massive orgasm there at my desk!

I was still feeling pretty horny afterwards, but I wanted to get
home and do some minor chores before going to bed, so I
straightened out my clothes, turned off my computer, and left,
thinking nothing amiss.

The next day at work was supposed to be a normal day.  I wore my
usual pant-suit, beige in color, and told myself that I was not
going to read any stories that night.  I felt a little guilty
about it, actually.  I had wasted a lot of time masturbating in my
office, when I could have been working or at home doing chores
around the house.  So today I told myself I wouldn't---but still
it was far from a normal day! I got to my office and noticed the
door was open.  There on my desk was a manilla envelope,
unlabelled.  I opened it up and almost fainted when I saw its
contents!  There were about 20 pictures, color 4x6, showing me at
my desk, one hand between my legs, the other pinching my exposed
nipples!  In some pictures I was staring at the computer screen,
but others clearly caught me in the throes of orgasm!  In those
pictures, my mouth was hanging open and my eyes were clenched
shut, and it was clear that I was pleasuring myself!  Because of
my lacy stockings and exposed thighs, and my lacy bra not even
containing my breasts, the pictures looked like something out of
Penthouse, except without the soft lighting!

Who could have taken them?  I thought back to the night before and
couldn't remember if I had closed the door!  Had I left it open? I
realized that I had been so wrapped up in the story I was reading,
someone could have easily snapped those pictures.  They wouldn't
have needed flash because of the bright fluorescent lights, and I
probably wouldn't have even noticed!  Well, clearly I didn't
notice, because here were the pictures!  I scanned the envelope
looking for a name.  Who did this?  What did they want?  All I
found was a slip of paper with a URL for a website.  Quickly and
feeling my stomach turn over, I started up my computer and put the
website into the browser.  A plain text webpage came up that said
something like this:

``Ms. Harwill,

You haven't been very careful, have you?  You've been leaving your
office door open, and your computer logged on.  I know what you've
been doing.  You visit some very interesting websites!  I was
looking over the company internet-use policy the other day, and I
think they might qualify as ``inappropriate."  But your boss
doesn't need to know, does he?  Nor do those pictures have to be
posted on the message board outside your office, hm?  You've read
enough now to know how this works.  So here they are: my demands.
You are an attractive woman, Ms. Harwill, and I don't want to see
those dowdy pantsuits on you any more.  The pants you wore this
morning are the last pair you will ever wear! At lunch, I want you
to buy yourself a nice short skirt and wear it to the office. It
had better show your knees. Also, remove the top button from your
blouse.  Cut it off and throw it away. While at lunch, leave the
photos on your desk.  All of them.  If you do not comply, your
reputation around here is likely to become very, very altered."

The butterflies in my stomach were in overdrive as I finished the
note.  It was not signed---who wrote this?  Who was doing this?

After my initial nervousness wore down a little, I told myself to
look at the bright side.  Yes, someone was trying to control me.
But if they knew what stories I was reading, then they knew my
fantasies.  Maybe, they were trying to be nice to me by allowing
me to live them out.  After all, all I was asked to do was to put
on a shorter skirt and unbutton my top button!  That's hardly
inappropriate for the office, and at this point it would have
negligible effect on my reputation as a professional, so why not?
And honestly, someone was putting a lot of effort here.  How did
they get those photos developed so quickly?  How long have they
been watching?  Frankly, I was flattered that someone was paying
so much attention to me.

So at lunch, after a quick meal in the cafeteria, I actually
enjoyed going to an upscale department store near my office and
buying a slightly-less than knee length skirt.  I found one in
dark brown, which went well with my beige suitcoat.  I also bought
some matching pantyhose. After I bought them, I asked the
salesclerk to let me put it on in the dressing room, and to lend
me some scissors so I could cut off the tag. She looked at me a
little strangely but told me to go ahead. The skirt looked quite
good on me; a little tight and definitely shorter than I was used
to, but only an inch or two above the knee.  Many women of my
status wear skirts like this. With the right hosiery, there is
nothing inappropriate about it, I thought. I cut off the tag.  I
then remembered about my blouse, and cut off the top button.  It
looked a little strange to be missing the button, and it did cause
my blouse to gape open a little, but still appropriate for the
office, I thought.  I threw the tags and the button away and
returned to my office.

On my way back to the office, I was actually feeling pretty good.
This new skirt made me feel attractive, and I think I caught some
of the guys looking at my ass---including Todd, and that made me a
little wet, actually!

When I got to my desk, I noticed that the envelope with the photos
was gone.  At first I was worried---what if someone else saw them?
But then I realized why you wanted me to leave them there.  To
confirm my suspicion, I looked back at the website where the
message was this morning and there was no website at all: ``Page
cannot be found."  So here I was in my new outfit, with no
pictures and no instructions---you were covering your tracks!  If
I tried to get you in trouble for blackmail, extortion, or some
such thing, I'd have no evidence!  I realized then that you were
probably a bit smarter than the characters in the stories I had
read---those situations always seemed so implausible.  Despite my
arousal, still I wanted to grab the woman by the shoulders and
tell her not to let herself be pushed around!  Call the police,
blackmail your blackmailers!  I saw early on that you weren't
leaving me that option.

During most of the afternoon, I had trouble working.  I sat and
wondered what would happen if you did post those pictures on my
message board, or tell the company about my ``inappropriate"
internet use.  Actually, I think it would be quite embarrassing.
With no one to point to as to who was doing it, the pictures would
surely speak for themselves and advertise me as a sexual object. I
don't think I'd lose my job, but I don't know if I could handle
the office rumors.  And would I be taken seriously at board
meetings?  Worse still would be the internet-use accusation.  I
don't really know if the IT people at my company could prove what
I've downloaded, but if there was an investigation and people knew
what kind of kinky stories had crossed my computer screen, I think
I would die of embarrassment.  And, since this company /does/ have
to maintain its image, if the rumors spread too much I probably
/would/ lose my job!

But you have already thought about this, I'm sure.  Please note
that I have done everything you have asked of me so far, not
always immediately but eventually!  Including this document.  You
see, I am telling you everything, like you said, and now you know
how I feel about all of it.

I hope that when I look at the webpage tomorrow morning, you will
let me wear panties.  I know an orgasm in the morning is too much
to ask, but all day today my juices have dripped down my thighs,
getting the tops of my stockings wet.  And, yes, as I have feared,
remembering all this has made the problem worse: my skirt and my
office chair are soaked!  I do need to come soon, but failing
that, please let me at least wear some underwear tomorrow so I can
better contain myself.

Okay, I'm sending off now.  I hope this is what you wanted.
