Melanie's Corruption
written by:
Angela

As she sat at her desk, she could feel the slight breeze from the air-conditioning brushing gently against her thighs. To all appearances, she looked no different today than any other day; smart skirt and blouse, a jacket and sensible heels. There was nothing underneath the skirt. Now she looked at the small parcel in front of her marked ‘Private and Confidential'. She was almost too scared to open it, wary about what she would find inside.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Melanie had worked for the same firm of solicitors for over ten years. She found that they paid well, were sympathetic to her needs when she had to take time off to look after she elderly mother, and the work was interesting and varied. Now in her early thirties, she had even toyed with the idea of going back to school and studying law.

Her home life had been difficult these last few years. Her mother's health had gradually deteriorated until she couldn't walk at all, and was bedridden most of the time. Melanie had asked the advice of one of the partners, Mr Banham, and with his help had secured a place in a nursing home for her mother about six months ago.

Melanie was unused to the freedom that was now hers. She visited her mother on Saturdays and Sundays, but found herself free to do whatever she wanted during the week. For the first month or two she felt at a loss, but soon she got used to the idea that she could play music, or buy a takeaway, or even just sit and read without her mother demanding her time.

Now that she felt more settled, her thoughts started to turn to relationships. There had never been any time for her to develop any sort of liaison with a man before now, and the handful of boyfriends that she'd had over the years didn't turn into anything serious. Melanie knew that she wanted someone in her life, but after all these years of being a homebody she wasn't quite sure where to start her search.

And then the first letter came.

"Melanie, you are one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. If I could be granted one wish, it would be to sweep you away from the daily drudgery and treat you like the princess you are."

Melanie was a little concerned, but brushed it off as someone playing a joke.

But the letters kept coming.

One each week, first thing every Monday morning. All of them repeating the same message. She didn't know whether to worry that she was being stalked, or to tell someone at work about what was going on. Part of the problem was that she was lonely, and she had started to fantasise about her admirer - she hoped it was a man - using his letters to weave fantasies that she would masturbate to each night when she was tucked up in her bed.

Then, after four or five weeks, the letters started to change. They became more suggestive. The first one like this was a shock.

"Melanie, I watch you in your sensible clothes and sensible shoes and wonder what you are wearing under them. Are you wearing sensible panties? A full cup bra? Or are you dressed the way I dress you in my imagination? Are your breasts covered only by sheer material that I can see your nipples through? Is that special place between your legs covered only by a scrap of fabric, ready for me to touch?"

That night when she got home, she removed her clothes and stared at herself in the bedroom mirror. He had been right about her, she thought, as she stood in her very sensible bra and panties. Slowly she put her arms behind her back and unhooked her bra, letting it slip away from her body and onto the floor. I wonder if he would like my breasts completely uncovered, she thought as she stared at her hardened nipples. Her mind started to weave it's usual fantasies as she stood there. In her mind's eye, he was behind her with his hands cupping her breasts and then moving to touch her body all over. His lips nuzzled her neck as he toyed with her nipples, his teeth gently biting into her shoulder as his finger found its way into her panties and stroked her clitoris. Before too long she had thrown herself on her bed and was stroking herself to orgasm. Basking in that glow, the tops of her thighs moist from her juices, Melanie decided that she wouldn't tell a soul about the letters unless they became threatening.

The next letter was a little different, and was contained within a small package.

"Melanie, you are so very beautiful. I lie in my bed each night, thinking about you: your smile, your eyes, your breasts. I'm sending you some black stockings, the stay up ones with the lacy tops. Please wear them for me this week."

She tried them on when she got home. Taking off her normal tights, she put the stockings on and smoothed her skirt back down over them. Pirouetting in front of the mirror, she checked all sides; she didn't look any different. No-one at work would know if she wore the stockings. What could be the harm?

The next day, Melanie took one final look at herself in the bedroom mirror. She had been right, there was no change to her outer appearance. At her desk at work she felt a little wanton, a little daring. Nobody could tell that the tops of her thighs were naked under her skirt. She wondered if anyone could guess, but didn't think they would. By the end of that week, Melanie didn't worry about her stockings any more. In fact, she rather liked them and looked forward to wearing them.

The usual Monday morning letter came inside yet another small parcel.

"I have been hoping that you enjoyed the stockings as much as I enjoyed imagining you wearing them, so I have sent you yet another pair. Inside the parcel, you will find something else. Wear it on Friday with the stockings."

Digging her fingers into the package, she pulled out a tiny sheer thong then quickly pushed it back into the packaging. She didn't want anyone else to see, so she put the parcel into her handbag and tried to forget about it. That night, Melanie once again stood in front of her bedroom mirror wearing her sensible bra and panties. She took the new stockings out of their packaging and put them on, then added a pair of heels that she had bought to attend a friend's wedding last year. She looked at herself again, admiring the way her legs looked. Pulling her underwear off, she took a deep breath and then replaced them with the thong. Looking into the mirror again, she decided that she looked silly in her bra so she removed it.

Melanie stood up straight and stared straight ahead. She pulled her shoulders back, which made her breasts stand out. Her nipples were hard. Eyes travelling lower, she looked at the valley between her legs then slowly turned so she could see the thin string of the material disappearing into the crevice between her buttocks. Facing the mirror again, she cupped her breasts while she imagined a man touching her. Of their own accord, her fingers rubbed gently on her nipples. She was very turned on. She could feel moisture welling between her legs as she imagined standing like this in front of her admirer, showing him the body he seemed so taken with. It didn't take long before Melanie was once again on her bed with her hand between her legs.

On Friday, she woke up to find herself very excited about what she was about to wear. The thong and stockings were followed by her usual bra, skirt and blouse but this time she decided that she would also wear the higher heels. Would anyone notice the difference? She didn't think so, but she was wrong. Someone did notice. Walking into the office, Melanie didn't realise that the heels made her backside sway a little more and that she was walking straighter, her breasts pushed out a little bit more than normal. The morning was spent doing her usual tasks but she felt so naughty, so alive, that on impulse she decided to do some shopping in her lunch break. By the time she returned an hour later, Melanie had bought several new bras and thongs as well as enough stay up stockings so that she didn't have to rinse out the pairs she had every evening.

The weekend was spent visiting her mother and pottering around the house. Each night Melanie would try on a different bra and panties while she stood in front of her mirror, before getting into bed and stroking herself to orgasm. Once, she even kept the thong on and pretended that she was being fingered while sitting at her desk at work. She realised that her fantasies where becoming more adventurous, but didn't think anything of it.

"I hope you enjoyed wearing your new underwear last Friday. I am sending you something different this week, which I hope you will wear for me this Friday."

Hiding the package on her lap under her desk, Melanie pulled out the scrap of fabric that lay inside. She frowned slightly, not able to figure out what is was for a few moments until if finally dawned on her. Open crotch underwear. In red.

All week she wore her new bras, thongs and stockings to work, trying not to think about Friday. By Thursday night, she could no longer contain herself and decided to try the new panties. When she put them on and looked at herself in the mirror, they looked like normal briefs and she felt a little disappointed. Then, inspiration struck. She took off all her other clothes, bar her panties, stockings and high heels. Sitting on the edge of the bed and facing the mirror, she leaned back on her hands and slowly began to open her legs. She stayed like that for a very long time, looking at her exposed pussy peeping out from between the folds of the material. Then, she slipped to the floor and leaned against the bed, still facing the mirror. Feet flat on the floor, knees apart, Melanie looked at herself again. Before very long, one of her hands had moved between her legs and she watched it find then stroke her clitoris. There she stayed; as her mind took her to another place, a place where instead of a mirror there was a man watching her every move, she pushed her fingers into herself fucked her pussy until she came.

Friday. Melanie is wearing the open crotch panties, her stockings and a new sheer bra. She is very, very wet. Constantly aroused because of the sexy underwear, Melanie doesn't realise that her nipples are clearly visible under her blouse. Again, she thinks that no-one has noticed any change.

When Monday comes, Melanie finds herself edgy with anticipation of her next letter. Her mind imagines all sorts of wicked things, but she is bitterly disappointed when there is no parcel or letter waiting for her on the desk. She takes an early lunch and when she gets back to her desk there is an envelope waiting. There is no postmark. She opens it.

"I haven't forgotten you."

Melanie suddenly realises that her admirer is someone in the building. Someone who sees her every day. Someone who imagines her in the sexy underwear he sends.

The next day, Melanie goes into work as normal. She had toyed with the idea of going back to wearing sensible underwear and shoes, but somehow the thought of her admirer being in the same building has excited her. As she sits typing, and instant message appears on her screen.

"Take off your panties"

She stares at the screen, trying to figure out where the message has come from. "Do it now. Don't go to the toilet, just take them off at your desk and put them in your handbag".

Melanie is taken aback, worried, excited and tense all at the same time. She is considering what to do when the screen flashes again.

"I said, NOW".

Not really understanding why she wants to do as she is told, Melanie wriggles a little in her chair and slips her panties down over her legs before kicking them off. She puts them in her handbag. She can't concentrate on work. Somewhere out there, someone knows she is sitting at her desk with her pussy uncovered. The thought excites her more than she imagined is possible. By the time she gets home she has no idea how she has managed to do any work, or speak coherently to the clients and the partners. She doesn't bother to take off any of her clothes as she flings herself onto her bed and strokes herself to an orgasm.

The week passes slowly for Melanie. No more notes, no messages. She is wondering if he has forgotten her when she goes into work on Friday to find another envelope on her desk.

"You will not wear any panties at all next week. I want to imagine your naked pussy under that skirt."

Her weekend passes in a daze, and Monday arrives all too soon. She sits at her desk wearing no panties. She can feel the air circulating, swirling around her legs and up to the tops of her thighs, which she is squeezing together. Melanie can feel the moisture between her legs. There is no note or parcel on her desk. She knew there wouldn't be. He has already told her what he expects this week.

Each day, Melanie arrives at work and tries to concentrate on what she is paid to do. Each night, she stands in front of her mirror letting her fantasies become more intricate and daring as she pleasures herself. There are moments when she wonders how far she will go; others when she thinks perhaps its time to stop. There is only one constant. Melanie is always turned on. She makes bargains with herself. "I'll stop when he asks me to do something too naughty", she thinks. "Its only harmless fun, I can control this" she tries to tell herself.

On Friday afternoon, a message appears on her screen.

"Buy some shorter skirts to wear. Wear nothing under your skirt next week."

Melanie stares at the screen, wondering what he means by shorter. He can't mean mini-skirts, they aren't allowed at work. He must mean a skirt that stops just above the knee, rather than the mid-calf one she is wearing now.

Monday morning sees Melanie at her desk wearing a new black skirt. She is wearing the frilly topped stay up stockings that have become her favourite, and a button through blouse. Melanie is not wearing panties. There is no note on her desk, but a message appears mid-morning.

"Lean back in your chair and spread your legs"

The rush of moisture between her legs as she reads that note surprises her. She knows that no-one can see under her desk, but is still a little cautious about doing what's been asked of her. Looking around, checking to see if anyone is watching, she leans back and spreads her legs apart.

"Wider" The message appears almost instantly, making her jump. To spread her legs wider Melanie must pull her skirt up a little more over her thighs, which she does. She knows that someone is watching her, and even though they cannot see anything, the fact that she is sitting like that at her desk makes her feel very exposed.

"You can continue working, but keep your legs spread."

All week, Melanie is asked to work at her desk with her legs apart. She feels as if she is on display, and it turns her on. She constantly wants to touch herself, make herself cum. Every night, she does just that.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Now we are back to where we started, with Melanie looking at the small parcel in front of her marked ‘Private and Confidential'. She is almost too scared to open it, wary about what she will find inside.

"Melanie, you are being a very good girl and I'm proud of you. This week, you will wear the item that I've put in this parcel and sit at your desk with your legs apart. I want to imagine you displayed for me. I want to imagine your naked pussy, wet and open, ready for my tongue and fingers. Do not disappoint me."

At first, she didn't realise what the item was. It was small, and as she held it in her lap turning it this way and that, she frowned in consternation. She'd never seen anything like it before. As she kept trying to figure out what to do with it, a message flashed on her screen.

"It's a clamp, Melanie. You put it on your clitoris"

She could feel herself going bright red.

"Put it on now"

She looked hesitantly around her, wondering what to do. Then, suddenly making a decision, she moved to get off her chair.

"No! Do it at your desk."

Abruptly, she sat back down. Instantly, her legs spread apart; she was used to sitting like that by now. Taking a deep breath, Melanie took the clamp and put both hands on her lap. Lifting her skirt, she searched for her clitoris with one hand and then used the other to clamp it. Melanie bit into her lip to stop herself crying out when the clamp sank into her tender flesh. Part of her wanted to take it off, another wanted to keep it on. All of her wanted to cum, right now.

By the end of that day, all Melanie could think of was making herself cum. She raced home, leaving the clamp attached until she was safely in her bedroom, and immediately set about relieving herself with her fingers. Then, not really knowing why, she put the clamp back into place. She has been told to wear it at work, but she wanted to wear it all the time.

At the end of that week, there was another parcel waiting for her but the note that came with it was different.

"Melanie, you have been a very good girl this week. I know that you have been sitting at your desk, your pussy naked and wet, your clit clamped for me, and your legs spread wide so I can see you in my mind's eye. I have bought you a little surprise. I hope it gives you pleasure"

When she got home, she tore open the package to find a vibrator. Melanie had never owned a vibrator before, but she noticed that he had been considerate enough to include batteries. She dimmed the lights in her bedroom and removed her clothing until she wore only her heels and stockings, and her clit clamp. Turning the vibrator to a slow setting, she used it to stimulate each of her breasts in turn, all the time looking at herself in her mirror. Sinking down to the floor, her knees apart so she could look at her pussy, she moved the vibrator down to touch her entrance. She liked the look of her clamped clit, and flicked it with the vibrator, sending shockwaves throughout her body. Lifting one hand, she cupped her breast and then squeezed her nipple. Moaning softly, Melanie continued to flick at her clitoris and pinch her nipples in turn until she thought she would explode. Unable to contain herself, she plunged the vibrator into her pussy and then pulled it out just as quickly before pushing it in again. A few more strokes and she was cumming, her muscles contracting around the fake cock, but her mind imagining it to be a real one.

There had been no instructions for the coming week, so Melanie had to make her own decision about what to wear at work and what to do. She decided that she would keep her underwear off, and the clamp on. There was no message, note or parcel when she arrived at her desk, but Melanie had already decided to sit with her legs wide apart. She liked the feeling of exposure, the danger that someone would somehow know what she was doing.

An hour after she arrived at work, a message appeared on her screen.

"Flick your clamp, once, with your finger"

How did he know she was wearing it? Could he have guessed, or was he just hoping?

"Flick your clamp Melanie"

She did.

And she wanted to do it again.

"Again, Melanie"

Oh, she wanted to cum. She wanted him to watch her cum. She wanted to do anything he said, so long as she could cum.

"Put your hand between your legs and spread your cunt open"

She did.

"Don't remove your hand. Keep yourself spread open for me"

Melanie sat like that for ten minutes before the next message arrived on her screen.

"Put a finger in your pussy, I want it to disappear inside you"

Her middle finger immediately went into her pussy, which was by now dripping with her juices. It occurred to her that he must be watching her face for signs of any reaction, so she tried to keep her face impassive.

"Use two fingers to fuck yourself Melanie. Imagine they are my fingers"

Could she sit here and do this? Was this her limit? As these thoughts swirled around her head, her fingers pushed into her pussy and began a rhythm all of their own. She didn't know how to stop herself; she was too far gone to try or care.

Now the messages came faster. One after the other, pushing her, telling her what to do.

"Harder Melanie. Fuck yourself harder"

"Put your other hand in your lap and hold your cunt open"

"Flick your clit clamp with your thumb"

"Don't stop fingering your cunt"

"Don't cum Melanie"

"Keep fucking yourself"

"I want to fuck you, Melanie"

"I want to suck on your clit"

"Melanie, spread your cunt for me"

"Wider"

"Use two fingers to fuck yourself"

"Melanie, I can see your cunt"

"It's dripping with your juices"

"Your clit is engorged, isn't it?"

"Your pussy is all wet, and pink and open"

"Melanie, stop what you're doing and look at your screen"

"Click on this link, and you will see what I see"

Melanie's right hand left her pussy and moved to her computer mouse. Her left hand remained in her lap, holding her cunt open just as she'd been told. A click of the mouse, and a screen opened. It was her cunt. He could see her. He'd always been able to see her. She stared at the picture of her bare pussy, horrified and turned on at the same time.

"You're beautiful Melanie. Keep showing me your cunt"

She couldn't help herself.

"Stay like that Melanie. I want to look at your cunt all day"

She suddenly realised that there must be a camera under her desk, and that all this time he had been able to see her exposing herself. What she thought he was imagining, she now knew he could see. Melanie flicked her clit clamp while she watched her screen. Yes, it was a camera. She pushed a finger into her pussy, and saw it happen immediately.

Melanie spent most of the day with one hand between her legs, alternatively just holding herself open or fingering herself.

"You can stop that now Melanie" came the message on the screen.

"Close the camera window and go home"

"There will be more in store for you tomorrow"