Open a new door for her

She
was twenty-five years old, and quite good-looking—by men's standards, she'd probably score above 80. To her friends and colleagues, she was a bit cold, aloof. This was simply because she was a junior lawyer, not a well-known one,
just a low-level employee at a law firm. What followed might surprise you, but it was a completely different story. Her life underwent an irreversible change a few years ago…
After she met me, and I helped her improve her health and made her my slave, her mindset shifted. She was now enjoying this feeling, wanting to become even better and more beautiful. Beauty is like poison for women, irresistible.
Every time she panted and looked at the wet stains on the bed in front of me, her restless body drew her deeper and deeper into ecstasy, leading her to the brink of orgasm.
Every week I would post so-called tasks, unlike other men's. The descriptions seemed simple, like being naked at home, but standing quietly by the window at night, drawing back the curtains, looking at the night sky or the moon, then closing the curtains. Or, on a summer night, walking through a crowded area, deliberately bending down to adjust your shoelaces, exposing your chest to passersby. And so on. She didn't understand at first.
But what seemed simple in words was actually so shameful in practice, and the resulting humiliating pleasure made it impossible not to complete the task. The aftermath was a wetness, a kind of psychological repression released through a twisted channel—a twisted pleasure born from breaking taboos and moral constraints.
Curiosity killed the cat.
One day, I posted a task: "Turn on the brightest light in the room, draw back the curtains, stand with your back to the window, bend over, and press your buttocks firmly against the glass for one second."
Then I added, "You can do it for one minute if you like."
It was 9 PM. She had just finished showering and was sitting naked on the sofa with the TV on.
Unbeknownst to her, this led her down a path of pleasure.
She thought, "Who would do this? With their buttocks facing the window and the light on? Wouldn't the people in the building across the street see their bare bottoms?" In the bright glass, she saw the night outside, and in the distance, clusters of bright lights like pigeon coops. Opposite those brightly lit rooms was her buttocks.
Now pressed tightly against the glass, showing a semi-circular outline, the curve of her buttocks slowly tapering towards her, outlining a slender waist, porcelain white under the light. Then I saw her swaying on her buttocks: "So exciting, I'm all wet." After saying that, another photo was uploaded. This time there was no one, only the window, but… I saw a wet patch on the window where her buttocks had been pressed against. A water stain, more than ten centimeters long and two or three centimeters wide, had gathered on the glass, with a single droplet clinging to the bottom, about to drip. At this point, I chimed in (we were video chatting on QQ), "I'm watching, the glass is covered in your water stains,
tsk…" I snorted, "So slutty." Then I said, "Move a chair, sit on it, spread your legs facing the window, and then what to do, I don't need to tell you, right…" She sent a shy emoji, then didn't say anything more. She seemed a little unhappy, but also a little aroused; she was genuinely curious. So… she stood at the window, tried to open the curtains a crack, and the night light shone in. She quickly pulled them back up. How could she let a stranger see her naked body? A few minutes later, she mustered her courage. *Swish...* The curtains were drawn back. In that instant, the words "I find the green hills alluring, and I suppose the green hills find me equally so" suddenly came to mind. Ah...
But she didn't know where, it seemed, a pair of eyes were watching her, seeing her breasts, seeing her pubic mound, seeing her trembling as she pressed her chest against the window. And when this fantasy in her mind was amplified, the result was that the lamplight, the starlight, the moonlight in the darkness seemed to mock her exposed body, as if they were all saying she was a wanton woman. And this thought made her feel a heart-pounding sensation she had never experienced before.
Only ten seconds later, she felt she couldn't continue. The moment the curtains were drawn,
she seemed to understand that everything stemmed from her own imagination, and this hypothesis and fantasy from the depths of her mind had stimulated her sensitive nerves, giving her body a kind of pleasure. It was something she'd never experienced before.
More than a year had passed since her first time, and the process had been a mix of shyness and excitement, a constant struggle between yes and no. Ultimately, that nagging feeling had kept her going...

For work, of course, she wore work clothes: black stockings, a pencil skirt, and a blazer, looking quite refreshed.
Her office was on the third floor of the law firm building. Usually, she was too lazy to take the elevator, but today she was going to climb the stairs. Why?
My order today; because the stockings were suspenders, but only suspenders. Her panties were already crumpled up and stuffed inside her, the friction creating an irresistible pleasure. These panties were made of very light, soft, and thin silk; in her hand, they were only the size of a tiny egg. Last night I said, "You can put your panties in your bag. Even though you're both naked, what would it feel like to put them inside your body? What if you wrote something on your butt?"
...As she went upstairs, some people greeted her, some nodded, and the men always smiled in response, occasionally glancing at her, their eyes lingering on her prominent breasts. Some people on the second floor would even stare intently at her chest, searching for any angle or opportunity. Over the past few years of conditioning her body, she had become increasingly sensitive; even the slightest touch or friction would make her wet. Just now, while driving to work, she had already experienced a reaction from the slightest friction—a slight swelling, a tingling, and an itchy sensation, constantly emanating from her lower body. The sensation made her slightly dazed. Her mind kept replaying the underwear tucked inside her body, and the more she told herself not to think about it, the more focused her attention became, and the stronger her physical reaction grew. She took each step, and as she crossed her legs, a cool breeze would blow over her exposed pubic area, making her feel somewhat embarrassed. People walked by, greeted her, and she forced a nod and a smile, still desperately trying to avoid being discovered, to avoid being seen. She even considered squeezing her thighs together and jumping up, but the thought of the words on her buttocks made her feel uneasy. It was as if everyone behind her would peer through her skirt, seeing her bare bottom, seeing the word "slut" written there, and then they would whisper among themselves, "So she goes to work naked, and has labeled herself a slut." The imagination was always arousing.
And she, at that moment, found it difficult to move, her heart filled with unease. But this thrill made her want to continue, because she seemed to enjoy the feeling. When she reached the second floor… She saw a familiar face walking down the corridor to her left. He seemed to be a clerk in an office on the second floor, in his forties, looking older than his age, somewhat resembling that guy from Deyun Club. She saw him often, so they were just nodding acquaintances. From a distance, he greeted her warmly, "Back to work?" She smiled, nodded, and said, "You're here early." At the same time, she squeezed her legs together, afraid her panties would suddenly fall out.
She had already reached the landing between the second and third floors, and he was behind her. She turned to look down at him and said…
He looked up at her and said yes. But then, he paused, looking at her skirt with a hint of doubt. Her heart skipped a beat. Oh no. From this angle, would he see...? Bodycon skirts are usually not very long because, although they are skirts, they tightly hug a woman's buttocks. To avoid hindering walking and other activities, the hem of the skirt is usually about ten centimeters above the upper thigh. That means the hem of her sundress was only a few centimeters from the top of the skirt. And she was quite tall, her height and straight legs always being her pride. But now, if he were looking up at her from his angle, any movement she made, the gap created by her legs crossing, would definitely let him see her bare thighs. Considering that she had maintained the habit of shaving for the past six months, her bare mons pubis was almost completely exposed. In that case, there was a certain chance that he would see that she wasn't wearing underwear to work. Even worse, the panties stuffed inside her vagina were still slightly exposed outside her labia. She even felt that he had seen her buttocks and the words on them, and he was already lewdly laughing to himself. He must have thought of her as a wanton woman. The words on her buttocks were what she had written in front of the mirror that morning, crooked and messy, yet she was somewhat embarrassed to mention them. Just thinking about it was shameful. If someone found out, how could she continue working here? She cursed herself for her audacity, while being assaulted by the rough friction coming from her vagina… Ugh… I walked too fast just now… In the blink of an eye, she had thought of so much. The sudden situation made her stand still, too nervous to move an inch, instead squeezing her legs even tighter, afraid that he would see through her. As a result, the friction inside her vagina intensified, and because of her tension, her body contracted, seemingly about to squeeze the panties out. What to do? She felt her face burning, it must be so hot, and her lower body was inexplicably starting to get wet. Would he see? Wouldn't he see? What could he see? Could he even see anything? She suddenly felt she had been a bit reckless, actually believing my words and doing something so bold. But why, despite her nervousness, did she also feel a little hopeful that he might see something? Shyly, she went up to the third floor, hoping to inadvertently let him catch a glimpse of the view. Was it real or an illusion? What would be the result of this uncertain voyeuristic gaze? He lowered his head, seemingly catching a glimpse of spring, or perhaps this seemingly lewd man was actually a shy fellow, embarrassed because he had seen something. She gripped her bag strap tightly, realizing she couldn't just stand there like an idiot. She quickly headed up the stairs, her legs sweeping upwards. Just then, behind her stood a young man from her office, positioned perpendicular to her. She immediately realized her predicament. In her haste to escape, she took large strides, her skirt even riding up slightly as her thighs parted. From his position, he could at least see her bare buttocks, and perhaps… Her heart pounded again. Being seen by others was one thing, but this young man was her officemate. If he saw her, how would she face such embarrassment? He seemed to notice her awkwardness, or perhaps he had already seen what was beneath her skirt. Even from a short distance, she could sense his pace slow. He glanced at the stairs, then looked back up at her, his gaze fixed on her thighs. A wave of shame suddenly surged up from her heart. She felt her heart clench, and then sweat broke out. Along with it all, she felt a sensation of being caressed, even lewd, by his gaze. In that one glance, she felt as if his gaze had physically invaded her genitals. As she forced herself to remain calm and look down, the young man had already looked away, lowered his head, and climbed onto the landing. He looked up, his gaze wandering. He suddenly stopped, even pausing in his steps. And she suddenly realized that he must have seen her. Because she was standing on the steps, trying to cover her bare genitals with her hands, she had pressed down on the skirt covering her lower abdomen and genital area. But who could have imagined that this pressing would actually widen the gap behind her? She could feel his burning gaze, lingering and caressing her buttocks through her skirt. If he paused even a moment longer, he would surely use his eyes to ravage her still-padded underwear. And… oh no… she felt another drop of liquid seep from her vagina, slowly trickling down her inner thighs.
Tension, shame, fear, regret, panic… all these emotions surged into her mind at once, leaving her stunned. Just then, he was beside her, patting her shoulder, saying, “Let’s go, what are you thinking about?” She trembled at his touch, and then, continuing from where he left off, he said, “Hurry up, we have a meeting soon.” She gave a soft “oh,” and somewhat dazedly followed him up to the third floor. When she reached the last step, she felt a surge of fluid, like a tidal wave, flowing out suddenly.
She emerged from the restroom, smoothed her skirt, and then strolled briskly back to her office.
Just moments before, after swiping her face at the time clock on the third floor, she had rushed into the restroom. Just as she was about to remove her skirt, she suddenly remembered something (my order), and came out again. Standing at the door of the men's restroom, she listened to make sure no one was inside, then glanced outside. She felt a thrill, like a thief, yet this thrill also produced an inexplicable, uncontrollable pleasure. She wondered if this was the feeling of shame she was talking about, and why she was so wet.
As she thought this, she quickly lifted her skirt, afraid of getting even a drop of her own moisture on it, until it was almost up to her waist, exposing her entire buttocks. She had never imagined she would do something so shameful, but the feeling of trampling on her shame and morality was stimulating her uncontrollably. She quickly, even roughly, parted her labia, pinched the edge of her wet panties, gritted her teeth, suppressed the urge to moan, and pulled them apart sharply. The morning's opening was suddenly filled with emptiness, and with a whoosh, a stream of fluid gushed from the released opening, soaking her inner thighs. Then, she flung the panties into the men's restroom with a thud, not knowing where they landed. Just then, she heard footsteps and the voices of a man and a woman greeting each other. Her heart had pounded countless times that morning.
This time, however, was the most tense moment. She was still naked; if she pulled down her skirt, it would inevitably get covered in her own vaginal fluid. If she didn't, with her bare bottom and even her panties flung into the men's restroom, would she have to explain to them that she came to find her panties? The footsteps grew louder, and the distance from the men's to the women's restroom, four or five steps, was still too far. Her bag, slung over her elbow, nearly flew off. In the last second or two, she rushed into the men's restroom and squeezed into a stall.
The instant she closed the door, she heard footsteps enter the men's restroom. She patted her chest, squatted down, and only then did she realize that her lower body was cold and wet. Hearing the sound of a man urinating outside, she felt the urge to urinate as well. However, the thought of a strange man hearing her urinate was difficult to bear, so she could only suppress the urge and take a tissue from her bag to wipe her groin. "Huh?" she heard the man exclaim, then she heard him fasten his pants and, instead of heading outside, walk towards the window. "Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit,"
the man muttered three times. Just then, another man walked in. "Look at this thing, hey..."
Her heart jumped. She pressed the tissue to her vulva, but she didn't dare move, even her breathing became tense. She squatted there, quietly listening to what he would say. "Brother Li, what are you doing with a woman's panties?" He seemed to be unzipping his pants; she heard the sound of a zipper. "A woman's panties? Look at these little panties, they don't even cover her anus. Would you let your girlfriend wear something like this?" The man seemed to bring the panties close to her eyes.
Because while urinating, he said, "Go away, take it away, it's so filthy. My girlfriend has one like that too, but she can't just... um... throw it anywhere?" "Hahaha, yeah, I don't know which slut did this, she must have done something naughty in the men's restroom. Look, it's all soaking wet, ugh... so filthy, she peed on it, didn't she..."
He pulled down his zipper, "Forget it, Brother Li, just throw it in the trash can. Everyone has some shame, just pretend you didn't see it."
"Hehe, it's a shame to throw it away, let's hang it here and let everyone see. Let them guess which horny woman on the second or fourth floor got horny and threw it here, so everyone can see it and go back and talk about it. Maybe this woman likes this kind of thing."
He said, "Brother Li, you really understand women's hearts." Brother Li spoke in a teasing tone. She heard his footsteps approaching her and quickly covered her mouth to keep herself from making a sound.
She was really scared. Being cornered in the men's restroom, naked, if this were discovered and spread, she thought she might as well die. They laughed and said, "Let's go, we have a meeting." The two pests finally left. Just as their footsteps disappeared from the restroom, she realized that she had been so scared that she had peed herself. The urine was trickling out without her noticing.
After finally finishing urinating, she wiped her genitals with a tissue, then took another tissue and gently pressed it against her inner thigh, where the vaginal fluid was almost dry. She waited for the tissue to absorb the moisture from her legs before
opening the door and quietly listening to the sounds outside.
Her underwear hung on the half-open window, fluttering in the breeze, seemingly mocking her boldness.
A moment later, she took off her high heels, knowing she needed to rush out as quickly as possible; twisting her ankle along the way could lead to unimaginable consequences. As she rushed out of the men's restroom, shoes in hand, she couldn't tell if she felt nervous or excited. Thankfully, no one was passing by or using the restroom. She carefully walked to the women's restroom, put on her shoes, washed her hands, straightened her skirt, and glanced at herself in the mirror. Her face was slightly flushed, whether from shock, excitement, or a more complex mix of emotions, she couldn't tell. Now, she even possessed a delicate and alluring charm.
The office wasn't big, with only three people. When she returned, he and Xiaoyou were already busy organizing materials. They glanced up at her as she entered, and Xiaoyou casually greeted her. Her desk faced the door, with the office building's window behind it. The reason was simple: although she wasn't a top lawyer, she was the boss in this office. She had calmed down by now, sat down, and started working. However, she would unconsciously spread her legs. This is what I meant when I said that this behavior was to unintentionally expose her private parts. Although no one else would see, the uneasy feeling would bring a different kind of sensation.
Someone called, and she made a call. After a while, she even forgot she wasn't wearing underwear. She wiggled her hips in her seat, occasionally crossing her legs. Around noon, the sunlight streamed in, and feeling a bit hot, she stood up and went to draw the curtains. Just as her hand reached the edge of the curtain, she suddenly remembered that she had forgotten she was still naked. Because of the chair, she had to lean forward to reach the curtain, and this would pull her skirt up due to her body angle, exposing most of her buttocks. She froze, quickly glancing back. Thankfully, Xiaoyou and he were both still working. She quickly pulled the curtain closed, then turned around and pulled her skirt down a bit before sitting down again. However, the ordeal wasn't over. When she sat down, she discovered she was wet again. A cool liquid seeped from her vagina. If she sat like this, someone would definitely see the wet patch on her skirt when she went to the cafeteria later. What to do? After thinking for a moment, she glanced at him and Xiaoyou again.
They were still busy with their own things and didn't notice me, so she reached out and grabbed the hem of her skirt, slightly lifting her buttocks. While looking at the two of them, she silently and slowly pushed the skirt back from under her buttocks. Just as the hem of the skirt moved near her crotch, he seemed to notice her looking at him and suddenly looked up. She stopped, smiled slightly at him, and he was stunned for a moment before returning the smile. Then he took out his phone and fiddled with it. Taking advantage of this opportunity, she raised her buttocks high and quickly pulled the hem of her skirt behind her buttocks. Then she bent down to adjust the front, covering her genitals and thighs. At this moment, she noticed a white mark around the edge of her stockings. Her face turned red, and she realized that it was the fluid that had leaked in the morning that had stuck to the stockings and dried. Although it wasn't much, her body was still damp. The feeling of shame and fear had kept her in a state of anxiety all morning. The smell of her genitals was definitely stronger than usual. Without underwear, she might not be able to smell anything herself, but anyone who smelled carefully would definitely detect a fishy, musty odor. And although she was sitting in a chair, if someone were standing in front of her without a table to shield them, they would definitely see two white lines of flesh showing beneath her skirt. She glanced back at the window; the curtains blocked out the sunlight and kept out the outside air. Her skin felt sticky and cool against the leather seat, and a slight coolness emanated from her anus—a result of the close contact with the seat. She even felt her labia parting because of the pressure against the seat. After lifting herself slightly and sitting back down, her labia pressed together again. If she moved her buttocks even slightly, they would rub against each other…
After get off work, when she stood up, she noticed a small wet patch on the chair, and where her anus had been pressed, a faint anus-like mark. Ugh… she almost lost her balance; her heart pounded in her ears, as if a voice was whispering in her ear: "She's a slutty woman, her naked buttocks have been seen by everyone, shamefully having her buttocks fantasized about, her genitals violated with their eyes…" She was reporting her day's experiences to me, her thoughts so excited, haha…

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