Elevator up

With the boxes stacked high in your arms, your field of vision is reduced to a sliver of the elevator floor and the legs of the women around you. Heels click against the metal, voices hum with excitement, and the faint scent of perfume mixes with the sterile air of the elevator. You can feel the weight of their gazes pressing down on you, though you can’t bring yourself to meet them—not that you’d be able to with your face hidden behind the cardboard towers you’re balancing.

You hear further comments:

“Mmm, there it is. No more hiding that perfect cock.”

"So hard… so exposed… He really can’t help himself, can he?"

"Look at him trying to keep his balance—his cock’s leading the way."

For a brief moment, the elevator doors close, sealing you inside with your entourage. A fleeting reprieve. But before you can even process the situation, a soft chime sounds. The elevator slows. The doors slide open—welcoming fresh eyes to your predicament.

Two new voices spill into the confined space.

“Oh—holy shit.” The first woman barely suppresses a laugh, her voice thick with disbelief. “Is this... am I seeing this right?”

“Uh… I think it’s a new kind of team-building exercise?” the second woman offers, her voice tinged with confusion—and something that might be interest.

You can’t see them, but you can hear the sharp tap of their heels against the floor as they step inside. Their murmurs grow quieter, but you know they’re still staring. You can feel it, like a spotlight trained directly on your cock.

Sandy speaks up first, her voice light and full of mischief. “Don’t worry, ladies. This is totally normal for us.”

“Normal?” the first woman echoes, her tone pitched somewhere between disbelief and amusement.

“Well,” Rachel adds smoothly, “it’s normal here.”

The elevator lurches back into motion. You feel a faint squeeze at your balls—Sandy’s hand, reassuring or teasing, you’re not sure which. The movement draws a soft gasp from one of the newcomers.

“What is this arrangement?” the second woman asks, curiosity now fully piqued. “How do you all… resist?”

A ripple of laughter, warm and teasing. You can hear the smirk in Rachel’s voice as she answers. “Oh, resisting isn’t part of the deal.”

“Not for everyone, anyway,” Sandy chimes in, letting her fingers trail lightly along your shaft.

One of the new voices—closer now—presses further. “What do you mean?”

Rachel’s tone is like honey dripping from a spoon. “There are rules. If you want to touch him, you have to earn it. Penny and Vivian worked hard to make that clear.”

“So… you’re saying you’ve earned the right?”

Sandy’s laugh is soft but wicked. “Oh, I’ve more than earned it. Today, I get to do whatever I want to him.”

Rachel hums in agreement, her voice smooth. “And I, as company leadership, have the right to use company property as I see fit.”

"Company property? Is that what he is?"

Sandy purrs, her hand slipping underneath to trail along the underside of your shaft. "Not him… but this?—her fingers curl around you, giving the slightest squeeze—"This is most definitely company property."

A shuffle. A murmur. Try as you might, you can’t stop the involuntary reaction as Sandy’s fingers wander, her strokes deliberate, teasing. The two newcomers gasp softly, breath hitching as they take in the way your cock twitches helplessly in her grip.

Then, one of them speaks again, voice lower, conspiratorial.

“Could we… see?”

Heat licks up your neck, creeping down your spine like a brand. Your grip tightens reflexively on the boxes. The tension thickens, turning palpable as silence settles over the elevator.

Rachel’s voice is smooth as silk. “Of course. Sandy and I can demonstrate.”

Before you can protest, new hands brush against you. They hesitate—fingertips ghosting over your shaft, as if testing reality. Then, emboldened by your twitching response, their grip firms, stroking with slow, deliberate curiosity.

You barely manage to exhale the words, “Is that… really the two of you?” But the hands don’t stop. One glides up your shaft. Another cups your balls. Their movements are smooth, assured—too assured.

Rachel smirks. “Who else would it be?”

The grip tightens. Just enough to drown your suspicions in pleasure. Your body betrays you before your brain can, cock pulsing in response. Maybe you’re overthinking it. Maybe it’s just…

Then—heat. A sudden, wet warmth engulfs your cock, sliding over the head with a slow, sinful ease.

Your knees nearly buckle. Your breath hitches. The sensation crashes over you, overwhelming, consuming. So sudden, so eager, so—

Rachel laughs. Sandy murmurs, “See? Thorough.”

But—Rachel is talking.

Your stomach lurches.

Rachel is talking.

Sandy is laughing.

Penny is murmuring something about compliance.

So who the fuck is sucking your cock?

Your cock twitches at the realization. You feel three hands on you. One strokes your shaft, light and teasing. Another squeezes your sensitive head. The third cups your balls, rolling them, testing their weight.

Your legs tremble. Your grip on the boxes wavers. You can’t see who’s doing it. You don’t know who’s doing it.

Just as your body starts to surrender, everything vanishes.

The hands. The mouth. Gone.

Your hips twitch, straining toward the warmth that’s no longer there. Your cock pulses, throbbing in need.

Then—ding.

The elevator doors slide open.

Two soft giggles. The whisper of heels stepping off the elevator.

“That was amazing! Thank you!”

“Good luck with everything… and try not to miss us too much.”

They’re gone.

Silence.

Then—laughter. Rachel. Sandy. Penny. Vivian.

The ache in your cock is torturous. A single bead of pre-cum drips to the floor. The teasing hands may have left, but their effect lingers.

Rachel lifts her hand, signaling for silence. Her eyes gleam, locked onto the illuminated floor numbers above.

The ride isn’t over.

Not even close.