Mailroom Work

"I'm heading to the mailroom, apparently", you say. Luckily the email also says how to find it. "I'll be back to the office before the end of the working day though, it's only an hour. Unless they spend the rest of it paddling me after I screw up something I have no idea how to do". Diana actually grins at your admittedly mediocre joke. "They better save some for us, we're your team after all", she replies. "Oh, speaking of..."

She changes topic then, returning to a work matter, and you talk about that until it is time for you both to start moving. You realise you actually started to feel like the table is offering you a degree of privacy when you have to get up, even though your breasts were exposed throughout and your marked bottom could be seen from plenty of angles through the gap in the chair's back. Still, you brave the renewed exposure to put away your tray (Diana, who has a shorter route back to the office, stays behind for another minute to send a few texts) and walk to the elevator to go down to the mailroom, still only with your phone in hand.

You see a couple of familiar faces on the way, engaging in a couple of sentences' worth of smalltalk every time, but moving on quickly enough to avoid being late. In the elevator itself, however, you find yourself blushing furiously as the two men you are sharing the ride with make no attempt at all to hide their discussion of your breasts and body in general. When you hear one ask another "How much do you think she got spanked?", though, you snap. "Have a look for yourself", you say loudly enough and turn around and bend forward. From what you saw in the bathroom mirror earlier, the redness should be very, very obvious.

"Whoa, easy with that attitude there, Ma'am", one of the men begins, clearly intending to get more out of the situation than just a view of your butt as the doors of the cabin open, but the other one puts a hand on his shoulder. "I'm not getting to Smith late because you want to smack her", he says firmly, pulling his colleague out. "If there was an actual reason, maybe, but not over an offer to see her ass, that's what the program is about. Really nice ass, by the way", he nods to you and you straighten yourself, fuming but also rather relieved. It felt good to "give him attitude"... But you know it might backfire a lot more the next time you do that.

It is a couple more floors down and you reach the level with the mail room, among other utility functions. Fortunately the way is signposted clearly enough and despite very telling looks you get from men who wear vests of varying descriptions rather than suits here, you find it easily. You arrive with a couple of minutes to spare and at the door catch up to another naked woman, who is checking the sign on the door against her own phone screen.

You were not told you will have a partner (not that you are against having someone to share your nudity and punishment with), but the lady looks vaguely familiar... And then it hits you. In her normal attire, you would have recognised the boss of your boss instantly. You were just looking at the wrong parts of her at first - for example, you know she has been spanked today, but only once in the morning at your best guess. You greet Ms Stevens by name when she sees you approaching and then introduce yourself, getting an amiable greeting in return. You are glad she is taking this well; being stuck doing a menial chore with a naked and unhappy higher-up would probably not do wonders for your career, even if she does not know you are the person ultimately responsible for her humiliation.

The man who greets you inside the mailroom is wearing a suit... And also a grin that does not make you particularly optimistic. Sneering at your naked forms, he tells you what to do, stressing on one hand that a pair of "fancy brains such as yours" will not need much instruction while on the other explaining every small detail no matter how obvious. "Every error will get a stroke with the paddle", he finishes, brandishing the paddle in question. "And I won't care who made it. One error and both pairs of cheeks are getting it". Ms Stevens nods in polite acknowledgement as if a clothed man way, way under her in the company hierarchy did not just threaten to paddle her naked behind and you follow her example.

She moves towards the small mountain of mail you are supposed to go through before the door even closes behind the man.