The Seventy-Fifth Floor

The morning passed uneventfully. On its face, the task of a Mailgirl was fairly straightforward: deliver interoffice correspondence. It was the addition of the enforced nudity as well as the promise of timely service that made the job unlike anything Twenty had ever done before. During her run with Sixteen the previous day, they had been able to complete most of their assignments within the ascribed time frame, but there had been a few instances when they had been late. Twenty had noticed the MMU on Sixteen's arm flash red when that happened. The younger girl had explained that she had received a demerit: a mark against her record. Accumulate enough of them and punishment would be meted out. Sixteen hadn't been forthcoming on what the punishment was, but Twenty had a few ideas.

Twenty had been a collegiate athlete and her agency training kept her in good physical condition, so the constant running came easily enough to her. However, running around naked in a crowded office building wasn't quite the same as exercising in the gym. For one, her large D-cup breasts were usually encased in a sports bra when she ran, however in her Mailgirl uniform, they bounced freely with each step she took, meaning she could only move so fast before it became painful. That, coupled with the fact that some of her jobs could literally be dozens of floors apart meant she was more than likely to accrue her fair share of demerits based on time and statistics alone. And unlike yesterday when Sixteen had been her trainer and primary mailgirl in their partnership, Twenty was the lead in her pairing with Seven. Meaning she would receive the demerits to her MMU should they be late to any assigned task.

It was around two o'clock in the afternoon when they stepped into an elevator bound for the upper floors of the Tower. They had just finished a premium rush job which had taken them through several departments carrying crates full of documents. As Twenty assumed the 'Feet' position near the back wall of the elevator, she noted how much her arms ached. She was also breathing a little heavier than usual, and there was a fairly noticeable sheen of perspiration covering her body. She chanced a glance downward; sure enough, a rivulet of sweat was making its way down her collarbone into the valley between her breasts. Straightening up, she noticed Seven was in a similar state; her redheaded colleague's naked form glistened in the harsh fluorescent light. As the elevator made its ascent, the only sounds beyond the low mechanical humming were the breaths Twenty and Seven were drawing in and out.

Mailgirl code stated that all naked couriers were to keep themselves as clean as possible, and most of them were able to meet that standard during the course of their daily duties. They were allowed a lunch break, which all of them used to shower and eat their rations for the day. Most mailgirls also took at least a few minutes to relieve themselves, both in the biological sense and in the sexual sense. Twenty and Seven had walked into the locker room to the sounds of no less than three mailgirls pleasuring themselves in the shower stalls, their cries reverberating off the tile and glass. The nature of their work brought out the exhibitionist in all of them, and even though it was only her second day on the job, Twenty couldn't help but see the benefit in allowing the girls a modicum of relief. She herself had resisted, opting only to shower and eat during her break, but she couldn't suppress the stirrings in between her legs as she watched her naked coworkers bring themselves to orgasm around her.

That had been an hour ago, before she and Seven had taken on their latest job which had left them sweating and in need of another shower. However, before they could find a respite, they had been summoned to another job on the seventy-fifth floor of the Tower. Both stunk of sweat and pussy, a smell that Twenty was swiftly becoming accustomed to, but they had no choice but to head straight for their next assignment or risk receiving demerits. Any other floor, they might have had the opportunity to sneak down to the locker room for a quick rinse, but as Seven told it, when a summons came down from the seventy-fifth floor, it was to be heeded immediately.

Twenty was curious as to why calls from that floor were so important, but she thought better of asking her current partner. Seven was a consummate mailgirl and did her job well, explaining different aspects of the job to Twenty as they encountered them during the course of their day. However, she was unwilling to divulge any more information than was absolutely necessary, a fact which frustrated Twenty. Every pointed question about Sixteen or Mansfield fell on deaf ears and brought about an immediate change in topic. Seven's uncooperative nature didn't surprise Twenty, but it annoy her.

The elevator slowed as it approached the twenty-fifth floor. Twenty felt herself involuntarily tense up, but suppressed it as best she could and kept her body rigid in the 'Feet' position as the doors opened. Four men in business suits entered, their eyes appraising the two naked women almost immediately.

Twenty did her best to stay at attention, even as she felt the gazes of the men raking over her bare body. Despite having been ogled for almost two full days, something about being gawked at by fully clothed men in close proximity was still incredibly foreign.

And, as evidenced by the dampness of her pussy, strangely arousing.

As the newest mailgirl in Mizutomo Tower, Twenty always drew the attention of the male employees upon first sight; in addition to being unfamiliar to them, she was easily one of the most physically attractive specimens in the program. She hadn't come from the ranks of the female staff who worked clothed in the Tower, so none of them had any idea what she looked like clothed, and she knew that a majority of them preferred it that way.

The elevator doors closed and it began its ascent anew. The space inside was large enough to accommodate up to fifteen people, but all four of the men chose to stand right in front of both Seven and Twenty. None of them said anything at first, instead spending the initial few seconds brazenly staring at the mailgirls' naked bodies.

At last, one of the men broke the silence. "Twenty, I don't think I've seen you here before. Are you new?"

Twenty had been staring at the ground next to one of their polished shoes, and she resisted the urge to raise her head and meet her questioner in the eyes. "Yes, sir. My first day was yesterday."

"Mm, you are going to fit right in here, I can see that," the second man chimed in, blowing a low whistle as he leaned in for a closer look at her face.

"Got something right here I'd like to fit in her," the third man proclaimed, grabbing the front of his pants with a laugh and eliciting chuckles of agreement from his colleagues.

Out of the corner of her eye, Twenty could see Seven roll her eyes in bemusement. Sexual contact of any kind with mailgirls was prohibited at Mizutomo Tower, but employees were free to impose as much verbal abuse and harassment as they wanted. Twenty estimated that in the one and a half days she'd been working there, no less than twelve men had told her that they wanted to fuck her, one for every hour of her employment. Just that morning, a particularly bold product manager had described in obscene detail just what he would do to each of her holes if given the opportunity. In any other work environment, she would have had him reprimanded and disciplined, possibly even terminated. But at Mizutomo Tower, all she could do was nod and say, "Thank you, sir."

The fourth man, who had been alternating his gaze between Seven's breasts and Twenty's, finally spoke up. "What are your sizes?" he asked.

Seven stood a little straighter, pushing her chest out as much as she could. "These are 34Cs, sir," she responded, with a brief glance at his face.

For the longest time, Twenty had been self-conscious about her breasts. They had grown in when she was fourteen and in the ninth grade. Dealing with having such a large chest at a young age proved harrowing, and for a time she considered them getting reduced because of all the attention they drew. In the end, she'd decided against it and was pleased with her decision. They were natural and they were hers. And despite herself, she found a small sense of pride even as she endured the humiliation of being a mailgirl. "They're 32Ds, sir," she informed the man who asked, her voice quiet but firm.

The first man let out a low whistle, his eyes still locked on Twenty's rack. The third man, clearly the most forward and instigatory of the group, took a step towards her, to where he was close enough that she could smell both his cheap cologne and the sweat clinging to his brow. Despite the running air conditioning in the elevator, Twenty quickly became aware of just how hot it had become. Both Twenty and Seven's bodies were naked and sweating, but more importantly, their pussies were soaked from arousal. And everyone in that tight enclosed space could smell it.

Twenty had always taken pride in her hygiene, but working as a mailgirl had literally stripped her of almost every method of keeping herself fresh. Between perspiring from being on the move the whole day and the lubrication her pussy produced upon becoming aroused, the two showers she had taken earlier in the day might as well have counted for naught.

"You know, we could give you demerits for the state of your... uniforms," the third man said, his face inches from Twenty's, an evil glint in his eyes. "What do you say to that?"

It wasn't the first time Twenty had been threatened in her professional life; being a woman in her chosen field meant that threats were an unfortunate part of the package. However, this situation was decidedly different from the offices at Langley. She resisted turning her eyes up at the man and instead looked over at Seven for guidance.

The other mailgirl seemed less worried than Twenty with the situation, but she did meet the blonde's gaze for the briefest of moments. "If you deem it necessary, sir..."

Twenty recalled Sixteen telling her the threshold for accrued demerits before punitive action was seven. It seemed like an arbitrary number, and Twenty hadn't questioned it. She had, however asked Sixteen what the punishment for reaching that number was; the other mailgirl was less forthcoming with that information. Mistress Henckel had made reference to it in passing, stating that when it came time, Twenty would find out for herself just what seven demerits entailed. During her brief time at Mizutomo Tower, her MMU had recorded three demerits, all for delivery-time related issues. Sixteen, as the training mailgirl, had received the same amount, but Twenty was unsure how many the brunette had started with...

A dark realization formed in her head, and she had to physically restrain herself from gasping. What if what she had witnessed yesterday was the result of Sixteen receiving a seventh demerit? Was she responsible for Sixteen's disappearance? The thought made her sick to her stomach and she involuntarily reached a hand back to press against the wall of the elevator to steady herself. Her training took over and helped her suppress sudden nausea, but as she cleared her head she realized that the four men in front of her could each give her a demerit and bring her to seven total.

The second man had noticed her discomfort as well as the number displayed on her MMU. "Wouldn't look good for you on your second day on the job to get your seventh demerit, would it Twenty?" Before she could respond, he looked over at Seven. "How many do you have?"

"One, sir," Seven responded, her voice cracking slightly.

"Might have a deal we can make here, then," the third man said, moving back towards the elevator panel. The floor indicator had just flicked to "56" when he slapped the red "EMERGENCY STOP" button. The elevator shuddered, then jolted to a stop. A low, keening beeping noise started up, reverberating throughout the small space. "We've got about two minutes."

The second man pulled a handkerchief from his suit pocket and tossed it on top of the small surveillance camera in the corner of the elevator before turning back to the two naked mailgirls. "If the two of you don't want to get demerits, you'll do exactly what we say, capisce?"

Twenty had caught herself observing their actions, but as the second man spoke she averted her eyes down to the floor again. She feared what would happen next, but she honestly did not see a way out of whatever the men were going to do to them. "Y-yes, sir..." she replied, hearing Seven utter similar consent.

"And not a fucking word of this to anyone," the third man warned, the venom dripping from his voice. "Got it?"

Despite the alarm bells ringing in her head, Twenty forced herself to grind out another "Yes, sir" with Seven echoing her moments after.

The second man nodded, seemingly satisfied with the mailgirls' responses. "Good. Twenty, take a step forward and lock your hands behind your head. And close your eyes."

Trembling, Twenty did as she was told even as she heard the first and fourth man instruct Seven to turn and face the wall. She had barely gotten her fingers laced together at the nape of her neck when she felt the first pair of hands grab her breasts. This caused her to jump slightly in surprise and she had to bite her bottom lip to keep still and quiet. She felt the hands knead and fondle her breasts, and despite herself, she felt her nipples stiffen up even further at the attention. Whichever man was squeezing them noticed, because the next thing she felt was a tug and a twist on her left nipple, sending shocks of pain through her chest.

"These are so soft and natural, damn." That was the voice of the second man, identifying himself as the one groping her breasts.

"Pretty sure that's a requirement for these bimbos," replied the voice of the third man. Both of them were still in front of her as far as she could tell, and she wondered with trepidation where the third man's hands were.

Her concerns were answered moments later when she felt two large fingers glide over her well-lubricated labia, then push themselves into her drenched pussy with a wet squelch. She gasped, her body involuntarily drawing away from the intruding digits.

"Hey, no moving," the third man growled, his fingers sliding deeper into her vaginal orifice. "Hell, you should be thanking us. We're gonna help you get off."

Despite the man's clumsy attempts to fingerfuck her, there was some truth to his words, as she felt the walls of her pussy contract around his fingers in response to his thrusting them in and out of her. As his goal was not to help with her own pleasure, but rather satisfy his own perverted desires, she wasn't going to reach orgasm, no matter how wet she currently was. The only thing she could do was endure the assault.

Her Agency training had prepared her to withstand a variety of hostage situations. Some were almost extreme in methodology, and she had the remnants of bruises and scars as souvenirs. Yet none of them had gone to the extreme that she was currently experiencing. The rational part of her mind screamed at her to fight back, to stop the abuse and hurt these men who were violating her body. Two days ago, if a man had laid a hand on her, she would have broken the offending limb three different ways. Yet here she was, standing naked in an elevator with her eyes closed as a pair of strangers used her body for their pleasure.

Twenty was fairly certain that what they were doing was illegal under the rules set forth for mailgirls, but given her experiences from the previous day, she had the feeling that things like this happened more often than not and simply went unreported, or worse yet, ignored. Grimes had assured her that her time at Mizutomo Tower would be safe and controlled, but this wasn't the first time an assignment had deviated from his promises. She told herself if it wasn't such an important operation, she could have pulled out of it completely and told Grimes and the Agency to shove it. But for now, she was committed and she had to see it through.

Besides, this was easier than admitting to herself that she found being a naked mailgirl in a building full of lustful, ogling men arousing on a basic, carnal level.

An electronic buzzing noise snapped her out of her thoughts and back to the present. The hands on her body paused as a voice filled the elevator, seemingly coming from the overhead speakers.

"Elevator Eleven, this is Maintenance, is everything all right in there? We show you stuck."

"Ah, yes, we accidentally hit the emergency stop button, no worries," the fourth man's voice answered. "Couldn't figure out how to get it moving at first, but I think we're all good now."

"Gotcha. For some reason, the camera doesn't seem to be working, so we just wanted to be verify your status."

Twenty wondered if anyone actually took the time to review the surveillance footage; they would have seen the handkerchief placed over the camera lens. In the end it wouldn't have mattered, however, as it was the mailgirls' word against four male employees with no definitive visual proof of what they had done. Sure, the cover-up of the camera would look completely suspicious, but it had done its job.

The fingers in her pussy finally stopped their thrusting and she felt the third man withdraw his drenched hand. She wondered what he would do to clean up; she had her answer when she felt him wipe her juices off on the skin of her hip. The man working on her breasts gave her stiff nipples one final tug before stepping away.

"Back to 'Feet' position, the both of you."

Twenty obliged, but she refrained from opening her eyes as she had not been given permission to do so. Her pussy ached from the abuse she had just suffered; the man had not been gentle. For all his thrusting in and out of her, he had left her clit unattended, denying her from even coming close to release.

She felt the elevator hum to life again as it began its ascent anew. She heard nothing from either the men or her fellow mailgirl and was sorely tempted to open her eyes, but she kept them closed even as the elevator slowed again. She heard the doors open and felt the slight breeze of the air waft over her bare skin, causing her to shiver involuntarily. A few seconds passed before she heard the doors close again, and the elevator begin to rise.

It was still quiet, and Twenty's curiosity got the better of her. "Sir? May I open my eyes?"

There was no response.

This confused her. "Seven?"

Nothing but the subdued humming of the elevator answered her back.

Twenty finally opened her eyes to see that she was alone. The men were gone, having disembarked on the previous stop, but Seven was supposed to come with her. Her coworker's absence was alarming, but as she watched the floor numbers tick closer to "75", she knew that there was nothing she could do about it. She checked her MMU to see that the red number indicating how many demerits she had accrued was now up to four; the men hadn't added any additional demerits, but she had received one for being late to her current job. The brief encounter in the elevator had added extra minutes onto an already tight time window, and if she was going to make it without further marks, she would have to hurry.