Awakenings

It had been over six weeks since beginning my new life as a mailgirl and I was already seeing changes in my body as I examined it in my bedroom mirror. It was becoming an athlete's body - toned and fit, built for movement. This had become part of my morning ritual, examining my nude body from every angle. It was my work uniform after all and I wanted to make sure it looked its best. I'd used to do the same thing back in the days when I'd dressed for work, checking my outfit in the mirror before leaving for the day. This is no different, I told myself, although I knew that it was. I'd never felt the same sense of nervous excitement and anticipation in those days when checking out what others would be seeing at work. Even after six weeks those feelings hadn't diminished.

I always arrived at work by seven each morning, Monday through Friday, and was on duty as a mailgirl from eight until six. Barbara often asked one of us to stay late and serve drinks to executives in the tenth floor lounge as they unwound from the day and I always volunteered. I didn't mind it since it gave me an excuse to remain naked and I soon discovered that what Mariko had said was true: a mailgirl is seen by all yet remains invisible. These execs openly discussed their work without any thought as to what I might hear. I was just a lowly mailgirl after all, and I soon knew things about current projects and future plans for the company that few others below the ninth floor knew.

Barbara also started asking one of us to come in for a few hours on Saturday and I volunteered for that as well. I worked long days, came home tired, and went to bed early. The next day I always woke up reinvigorated, anxious to get back to work.

I'd stopped wearing clothes in my apartment about a month ago. The more time I spent out of them the more constrictive they felt when I put them on. Many days the only time I wore anything at all was on the commute to and from work, and even then I wore the bare minimum. After spending time each day for a couple of weeks deciding what to wear to work I realized that was silly, so I just started wearing a simple cotton dress held up by a couple of thin straps and just long enough to keep me legal. I wore nothing beneath it. I'd even stopped wearing shoes for the commute and remained barefoot throughout the day. I was reverting to a simpler, more primitive state, and despite the subservient nature of my job there's a kind of freedom in that.

The only exception was on Fridays. That was the day each week that Kelly and I went out for drinks after work to blow off steam so I always dressed up on that day. I really needed that interaction with her because otherwise my social life was non-existent.

A couple of weeks after starting as a mailgirl I was invited to a party by my friends from work and it'd been awful. They all knew I was a mailgirl, although none of them had seen me naked yet since they all worked in another part of the DDE complex. The night had been awkward and uncomfortable. My best friend Stephanie barely spoke to me and when she finally did it was to go on a harangue about how I was helping put the cause of women's rights back a century. My other friends either tiptoed around the subject of my new job or made lewd and suggestive comments about it. By the time I left that night I vowed never to do it again and I hadn't been invited back out with them anyway.

So my Friday nights with Kelly were important to me; important to both of us really. Her relationship with her boyfriend was on the rocks because of the job and she was too embarrassed about being a mailgirl to even want to see her old friends, so I was her crying shoulder.

Kelly was struggling with being a mailgirl. It wasn't the nudity, which she actually kind of enjoyed, or the physical demands of the job. What rankled her was being treated as an inferior by people who often lacked her education, intelligence, and work ethic. She hated that she couldn't interact with the other tower employees as an equal and had to bow and scrape before everyone in the building. And she really hated Barbara who came down hard on Kelly every time she tried to deviate from her script as a lowly naked servant girl.

As for me, I was thriving as a mailgirl. It was such an incredible feeling taking off my dress in the locker room each morning knowing I'd be spending the day working naked in a building filled with well-dressed people. What made it even more of a turn on was the fact that I had virtually **** in the matter. I knew now that I had a submissive streak a mile wide and everything that Kelly hated about the job - the **** servitude, the kneeling, the loss of autonomy - were all things that excited me. I don't know where this desire to be controlled and put on display for all to see came from but it now felt like it had been hardwired into my system all along. It had simply taken Barbara to flip the switch and activate it.

I'd also come to believe there was an artistic aspect to what we were doing that went beyond just sexual titillation. There's beauty in the nude female form in motion and I'd begun to think of our movement through the building as a kind of performance art. Maybe that's just a lie I told myself to feel better about what I was doing, but every time I saw Kelly pass by on her way somewhere I was struck by the fleeting beauty she brought to an otherwise prosaic work environment. I sometimes wished that I could leave my body and see myself through others' eyes as I provided those same brief glimpses of feminine allure. I frequently thought of the grace that Mariko brought to every aspect of her job and I sought to emulate that.

I even liked the demanding physical aspects of the job. After a slow start, and a lot of browbeating by Barbara to get them to use us, most people in the tower had finally come around to the idea of using mailgirls for the majority of their interdepartmental communications and deliveries. With just two of us serving the entire building Kelly and I were kept busy these days. After a great deal of tweaking our deadlines had been adjusted to the point where we were kept moving at a brisk pace but without having to kill ourselves trying to meet them. After a lot of sore muscles early on my body now felt like a finely tuned machine and I seldom failed to meet a deadline.

It was almost time to leave for work so I reluctantly pulled my dress on. I longed to leave it behind, to leave the apartment without it. I thought often about what it would feel like to live my life without any access to clothes at all, to be balanced constantly on the precipice of humiliation without a lifeline. Even more, I longed for someone to **** me to do it since I knew I couldn't do it on my own. What both excited and frightened me was that I did know someone with the power to make me do it. Someone who had already taken a normal girl and had laid her bare before both her fellow workers and herself, forcing her to discover things about herself she'd never known before.

Barbara had the power to make me do that if she desired. That and much more.