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Review This Story || Author: Cambridge Caine

Mailroom Girls

Part 1

Her name was Kirsten Allen, but at work she was simply "Mailroom Girl #12."  Her work uniform was an armband and nothing else.  Her job duties were simple: she was to deliver mail and to be barefoot and nude while she was at it.  Her armband held a company iPhone.  She wasn't allowed to use it, rather it served as an electric leash that gave her assignments and dictated her movements.  She'd just finished her assignment so her armband displayed her number on a kelly green field, signifying her availability for assignments.

Kirsten's bare feet padded softly on the floor as she returned to the mail room, walking on one side of the corridor in case someone  important needed the thoroughfare.  She'd been on the run all day and  her body shone with with a light coat of dried sweat.  She was "getting salty" as the girls in the mail room joked and she couldn't wait for the chance to wash up. She was also incredibly thirsty.  She'd passed several water coolers, but as of last week the mail room girls had been forbidden from using  them.  Human resources had put out special bowls they were supposed to use, but the regular employees were the only ones who could fill them and they'd been conspicuously bad at remembering to do so.

Kirsten spotted a few inches of water in the dish by Communications and her heart leapt.  She went to the dish and got on her knees, placing her hands on either side of the bowl as they'd been instructed to do at the training brunch.  Her bare nipples brushed the floor, and she could feel the tiny particles of dust.  She lowered her face to the bowl and began lapping.  The room temperature tap water was stale and tasted faintly of the sweat and spit of other girls, but she was too thirsty to care.

As Kirsten drank she heard two the reassuringly deep bass of two executives in the hall. If they saw her, they made no comment - the sight of a naked girl crawling at a water dish had long since lost it's novelty.  Kirsten pretended to lap, but really she was listening, desperate for news of the company.

"Any word from Bill's office?"

"Nah, he's been in meetings all day."

Bill - that was Bill Martinez, the Vice President.  The Pilot Program was his brainchild and the word was he was going to pull the plug on it today.  Kirsten had been on pins and needles all day, even the pressures of her job couldn't distract her from her yearning for word of the decision that would restore her back to her old life.

"I can take it or leave it.  Some of the mail room girls are alright, but let's face it, they're kind of dumb when it comes to it."

The executives turned a corner and their conversation turned indistinct.  Kirsten bristled, her body gripped by frustrated anticipation. she wasn't offended, she was long past that, but she was desperate for word.  Thirsty as she was, she left a portion of water for the next girl who might need it.

Four weeks ago, prior to the pilot program, Kirsten had been the Events Coordinator, responsible for the logistics of events and galas.  As of the program, her duties had been suspended like those of the other 11 participants.  If you'd told her then what she was doing now she'd have been incredulous and offended, but like a boiling frog she'd been lulled into her situation by gradual degrees.

When Kirsten had first heard of the Pilot Program she'd thought it sounded completely stupid.  When she name had been selected for participation, she'd been horrified and even thought of quitting.  She had a masters degree for god's sake, she didn't see how being made to deliver mail was in anyway way an asset to the company.  Her supervisor, Mr. Butler had talked her into it.

"It may seem silly, but there's a method to the madness.  We're experimenting with new ways to think about business - if this new structure works we'll hire some full-time mail room people and train them accordingly, if it doesn't we'll pull the plug and say no more of it.  Either way, you'll get a $10,000 dollar bonus.  Besides, if this goes well, we'll save millions."  Then, the kicker: "This will help the company.  Think of how that will look on your performance review.."

So she'd complied and now she was temporarily mail room girl.  She wasn't sure precisely how this would help anything, but it was a relief to know there was a reason...

Beep!  Her armband chimed, a sound she'd come to loathe.  She glanced  at the screen - a direct package transfer request from Mr. Dunn in Marketing.  A timer appeared, counting down from four minutes.  If she missed her deadline,  she'd gain one demerit for every ten seconds she was late by.  Usually  the deadlines were doable, but every so often they were nigh  impossible.  She hurried off towards the Marketing department, obeying the demands of her electronic leash.

Kirsten's breasts bounced as she trotted up the stairs.  The stairs added two minutes to the run, but the girls had recently been banned from using the elevators.  The back stairwell was dingy and dim.  A collection of bare footprints lay in the sooty dust, the tracks of the other mail room girls before her.  Kirsten glanced up at the stairwell security camera and briefly wondered how many times a day her naked servitude had been captured on camera.  She made a mental note to check up on that the minute she resumed her regular job duties.

Another girl entered the stairwell, heading down as Kirsten headed up.  It was her friend Cristina Hernandez, now rechristened girl #4.  Cristina's slim body glistened with sweat and her dark hair was wild with flyaway strands.  She had small breasts that were mostly covered by her dark areolas.  That fact, combined with her peaked nipples had earned her the name of "Chocolate Chips" behind her back.  She'd always been quite and shy, but she actually seemed to be having an easier time adjusting to the program than Kirsten.

Christina carried a black rod in her mouth, lengthwise.  It was a message tube, the container reserved for the most high priority communications.  Carrying the tube in her mouth made Christina look like a dumb retriever, but Kirsten could hardly judge as she'd carried dozens of similar tubes about the office in days past.  Christina was similarly embarrassed.  She and Kirsten exchanged ironic "can you believe this" looks.

Though Christina had the tube in her mouth, she managed to speak around it.  "Did you hear?  Pilot program's ending!  Number four heard it while she was in Arlene's office."  Arlene was the head of human resources.

Christina and Kirsten exchanged happy looks - they could go back to their jobs, go back to wearing clothes.  Then Cristina looked at her arm band and rushed off down the stairs.

Kirsten arrived at Mr. Dunn's office with two seconds to spare.  The armbands registered locations, so the timer stopped when she arrived.  When the timers went into standby, the girls had to stay at their present location until they were released by the executive who'd summoned them (or an authorized representative thereof).  Reggie, Mr. Dunn's assistant, had a message tube ready for her.  He tapped it on her armband, which beamed her new directives and started a new countdown.

"That's a rush, so you'd better hurry," said Reggie.  The timer was running, but of course Kirsten couldn't leave until Reggie put the message tube in her mouth.  Reggie yawned, and deliberately waited for a full thirty seconds while he leered at Kirsten's naked breasts.  He'd always been a creep and he'd asked her out at least three times prior to the program.

Finally, Reggie put the tube in her mouth, allowing Kirsten to race off.  She was already thirty seconds late on a rush - she had the impossible task of running across the office to suite #101 in ninety seconds--

Suite #101... shit.  That was Mr. Martinez's office.  Kirsten ran even faster, dashing as fast as her bare feet could carry her.  Mr. Martinez had been an intimidating figure when she'd been doing budget presentations, fully clothed in her old role.  The concept of grovelling before him as a naked mail room girl was terrifying.  For the thousandth time that day, she cursed herself for ever having been stupid enough to sign up for her current role.

Kirsten arrived at Mr. Martinez's office and the timer stopped when she was within a yard of his doorway.  She was twenty five seconds late, and she cursed Reggie for earning her three demerits, which registered on her armband's screen like scarlet letters.  Mr. Martinez's secretary wasn't at her desk, but the door was open a crack.  Kirsten followed procedure and timidly crept into Mr. Martinez's office.

There were rumors that Mr. Martinez had based his office on Mussolinis, but that was impossible - he'd moved in after the space had been rented.  What was true was that the office was large, spartan and intimidating, and that coupled with the daunting force of Mr. Martinez's personality made it a scary place.  Mr. Martinez sat by the window at his desk.  He was backlit by the midday sun, gloriously radiant like a god.

She'd hoped to get an insight into the events of the company, but he was speaking in rapid fire Spanish.  She couldn't even tell if the call was business or personal.  She stood before the desk for a minute, but Mr. Martinez was looking out the window and he had his back to her.  Finally, she nervously cleared her throat.  Mr. Martinez turned, irritated, still on the phone, and emphatically gestured that she should sit in the corner.  Kirsten retreated to the furthest corner, Mr. Martinez turned back to the window, continued talking without dropping a syllable.

Kirsten knelt in the corner, a good thirty feet away from the desk.  She knelt on the cold, marble floor and folded her hands primly over her pussy.  The air conditioner was on full blast and her sweat quickly turned cold.  She shivered and goosebumps rose on her bare flesh as she waited for Mr. Martinez to conclude his business.  She glanced around the office but there wasn't much to see - an Eames chair, a mirrored wall, and an bubbling decorative fountain across the room. 

Kirstin couldn't help but notice her reflection in the mirror.  She was naked, sweaty and shivering, her body smudged with stray marks of dust and printer toner.  She held the tube gently in her mouth, like a dog waiting to give its master a newspaper.  She was ashamed to note that she noticed her hair first - her mad dash to Martinez's office had left it windswept and disheveled, she wished she could straighten it out, but she didn't want to be caught fidgeting.  She thought of her feminist studies class in college and wondered what her professor would say if she could see her now.

Time crawled.  The office had no clocks and her armband was locked out, so there was no way for her to keep track of how long she'd been kneeling there.  She just knew that her knees were sore and she was going out of her mind listening to Mr. Martinez's inscrutable Spanish and the incessant bubbling of the decorative fountain.  No ordinary exec would have been allowed to keep a mail room girl out of circulation for so long, but the ordinary rules didn't apply to Mr. Martinez.  She tried to ignore the pain in her knees by thinking about something else.

And then Kirsten realized she had to pee, and urgently.  She'd fought down the urge earlier in the day, but now it was back with a vengeance.  This was bad - her need, combined with the water she'd drank and the sound of the fountain felt like the force of a firehose was pushing against the walls of her bladder.  She squirmed and clenched her knees, but it felt like she was going to burst.  She desperately looked around for a way out, but there was nothing she could do but wait for Mr. Martinez.  She considered begging his permission to use the bathroom, but the concept of interrupting his phone call frankly terrified her.

So she waited and dug her nails into her palms and squinched her toes under her bottom - she wanted to grind her teeth, but the message tube kept her from doing that, of course.  Mr. Martinez continued his interminable conversation, completely oblivious to her agony.  Every passing second felt like a hellish eternity and she fought back tears of utter frustration and helplessness as time slowed to a crawl.

She tried to keep calm, used breathing techniques from yoga, but the minutes dragged out like a knife and it felt like a rioting city was pushing against her body form the inside.  And then the sense abated.  For a moment she felt utter relief, but then she felt the warmth on her thighs, smelled the salty, earthy scent and heard the piddle on the tile.  She was pissing herself.

She tried o stop the flow, but it was too late.  She could only watch, horrified as the gushing jet of urine shot out of her and onto the floor, contributing to an ever growling lake on the floor.  It looked like someone had spilled a big gulp of Mountain Dew.  The urine pooled at her knees and feet, the sweltering heat from it rose like steam and warmed her chilled flesh.

Her pussy twitched twice to release the last ounce of fluid into the stinking puddle, then the stream abated.

Kirsten cried tears of utter, helpless mortification as she looked at the veritable lake of urine she was kneeling in.  All of the achievements in her life, her sacrifices for the company had been obliterated by this - she'd pissed on the floor in the corner like a poorly trained animal.

Her self-loathing went beyond mere fear of punishment or humiliation.  What if Mr. Martinez was so furious that he took out his frustrations on the girls in the Pilot program, extending it, or making it worse or something.  How could she ever look at the other girls again if they suffered because of her slip.  How could she stand it if word of her accident spread around the office.  And as she considered all these things will staring down at her mess, a terrible idea came to her...

She could drink it up.

The idea seemed unthinkable, but then so much of her current job would have been implausible a month before.  Mr. Martinez was still on the phone and if she drank up the puddle... and suddenly she wasn't thinking of if she could do it, but rather if she could do it before Martinez got off the phone.

And before she had time to talk herself out of it, she spit out the message tube and transitioned to all fours, hands and knees in the puddle.  She trust her lips into her piss puddle,  lapping and sucking for all she was worth.  The puddle was warm and foamy, but the scene, though strong and gross, was at least familiar.  She'd had her whole life to get used to it, after all.  She lapped at the mess.  She was able to suppress her gag reflex, but very little liquid actually got in her mouth.  It was different from the water bowls, the puddle was too shallow for her to get any purchase on it.

She pursed her lips and used them like a straw to suck up the urine as fast as possible.  Some got in her eyes, but she had to keep them open to see what she she was doing.  She sucked in a mouthful, swallowed bitterly and sucked again, desperate to get the job done.  With every slurp and gasp and  gag she felt sure that the noise would alert Mr. Martinez, and that he'd see what she'd been reduced to, but the drone of his phone conversation remained constant and bland.

She kept sucking up the pee, but the puddle kept spreading to the point where it seemed bigger than before.  She was growing full on the mess.  She remembered that a bladder held something like sixteen ounces of fluid and she had trouble downing a large cup off coffee in one sitting.  She forced herself to keep drinking, moving her face around the fluid like a shop vac.

And then she was was done.  It felt like she'd consumed gallons.  All that was left of the puddle was a damp streak that rapidly dried and disappeared with the air conditioning.  Her mouth tasted like piss and dust, and pine sol cleanser.  She felt like vomiting, but the idea of making another mess to clean up was intolerable.  She forced her stomach to settle, grabbed the message tube again, and resumed her former pose.  Her body burned with shame, her stomach was swollen and distended  (she could feel liquid slosh in her gut) and her knees ached and her face and hair were wet with with piss.  She forced herself to smile pleasantly so as not to raise suspicion.  She knelt there for a seeming eternity, and then at long last, Mr. Martinez hung up the phone.  He looked up at her, surprised that she was there.

"Oh, I forgot I had you..."  he gestured for her to approach her desk.

Kirsten rose and walked to the desk, taking shaky steps on cramped legs.  Mr. Martinez held out his hands and she placed the message gently on his palm with her mouth.  He opened it, glanced at it, then tossed the message into the shredder.

"Didn't mean to keep you waiting, but hey, at least you got a nice break."  He smiled at her while she screamed inside. 

He pulled a card from his desk and scanned it against her arm band, which reset her timer, freeing her from the office.  He unwrapped a Reese's cup and held it out to her on his palm.  "For your trouble."

She bent down and ate the five cent candy off his hand.  It was hardly a reward suitable for what she'd been through, but she forced herself to make a grateful noise.  Mr. Martinez stroked her hair and she thrilled at his approval even, even as she hated herself for her weakness.

Mr. Martinez dismissed he with a gesture even as he turned to make another call  Kristen walked out of the office on legs that were still unsteady.  She glanced at her armband.  She'd been kneeling on the tiles for over two hours.

"Oh, and #12..." Kirsten froze at the sound of Mr. Martinez's voice.  Had he seen after all?

"I wiped your demerits clean.  Just my way of saying thanks for waiting."

Kirsten curtsied gratefully and hurried out of there.  Her private shame would remain her secret.  She hurried back to the halls.  She wanted to cry, wanted to puke, wanted to wash her pee out of her face and hair, but then her arm band beeped again and she ran ran to the receiving dock to get her next assignment.  Two more hours till quitting time.

Review This Story || Author: Cambridge Caine
Back to Content & Review of this story Next Chapter Display the whole story in new window (text only) Previous Story Back to List of Newest Stories Next Story Back to BDSM Library Home