It was the most romantic and erotic night of my life when he posed the question. Everything was perfect. He had bedded me on satin sheets covered with rose petals, the room flickering with the warm light of sweet-smelling candles. He had kissed my body all over, every little patch of skin, driving me crazy until I was a quivering, floating mass of arousal and need. He had tied my arms and legs with silk scarves, knowing how much that heightened my sensations and started all over until I could only whimper and moan in despair.

When he finally satisfied that burning need between my legs and filled me with his large cock, it felt better than anything I had felt before, and I wasn't even at the crest yet. I stared at him through eyes fogged with lust, begged him wordlessly to take me, conquer me, own me.

My heart skipped a beat when he froze, buried all the way inside me, pulled a small jewel case out from under the pillow and stared me in the eyes, his muscular body taut and so delicious looking.

"Sarah," he said, and I barely dared to breathe. "I know we haven't been together long, but you are everything I have been looking for. Will you..." He slowly opened the case.

Oh! My! God! I tried to act puzzled and hide my grin, but the pull in my cheeks started to hurt. "Yes, Jake!" I wanted to shout. "God, yes, I will!"

"Will you join the mailgirl program for me?"

*

The nerve of him! I screamed and ranted until he untied me, and I left as fast as I could, promising that I would never talk to him again. It took him all of a second to take me from soaring mile high in blissful love to hitting the ground and ripping my heart to pieces. I was Cinderella finally having met my prince charming, but he turned out to be the evil stepmother with a cock instead. It didn't help that he was the CEO and owner of the company I worked for, and that I was forced to see him every day.

I seduced Roger Black, our HR department's deputy manager, just to spite him, and I made sure his secretary Janet, the gossip hound, knew it. At the same time, I hooked up with Tony from facility management, who wasn't the brightest bulb but had a nice body and did me for ten minutes at a time in the copy room.

But the truth was, when I was finally at home alone, lying in my bed, and felt the combined spunk of my two lovers seeping from my pussy, it was Jake's cock I yearned for, Jake's hands I needed to grab my wrists and bend my body to his desires.

I finally paid attention to the mailgirl program. Before, I had more or less ignored the presence of the two dozen or so naked female couriers that streaked through the building to the glee of all our male employees and some female ones as well. It wasn't that I was clueless, but as long as I paid no attention, I could lie to myself about the sexist, cruel treatment they received. But now I did pay attention, and I finally noticed all the small details that took their job from embarrassing to downright cruel. There was the halfway mirror letting every nosy employee watch what was going on in the "mailgirl room", which was an euphemism for a debauched re-enactment of a high school locker room with public showers and even toilets out in the open. I noticed the "feeding stations" in said room, with metal bowls on the floor next to "drink dispensers" shaped like rubber cocks, and I became aware of the thousand little, unjust rules that got the girls into lose-lose situations and earned them spankings and canings.

Back when the mailgirl thing took off in Japan, most regarded the news as a hoax. I know I did. But it turned out it wasn't, and the tech company that came up with it quadrupled their sales and revenue within the first year. It was utterly misogynistic and sexist, and yet, somehow, other countries tweaked their laws until the big companies could jump on the bandwagon as well. A lot of money probably changed hands, and someone slipped an amendment to the Constitution into a stack of bills to be passed, and wham, the United States suddenly allowed that kind of "work" as well. The politicians quickly went from "no idea how that happened, but what's done is done" to "our economy needs it", and naked female couriers suddenly appeared in all the big business towers.

That they were volunteers was beyond my understanding. I watched even closer. Just to convince myself even more how right my outrage had been. I stayed after work to watch the mailgirl overseer, Tracy Lee, through the halfway mirror as she laid stripes on their toned, wiggling butts while they fought their tears.

A mailgirl's shift lasted ten hours, with two fifteen-minute breaks and a lunch break of half an hour. About half of the girls went home after that, not without a last humiliation, though, for they had to go naked down into the lobby and wait until the receptionist found time in her "busy" schedule to retrieve their clothes.

Worse, though, was life for the others. They had twenty-four/seven contracts. They never put on clothes, and they never left the building. They slept, naked as they were, on flimsy mattresses on the floor in the middle of the mailgirl changing room. They groomed themselves there for all eyes to see. Some of them worked additional shifts and were also busy on the weekends. They were a mix of sizes, skin tones and races, but they were all beautiful. So beautiful that some of our employees failed to respect the boundaries of the mailgirl rules, which almost always got them fired – and the mailgirl in question put through a torturous punishment, even though she was in no position to stop anything.

I had heard rumors that the rules were not quite that tightly enforced when it came to upper management. I could easily picture Jake's cock spearing the pretty, petite redhead that was sensuously showering right now, unaware of my watching eyes, while he told her how futile it was to complain, and how he could terminate her contract any moment and throw her out onto the street with nothing but a huge debt to the company.

For the contracts, I learned by wiggling information out of Roger, were utterly one-sided and immoral. Oh, they did promise a nice bonus, but only if the full two years were served. Termination by the girl or by the company for just cause – and the wording made sure that about anything was just cause on the company's side – meant the poor soul's payment was retroactively changed to minimum wage, and the already paid difference had to be returned with a huge "compensation fee". Talk six digits.

The mailgirls sold themselves as property to the company.

It was unthinkable.

The redhead leaned back against the tiled wall and closed her eyes. A slim hand slid down her tummy towards her hairless pussy. Her other hand started teasing her nipple while she slid two fingers slowly into her pussy. I almost thought I could hear her moan. She looked… happy. Serene. Content. She had to know somebody might be watching.

A stab of guilt flashed through my chest, but I couldn't draw my eyes away. She seemed about my own age, in her late twenties, but unlike my own body, hers had no superfluous ounce of flesh. Every inch was toned and tight, desirable and beautiful.

Suddenly, her green eyes fluttered open, and she appeared to stare right at me. Heat washed over me, and though there was no way she could see me through the mirror, I couldn't shake the feeling that she knew I was watching. Her lips parted. She pushed out her chest and her legs slid further apart. She started trembling, then twitching, and she came, right there, for the world to see.

She was number Fifteen. With a big "F".

*

"I knew you would come," Jake Harding said, with that maddening twinkle in his eyes. His shirt was halfway unbuttoned, and a wave of desire to rip it open all the way and lick my way up his toned front rushed through me. "Leave the door open, Sarah."

I held onto the knob a moment, and a blush warmed my cheeks. "It's… I'd like to talk to you in private, Jake."

"I know," he said. "But I want Janet here too. Are you coming, Janet?"

"On my way," Janet replied, and I had to step further into the office to allow her in. She closed the door and stood next to Jake.

"You're fucking Roger and that facility guy."

God, why did I come here? I should have known that Jake would want his retribution. Janet just grinned.

"I tried to get back at you," I told him with fake bravado and sat down in front of the desk. "I tried to make you jealous."

I couldn't believe what I was seeing when he looked up at Janet and gave a curt nod, to which she pulled up her pencil skirt without any shame, exposing a naked, hairless, swollen pussy, and I gasped when Jake reached out without really looking, ran a strong hand up her stocking clad thigh and slipped his index finger into her.

"It didn't work," he said. "For one, you were far from the only girl I was fucking. And the fact that you are here tells me they can't give you what I can."

I had been prepared to grovel, to beg forgiveness, to prostrate myself before him to feel his cock again, but in private. Not like this.

"I'd like you to watch," he said and stood up.

It was like watching a train wreck, and I couldn't pull my eyes away when he skillfully stripped Janet. I had never realized just how good she looked until she stood there in just her lace bra, her figure a perfect hourglass, her breasts full and tight. Her legs were endless, and a stab of envy suddenly pierced my chest. That was quickly replaced by sheer disbelief though when he pushed her roughly across the desk, let his trousers drop and sunk himself inside her, the same thing he had done with me numerous times.

"Oh yes, Jake!" Janet purred. "Do me hard! Please!"

He gripped her long hair, wrapped it around his fist and pulled her head up. I knew it hurt, in the best, most controlling way.

"There's only one way you'll feel this cock again, Sarah," he said, starting to fuck his secretary right in front of me, punctuating his words with slapping sounds.

"But..." I stammered.

"Here's," Janet moaned. "Your. Oh god, yes. Harder! Your contract!" She awkwardly slid a stack of paper in front of me.

A mailgirl contract.

My mailgirl contract.

Jake's cock hammered her pussy. He pulled her up painfully by her hair. His free hand started mauling her breasts. He pinched her right nipple and pulled hard, stretching her breast.

"Yeaaaaaahhhh!" Janet wailed, announcing her climax, a feral look in her eyes, a look I knew well, riding a wave of bliss and knowing that there was still more to come. Or cum. Jake could go on far longer than any lover I'd had before.

"You only need to sign this, and I'll fuck you right here and now," Jake grunted.

Janet shivered and had another small one.

"You're a pervert!" I gasped. My eyes flickered to the contract. "You think I'll sacrifice my career and two years of my life just for your cock?"

"Toy with your clit, Janet," he said, and his secretary immediately reached between her legs. He let her upper body down so she was resting on the desk, her lust-filled face just inches from my contract. Her moans became little mewls. "Yes, Sarah, that's what I think. Janet thinks so too. Tell her how it feels, Janet."

"It's. Oh god! It's the best! It's like no other cock I've had! It makes me – oh shit – fuck – cum… so… hard!" The last word came out as a shout, and she twitched madly, coming again just an arm's length from me.

She was beautiful.

Watching her climax was breathtaking.

I needed this too.

What good was the money I earned if I ended up dissatisfied every night?

I signed the contract, barely giving it a glance.

*

"So you're the new Eight." Tracy Lee – Madame Lee, as I had to call her now – slowly circled me, scrunching up her nose. "Another one of his horny playthings. You can stand to lose a pound or two, but the program will take care of that. Do you run?"

"Sometimes, Ma'am." It was bad enough that she was inspecting my naked body like I was cattle to be bought, but I was in the mail room, with that damned mirror exposing me to god knew who was looking, and all around me were naked young women, all of them fitter than me, more beautiful than me, giggling and snickering.

"How often is sometimes, Eight?"

I gulped hard. "Uh. Once a month?"

"Was that a question?"

"No, Ma'am."

"Then don't put it as one. How often?"

"Once a month, Ma'am."

"It shows." She pinched the small ring of softer flesh above my hips. "Well, you'll be running every day now. Present!"

A relieved breath flowed over my lips when I dropped down on my heels again. The inspection position had been a lot more strenuous than I had anticipated, and my calves had started to tremble.

She handed a can of shaving foam and a disposable razor to number Thirteen. "Get rid of the hairs next to her bum hole," she told her sharply, then turned back to me. "All fours, ass to the mirror."

I had been in a fog until this moment from the time I signed the contract. The whole weekend went by in a strange, disconnected emotional state. I gave my landlord my notice and sorted my belongings into boxes, which were collected by a crew of moving helpers Sunday evening. Everything went into the back of a large truck and would be put into storage by the company. One of them took my car keys and drove after the truck.

In the morning, after making sure that I was hairless below my head, just like the contract demanded, I was taken to work in a taxi, and I had to strip in the lobby in front of Marcia, whom I had met on occasion when I went for a drink and become loose friends with. There was no sympathy in her eyes when I handed over my last few possessions. "You can kneel over there," she had said, pointing towards an open space next to the wall where two other naked women already knelt, the faded sharpie marks designating them as Three and Nine.

That nice fog that had shielded me from the crude new reality now lifted, and I became incredibly aware of my state of nakedness, of the lewd picture I was giving, and I felt every little imperfection of my body enhanced. Shame washed over me when my knees touched the tiles, and it was magnified when Thirteen's soft fingers started spreading the shaving foam over my ass.

"Mr. Harding asked me to relay to you that he is watching," Madame Lee said.

A soft sob escaped my throat. I was dying with shame, and yet, kneeling on all fours like this, exposing my ass and pussy to Jake and whoever else wanted to see the new girl while Thirteen touched my lower body so intimately, I couldn't quench the arousal. I knew from my own glances through the mirror how I looked: like a slut ready to be mounted.

Thirteen ran a moist cloth over my perineum and through my ass crack, then she spread my butt cheeks so Madame Lee could inspect her work.

"Finally," she said. "Present!"

I got back into an upright stance on wobbly legs, feet shoulder width apart, wrists clasped behind my hands, my chest stuck out.

"Hold out your left arm."

It finally happened. She slid the band that held the MMU up my arm and touched the screen, which turned green. It pinged softly, and I shivered.

The MMU, the Mailgirl Monitoring Unit, was much like a smartphone, but its only purpose was to inform me of delivery tasks and their deadlines, track my whereabouts and count my demerit points.

"Ten demerits for showing up improperly groomed on your first day," Madame Lee said, holding her smartphone over my MMU.

The MMU buzzed, flashed orange and showed the number ten for a few seconds. She looked expectantly at me.

It took me a moment to remember, but the short mailgirl handbook had been clear what I had to do. "This mailgirl thanks you for pointing out her mistake and helping her improve her behavior."

She smiled for a moment, but then she stepped closer, and her palm suddenly touched my vulva. I almost took a step backwards, but a soft hand at the small of my back prevented it long enough until I remembered that this wasn't allowed. Madame Lee had the authority to touch us mailgirls in any way she deemed necessary to fulfill her duties.

She looked me in the eyes, and her palm begin pressing down on my vulva, massaging my pussy lips. I could see it in her dark, almond-shaped eyes then, the delight she took in wielding her power over women who were younger, taller and shapelier than her. "Tell us the mailgirl mantras," she demanded coldly.

Did I think I felt shame before? It got so much worse now because my body reacted to her stimulation, and she could feel the moisture it produced. Another sob escaped me, even while my vulva rocked against her palm out of my control. It's not like I had ever been into girls, but the exposure and the knowledge that Jake was watching my debasement made my emotions run havoc.

The buzzing of my MMU ripped me from my introspection.

"Ten demerits for failing to adhere to a direct order," she said coldly, not stopping her kneading.

"This mailgirl thanks you again for pointing out her mistake and helping her improve!" I hastily gasped and tried to recall the exact words I had crammed into my head over the weekend. "A mailgirl always smiles. A mailgirl addresses all her superiors as Sir or Ma'am. A mailgirl is always well groomed and pleasant smelling to please her superiors. A mailgirl never hides her body. A mailgirl's only desire is to please. A mailgirl is always polite." The stimulation was getting too much. I panicked, sensing a climax rising far faster than I was used to, and I didn't want to cum right here, for everyone to see, while I was demeaned by Madame Lee and demeaning myself by reciting the stupid, misogynistic "mantras" to her.

"A mailgirl…" I gasped, but the sparks traveling through my lower body made it harder and harder to focus on what was supposed to say. Her hand started sliding up and down, pressing my pussy lips against my clit. "A mailgirl-" I tried again, only to end up moaning. Her ministrations got faster and faster. She knew what she was doing, and she reveled in my desperation. "A mailgirl-" I whined, but it got too intense, and the next moment, I fell to my knees and curled into a ball while the nastiest, most intense climax of my life washed through me.

I was standing again five minutes later, sweaty and reeking of arousal, my legs still weak, and Madame Lee held her phone to my MMU once more. "Ten demerit points," she said very slowly and waited for my device to buzz. "For not completing a task."

That made thirty, and I realized that thirty were five more than the threshold after which a punishment had to be applied. Tears started trickling down my cheeks, but I forced myself to thank her, terrified of adding even more.

"This mailgirl thanks-"

"Shut up," Madame Lee snapped. "You'll have the opportunity to thank me after your punishment. Get over the desk. I know you've watched this through the mirror, so you know the drill."

Even though I had known that it would come to this at some point, I had told myself that it would take time. That I'd follow the rules and try not to amass demerits. I never figured how easy it would be for Madame Lee to trip me up and assign me points. I leaned over her desk and placed my upper body on it. The cool surface even felt nice against my heated skin. I shuffled my legs as far apart as I could, not waiting for her order to do so, and I reached forward until my arms were extended.

"Fifteen," she said.

I whimpered when the pretty redhead I had watched that day crouched down in front of me and put her hands in mine, gripping me tightly. Guilt washed over me for having spied on her and judged her. "Don't let go of my hands, Eight," she said softly, and there was a nice warmth in her green eyes.

I could only nod.

"Fifteen smacks," Madame Lee proclaimed behind me, and then my body rocked forward while a sharp snap cut through the air. The pain came with a little delay, but it wasn't as bad as I had feared. In fact, it was less bad than the humiliation of getting spanked liked a school girl by this older woman. Smack. Smack. The pain got a little sharper with each swat to my ass, and heat exploded on my butt cheeks. Her hits trailed lower, and then she hit the soft skin where my ass merged with the tops of my thighs, and I cried out sharply.

If it weren't for Fifteen's hands, my own would have shot back to protect my ass, which would have, no doubt, earned me more punishment. I gripped her hands harder and cried through the remaining swats, and I felt weirdly grateful that she helped me stay in position.

A little later, now decorated with the number "Eight" written in black sharpie on my hip, breast and lower back, I was back in line in Present position and Madame Lee was inspecting the rest of the girls.

She didn't find any grooming issues with them, but she didn't allow us to relax like was normal at the end of the inspection. She started walking up and down the line of mailgirls instead, looking at each of as she passed by. "We are establishing a new rule this week," she proclaimed when she reached the end of the line and turned around. "Starting tomorrow morning, as part of the inspection routine, each of you will be asked about the orgasms she had since the last inspection and how it was achieved. You will answer the question truthfully and in detail, or you will earn an automatic thirty demerits."

I wasn't the only one who drew in a hissing breath.

"Just in case you are wondering, yes, your contracts allow us to ask any questions about your sexual history. The information will be added to your profile."

More hissing breaths. It took me a moment to understand, but I remembered that Roger had shown me a mailgirl profile. Anybody in the company could access it. The fact that it contained naked pictures and all our vital information, from weight and eye color to breast size, was demeaning enough.

"Eight!" she suddenly bellowed, and I yelped a little. "Name the last three men you had intercourse with!"

The question hit me like a punch in the guts, and I felt nauseous. She couldn't demand that, could she?

But her eyes twinkled at me, cruel and excited, ready to dish out the thirty demerit points and put me through another humiliating round of punishment. She reached for her phone.

"Roger Black," I admitted, fresh tears wetting my cheeks.

She typed the name into her phone.

"T-Tony O'Donnel."

One of the girls gasped, but I didn't dare look who.

Madame Lee stepped closer, and we both knew what she waiting for.

"J-Jake," I whimpered. "Harding."

Someone giggled.

My MMU buzzed. "Your profile has been updated," it read.

"You all have fifteen minutes until shift starts," Madame Lee said and pocketed her phone. "Eight, you'll be shadowing Fifteen this week. Fifteen, you know the drill. You'll also earn any demerits your shadow accumulates and vice versa."

"Yes, Madame Lee," I said with a wedge in my throat.

"Of course, Madame Lee," Fifteen said.

Madame Lee left the room, and the tension drained out of me with a rushing breath. "Fuck!" I gasped.

"I'm sorry," a soft voice said, and I found myself looking into Fifteen's eyes again.

"For what?" I asked.

She bit her lip. I tried not to stare at the cherry red nipples on her pert breasts.

"I always get lots of demerits," she said, sitting down on the tiles.

It would have felt awkward to keep standing, so I sat down too.

"Why's that?" I asked.

"I'm a mouthy little bitch," she said, meeting my gaze. "I can't help it. I run off my mouth, and before I know it, I've got a few dozen demerits."

There was something strange in her eyes which I couldn't place. "So you get punished a lot?"

"All the time. Madame Lee already let me have it at the end of my Saturday shift, or you'd have seen her go all out on me."

I gulped. "Go all out?"

Fifteen sighed, then she turned around and got on all fours.

"Oh fuck!" I hissed when I saw the dark, raised stripes on her pale, soft buttocks. "Did she…"

"Cane me?" she turned back and sat down again. "Yeah. It fucking hurt."

I almost got teary-eyed at the thought of such cruelty, but then I noticed what she was doing, that her hand was busy between her thighs and rubbing small circles over the top of her vulva. She was diddling herself right in front of me, just like she had done that day in the showers.

"F-Fifteen?" I asked, still getting used to addressing another human as a number. "Do you enjoy the punishments?"

She bit her lip again, not answering, but her fingers sped up.

"Oh my god," I whispered, unable to look away. Her eyes glazed over with rapture, her body started trembling and her chest heaving, and she came, without a hint of shame.

I jumped up and went to one of the sinks, where I splashed cool water on my face.

What had I signed up for? Well, I was soon going to find out...