A Very Merry Mailgirls XMas Ch. 03

Sophie had led Erin and Catherine to an out-of-the-way suite a good hike from the 6th Floor's executive offices, and Erin had been thankful for the distance; it felt as if she were putting Ben and their phone call as far away as possible. As Sophie let them in, through a locked door, the motion sensor lights clicked on, and lit their way to an office in the corner. Though Mistress Rei had expressly forbidden them from going into USF's offices, Sophie had interpreted the restriction to mean offices in use by actual USF employees. This office, with its thick, shag carpet, overstuffed couch, and unadorned walls, had belonged to Marvin Parnell, who'd retired in November. Erin now felt that it was now Sophie toeing the line about what was allowed and what wasn't, but she followed along all the same. At worst, she'd be punished by Mistress Rei - a scenario she'd literally just masturbated over.

None of them was so bold as to collapse on the couch. But, they did liberate the couch's matching throw pillows, and bedded down on the floor. After last night - on the rock hard floor of the locker room - the soft carpet beneath Erin's body felt luxurious. Sophie dimmed the lights, too. Another luxury the girls weren't afforded in the locker room. The truth of it, however, was that Erin probably could have fallen asleep anywhere at that point.

While Erin had slumbered, Sarah had joined her mother, her sister, and her stepsister in the office. She was there now, as Erin awoke. Plaza Seven hadn't joined her, but the unoccupied strap-on had, and lay by the door with its own stories to tell.

There'd be no party in Human Resources again tonight, no second act for the Holiday-specific allowance of booze and treats. The girls would all go back to their normal routines tomorrow, though those normal routines would start with their usual nine o'clock bedtime tonight. Erin, for her part, was thankful for it; even after her afternoon nap, she wasn't sure she had it in her for another night of hard-partying, hard-drinking, and other associated activities. They'd still have free-run of the building until then, but the two Scott sisters' smartphones ticked down, minute by minute, to seven o'clock, when all of the mailgirls and their visitors were required to report to the locker room for dinner.

Dinner was - once again - mailgirl chow, emptied from industrial-sized cans into the troughs at each end of the locker room. Erin got to her hands and knees alongside Catherine and Sophie, and gobbled down a significantly larger portion than she'd been able to stomach at prior meals. She was hungry. She'd worked up an appetite. And the chow itself had improved, at least in her own mind; it had gone from vile and revolting that first night to little worse than bland and inoffensive. As she ate, she was buoyed by the fact that - unlike the other girls - the visitors wouldn't have to make weight tomorrow morning.

Sophie cleaned her off afterwards. And, she, Sophie. Up on her knees, she performed fellatio upon a water bottles affixed to the wall, and washed down her dinner. As she stood, and turned for the sinks, she was met by Mailgirl Number Fourteen.

"I'm sorry," Fourteen offered earnestly. "I'm sorry about before. With my father."

"It's...it's alright," Erin replied.

"He just picks on the other girls when I'm around. When I'm not around, too. He's one of the worst."

From the stories that Erin had heard, she found that hard to believe. Not when the likes of Captain Buttplug and the Binder Clip Bitch were haunting Park Place.

"It's okay," she assured the other girl. "I knew what this was."

"Maybe," Fourteen said skeptically. "Still..."

"It's okay," Erin repeated. "No worse for the wear." This wasn't entirely true; an inspection in the mirror had shown that Sarah's bite had left a pretty good black-and-blue.

"He's such an asshole," the girl went on. She nodded towards her mother across the locker room, "And she's not much better."

Erin nodded. "Yeah, the whole thing with her, with him - it just seems extra messed up."

"He was one of the executives pushing for this," Fourteen explained. "Way back around this time last year. And I think she was in his ear. I don't know if their...weird...their weird thing was going on before. You know, behind closed doors."

"It's not behind closed doors anymore."

"It's not," she agreed. Fourteen looked around the room - to the mailgirls, the mailgirls from the Plaza, and the mailgirls' visitors. "When it got here, to Jersey, I thought maybe I could stop it. He got me my job here out of business school. And, in retrospect, I should have gone somewhere else. But the money was crazy. And the mailgirl money was crazier."

"I've heard."

"I thought - maybe, maybe - if I volunteered, it might sink in with him. What he was doing to these girls. But it just didn't sink in. If anything, I think he's worse."

"Fourteen, it's okay. I mean, for me. I knew what this was. I knew what I was getting into. I had to see it for myself, and experience it for myself. Your father - without him, I don't know if I'd have got the full taste of it all."

"I know, but..."

"It's okay. It's not your fault. I'm messed up, myself. I wanted this. I think I want this."

Fourteen looked a little relieved. "Okay. And...it's not uncommon. It's not uncommon to want this, once you're in it. It's just intense."

"It is."

"Like, I wanted to end this, when I was outside looking in. And I wanted no part of it, nothing to do with it, at the beginning. And now? I don't know. There's one part of me that wants Congress to shut it all down next month, with the Mailgirl Hearings and all, and I get free. But..."

"But you're not sure anymore."

Fourteen nodded.

"You guys know about Lindsey Pickering, right?"

Fourteen gave her a blank look.

"The Congressgirl from Illinois? The one who got her dad's seat?"

"Okay."

"She and Grace Burgmeier were the ones really going after it. Them and the other Whitestocking groups." Burgmeier was a nationally-recognized attorney, with a history of taking on high-profile feminist cases. An absolute bulldog, she'd become one of the leading voices in opposition to the mailgirl concept in the US, and now represented a dozen or two dozen ex-mailgirls engaged in multiple suits from Seattle to San Francisco to New York. Including a few ex-mailgirls from USF.

"Right, that I know. Did something happen?"

"Well, the United American Women suit is blowing up. Turns out the girl they were championing was a plant. And some of the big firms here in New York, the ones with mailgirl programs of their own - Hobson Morgan McNamara, Young & Unglaub - got an audience with Pickering. And they worked her."

"Worked her? What do you mean?"

"I'm not sure, exactly. But she's doing this, too. She's doing a week as a mailgirl at some big retailer in Chicago."

"I didn't even know that Chicago had companies with mailgirls."

"It might be the only one. For now. But the lawyers - and some of the Blackstocking people - got her to a place where she felt that the only way she'd have a full picture, and the only way she'd really understand, is to live it herself."

"No fucking way..."

"Yup," Erin said. "She's doing a week. Starting tomorrow, through the end of the year."

"Jesus," Fourteen replied.

"I'm just saying. She's going to come out of it either fired up to shut the whole thing down even more than she was before..."

"...or she's going to get it," Fourteen finished. "She's going to get it, isn't she?"

"I'm the wrong person to ask."

By the sinks, Angela Giannini was engaged in a similar round of apologies to Catherine. From the look on Catherine's face, she wasn't having it.

The locker room - so spotless and Spartan when Erin and Catherine had first arrived - was a mess. Littered about were sex toys and sex toy packaging. Some were being put to good use. Mailgirl Number Nine had a sleek, grape-colored vibrator buzzing against her pussy in the far corner, and Mailgirl Seventeen had been servicing Mailgirl Eighteen with another out in the service corridor when Erin had retuned for dinner. Other toys, though, were just scattered here, there, and everywhere - likely wet and sticky, and likely already low on batteries. Mistress Rei - still in her "Christmas-time dominatrix" outfit from that morning - would be collecting them from the girls shortly, and keeping them safe until the next Saturday night of relative freedom.

As disgusting as this might have seemed to Erin twenty-four hours earlier, the toys had very quickly become communal property - no different than the toothbrushes and sticks of underarm deodorant. She wasn't going to touch the anal beads with a stick, but she was fascinated with the massive, ice-cream-cone-shaped "personal massager" that Number Ten had unwrapped that morning. Unwrapped, and then used at the sinks at lunchtime. Erin had never experimented with that sort of toy before, and she doubted - unless she were to become Mailgirl Number Twenty here at Park Place - she'd get another chance. Sure, she could buy one back in LA. But that wasn't going to happen, and she was here now...

She picked it up, the weight surprising in her hands. There was a long electrical cord dangling from one end; this was the plug-in variety of sex toys. The only place in the locker room it could be used was, in fact, by the sinks, as the sinks were equipped with sockets for the girls' hair dryers.

It was Sarah who caught her. And it was Sarah who called her out.

"What do you got there?" Sarah teased in a sing-song voice.

"Oh," Erin answered, startled. "Just looking."

"Just looking?"

Erin was embarrassed. But, hadn't she moved past embarrassment at that point? She shot Sarah a smile. "Okay, not just looking. It seems...more efficient."

Sarah laughed, and threw up her hands defensively. "No judgment."

"Do you think she'd mind?"

"Who? Ten? We can ask. She had a pretty good ride with it earlier."

Erin had seen. The girl's breasts, easily the largest in the locker room, had jiggled and bounced the entire time.

"You don't have to do it here, though. I can find you somewhere a little more private? We still have a little time before bed."

Erin nodded. At this point, any measure of self-control was gone. She'd already masturbated up on the 2nd Floor, down in the locker room, and up on the 6th. What was one more time? Any guilt over not "being good" was gone. She had bigger things to feel guilty for.

"Alright. Let me just talk to Ten. And let my mom - Visitor E - and Mailgirl One and the Plaza girls know we're going to disappear for a bit."

Erin nodded again dumbly. Sophie, last night. Sarah, now. Her stepsisters had now both helped her schedule masturbation sessions for herself.

This was a weird Christmas with her family.

Ten laughed when approached, and waved in Erin's direction. "Enjoy!" she sung out from where she was sitting against the mirror-glass with Four and Plaza Seventeen. "Just make sure you bring it back! Don't blow a fuse!"

Catherine, meanwhile had somehow patched things up with Angela Giannini, and happily agreed to hang back, chatting with her new and once-again friend in the cafeteria. Erin wasn't sure what Angela had said to set things right, but perhaps it wasn't surprising that Catherine had forgiven Angela for her husband's behavior, given how easily Erin had forgiven Fourteen.

Sophie, though, invited herself to tag along with Erin and Sarah. "Let's go to up to Monmouth on 6," she suggested, referring to a particular conference room by name. "There's a sweet view of downtown."

Perhaps Sophie hadn't been informed of the purposes of this little expedition. Or perhaps she had, and just wanted it to make it nice for her stepsister.

As Erin, Sarah, and Sophie departed the locker room, Erin immediately regretted the choice to bring the massager along with her. It was readily apparent what she was headed off to do, and she felt embarrassed for it. She wished Sarah or Sophie could have carried it for her, just to give her a bit more cover. Most mailgirls, as she understood it, typically broke down and masturbated after a few days on the job. Erin, by contrast, had turned into a monster and an addict overnight.

They were in no real rush. It was at least another hour, hour-and-a-half, before bedtime, and Erin knew this wasn't going to take that long. But they ascended up six flights of stairs at a brisk pace all the same - force of habit for Mailgirls One and Two. Erin was out of breath when the reached the 6th Floor, but her stepsisters seemed hardly winded.

The view was - as promised - amazing. The snowfall hadn't quite stopped, but it had lightened, and skyscrapers in downtown New York lit up the night through scattered flakes. Erin didn't know them all by name, but the Freedom Tower loomed large and was instantly recognizable. The whole of the panorama, taken in from a dim and quiet conference room on the far side of the Hudson, was magical. For a moment, it distracted Erin from the task at hand.

Erin was still clutching the massager and its cord in her right hand when Sarah sidled up alongside her and took her left. It felt weird holding hands. Childish. But also intimate and reassuring, and so it was no surprise that the mailgirls fell into this practice when they were together. Fingers entangled, Sarah gave Erin's hand a little squeeze, and said more in that one small act than she could have ever said aloud.

This was Sarah's world. This was life among the mailgirls. It was more than just naked girls running deliveries around the office. These girls - and now Erin could include herself among them, to a certain extent - were entirely exposed. Inside and out. There was no privacy, no hiding. And that included hiding from themselves.

Why did they put up with it? Why didn't they just walk out? Why would anyone ever subject herself to this sort of humiliation, degradation, and torment? The name-calling? The control, right down to the pettiest of things? The infantilizing. The dehumanizing. The dog collars, the squat toilets, the trough.

They did it because they liked it.

They did it because they got off on it.

They did it because there was nothing else like it.

Though tempted and coerced into the role, a mailgirl discovered things about herself she might have otherwise run from her entire life. Erin had now experienced that self-discovery firsthand. And though she was terrified of the implications, she felt alive. She felt charged up. She felt excited for knowing the girl who'd been hiding inside her for so long.

She leaned into Sarah, and planted a kiss upon her stepsister's lips.

Sarah didn't recoil. She didn't pull away. She kissed Erin back.

It was wrong and Erin knew it was wrong. It was wrong and Sarah knew it was wrong. It was wrong, but it was happening. There was no stopping it now.

Sophie was there with them, in the room. But Sophie might have been a million miles away. Erin's whole world, at that moment, was this kiss. Sarah's lips were warm and soft. Her mouth was moist and welcoming. When their tongues met, the kiss enveloped Erin's entire body, and suddenly she was feeling it all the way up and down her spine, down to her toes and back up to between her legs. It wasn't so much a kiss as it was fireworks, shooting off in every direction inside of Erin, body and mind.

Still holding the massager in her grip, Erin placed her hand on Sarah's right hip. They unlocked their fingers, and Erin's left hand found the blonde's other side, even as Sarah's fingertips began to brush up and down Erin's body. Erin felt the warmth of Sarah's body, and the electricity of skin upon naked skin. Erin, with a few inches on Sarah, now leaned in closer and more forcefully, and devoured her.

It all happened so quickly after that.

"Are you sure?" Sarah asked, when Erin had momentarily let her come up for air.

Erin nodded, and begged pathetically, "Please."

Sarah's hands were on Erin's breasts, playing with her nipples. Erin's fingers were running through Sarah's hair. And then, from behind her, Erin felt nails scratching down the length of her back, as Sophie announced her presence.

What was about to happen with Sarah was dirty and wrong. The addition of Sophie, too, put I over the top.

Erin wasn't kissing Sarah anymore. Now it was Sophie's turn. Erin had seven years on her stepsister, but Sophie was more experienced by far. She pushed Erin against the big, picture-glass window, with the New York City skyline behind her, and pinned her down with her body. She took Erin's jaw in the palm of her hand, wrapped her fingers around the back of the brunette's head, and kissed her deeply. Sophie's body was pressed against Erin's, just off to one side, and Erin could feel the younger girl grind her pelvis into the top of Erin's thigh.

Sarah, meanwhile, had begun descending down Erin's body with her lips. Her neck. Her chest. Her nipples - where Sarah lingered. Her belly button. That bare patch of skin where her pubic hair had been. And then, with no more teasing or foreplay, Erin's sex was in her stepsister's mouth.

Erin whined, went weak in the knees, and submitted. She had the presence of mind to drop the massager slowly to the floor, letting it down by the cord, and then used her right hand to collect a huge fistful of Sarah's hair. Sarah was less a real person in that moment than she was just another sex toy, and Erin used her as such. She pulled Sarah into her, and drove her pussy further into her mouth, feeling the full pressure of her lips, her jaw, her head.

"Oh," she sighed. "Ohhhh..."

By this point, Sophie's lips were on Erin's neck, kissing and licking and sucking, and Erin was free to vocalize what was happening to her.

"Ohhhh...," she sighed again. "Ohhhh..."

Even as she continued to knead Erin's breasts with her left hand, Sophie used her right to take hold of the brunette's shoulders. She forced her in the direction of the floor, and Erin slid down the window pane. Sarah moved with her - backing away, but never being allowed to remove her mouth from between Erin's legs. As they approached the floor, Sophie slipped behind her stepsister. While continuing to kiss Erin's neck, she cradled her body between her legs, and came to sitting position behind Erin on the carpet. Erin, too, was now seated, with Sophie's body pressed up against her back, Sophie's mouth still on her neck, Sophie's fingertips still teasing her nipples, and Sarah still between her thighs.

Erin squirmed as Sarah lapped away at her clit. She reached up behind her, and ran her hands through Sophie's hair. She bucked up, bare ass off the thin, scratchy carpet, and followed Sarah's lips and tongue wherever they took her. And then, just as Erin felt her body was beginning to lose control and run away from her, Sarah pulled away.

A finger entered the brunette. A thumb found her clit. And, even as Sarah penetrated her, and played with her, Mailgirl Number Two reached for massager with her free hand.

"Plug this in," Sarah instructed, a direction aimed at her sister. "There's a socket right there."

"Yes, ma'am," Sophie giggled.

Sarah was forced to use both hands now - to clutch the massager in one, and turn it on with the other. For those briefest of moments, Sophie stepped in, and cradled Erin's slit with her hand, rubbing her clitoris with her palm. And then the buzzing began.

It was loud. Erin hadn't expected it to be so loud. There were a couple of settings - Erin could hear the speed and volume change as Sarah found what she wanted. Sarah crawled to her knees, coming up in a bastardization of her "Knees," position, and reached for her stepsister's crotch. She had a thumb parallel to Erin's pussy, while pressing down upon the girl's pelvis with the rest of her hand. And then the ball at the end of the massager introduced itself to Erin, Erin's labia parting just enough to welcome it in.