Mailgirls on the Run Pt. 01

Megan opened up her stride and accelerated past the two mailgirls. She wasn't exactly racing, but starting that long push towards the finish was ingrained from years of competition. Four responded and pulled up even with Megan as they entered the parking lot past even more cars and cellphones than on the last lap. The two of them finished together with Starnes calling out "23:21", then "23:27" as Fourteen crossed the line. Ten strolled in at 23:45 followed by Twenty and Twenty-three both looking hot and tired.

Some of the more forward spectators at the finish were picking up cups of water and handing them to the mailgirls. Normally mailgirls ate and drank from bowls on the ground and were not allowed to use their hands while in public, but both Starnes and Megan had forcefully argued that this was a health risk when running in a Maryland summer. Four was on her toes in front of Smithers from Marketing who held a cup up to her lips. A short guy that Megan didn't recognize was feeding orange slices to Fourteen. Others moved towards Ten, Twenty, and Twenty-three.

Starnes called out "24:17" and Megan turned to see Eighteen finish looking totally wiped out. One was about five yards back and looked no better. The security car hadn't yet come around the corner of the building and Eight was nowhere in sight, so Megan started jogging back along the course. She made it about halfway to the edge of the parking lot when she saw Eight hobbling along with a decided limp, the security car staying a few yards in arrears.

"Are you okay? What happened?"

"I rolled my ankle when I moved to the side of the road because of an approaching car. There was an instant shooting pain and I came to a stop. I tried to start back up again, but can't manage anything better than this and the jerk in the car wouldn't just give me a ride in."

"We'll have the Med Center take a look at your ankle. Let's just walk straight to the front door and go to the Security Desk. I'll bring you a cup of water."

Megan left Eight kneeling in front of the Security Desk waiting for a wheelchair to take her down to the Med Center. She refilled Eight's cup from the water fountain in the lobby and then went out to collect the rest of the mailgirls. When she led them back into the building Mistress V was standing in the lobby holding a long, thin paddle.

"Who was last?"

Mr Starnes responded "Eight did not finish because of a twisted ankle, One was last across the line."

"I will deal with Eight at assembly on Monday morning. One, ankles."

One, a slender redhead who had been hired away from US Financial a year previously and then induced to sign a mailgirl contract, went pale, then bent over to grasp her ankles, her hair tumbling down to the floor as she looked back through her spread legs.

"Six strokes, you will count them."

The other six mailgirls walked to the back of the lobby to take the service stairs down to the Mailgirls' Locker Room. Most of the men who had been outside watching the finish formed a semi-circle behind Mistress V, jostling to get the best view of One's ass, thrust out to receive her punishment.

Six strokes later with her ass reddening from the blows One swayed in pain.

"Stay in position until summoned, then you will report to my desk." Mistress V concluded.

"No," Megan interjected. "I'm taking her down to the Med Center. She looked bad coming in and I want the nurse to look at her for heat issues. She can hold position here while I take the results downstairs; then she comes with me. The nurse will send her down when she's cleared medically."

Mistress V glared, but Mr Starnes silently handed Megan the list of finishers. Megan rode the elevator down to the lower lobby, then entered the Locker Room and posted the sheet on the wall. Four, Ten, Fourteen, Eighteen, Twenty, and Twenty-three were showering - they had the rest of the day at leisure in the Mailgirl Lounge. Megan left to collect One and then to the Med Center to check on Eight.

"Okay, straighten up and we'll walk down to the Med Center and see how Eight is doing. I checked the duty roster for the Med Center last night and Susan Allen is on duty today; I knew her better as Mailgirl One."

The two women walked slowly towards the back of the building where the Med Center was located. Most of Megan's visits there had been as Mailgirl Two as SG&T provided primary care for mailgirls on site. Only healthy young women were selected as mailgirls and the lifestyle was generally conducive to staying healthy, sore bottoms notwithstanding, and since no SG&T mailgirl as yet had managed to get pregnant, the Med Center had so far been sufficent for their needs. Susan was a diminutive blonde who had an easier time than most as a mailgirl since her old office had been largely suportive and welcomed her back at the end of her mailgirl contract.

Megan pushed open the door to the Med Center and called out when she found no one in the outer office.

"Come on back, we're in Exam Room 2."

Megan and One followed Susan's voice and found Eight lying on an exam table with Susan standing beside her. The Med Center was the only place at SG&T where mailgirls were allowed on the furniture. The mailgirls had the added bonus of not having to wear hospital gowns - the consensus was that naked was better.

"She didn't break anything; it appears to be a mild sprain. I've given her aspirin and will wrap her ankle with an elastic bandage before returning her to the basement."

"Susan, this is the new Mailgirl One. She looked dreadful at the finish line; I'm worried about heat exhaustion."

"I hadn't realized that it manifested in a reddened bottom."

"That was her award for being the last to cross the finish line."

"I thought I recognized Mistress V's work. Come on around to Exam Room 1 and I'll check your vitals and if nothing life threatening let you lay on the table for a while. We even have some cookies from the last blood drive.

"Maria, just lay there for a while longer; I'll bring in juice and cookies for you as well."

As a mailgirl's diet largely consisted of Mailgirl Chow and water, this was a high treat, indeed. Susan was contravening company policy by providing snacks and calling a mailgirl by her given name, but she had experienced life as a mailgirl and gave comfort where she could.

Megan left Susan with her patients and went to find Mr Starnes to talk about tomorrow's trials. She thought that running off both heats even earlier in the morning would be prudent. When she tracked him down in his office he agreed and said that he would arrange for a bicycle to lead the way allowing Megan to range through the field. Tomorrow's runs would be at 7 and 7:30 a.m.

* * * *

Fourteen, once Mrs Francis Briggs, made her way up to the law library on the fourth floor after showering and cooling down from her run. She was taking two on-line courses during the summer term. She planned on taking two more during each of the two fall terms which would allow her to finish up with a semester on campus the following spring after her mailgirl contract completed. Then with a BS in Accounting she could either take the position at SG&T as guaranteed in her mailgirl agreement or find a job elsewhere. She planned to work the job placement program at the college hard, returning to SG&T was definitely a fallback strategy.

Fourteen had dropped out of Mt Holyoke after her sophomore year to marry her recent law school graduate fiance and follow him off to a law firm in San Francisco. Several moves, thirteen years of marriage, and five miscarriages later she was in a severe depression after the latest miscarriage when she physically lashed out at Frank who was cruelly taunting her failure. One assault charge later, she was divorced and he was remarried to his pregnant, blonde girlfriend. Fourteen got a small settlement, modest alimony until she was self-supporting, and financial support to finish her education. Frank's old buddy from the San Francisco firm was an in-house counsel at SG&T and before Fourteen knew what hit her she had signed a mailgirl contract with SG&T. Nearly two years as a mailgirl had left plenty of time for introspection and a burning desire to get her life back on track. Life as a mailgirl sucked, but she could have still been Mrs Francis Briggs and on the whole she preferred being a mailgirl, especially a mailgirl who was within sight of getting her degree and moving on. And being able to hold her own, in looks and performance, with the mostly twenty-somethings that were her fellow mailgirls was a boost to the ego.

She pressed her MMU against the scanner by the door to the law library and pushed the door open when it clicked. She didn't see anyone as she entered the room which was all to the good. She walked over to the computer she used, sitting on a low table against the wall and knelt on the mailgirl mat in front of it, since of course she wasn't allowed to sit in a chair to use one of the other computers, nor did she have an account on the SG&T intranet. Computers used by mailgirls - this computer in the law library, one in the Human Capital offices, and three in the Mailgirls' Lounge - were on a physically separate network which did have (filtered) access to the Internet.

Fourteen logged into her computer, then into the distance learning portal on the UMUC website and started working through the latest class session. She pointedly did not look towards the web cam mounted on the wall aimed at her mat; Frank's buddy, Mr Fforde, liked to keep an eye on her progress or naked presence, really.

* * * *

Megan arrived at SG&T shortly after six Sunday morning. When working on major deals Megan and the rest of the Investment Group could work truly insane hours as they were carried along in the excitement and pressure of the process - as yet training mailgirls for a 10k just didn't rise to that level. But here she was.

Mr Starnes was out in front of the entrance again with a line of tables and a teen-age boy with a bike. "Megan, come meet my son. Tad, this is Megan Brooks, a valued member of the Investment Group. Tad normally lives with his mother, but I have him for a few weeks this summer before he goes off to college." Tad eyed Megan appreciatively; he was a teen-age boy.

"Does his mother know about this?" Megan hissed.

"Well, we haven't discussed it, but she is fully conversant with the Mailgirl Program and she knows her son. She knows you as well. You worked for her in Chicago. I believe she was a key player in getting you transferred to Maryland."

"His mother is Ms Aldridge?"

"Yes. She reverted to her maiden name after we divorced and has kept it through the two subsequent marriages. My understanding is that she wasn't happy with the attention her now current husband was showing you and got you out of the way.

"Ms Brooks used to work for your mother. Say, hello."

"Good morning, Ms Brooks, it's good to meet you. Isn't it about time for the mailgirls to come out and start warming up? My high school coach was all about a proper warmup."

Megan grew flustered, "I'll get them about fifteen minutes before the start. Right now, I'm heading inside to make sure that they're all properly hydrated. They don't spend a lot of time outside and are unused to the heat."

Megan entered the SG&T building and took the sweeping stair case down to the lower lobby where she entered the Mailgirls' Locker Room. Four of the mailgirls who had run yesterday were preparing for the morning shift, the other four would come on duty at one p.m. Mistress V had the eight mailgirls who were to run at seven kneeling in front of her desk.

Megan asked, "Have they all had enough to drink? They're not running very far today and it's early, but we don't want any dehydration problems."

Mistress V replied, "I had them put out extra bowls of water. They've all had a chance to lap up as much as they wanted to."

"Ladies, as I told yesterday's group, I'll set the pace for the first lap trying to run about the same time we ran yesterday morning. The second lap you're on your own. We have a bike to lead the way today and I'll likely stay to the front for both laps; there will be a car from Security following the last runner. We had some traffic on the park road yesterday, stay to the left and keep an eye on any car - they'll be watching you. We'll head outside about quarter of and start promptly at 7. Good luck and stay safe."

At twenty of Megan told the mailgirls to stand up and stretch. "Mistress V, you'll need to get the next group ready and send them out about 7:15; they'll get out there in time to see the finish of this heat."

Then, "Okay ladies, it's time." Two, Six, Seven, Nine, Thirteen, Sixteen, Nineteen, and Twenty-four headed up the stairs. Megan realized that Sam would be in the last group.

Mr Starnes and Tad were standing by the starting line, Tad gaping at the eight naked women filing out of the building and moving towards him. There were two tables with cups of water already sitting on them. "There's more water if you want it" Megan said. "You can also grab some on your way by to start the second lap - and you can pick up the cup yourself, a special dispensation from Human Capital for race training.

"Tad, we're following the blue line today and doing two laps. I suggest that you keep your eyes on the road in front of you, I'll let you know if you're getting too far ahead."

A few of the mailgirls did pick up cups and drink. Two and Sixteen jogged easily across the parking lot and then jogged back. Tad's gaze flitted from naked woman to naked woman trying to take it all in.

Mr Starnes called the mailgirls to the starting line and said "Go."

This run played out pretty much like the previous day. Tad proved to be a competent leader on the bike though he did take advantage of every turn and curve in the course to look behind. They met no cars on the first trip through the woods and just two parked where the course returned to the parking lot. Megan led through the first lap in 12:13, grabbing a cup from the table as she passed. Realizing that she would be repeating this effort with less than ten minutes recovery time, Megan did not press the second lap the way she'd done on Saturday. None of the mailgirls mounted a challenge and she finished in 23:42 with Two, Six, Nine, and Sixteen in a cluster just a few steps back. Thirteen followed in 23:48, then Twenty-four outsprinted Seven, and Nineteen came across last in 24:07.

The next group of mailgirls was standing to the side watching their colleagues finish up. Nineteen had just picked up a cup of water when Mistress V called out "Nineteen, ankles." Nineteen put down the cup and stepped back from the table before bending over.

"Six strokes. Count them." Mistress V brought her paddle down on Nineteen's upthrust ass.

"One" she gasped.

Tad stood with his mouth wide open watching Mistress V crack the paddle over Nineteen six times with only the sound of the paddle striking flesh and Nineteen's tortured count breaking the silence.

"Straighten up and get something to drink. You next lot, let this be a lesson."

Megan took a quick survey of the finishers and decided that no one looked to be in distress, not even Nineteen really - six strokes of the paddle was little more than a reminder; they had all suffered much worse.

* * * *

Twenty-two was not excited about being forced to get up early on her day off. It's not like she had a late night on Saturday; it was the principle of the thing. Also, running was Megan's shtick, not hers. Still, it was a break in the routine and that was a plus. Breakfast was just toast and water - meals eaten out of sight in the Mailgirls' Lounge weren't Mailgirl Chow and water from bowls on the floor, but they were never exciting. The first group of eight went out to the locker room with the four mailgirls on duty that morning. Twenty-two and the other seven emerged when everyone else cleared out.

They'd all had a chance to talk to the eight women who had run the day before and thus understood what would happen. Twenty-two wasn't surprised that Four had done well, she was obviously a jock, but Fourteen was old, how had she run so quickly. Twenty-two's goal was to finish in the middle of the pack - escape punishment, but not get herself drafted to race.

Mistress V led the eight mailgirls up the stairs and to the outside at 7:15. Twenty-two saw a cluster of men standing by a pair of tables that had cups standing on them. The men were looking off to the right waiting for the runners to appear. An older man standing in front of the tables saw the new group of mailgirls and called out "It will be another five or so minutes, anyone who wants some more water just grab a cup off the table." The other men now turned and gazed appreciatively at the mailgirls, gesturing them to come right up and get a drink. Twenty-two walked up to the table and picked up a cup and started sipping slowly while waiting for her sister and the mailgirls. While she looked off to where the runners would be coming from, the men standing around the table were looking at her - well, her and the other seven mailgirls right there, right now.

The man to Twenty-two's left leaned into her and asked, "How fast are you?"

She pretended to misunderstand and replied, "I'm just hoping not to finish last. My sister is the runner." A bike appeared in the distance followed by a cluster of women. "Oh, there she is."

"Your sister is a mailgirl?"

"She was. She's the one in the blue top." They both watched the runners approach. The unknown man placed his hands on Twenty-two's hips.

"Do not touch the mailgirls."

The man stepped back and a line of fire etched itself across the top of Twenty-two's bottom. Mistress V was on duty. The crop hurt when applied forcefully as she just demonstrated. "Get over with the rest of the girls."

Twenty-two moved off to the side and watched her sister lead a pack of mailgirls in to the finish. There were four just a step or so behind and then the other four strung out in arrears. She saw Twenty-four just nip Seven at the line and then Nineteen struggle across about ten yards back. Twenty-two heard Mistress V call out to Nineteen and then apply six strokes of her paddle to the curvy blonde's ass. Well, better the paddle than the crop with which she'd admonished Twenty-two, but still Twenty-two resolved not to finish last.

The older man at the finish line cried out, "Next heat on the line."

The eight mailgirls walked up to the thick blue line painted on the asphalt at right angles to the thinner yellow and blue lines stretching out across the parking lot. Megan was still at the table sipping a cup of water, her blue top clinging to her scant curves, her nipples pushing hard against the damp fabric. She was garnering as much attention as the sixteen naked women standing in the sun.

"Ms Brooks, if you're ready."

Twenty-two was checking out the cute boy on the bicycle. She assumed that he wasn't jail bait and he was a bit skinny, but he had possibilities and he certainly looked like he approved of what he was seeing. Megan walked up next to her and the older man called out "Ready, steady, go" and off they went following the boy on the bike.

The run started at a fairly relaxed pace. They were moving quicker than the normal stroll through office space, but certainly not at the dead run that a mailgirl might be forced to as the seconds ticked down on a delivery. Twenty-two settled in near the back of the pack running alongside Eleven, a short, thin Oriental girl with a surprisingly large pair of tits which bounced about as she ran. They strode across the parking lots and ducked into the woods on an asphalt trail. So far, Twenty-two wasn't having any trouble keeping up and no one looked to be in distress. Well, they did spend their days dashing about SG&T and they were all a lot fitter than when they signed their contracts and became mailgirls.