Mailgirls on the Run Pt. 07

* Just over a month since the last installment. I'm doing better :) Again, this won't make a lot of sense if you haven't followed Megan's adventures up to now, though she does spent a lot of time bewailing the situation and explaining it to new arrivals. */

Samantha Brooks was nearing the end of a normal working day, that is if she was working a normal job. Instead Mailgirl Twenty-two was kneeling on a yoga mat next to the Admin's desk in Property Management wondering when she would be sent to dinner. Mailgirls who worked through the dinner hour - and that was the norm Monday through Friday - ate dinner on their knees in either the Employees Dining Room or the Executive Dining Room. The presence of naked women eating out of metal bowls in the middle of the dining rooms ensured the profitability of Sloan Guarantee & Trust's in-house food service at their Washington headquarters. Her MMU chimed and she looked to see whether it was another delivery or the dinner bell. Her destination was Human Capital.

She rose to her feet and exited into the corridor and up one flight of stairs arriving in front of Miss Bradley's desk with thirty seconds to spare. She took up position feet spread shoulder width, hands laced behind her head, eyes looking down past her fear-stiffened nipples to the immaculately clean desktop. Miss Bradley leaned forward and said into her intercom, "Mailgirl Twenty-two is here." Sam held position for several minutes before she heard "Send her in."

Ms Barnes looked up, pointed to the left and said "Knees."

Sam took a step to the side and dropped to her knees on the mat by the wall next to Mailgirl Twenty-three who looked a whole lot better than when she left her in Megan's office.

"You have courtyard duty from 11-2 the rest of the week. Mailgirls do what they are told, they do not take initiative. IT will arrange for a live feed to be displayed on your sister's computer so that she can appreciate your misdeeds.

"Take Twenty-three down to the dormitory and make sure that she eats. Do not stop in the locker room to clean up. You can bring her out to shower just before lights out. She stays out of sight until she looks like a mailgirl rather than a third world refugee. Nurse Allen will make daily visits until she's cleared for work. Fill her in on life as an SG&T mailgirl. Now, go."

Sam heard her MMU chime with a new destination as she rose gracefully to her feet. Her companion wobbled as she stood and Sam put out her hand to balance the other woman. "Follow me."

Sam led the way out of Human Capital and into the nearest stairwell. "Damn, she shorted me on the time, not to mention that you're not up to running down the stairs. That will cost me a couple of demerits for sure in addition to the courtyard."

"What's courtyard duty?"

"There is an array of bondage equipment in the courtyard next to the Employee Dining Room. I'm going to be hanging on a St Andrew's Cross or worse during lunch the next three days. And of course, once I get back up to twenty-five demerits Mistress V will have me stretched out across the horse for six or twelve strokes."

"Who is Mistress V?"

"You could call her our house mother. She's a former mailgirl they imported from Germany who keeps us in line and disciplines us. She holds inspection before we leave the locker room in the morning and officially she is the only one allowed to use the paddle, crop, cane, whatever. Actually there are occasional evening special events in the Executive Dining Room where senior executives or clients that they're wooing take a go at us with Mistress V to supervise. She steps in when one of the guest floggers gets over-enthused."

Sam's MMU pinged to indicate a late delivery before they left the stairwell. "Yep, screwed by Human Capital yet again." They walked down the corridor to the Mailgirl Lounge where Twenty-two pressed her MMU against the touch-pad and the door swung open. "The door only opens to mailgirls, Security, Human Capital, and Med Center personnel. This is the locker room. No lockers, but this is where we shower, use the toilet and bidet, wash our faces, put on and take off make-up. The outside walls are mirrored from this side, but transparent from outside. The tables along the railing on the lobby above are crowded every morning with voyeurs watching us while they drink their morning coffee.

"Employees are not allowed to physically touch us, nor we them. Mailgirls are not supposed to have physical contact with each other except we do wash each other in the shower. Quite a few mailgirls, including me, put on shows for the unseen spectators when showering in pairs. As long as what you do can be plausibly considered to help the other girl get clean, you can get away with it."

Sam pressed her MMU against the touch-pad by the door in the back wall and said, "This is the dormitory" as they entered another chamber. "And in here anything goes. Very few of us claim to be lesbians, but there is a lot of girl-on-girl action in here. Running around naked all day is a major turn on for most of us and sometimes you need more than just your own fingers. Or sometimes you just need comfort after one of those days. We sleep in those niches in the back wall and the grilles slide to lock us in for the night so make sure you take care of your business before lights out. There are recharging points for your MMU in your niche; that's the only time you take it off. This is the only place where we can use our hands to eat; no knives or forks, but fingers are better than sticking your head into those stupid dog bowls. That door over there opens to a tunnel that goes out to the parking lot; it's our emergency exit and the local fire department mandates quarterly drills. There is always a circle of firefighters watching us climb out.

"There are six computers on the floor over there with limited Internet access. On the weekends they turn on Skype and we can call home or whoever as long as you've cleared the phone number with Human Capital. We are not allowed on that bench there, it's reserved for Mistress V to put us on it and whip our asses. However, it is traditional for a new mailgirl to spend her first night strapped to that bench while the other twenty-three have their way with you - I expect Ten will have us hold off on you until you actually start working."

"What do mailgirls do here?"

"When not sleeping we mostly just hang out. There isn't a lot to do in the dormitory which explains a lot of the sex; it's better than staring at the ceiling."

"No, what do you do while 'working'?"

"We deliver the mail. Snail mail from the outside world, packages, office supplies, internal documents that are in hard copy for some reason, inter-office messaging - many of those could be sent electronically, but a lot of employees prefer to order up a naked woman to deliver their message. Why, what was it like where you worked."

"Mohr Brothers is a small venture capital firm housed on a single floor in a skyscraper. There are a small number of employees and only five mailgirls. We were basically sex toys: kneeling under a desk sucking cock while one of the men - they were all men - talked with someone on the phone was business as usual. There is a back room with a king size bed where we were given to clients and investors. The only girl-on-girl action was when one of them wanted to watch."

"Oh my god, that's awful. How did they get away with it?"

"As I told your sister, they recorded hours of video of each of us begging for sex, to suck cock, to be beaten. They also let us know they were well connected and showed us a snuff film of a woman they said was a previous mailgirl who had tried to go to the police. I'm afraid if I reported them the four women I left behind would just disappear."

"What about mailgirls that completed their contracts?"

"The four women I worked with all started within weeks of me and none of us knew any other mailgirls. I don't know if there were any before us, I don't know why they let me go."

"We'll talk to Ten tonight"

"Ten?"

"Mailgirl Ten. She used to be in HR and is our unofficial channel around Human Capital. She does her best to take care of us."

* * * *

Megan was ushered into Ms Barnes' office early the next morning. "Brooks, this whole fiasco with Twenty-three is your fault. We had a perfectly good mailgirl and now we have a skinny, wounded thing that I can't put out on the floor. And now I've got both HR and Peavy on my case."

"Ms Barnes, I fail to see how any of this problem is either my fault or my concern."

"You inspired this whole crazy race idea. HR is pressing me about Twenty-three's background and Peavy wants to see her panties."

"She's a mailgirl, we/they don't wear panties."

"We don't have panties for her plaque. Every mailgirl has a plaque up on the wall with the panties she was wearing when she signed her contract - yours is down in storage. Actually no, Ms Aldridge took yours back to Chicago with her last month."

Megan flinched at that tidbit. "What happened to her personal effects; didn't her former employer send them along with her?

"What we received was one skinny bitch in a crate and some shipping documents."

"Well, Human Capital needs to do due diligence and go back to Mohr Brothers and/or DDE and arrange for her personal effects to be delivered. And what about her finances; shouldn't her records and funds have been transferred along with her? If nothing else, you've got the IRS to worry about in April. That's a lever you should be able to use to pry something out of the criminals she used to work for. They can play fast and loose with her lingerie, but taxes are serious.

"From my personal experience the bank just took complete control of my finances and all I did was sign forms once a year. To SG&T's credit they were both honest and thorough and I got a complete accounting along with my clothes last year."

"That's all handled by another department."

"Well, it needs to be handled for Twenty-three now. And then you can worry about the plaque for Peavy.

* * * *

Megan was at her desk working on actual banking business when a window popped up on her computer screen precisely at 11 a.m. Mistress V was kneeling down in front of the St Andrew's Cross in the courtyard drawing tight the final strap holding Mailgirl Twenty-two spread-eagled against the timbers. She watched Mistress V then stand and coax the mailgirl's right nipple into an aching spear - Megan put her hand to her breast in remembrance -before screwing on a clamp. Mistress V followed up with Twenty-two's left nipple and Megan winced in sympathy. Unable to help her sister, she called the IT help desk to complain.

"Sorry, Ms Brooks. That pop-up window was ordered by Human Capital - it's just for your computer. The work order calls for it to stay up on your screen until 2 and then again from 11-2 for the rest of the week. You can shrink it down some, but it will remain visible for the whole three hours. It's also your screen saver."

Megan shrunk the image down to about 3"x2" and pushed it to the lower left hand corner of her screen, then got back to work. Her eyes kept wandering back down to that image. Samantha was strung up so that she couldn't stand flat-footed, but at least she wasn't hanging from the straps. No one else was visible in the tight close-up of the suffering mailgirl and for the most part the only motion on screen evidenced her shallow breaths. Megan well remembered the dull ache of straining muscles and throbbing nipples from her experience on that particular device.

Atypically Megan ate lunch in the employee dining room - if she was going to be forced to watch her sister's pain she might as well do it in person. Upon returning to her desk Twenty-two's image filled the screen until she logged back in. A meeting request from Mr Fforde popped up. "Oh great, now I've got Fforde badgering me about Fourteen while Ms Barnes blames me for Twenty-three. I might as well find out what he wants."

Twenty-two's torment still had a half-hour to go when Megan was ushered into Mr Fforde's fifth floor office.

"Thank you Ms Brooks, please take a seat."

Megan sat in the comfortable arm chair he indicated.

"Ms Cooper's issues have landed on my desk."

"I thought Mr Smythe was the lawyer that handled mailgirls."

"He would certainly like to be, but he's too junior to get away with touching."

Megan glared at him.

"That was a joke, Ms Brooks. His responsibility is limited to contracts which is why he was present for both ends of your mailgirl sojourn. Problems get kicked up to me. Mr Holt figures if I was interested enough in mailgirls to personally recruit one, he could dump all twenty-four into my lap.

"It's still early on the West Coast, but I've sent a request to Mohr Brothers for information about Ms Cooper's personal belongings and financial information. I cc'd both DDE and a colleague in our legal department in the San Francisco office. I believe we should straighten out her property and financial concerns before we bring in the Sacramento County Sheriff's Department. Nurse Allen was very thorough in documenting Ms Cooper's physical condition when she arrived. The Med Center has rape kits, previously they've only been used to investigate inappropriate activity in-house.

"If she has items in storage, we'll get them packed up and delivered here. We'll also take control of her financial assets using our power of attorney, just as we did with you. And as you pointed out to Ms Barnes we need to be able to file her tax returns in April. We take that responsibility seriously; this is a bank after all."

"Mr Fforde, why did you turn Fourteen, Maria, into a mailgirl? Did this allow her ex-husband to avoid paying alimony?"

"Ms Brooks, I first met Maria Hyland as a college sophomore dating my law school roommate. She was a bubbly, ever enthusiastic young woman and so in love with Frank that it was painful to watch. She dropped out of college to marry him and move halfway across the country. When Frank was a newly hired associate working typically insane hours, she worked a series of secretarial jobs, more to get herself out of an empty apartment than any great need for money. As Frank grew more successful they bought a house and eventually a veritable mansion Maria stopped working outside of the home and played the role of corporate spouse. What she really wanted to be was wife and mother, but not as bad as Frank wanted a son. After multiple failed pregnancies she spiraled into depression. Towards the end of her marriage she was a black hole of self-loathing. When Frank sought consolation elsewhere and his girlfriend got pregnant he filed for divorce which Maria didn't contest. Just as an aside, the new Mrs Briggs is an intelligent, charming woman and just a few years younger than Maria. Maria was lost after the split which is when I suggested to Frank that she would do well as a mailgirl."

"So you pushed her into a program that would systemically debase and dehumanize her?"

"Being a mailgirl gave her a focus and a new meaning for life. You call it a debased, dehumanizing experience, but it moved her out of wallowing in what she saw as her failure back to being a functioning human being who was appreciated for what she was and did. Mailgirls are treated as sub-human, but it was an ego boost that she could compete with women more than a decade younger and placed her among a group of supportive women that she could relate to rather than compete with. I bullied her into taking the college courses which showed her than she can succeed and this running gig has just reinforced that. Spending the next semester as a part -time mailgirl, part-time student will help her ease back into the world."

"So after ten, fifteen years of marriage she's moved on to working a minimum wage job and life as a poor student?"

"Frank made partner young and then invested his money wisely. Maria got a generous settlement and half of their investment in a real estate trust. One reason we hid her away as a mailgirl was to protect her from vultures preying on rich women. There is a trust to manage Maria's assets. She's got three trustees, one of which is her mom, and her trust is audited by the largest accounting firm in Texas. I haven't been tracking Texas real estate values lately, but I'd estimate she's worth three to five million, plus her wages at SG&T."

"So why am I having her bunk with Lin Chang?"

"Professor Chang will be good for her and will get Maria help that she'll accept.

"I'll let you know what I hear back from the West Coast concerning Ms Cooper's assets. It's good that she has someone fighting for her - that's not Ms Barnes' forte."

Megan knew that Sarah really didn't want to be immersed the the world of mailgirls, but she was a good friend and Megan needed someone that she could talk to. Sarah not only listened, but she understood. Like Megan she could feel the pain when Megan vented about Sam, Megan's Sam, on the cross and the agony of Sam's clamped nipples. "And Fforde claimed with a straight face that he saw his friend's ex-wife's transformation into Mailgirl Fourteen as therapy."

"Well, she was virtually catatonic when she arrived in the locker room. I know we all were completely freaked out when the grim reality of life as a naked mailgirl broke upon us, but I remember her as the most withdrawn. I always ascribed it as the shock of her greater fall from society wife to mailgirl as opposed to we who had just gotten our feet on the ladder before it was pulled out from under us, but I could believe that it was more than that.. She became a lot more alive in the year that I knew her."

"Oh, and Fforde says that she got a generous settlement in the divorce and she's worth millions."

"Do you think she would adopt me?"

"He said that as a mailgirl she would be safe 'from vultures preying on rich women.'"

"A bit drastic, but better than having her declared mentally incompetent. I wonder when Fforde will make his move."

"Also, I checked on Felicia, the new Mailgirl Twenty-three, before I left work today. Ms Barnes is keeping her sequestered out of sight in the dormitory while she recovers. Ms Barnes did have Mistress V schedule rotating shifts of mailgirls to stay with her during the day and while I was there the B&G folks were installing a treadmill in the dormitory for her to get some exercise.

"Oh, and I have an appointment Friday to escort a rep from Marathon Sports into the Mailgirls' Lounge to have the team members fitted for running shoes."

"Can you get the video of that for me? It should be a lot more fun viewing than you getting caned."

Thursday, Mailgirl Twenty-three spent the hours from 11-2 with her arms being pulled up behind her in a leather sheath. This forced her to bend forward to take some of the pressure off her shoulders and of course she was standing on a freshly raked bed of gravel.

Megan talked to Brendan that evening and agreed to meet him at a cross country race that the Striders were holding in a local park Saturday morning. She avoided any mention of mailgirls while talking to him - a normal conversation between two slightly nerdy runners of the opposite sex.

Friday, Twenty-three was astride the horse, a thin rail between two supports. The board was rounded off rather than the more sadistic version with a sharp edge pressing into the sufferer's crotch; still, it hurt a lot and just got progressively worse over a long three hours. Megan expected that Samantha wasn't going to be engaging in any girl-on-girl action this weekend.

Megan finished up her current project about an hour after her sister had been helped off the horse and had then of course immediately been pinged to make a delivery which she was sure to be late for and likely be assessed enough demerits to put her over twenty-five which would put her over the bar to be paddled. Mailgirls were always screwed, though at SG&T not literally. That gave her time to ponder on what do do about Fourteen and Twenty-Three and Ms Aldridge. She saw that she was going to be seeing a lot of Mr Fforde in her near future.