Mailgirls On The Run Pt 09

Chapter Fifteen

/* One week closer to the big race, during which Twenty-two is chastised, Mistress V gives Fourteen a warm send-off, and Megan's social life expands beyond running and naked women. */

Monday morning and Megan was again walking through the doors into SG&T absentmindedly noticing the usual breakfast crowd watching the floor show below while drinking coffee and dining on croissants and breakfast sandwiches. It had been a good weekend, the best in a long time. After the training session on Saturday, she'd had brunch with the non-mailgirls that had run and then spent the afternoon exploring Frederick with Brendan. Lin Chang gave them a guided tour of the Hood College campus where Maria Hyland, aka Mailgirl 14, would be matriculating on Wednesday. Then Sunday morning, she met up with Ken Jensen and some friends of his for a long run along the Rock Creek Trail. To reiterate, it had been an enjoyable, thoroughly normal weekend -- barring running intervals with naked women Saturday morning. Now it was time to buckle down and do some real work for the bank, the kind of work her four years of college and two years in graduate school had prepared her for.

She sat down at her desk which looked just as she had left it on Friday and logged into her workstation. The mailgirl app popped up on her taskbar with an indication that she had an alert. As a mailgirl she had been horrified to find out that employees could track individual mailgirls through the app -- not to the extent that Human Capital could, but any SG&T employee could opt to be notified of status changes (on duty, off duty, on vacation), demerit totals, and public punishments for any two mailgirls. Megan had been alerted that Mailgirl Twenty-two was scheduled for public punishment in the main courtyard at 11 a.m. for "illicit interaction with an employee."

The only mailgirl that Megan had ever followed was her sister; she thought that with her upgraded status she should check to see if she could track the whole running team. "Rank hath its privilege," she muttered adding Mailgirls 3, 4, 12, 14, 15, and 23 to her list. All but Mailgirl 23 just popped up as "on duty"; Twenty-three was "off duty." Only Twenty-two had a date in the courtyard.

Megan decided not to complain to Human Capital about Twenty-two's punishment, but made a note to ask her if Mistress V had specified which "illicit interaction" she was being thrashed for. Then Megan turned diligently to the latest prospectus she'd been tasked to evaluate.

Mailgirl Twenty-two had just made a delivery to the Fifth Floor with seventeen seconds to spare which was not something to repeat. On-time deliveries meant no additional demerits, but beating the time by a sizable margin inevitably led to Human Capital revising the expected time of delivery down. She was headed towards the mat beside the Office Admin's desk when her MMU buzzed again with her next task. She looked at her MMU and winced, "Mailgirls Locker Room" which meant a meeting with Mistress V and her paddle or worse. This was one trip she would not rush.

Twenty-two descended to the basement via the back service stairs and made her way to the locker room where she could see Mistress V and Mailgirl Twenty-three inside of the glass walls. Twenty-three was standing behind the spanking bench beside a small pile of stuff. The door opened as Twenty-two approached and she walked through to learn her fate.

Mistress V barked "Knees" and Twenty-two sank gracefully into the required pose, down with knees spread wide, feet touching, back slightly arched, and hands clasped behind her head. Her eyes were fixed on the toes of Mistress V's gleaming black boots. Twenty-two had pulled boot-polishing duty more than once -- why would Mistress V care for her own footwear when she had twenty-four mailgirls at her beck and call?

"Mr Whitman has been counseled about his inappropriate behavior with you yesterday morning in the parking lot. Pick up those items and follow me to the courtyard for your counseling."

Twenty-two stood and saw a pair of black stilettos and a leather panel gag sitting on top of a rectangular metal sign that read:

DO NOT FEED

THE MAILGIRLS

There were short lengths of light chain attached to the corners of the top of the sign. She noticed that Twenty-three was wearing her running shoes. Twenty-two sighed and picked up the items and followed Mistress V and Twenty-three out of the locker room.

The three women walked up the stairs into the lobby and then paraded through the employee dining room out into the courtyard. The outside tables were already well populated and all eyes followed the women as they headed towards the wooden frame erected above the strip of gravel.

"Hand Twenty-three the sign and the shoes. Then kneel facing away from me."

Twenty-two complied and then opened her mouth to insert the penis shaped protrusion on the back of the panel gag as directed by Mistress V. Mistress V moved Twenty-two's hair off her neck and buckled the gag tightly around her head.

"Now stand and put on your shoes. They will protect your feet since I am not to inflict punishment that will materially affect your ability to run."

Twenty-two took the shoes from the other mailgirl wondering if these were the pair she'd purchased and then regretted wearing on virtually every occasion she had decided to dress a bit more provocatively. She slipped them over her bare feet -- they would have slid on more easily had she been wearing nylons -- and then balanced uneasily on the 4" heels. They were already pinching her toes.

She followed Mistress V over to the wooden frame and reached up her arms so that they could be buckled into the dangling cuffs. Mistress V stepped behind her and proceeded to lash her ass and upper thighs. Twenty-two winced at each stroke and fought to keep her balance trying not to lose a shoe and have her unprotected feet land on the gravel below. Despite the fiery lines across her backside Twenty-two was still alert enough to notice one beefy gentleman calmly eating his meatloaf -- the daily special -- while virtually everyone else in view had put down their utensils to focus on the spectacle before them.

Mistress V stepped back in front and pointed to Twenty-three saying, "You, put that down, come here and suck on her right titty." The thin, pale mailgirl gingerly stepped onto the gravel and began to titillate Twently-three's nipple.

"Okay, that's enough" and Mistress V proceeded to pull a small metal device out of her pocket and screwed it onto the engorged nub. She screwed it several turns beyond what Twenty-two considered to be necessary -- this was a new torment in Mistress V's arsenal. "Now, the left titty."

Twenty-two was leaning back staring at the sky in pain when Mistress V said, "Hang the sign." She jerked her head forward to see and feel Twenty-three loop the end of the chains over the hooks depending from the nipple clamps. Twenty-three gingerly settled the metal rectangle into place, but the downward pull on her nipples needed to be corrected now.

Instead Mistress V snapped the end of a longer piece of chain onto the ring at the front of Twenty-two's metal collar and attaching the other end to Twenty-three's collar directed, "Keep an eye on this bad girl and press the panic button on your MMU if she has any problems breathing. And you, keep those legs spread wide." With that Mistress V walked off leaving Twenty-two to her pain. Nearly all of the outdoor diners had their cellphones aimed at the two mailgirls, even Mr Meatloaf.

After a while the pain in her nipples subsided to a dull throb unless she shifted and caused the sign to sway. The greater problem were her aching feet, unused to heels after more than a year of going barefoot, and her shoulders stressed by the enforced posture. Twenty-three just remained in knees position in front of the punished mailgirl, looking back over her shoulder to make sure that Twenty-two remained conscious and breathing. The two women barely noticed the ebb and flow of the dining room crowd and the snapping of images by the ubiquitous smartphones.

Neither woman noticed Mailgirl Fourteen when she approached some indeterminable time later. She walked up to Twenty-two and said, "Mistress V sent me to release you. Just remain steady." Fourteen reached up and unbuckled the cuffs holding Twenty-two's arms above her head, then detached the sign from the nipple clamps and set it down on the ground. Twenty-two stepped forward off the gravel and crumbled, Fourteen catching her sister mailgirl and lowering her to her knees besides Twenty-three. "You can take off the shoes and report to the locker room. Sorry, but I was specifically instructed not to touch the gag or the nipple clamps."

Fourteen dashed off in response to a summons on her MMU and the other two headed for the service stairs. Twenty-two was leaning on the slighter form of a new mailgirl, a sea change from their first meeting. Twenty-two was moving a bit less stiffly as they approached the locker room. They could see Mailgirl Two taking a shower -- something most mailgirls did several times daily as they frequently got hot and bothered because of the physical exertions and the sexual urges brought on by submissively dashing about in the nude -- and more ominously, Mistress V and Ms Barnes waiting just inside the doorway.

Ms Barnes greeted them with, "So good of you do join us ladies. That's five demerits apiece for keeping your betters waiting and here we were just making sure that you didn't miss lunch." She pointed down at three metal bowls on the floor, water in the middle and an unappetizing mound of Mailgirl Chow in the other bowls. "Knees."

Mistress V reached down and unfastened Twenty-two's gag. "You have ten minutes to eat and then the gag goes back on. Your food bowls will be clean."

Twenty-three let the other woman lap from the water bowl first, then both of them leaned in to eat their nutritious meal, hands clasped behind their backs. She got up to refill the water bowl from the tap beside the sinks -- both women were parched and Mailgirl Chow required a lot of liquid to wash it down under the best of circumstances. Mistress V wandered behind the kneeling pair letting her ever present crop trail along their backsides, they knew better than to divert their attention from their meals. With time to spare they straightened up and turned to the side so that they could lick each other's faces clean -- mailgirls were not allowed napkins either.

"You both need a shower. You have two minutes."

The two women rose and stepped under the shower heads against the back wall rinsing off in the cold water and then drying off with the inadequate scratchy towels hanging by the showers. They returned to stand in front of their supervisors.

"Toes."

Ms Barnes walked around the two women up on their toes, back arched, staring into space in the prescribed inspection position.

.

"Another five demerits for Twenty-two."

The mailgirl cringed. That brought her perilously close to another thrashing and she didn't know that she could take it, not that she had any choice in the matter.

"Feet."

They settled down onto the balls of their feet and switched their gaze to the floor. Mistress V handed Twenty-two the gag and told Twenty-three "buckle it firmly."

Then Ms Barnes unscrewed the clamp from the mailgirl's left nipple and the onrush of blood and pain to the tortured nub nearly sent the woman to her knees. When Ms Barnes removed the clamp from the right nipple, Twenty-two did sink down in agony.

"Make sure that she doesn't slack this afternoon and evening." Ms Barnes pivoted on her stylish heels and strode out of the locker room.

Twenty-two was still on her knees gasping when her MMU buzzed to alert her to her next delivery.

* * * *

As she was leaving work late that afternoon Megan stopped by the Mailgirls Locker Room to post a copy of the training plan for the week. She decided to have her sister run Thursday to give her maximum rest after her near collapse on Saturday and scheduled Fourteen and Three at 10 a.m. Wednesday to distract Fourteen from thinking about leaving for college that afternoon. She had already posted the schedule in the Fitness Center and messaged Human Capital and each of the six mailgirls individually.

Mailgirls Two and Eleven were showering, probably in preparation for going up to dinner in the Dining Room -- Megan hadn't seen any notice that clients or visitors were being hosted that evening. The Executive Dining Room saw quite a few dinner meetings -- the lure of naked mailgirls as waitresses meant that much wining and dining was done in-house instead of a posh restaurant downtown.

Meagan swiped her ID badge at the door into the Mailgirls Lounge figuring she'd check in on Mailgirl Twenty-three. She was there walking easily on the treadmill.

"Felicity, how are you doing?"

"I'm okay; I just had to kneel in the courtyard for two hours and thirty-seven minutes. How is your sister feeling?"

"I haven't seen her today, why do you ask, and what were you doing kneeling in the courtyard?"

"Ms Barnes and Mistress V took us to the courtyard where they strung her up and cropped her ass and thighs. Mistress V also hung a sign from your sister's nipples saying 'Do not feed the mailgirls' and left it there for the whole time. She didn't take the nipple clamps off until after we ate our lunch and then sent Twenty-two off to make a delivery. Oh, and she also gagged her and that didn't come off with the clamps."

"That sounds thoroughly unpleasant. The clamps are new as far as I know. She did flog my breasts once -- slept on my back for a week. What did she do to you?"

"I was chained to your sister with a long enough chain that I could kneel on the grass. She gave your sister a pair of high heels to wear to protect her feet, so she said."

"I thought Sam would be disciplined for chatting with Richard -- it's not the first time for her. She appreciates male admiration and has often pushed the line. I'll come in early tomorrow morning and check on her; I can speak to the team about this week's training as well which will give me cover."

* * * *

Samantha had been defensive, defiant when Megan entered the Mailgirls Lounge to check on her. Megan gave up on trying to reach her sister and spoke briefly with the other five, talking to them about the treadmill training. She also asked them to let her know if it seemed as though Mistress V's discipline focused on the runners.

Having gotten to SG&T absurdly early she had also arranged to meet Ken Jensen for a morning run. It had taken the best part of of a year, but she was finally able to use the locker room at the fitness center without panicking.

They had escaped the parking lot without incident and were running easily on the trails through the parkland when Ken asked, "How did you become a mailgirl?"

"I was working for SG&T in Chicago when my boss pitched a move to Washington as a chance to help launch the new regional headquarters. I'm from Iowa and living in Chicago was great for staying close to family, but I bought the opportunity line. So I wound up my affairs, shipped my stuff east and arrived to discover I was being given the opportunity to help launch the Mailgirl Program at SG&T. They promised a substantive financial job and a raise afterwards. The alternative was no job and no reference. Maybe I should have just turned around and gone back to Iowa, but I didn't.

"SG&T came through with their promises, I made out great financially, but it left some lasting scars. And then there is my sister. My folks were unhappy with me being a mailgirl; my dad hasn't spoken to me since Samantha signed up."

"I don't see mailgirls arriving in the Midwest anytime soon, but I'm surprised that SG&T started with Washington and not San Francisco -- they're practically a standard amenity in the Bay area."

"Well, SG&T got a discount on the startup costs as DDE was looking to expand the program into new territories and I think there was a contrarian sentiment on the Board of Directors to see if 'family friendly' politicians would prioritize jobs over morality. Still, there were no mailgirls in the photo ops of the ground breaking and ribbon cutting of the new headquarters."

Megan worked hard to stay with the blonde west coast import -- he would have eased back for her, but she felt good that he didn't have to. She arrived at her desk feeling successful and carried that mood throughout the day. She was able to keep an eye on Mailgirls 4 and 15 on the treadmill in an unusually crowded fitness center by tapping into the camera there. No alerts reached her desk concerning the six women under her charge. It was a good day.

* * * *

Megan arrived early on Wednesday, ready to put in a full days work. She was wrapping up one report and was well into the details of a second investigation. Mr Bratz handed her tasks to evaluate a proposal for financing by SG&T or to structure how that financing would work. She most enjoyed projects where she was involved from evaluation all the way through to monitoring the implementation. SG&T had a separate department to manage developments in which the bank had an ownership stake. She watched Mailgirls Twelve and Fourteen do their workout in the fitness center -- it looked less crowded than the previous afternoon.

Mailgirl Fourteen got the treadmill up to speed and then just zoned out, looking past Twelve on the machine beside her and the several men whose focus was clearly not the equipment they were using. Elliptical and weight machines were less compelling than the two pairs of bouncing breasts and well toned asses on display. Maria however was contemplating the vision of her catching a train and riding off to a week of freedom. She had left the SG&T campus once before for her week's vacation last November, but she made that trip locked in an over-sized -- well, not for her -- pet crate until released at her destination. Her time had mostly been her own at the resort, but the clothes she wore had been laid out for her, she'd had no money, no phone, and no responsibility. Ms Brooks had told her that her own clothing had been brought out of storage, but hadn't mentioned any of the other necessities, but they had to be provided, didn't they? After nearly two years of just doing what she was told with her freedom limited to a few hours per week in the confines of the Mailgirls Lounge this coming week was going to be surreal. Maria was counting down the minutes until she would get the summons to the loading dock to reemerge into the world.

Mistress V had barely changed Fourteen's status to available following her post-workout shower and grooming before her MMU chimed with her next delivery. She'd made nearly a dozen trips crisscrossing the five floors of the SG&T building before she was directed to the Employees Dining Room for lunch. Mailgirls were scheduled in shifts to eat their lunch in either the dining room or the Mailgirls Locker Room so that SG&T's workforce were treated to the sight of a pair of naked women on their knees eating mush out of a bowl -- no utensils or fingers allowed. Maria was looking forward to eating actual food on campus seated at a table and not on display.

Just after two p.m. Megan looked up to find Mailgirl Eighteen standing by her desk holding out a leather messenger bag. She quickly tapped Eighteen's MMU to accept delivery and said "Thank you." Thanking mailgirls was completely against protocol, but Megan could get away with it because of her previous service.

She opened the bag, curious as to its contents. The was a smartphone in an outside pocket and a sleek laptop in an inside compartment. She drew out an attractive patterned top, a larger bra than what she wore, a lightweight pair of jeans and a pair of flats. Tucked into the left shoe she found a slim wallet. Opening it she found a Texas driver's license for Maria Briggs with a photo of a younger woman wearing a collared shirt and pearls in her ears. There was also a card indicating a name change to Maria Hyland, credit cards and an ATM card for Maria Hyland, a monthly pass for the MARC train, and a thin sheaf of $20 bills. Her workstation chimed to announce a priority message. It was from Mr Fforde and included a pass code for the phone and PINs for the cards with the admonition to record the numbers and securely delete the message.