Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience. ï>¿Mailgirls On The Run by eltree Chapter 15 /* 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. Megan logged into the smartphone and opened up the contacts listing. There were entries for Megan Brooks, Professor Chang, Colin Fforde, Dr Rodriguez, and the SG&T Human Capital and Security Desks. Wondering about Dr Rodriguez, she texted "Maria's phone" to both herself and Lin Chang. Then she settled back to work until it was time to leave to meet Maria at the loading dock at five p.m. With just over an hour to go before she was due on the loading dock Mailgirl Fourteen's MMU chimed with instructions to report to Human Capital. She wondered whether she was being called for a delivery or a lecture about her expected behavior over the coming week. Miss Bradley just motioned Fourteen to go into Ms Barnes' office; Fourteen couldn't decipher the expression on the Admin's face. Ms Barnes was seated behind her desk and Mistress V was standing to the side against the wall. Fourteen had seen Mailgirl Twenty-two strung up in the courtyard on Monday and crossed paths with the gagged woman several times that afternoon -- Ms Barnes had to send her down to the loading dock at five p.m., didn't she? "Mailgirl Fourteen, right on time. It won't save you today though. Just lean over my desk and grab the other side. Now hold that position." Mistress V's paddle crashed across both ass cheeks. "Don't bother counting, you don't want to know." The beating went on for an eternity, then blessedly ceased. "Now, something to remind you of us while you're playing college student." Mistress V's cane cut across the meat of Fourteen's ass. She then laid down five more stripes moving her blows up and down. Fourteen was sure that she would see six perfectly spaced parallel lines when she had a chance to review the damage in a mirror. "Now stand up and go over into that corner. Feet spread, palms flat against the wall above your head, and nose into the corner. You'll stay like that until, say 4:58. It shouldn't take you more than two minutes to get to the loading dock; after all it's all downhill. And if you're late, you'll just have a head start in accumulating demerits on your return. "You can go back to your other charges, Mistress V. I have a switch here in case this girl breaks position." Fourteen groaned inaudibly -- she knew better than to make a sound -- she would never manage an hour in this position. She felt the switch four times while her nose was pressed into the corner; her arms and legs were quivering with fatigue long before her MMU chimed with a new destination and Ms Barnes told her, "Now go, already." Megan pulled in behind the loading dock at 4:55. She was sure that Ms Barnes and Mistress V wouldn't release Maria until 5 p.m. on the dot, but she didn't want to take the slightest chance that the mailgirl would have to wait for her. The messenger bag was sitting on the passenger seat with the pile of clothing beside it. At 4:58 she picked up the clothing and walked up the steps to the door at the end of the dock. She rang the bell, but got no response, so she stood, waiting until the door opened a few minutes later. A sweaty, naked mailgirl emerged with her MMU flashing 'Late'. Megan hastily reached over and acknowledged Fourteen's arrival. Then she looked at the woman noting the dark red color of her buttocks and the thin lines from the cane wrapping around to the side. "First, Samantha on Monday and now you today. I'm complaining to the fifth floor that Ms Bratz is trying to sabotage the running team. This is not right. "Maria, do you want me to drive you to Frederick instead of having you take the train?" "No, I think it will be more comfortable to stand on the train than sit in your car or even kneel on the back seat." Maria got dressed while standing on the loading dock, wincing when she pulled the pants up over her ass. Megan led her down the steps to the car and pointed out the messenger bag and told her about the wallet, the phone, and the monthly commuter pass for the train. Maria spent the short drive to the MARC station trying to put as little weight on her bottom end as she could. The two women stood together until the train pulled into the station. Then Maria leaned over to kiss the younger woman on the cheek and said, "Thank you." She stepped up into the train car and disappeared inside. Megan waited until the train pulled out of the station, then texted Lin Chang that Mailgirl Fourteen was on her way. ***** Megan barely paused at her desk on her march into Human Capital Thursday morning. She didn't even look up to check out the framed display of mailgirl photos and panties on the wall. "I need to speak to Ms Barnes." The admin for the office looked up and said, "I'm sorry, Ms Brooks, but Ms Barnes is taking a personal day today." She looked at her workstation and continued, "It looks like I can fit you in late tomorrow afternoon. Would 5:30 work for you?" Megan started to respond angrily, but decided not to vent to Miss Bradley who neither made or implemented any policy in re mailgirls. "I'll have to get back to you." "Oh, and Mistress V requested that you meet with her this morning. She is in the Mailgirls' Lounge currently." Megan turned around and headed for the stairs. Mailgirls were prohibited from using the elevators unless delivering packages on carts or hand-trucks, but now she just used the stairs out of habit. She made her way down to the Mailgirls Locker Room where she could see Mistress V seated behind her desk The taskmistress stood up as Megan entered "Good, I need to speak to you. Let's go around the corner to my rooms where we can talk in private." Megan meekly followed the older woman out of the locker room stunned that she had spoken in flat mid-Western tones totally at odds with the heavy German accent that Megan had expected. Mistress V swiped her ID card at a nondescript door down the hall and the two women entered a chamber with overflowing bookcases lining three walls. "Call me Helen. I'm Helen Wilhelm from Dayton, Ohio by way of Oberlin and Cal-Berkeley. Ms Barnes has lost it and needs to be stopped." "But, we all thought you were an ex-Mailgirl from Germany." "I was working on my Masters in Medieval German Literature and doing community theater when I hired on part-time with DDE as a research assistant. Barbara Anderson persuaded me to convert to a mailgirl -- I'm sure you remember how that goes -- just before she left. There were no Mailgirl Mistresses at that time, discipline was handled by the suits in Human Capital, but they decided the optics would be better by handing off that part of the job to an in-house dominatrix. I was one of the first graduates of their advanced training program; fluency in German and a drama background were pluses on my resume. "I enjoy my job. I see it as continuing improv theater where I get to torment younger, more attractive, and often more accomplished women -- which I confess makes my juices run. On the other hand my salary is probably less than what you were paid as a mailgirl, even discounting the bonus, and my workweek is if anything longer. Still, I make more than I would in community theater or as a junior faculty member, and my living expenses are close to nil -- mostly just books and the occasional trip home to visit my family." "What does that have to do with Ms Barnes?" "I just wanted to explain where I'm coming from. I believe Ms Barnes feels threatened by you." "I don't want her job, I want to work in finance; I'm good at it, I enjoy it. My current involvement with mailgirls was foisted on me by the fifth floor over my objections." "She was outraged by the memo turning over control of mailgirls to you while in training. Twenty-two and Fourteen were demonstrations that she's still in charge. I'm not going to inflict any punishment that I believe to be dangerous, but that allows a lot of latitude and I can't provoke an open breach with her. My contract allows for conversion to mailgirl status is my work is found unsatisfactory. You need to talk her down or get the fifth floor to step in." ***** Megan finally made it back to her desk frustrated that she was spending ever more time with mailgirls rather than banking business. She preferred the latter and that's where her next promotion and yearly bonus were to be found. Logging into her workstation she discovered that she had a meeting scheduled for five p.m. with Mr Soames and Dr. Rodriguez, no topic indicated. Curious, she picked up the phone and called Mr Soames 'executive assistant,' Tiffany Alvado -- the former Mailgirl Three. "Tiffany, do you know what is to be discussed at my five o'clock with Mr Soames?" "That's Ms Judge, please. You have a meet and greet with Dr Rodriguez; she's a newly appointed member of the Board of Directors. She has meetings scheduled today and tomorrow to brief her on the operations here in Washington. There is no topic listed for your meeting, just a list of attendees, Mr Fforde and you." "That would be about Mailgirl Twenty-three then. Thank you, Ms Judge." Megan sighed, more mailgirls Well, it was time to ping Fforde on what was going on with Twenty-three and her former employers. And it was good that it was getting visibility at the Board level. That should be positive. Next step, call Starnes and then she'd have to keep an eye on her sister and Twelve on the treadmill. Mailgirls. ***** Megan cleared her desk in time for the meeting, she planned to leave afterwards, no matter what. Starnes had promised to raise Ms Barnes treatment of mailgirls to the Fifth Floor, Samantha looked okay on the treadmill -- she'd had plenty of support from the men also 'working out' in the exercise room -- and Fforde had refused to provide any insight into meeting with Dr Rodriguez, except to say that she was an excellent addition to the Board. Tiffany, looking unusually subdued, looked up and said, "Go right in Ms Brooks, they're waiting for you." Megan entered Mr Soames expansive corner office and saw an older black-haired, olive-skinned woman seated at one end of the small conference table; Mr Soames and Mr Fforde were standing. "Our Miss Brooks is here. Colin, if your Mr Rhimes isn't getting anywhere with Mohr Brothers, why don't you sic Peggy on them?" "I don't know that the Board will authorize outside counsel, especially at her rates." "She'll do it pro bono, she enjoys sticking it to abusive men. Now, Johnny, you and Colin go away, I need to talk to Ms Brooks. I'll see you tomorrow, Colin. And Johnny, tell Tiffy to send Mailgirl Ten here." Megan looked on in amazement as the two meek meekly left Soames' own office. The tall, attractive woman stood up and extended her hand to Megan, "I'm glad to meet you, Megan. I'm Dr Rodriguez, aka the elder Maria Hyland, Mailgirl Fourteen's mother." Megan took her hand and Mrs Hyland gestured, "Let's sit down and chat and once we're through with the confidential stuff we can take it down to the coffee shop and watch the floor show." Megan sat down in the indicated chair, next to Mrs Hyland, still warm from Mr Fforde's body heat. "Pleased to meet you, ma'am," she stammered. "I need to thank you and Mailgirl Ten for the help you've given my daughter. I'll talk to Professor Chang when I go up for Convocation at Hood this weekend. I'd thank Colin as well, but he has ulterior motives, he's lusted after Maria since they met -- she only had eyes for Frank then. "She was in such a bad way when Colin came to me with this mad scheme to make her a mailgirl. I'd heard of mailgirls, but like any thinking person dismissed it as misogynist nonsense. He said he thought the shock of losing everything would snap her out of her depression. It took him several months to convince me and then it was only because she just kept sinking deeper. The mailgirl cure didn't exactly snap her out of it, it took months, but Colin's reports and what Peggy passed on from Marcy gave me hope." "Peggy? Marcy?" "Peggy Judge was my sorority sister at Wellesley, you probably know her as Mrs Soames. I'm sure you know that Johnny was, and is, fucking Tiffy. Peggy forced him to offer her up as a mailgirl. When Colin proposed his scheme, she offered to put Marcy in place to keep an eye on Maria -- you know Marcy as Mailgirl Eighteen. It was a real sacrifice for Peggy -- she's counting down the days to her reunion next month -- but, she's been a great friend for a long time. "By the by, Johnny says you're doing a fine job for the bank which is a rave review for him when speaking of a woman. He has such an outmoded view of things and an over-inflated view of his own capabilities. As much as I denigrate little Tiffy, there's no doubt that she is the brains in that partnership, her temporary replacement did not half so good a job managing him. I've been telling Peggy for years that she is wasted on him, but she says Johnny is great arm candy and now it would be such a clichÃ(C) to replace him with a younger model." Tiffany's voice sounded through the intercom, "Mailgirl Ten, Dr Rodriguez." "Send her in, Tiffy." Ten walked in, then stopped upon seeing Megan and an unknown woman seated at Mr Soames' conference table. "Close the door, Ms Wreibel." Mrs Hyland leaned back to the inter-comm and said, "Go home, Tiffy." before switching it back off. Mailgirl Ten had gone reflexively into 'Feet' position, but was clearly stunned by being addressed by name and the unknown woman's brusque dismissal of Mr Soames' executive assistant -- a title that Tiffany Alvado firmly insisted with her former colleagues. "I'm Maria's mother -- Mailgirl Fourteen, that is -- and I called both of you here to thank you for the help you've given her over the past two years. We all despaired of her recovering, and then tough definitely-not-love seems to have brought her back. I've told Megan that I'm going up to Hood to see her this weekend." "Mrs. Hyland, I don't know what to say. It took many months for Maria to open up, to let herself live again. I, we can't take credit for that, she pulled herself back up. We didn't know her story at all for the longest time, we just knew that she was hurting and was shut down. She conformed better than any of the rest of us to what Human Capital demanded from mailgirls; there was no rebellion, no flirting. It took her most of the first year to seek physical comfort from her fellow mailgirls and by that I mean just touching, just being held, not sex. It was so wonderful when she could let the rest of us comfort her." "Ms Wreibel, if there is anything that I can do for you, just let me know." "I may take you up on that next summer when my contract ends. I don't know where I'll be going at that time." "If you want to walk away now, I can make that happen, though I hope you'll stay through the end of the year and the end of Maria's contract." "No, I made a promise to myself that I would help the other women to the best of my ability and I believe that is as a mailgirl." "You can contact me at any time via Mr Fforde. He will pass on anything that you wish him to. Thank you again and now I will let you get back to work. Ms Brooks will escort me down to the lobby for a coffee and some conversation." Megan reached over and tapped Ten's MMU to indicate that she was available again and the former HR staffer left Mr Soames' office. "Shall we go straight down to the lobby coffee shop or would you like a brief tour of all things Mailgirl?" "Why not, lead the way." Megan led the older woman out of the office and past the kneeling mailgirl on the mat by the admin desk at the entrance to the executive suite. Ten was leaning down from her knees lapping water from a steel bowl. "Once a mailgirl has completed her task she finds the nearest mailgirl mat and waits for her next summons. I've heard of companies where mailgirls drink by sucking water through a hollow dildo." They exited into the fifth floor lobby and Megan led the way to the back stairs. "Mailgirls are only authorized to use elevators if whatever they're pushing a hand-truck or cart. Since deliveries are to be completed within a specified time mailgirls get lots of exercise running up and down the stairs -- we've had several broken ankles over the past three years." She led the way down two flights and then into a short hallway. Human Capital is the office that manages the Mailgirl Program. She gestured at the framed displays spaced along the wall. "Those are the panties that each of the twenty-four mailgirls were wearing when they first stripped down. This is traditional dÃ(C)cor in Mailgirl Programs. The panties are not returned at the end of your contract." Back to the stairwell and down to the ground floor. Megan led the way into the Employee Dining Room. "This is extremely well patronized at lunch and they do modest supper business as well." She pointed out two mats in the middle of the room, each with two gleaming steel bowls in front of them. "Mailgirls eat here in shifts, on their hands and knees of course, no utensils allowed. Everyone else picks their food up at the counters; mailgirls get served. A dining room staffer pours water into their bowls and then scoops out a can of Mailgirl Chow. It is highly nutritious, but looks and tastes like dog food. There are also mats in the Executive Dining Room on the fifth floor." Megan led the way to the glass wall fronting the interior courtyard. "Those pillars are whipping posts, that X-shaped structure is a Saint Andrew's Cross, and multiple mailgirls can be strung up at the same time from that wooden frame. The schedule of public punishments is available via the Mailgirls App which is available to all employees and selected individuals off-site." The two women left the dining room and turned towards the front of the building. "The Med Center is back behind us, it's staffed during the working day and we have physicians on-call. Comprehensive healthcare is part of each mailgirl's employment contract with the exception of contraception and maternity benefits since sexual relations are not authorized -- mailgirl-mailgirl is ignored if conducted out of view. Oh good, the executive table is available." "Johnny said that he would reserve a table for me. Peggy recommended that I have him do so." "Well then, just take a seat and I'll get your coffee and come back to join you." Megan returned with a latte and a tea to find Dr Rodriguez looking down into the Mailgirl's Lounge. "I'm going to have to go down there and see for myself." "We can tour the lounge and dormitory. Normally those spaces are restricted to Mailgirls, Human Capital, and Security, but I have access currently because of the running team. The walls are mirrored glass so that they can't see out, but they know they are on display." A naked black woman appeared from a corridor down below and entered the lounge. "That's Mailgirl Two, she's a dancer and decided that two years as a mailgirl would fund at least a year in New York trying to break into theater. The two women showering are Mailgirls Three and Fifteen -- they're both members of the running team. The showers are cold water only, of course. Those two are likely looking at an early dinner in the dining room. Those are the only showers and sinks available to mailgirls, toilets are in the dormitory. SG&T presumably decided the ick factor outweighed the humiliation of forcing mailgirls to urinate and defecate in public. Some other mailgirl programs are not so decorous. "The desk belongs to Mistress V, she's the in-house dominatrix that directly supervises the mailgirls and doles out punishments. She has an apartment in the basement and is on-call 24/7." Megan paused to sip her tea, Dr Rodriguez turned to her coffee. "What is a mailgirl's day like?" "The lights go on in the dormitory at 6:30 and the grills over the sleeping niches slide open. Two mailgirls go to the dining hall and bring breakfast down in the freight elevator. Most of the mailgirls eat in the dormitory, simple nutritious food, no sweets, no stimulants. Four to six women, usually, dine on mailgirl chow and water, no utensils, no fingers allowed, in the lounge where they can be seen from here. Mistress V tells off which mailgirls get locker room duty.