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The True Life Adventures of a Mailgirl
Chapter 7 — Pay for Play
by Periculum Fabula
Recap: As this is chapter 7, reading chapters 1 through 6 would materially help the reader understand and enjoy the plot. The story is set in the main complex and world headquarters of TRG, an American manufacturer and distributer of various technologies, mostly electronics. Both as a publicity stunt to boost sales, and to increase the security of messaging involving research and development between the various departments, TRG launched a program utilizing athletic, nude, female, couriers (mailgirls), and an accompanying reality television show which follows the mailgirls mostly through the use of an elaborate array of video security cameras and microphones spread thought the TRG complex. Anne, a hard working but shy, frustrated, and submissive young woman, who trains as a triathlete, was recruited as TRG’s first mailgirl.
To add drama to the show, to portray the mailgirls in a heroic light, and to add to the twisted pleasure of TRG’s young dot.com billionaire, a controlling megalomaniac, Jim Dillard’s pleasure, mailgirl deliveries have tight deadlines which can only be met by Anne through utilizing her exceptional, athleticism. If she is tardy on a delivery, Anne risks physical correction (ass whipping). Particularly, Elka Visneski, the Electronics Shop supervisor and Ms. Hayashi, in charge of mailgirl training and discipline, are itching for a chance to flog Anne’s very athletic posterior. The story picks up as Anne, on her third day as a mailgirl, is struggling with the demands of her new life as a Mailgirl.
YOU’LL OWE ME A FAVOR
Naked, fatigued, sweaty, and barefooted, Anne stood in the executive suite before CEO Dillard’s secretary and awaited her instructions. Completely unimpressed with Anne’s slender and athletic young body, the secretary took one look at her and sneered.
“Take this to Accounting,” Mr. Dillard’s secretary said. “You will report to a Ms. Schneider at cubicle 147. You have four minutes.”
In her late twenties, Gina Schneider, a plus sized woman with a pleasant face, glasses, and big smile, greeted Anne warmly.
“Hi, I’m Gina.”
Anne returned the smile. “They call me Mailgirl Number 3.”
“Since Mr. Harold is often in meetings, I’ll be your contact person for both Accounting and Legal.”
Holding out her security pouch handcuffed to her wrist, Anne could see the key to unlock to pouch sitting on Gina’s desk but the woman ignored Anne’s gesture. Instead, she seemed completely engrossed at looking at Anne’s body. Far from being offended by Anne’s nudity, Gina seemed very interested and carefully studied Anne’s remarkably fit physique as if she were a jeweler studying a rare and valuable diamond. Intent, Gina’s expression seemed to reflect a more professional than that of a sexual interest and Gina didn’t shy away from a careful scrutinizing of both Anne’s twat and her boobs.
“You definitely have a very attractive body Number 3. You’re very well-toned.”
“Thanks,” Anne said with a little reservation to her voice as she wandered what Gina was doing. “I’m a triathlete.”
“It shows. I understand every mailgirl has a tattoo?”
“Yes ma’am. We call it our mailgirl badge.”
“Can I see it?”
Although somewhat taken back by Gina’s long and very thorough scrutiny of her anatomy and by the surprising request to inspect her backside, Anne turned around and let Gina take a gander at her ass. The inspection only intensifying, Gina bit her bottom lip and rubbed her chin as she finished her examination of Anne’s physique.
Gina began to smile, a very satisfied smile. “Yes, I think you’ll do,” Gina said aloud to no one in particular as if she were completely lost in thought. “I think you’ll do just fine.”
Footsteps could be heard approaching and Gina’s face lit up as she glance to see who was coming. Standing, Gina put her hand on Anne’s shoulder and turned her towards the oncoming footsteps. “Number 3, there’s someone I want you to meet.”
At six feet, two inches, with a seriously handsome face like a young George Clooney, and a muscular body that amply filled out his two piece suit in all the right places, TRG’s new patent attorney, Matt Compton was number one on the list of men that Anne wouldn’t mind letting see all she had to offer. Nevertheless, Anne flinched and blushed in embarrassment when she saw Matt approaching.
“Oh, hi Matt,” Anne said as she smiled bashfully.
Matt smiled back. It was a big smile, a real big smile. Anne tried to hide her excitement but her eyes betrayed her.
“I’d heard you joined the mailgirl program Anne and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I’ve really, really been looking forward to seeing you in just your skinsuit.”
Anne blushed again. “Well, what do you think?” Anne made a 360 degree turn and modeled her body for Matt.
“I’m blown away. You’ve got a killer body.”
“Oh, I see you’ve met,” Gina said.
“We’ve seen each other some at the gym,” Matt said. mecidiyeköy escort
Although Matt and Anne had worked out at the same gym and they talked often, she never quite seemed to attract his attention. As nice as he was good looking, Matt was very sociable to everyone, not just Anne and, with his looks and congeniality, he always attracted a crowd of young women. With so much competition vying for Matt’s attention, Anne never made any headway in taking the relationship beyond a mere causal acquaintance. Looking at Anne in a decidedly admiring way, for the first time Matt seemed to show some real interest in her as evidence in his smile, in the tone of his voice, in his eyes, and in the crotch of his pants.
“I can see that you’ve really gotten you money’s worth out of your gym membership,” Matt said.
Delighted at Matt’s reaction to Anne, Gina took the key from her desk and unlocked Anne’s security pouch, removed the encrypted jump drive, and gave the drive to Matt.
“I’m sorry I they won’t let you in the legal department,” Matt said.
“I’m sorry about that too. I’d love to come and say hi sometimes. Maybe a couple of times a week if you’re not too busy.”
“I’d like that too. Maybe you can if they ever let the mailgirls come in the legal department.”
“I’m sorry to break this up,” Gina said. “But I’ve got another run for you to make.”
Gina’s signaling an end to the conversation seemed to concern Matt and, although his time with Anne was fleeting, he paused to choose his next words with care. “I know this may not be a good time but do they give you any time off, like an evening or something?”
Although her heart jumped, Anne lost her smile. “No. They’ve told me we might get some later, after they finish filming the reality show but not right now.”
“Well, perhaps lunch or breakfast or something,” Matt said with a tinge of hope to his voice.
Anne grimaced. “I wish I could but I’ve got to take all my meals downstairs.”
Matt seemed disappointed. “Well, maybe I can at least see you around again sometime.”
“I hope so,” Anne said as she tried to avoid appearing as crestfallen as she really was.
Gina retrieved another jump drive from her desk but instead of putting it in Anne’s pouch, Gina just looked at Matt leave and waited for him to exit the department. As he left, Anne looked down in disappointment. Although Matt seemed tantalizingly interested, at the same time he seemed beyond her reach. The only relationship that appeared possible between Matt and Anne was just random meetings in the hallways on rare occasions.
“You want him don’t you?” Gina seemed sympathetic.
“Is it that obvious?”
“Yeah, it’s that obvious.” Gina looked at Anne and smiled, a devious smile. “What If I told you that this wasn’t a chance meeting today, that I called Matt over here just as I knew you were about to arrive?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Don’t worry, you will. What if I also told you I could get you a date with him later today?”
Anne shook her head. “You can’t. I don’t get any time off.”
“You get two fifteen minute breaks don’t you? Just like every other employee. One in the morning and one in the afternoon.”
“Yes.”
Gina lowered her voice to a whisper. “I know a guy in maintenance that services the security cameras. He swears to me that the security cameras in the south stairway on floors seven and eight have never been installed.”
“I still don’t understand.”
“I’ll put in a call order for you to make a pick up at about four o’clock. I’m authorized to do that. As soon as you get here, I’ll cancel the order. You immediately clock out on break and get to the south stairway as soon as you can. I’ll have Matt waiting there for you.”
“Do you think you can get him to come?”
“He’s mentioned your name several times to me and, after what I just saw, yeah, I can get him there.”
“But I only have fifteen minutes.”
Gina rolled her eyes. “Then I’d make the best of it. Surely you can figure out something to do with Matt for fifteen minutes in a deserted stairway without getting bored. If not, see me, I’ve got plenty of suggestions.”
“What if someone sees us? It’s against the rules. He could get fired.”
“Almost no one uses the south stairs. It’s just a fire exit. It’s not close to anything. The stairway is one of the most deserted places in the building. Everyone uses the elevators or the main stairs. It’s a lot more convenient. You should have it all to yourselves.”
“You’re serious. You think you can make this happen?”
“Yeah, Matt’s a friend of mine. I can make it happen. You just get you skinny little naked ass down there and make Matt glad he came.”
Anne looked a little overcome and fought back emotion. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
Gina paused and a sinister worked its way onto her face. “I have my reasons.”
“Reasons.”
“Let’s just say that after I do this, you’ll owe me a favor.”
Anne looked alarmed. “What type of favor?”
Still smiling broadly, Gina licked her escort bayan taksim lips in obvious anticipation. “You’ll see. I’ll explain later.”
Finally putting the jump drive into Anne’s security pouch, Gina locked it and hit a key on her computer. Anne’s pager vibrated, letting her know that the countdown for her delivery had started.
“Take this to Mr. Dillard’s office. You’ve got four minutes.”
“What’s the favor?”
Gina looked down at her computer. “Now you’ve only got three minutes and fifty-three seconds left.”
IT’LL JUST TAKE A MINUTE
Back from her second run to the Electronical Shop and showing the effect of running up nine flights of stairs, Anne glistened with sweat and her chest heaved slightly as she waited for her Research and Development Department contact, George Gilmore, to place the encrypted jump drive in the small security pouch handcuffed to her wrist. Anne felt and heard a slight buzz on her mailgirl pager/timer as Mr. Gilmore hit the key on his computer to start Anne’s delivery countdown.
Despite the fact that an attractive and completely nude young woman was standing before him, and despite the fact that it was his job to handle all deliveries for the department, Mr. Gilmore seemed cold and indifferent to her presence. Aloof, imperious, and introspective, if anything, he gave the impression of being resentful of her intrusion into his office. Picking up the jump drive and opening the security pouch handcuffed to Anne’s wrist, Mr. Gilmore unexpectedly stopped just short of putting the drive into the pouch. Instead, Mr. Gilmore drew the little maroon jump drive with the TRG logo and the number “2” printed on it back towards him and examined the device with displeasure.
“That’s the wrong drive,” Mr. Gilmore said as he sat the maroon number 2 jump drive on his desk. Reaching in his pocket and taking out a set of keys, Mr. Gilmore unlocked his bottom desk drawer and began causally rummaging through it. “The one I need is maroon 12.” Concerned, Anne peaked over the desk and looked into the drawer. Although there were a couple dozen or more numbered jump drives in the bottom draw, none were maroon in color. Lightly stirring though the jumble of jump drives, paper clips, a coffee mug, reading glasses, a bottle of antacid, a bottle of ibuprofen, and other clutter in the drawer, Mr. Gilmore seemed in no hurry.
Fecklessly, Anne looked around Mr. Gilmore’s desk and small office for the maroon jump drive. Messy with papers, a stapler, a computer, a few more jump drives (none maroon), and a calendar, Mr. Gilmore’s desk, as well as the rest of his office, was jumbled and disorganized. Although he appeared to be in his early fifties, the receiving desk at the R & D department was just an entry level job and Mr. Gilmore’s lack of advancement at TRG spoke volumes as to both his lack of social and his lack of organizational skills.
Becoming deeply troubled, Anne looked at the pager on her wrist. Twenty-one seconds had passed and, despite the fact she still hadn’t started her run, and despite the fact that her ass was in great peril of being lashed, Mr. Gilmore’s search for the missing jump drive hadn’t gained any speed or pattern as he quit the desk drawer and began slowly looking under his chair and on the floor.
As he fumbled though mounds of paper on his desk, Mr. Gilmore’s land line rang. To Anne’s dismay, he abandoned the search and answered it.
“Hello, R & D receiving, George Gilmore speaking.” Listening for another fifteen seconds, Mr. Gilmore took no further effort to find Anne’s jump drive, choosing instead to devote himself entirely to the telephone call.
With any chance of a timely delivery quickly vanishing, Anne began to panic. “Uh, sir, I don’t mean to be rude but I’m sorry but I’m on a deadline and-”
Clearly irritated with Anne’s intrusion, Mr. Gilmore held up his index finger up and interrupted, “It’s my mother, I need to take this. It’ll just take a minute.” Mr. Gilmore went back to his phone call.
Astounded at Mr. Gilmore’s cavalier attitude towards her comfort and wellbeing, Anne began to nervously fidget, run her fingers though her hair, and look at her pager. Forty-five seconds had passed and she still didn’t even have the consignment. Horrified at the delay, Anne began visualizing what she’d look like, trembling in fear as she stood on Ms. Visneski’s X waiting for Ms. Hayashi to come and thrash her buttocks. With the hour of four o’clock approaching, Anne was in serious danger of missing her meeting with Matt so she could have her ass thrashed by Ms. Hayashi.
Her sphincter tightened and her toes curled as Anne’s derriere could all but feel the pain of Ms. Hayashi’s whip. Imagining the delight in Ms. Hayashi’s eyes as well as the glee of the television and internet audience as they watch Anne squirming in agony under the pounding of Ms. Hayashi’s ridding crop, Anne could already begin to feel her embarrassment of her imminent public shaming.
Enemies of the mailgirl program such as Anne’s former supervisor, Ms. Paget, would probably celebrate the Anne’s escort posterior receiving its punishment and find great pleasure, and even justice, in Anne’s humiliation and suffering. Ms. Paget, and most of the other women from Benefits, Anne’s former department, would love nothing better than see her get ass-whipped for joining the Mailgirl Program; in their eyes, it would be just what Anne deserved.
“I’m sorry mom, you were saying?” Mr. Gilmore listened for several more seconds. “No, it’s no problem.” Another ten seconds passed. “Sure, I can go by the store. What do you need?” Slowly, Mr. Gilmore looked around for a scrap piece of paper before finding a discarded envelope somewhere in the mounds of paper on his desk.
Frightful, Anne stepped forward and tried to get Mr. Gilmore’s attention. “Pardon me sir. I hate to interrupt but can you at least stop the clock or reset it or something, please. It’s really important.” Even as Anne’s frantic appeal left her lips, Anne realized the futility of her plea as her mailgirl handbook had emphasized that once the countdown had started, it could neither be halted nor changed. The time which Mr. Gilmore was squandering, at the expense of the skin on Anne’s ass, was forever lost.
Giving her an annoyed glance, Mr. Gilmore opened his top desk drawer and resumed searching. After fumbling though the drawer for a few seconds, Mr. Gilmore found a ink pen, seemed satisfied at the result of his exploration, looked at the pen for a moment, clicked it, lined it up on the envelope, scribbled a line back and forth across the page to make sure it had ink, and then started repeating his mother’s grocery list as he began to write.
“Eggs, milk, sliced Gouda cheese, tomatoes, and how many tomatoes do you want?”
Her heart ponding, her palms sweating, and her mind racing, Anne looked again at her pager; a minute and five seconds had passed. Even at a full sprint, it was now or never. Feeling completely naked, exposed, and helpless, Anne began to try to mentally brace herself for the inevitable burning anguish and humiliating spectacle of the public ass whipping which was about to occur.
“Double bean vanilla ice cream, orange juice, paper towels, peanut butter, toothpaste,”
“Sir, please. I’ll be punished if I’m late.”
Engrossed in his grocery list, Mr. Gilmore deliberately ignored her.
“They’ll spank me.”
Mr. Gilmore had no response. To her horror, Anne’s emergency was no urgency to Mr. Gilmore as he seemed entirely uninterested in her predicament. Condemned not by her guilt but by Mr. Gilmore’s incompetence and indifference, Anne now appeared to be utterly without rescue, Looking exasperated, all Anne could do is stand helpess in Mr. Gilmore’s office as he slowly doomed her to her investable beating.
“I’ve got a date.”
Although the frantic young woman standing naked before him pleading for his held was only twenty minutes or so from writhing in pain while getting her ass flailed in front of a worldwide television and internet audience by a sexual sadist as a result of his negligence, Mr. Gilmore continued making out a grocery list, unconcerned with her plight. Although, by now, everyone in the building knew that a mailgirl could suffer corporal punishment for a late delivery, Mr. Gilmore found his shopping to be more important than Anne’s lashing and prioritized completing a grocery list over protecting her ass.
Her situation rapidly deteriorating from extremely dire to completely hopeless, Anne knew that even if she left at that very second, it seemed unlikely that she could make to the Electronics Shop in time. Although distracted by her frustration and despair, suddenly Ann’s eyes fixated on a maroon jump drive in Mr. Gilmore’s top drawer with the number “12” on it and she lunged for it.
Shocked at the intrusion of a naked woman diving across his desk and seizing something from his top desk drawer, Mr. Gilmore slammed the drawer shut, covered the mouthpiece to the phone, and stared at Anne with resentment and incredulity at her audacity. “Just a second.” His voice was dismissive and angry.
Thumping the maroon jump drive on top of Mr. Gilmore’s grocery list, Anne blocked Mr. Gilmore from any further writing. “Is this it?”
Reluctant and indignant of the intrusion, Mr. Gilmore gave Anne a cross look before finally examining the jump drive for a second. “Yes, that’s it.”
Snatching up the jump drive, Anne bolted from the office on a full sprint as she locked the jump drive in the security pouch. Although people and a security guard milling about the body scanner, x-ray machine, and the security desk blocked the exit, there was no time for employing the usual etiquette involved to wade through a crowd.
Using the guard’s chair as a springboard, Anne leaped onto the guard’s desk, soared over the x-ray machine, accidentally crash landed on a man waiting for his parcel to pass though security knocking him backward into a couple of other employees waiting to walk through the body scanner, rolled off the collision, and hit the exit door in full stride, brushing past a woman as she did so. Everyone stopped what they were doing and watched as the door automatically closed behind Anne with all that was left of her was the sound of bare feet sprinting across a tile floor and the word “Sorry” faintly discernable, coming from somewhere down the hallway.
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