Operation: Mailgirl Ch. 02

Author's Note: As I mentioned in the note to the first chapter, I intend for my Mailgirl tale to be more graphic than ones previously authored. This chapter has the Mailgirl hallmarks of public nudity, exhibitionism and voyeurism, but it also has elements of Non-Consent/Reluctance as well as an explicit sexual encounter. Please consider this your disclaimer if that is not what you are looking for.

*****

Claire had never been a heavy sleeper, but that night she barely slept at all. The events of the previous day had affected her more deeply than she had originally thought they would, and her active mind kept her up most of the night. By 4 AM the next morning, she was already up and getting ready for her second day at Mizutomo Tower, even though her shift didn't actually start for another three hours.

She had been rattled by the appearance of Sixteen and Mansfield at the end of her day; it didn't take a super spy to figure out that there was something untoward happening. Claire had headed back to her hotel room right after and tried using the resources she had to research whatever she could about where Mansfield could have taken Sixteen, but there was virtually nothing she could find with the level of access she had. She could have appealed to Grimes to allow her to access more restricted information, but there was no way he would have permitted that, not when he needed her focused on the bigger picture at hand. Frustrating as it was, Claire was virtually powerless to do anything for Sixteen and could only hope that the girl was all right.

Mansfield was something else entirely. She had dug up everything she could find on him: he was a career businessman who had been born into money, but instead of squandering it like most trust fund babies, he had taken over his family's businesses and increased their profits tenfold. The conglomerates he owned were diverse and far reaching; he had business on almost every continent in the world. He had also spent quite a bit of time in Japan, right when the Mailgirl phenomenon had started and had been involved with it almost from the start. This explained his brazen and careless attitude towards mailgirls. The fact that he had taken Sixteen and likely another mailgirl into his limousine at the end of the workday only cemented Claire's suspicions about him: he was powerful and used to getting his way, no matter what the cost or consequences.

She laid her outfit for the day on the bed, her normal routine for field assignments. As she reached her hand out to grab the towel hanging just outside the bathroom door, she paused in place, Mistress Henckel's words echoing in her head: All mailgirls are to shower as part of their pre-shift preparation. No exceptions.

Claire felt an involuntary shiver travel up her spine as she stood, examining herself in the mirror hung on the door. She was clad in only an oversized raglan, her preferred sleepwear. Her eyes looked a little puffy due to the relatively short amount of sleep she'd gotten and her blonde hair was disheveled; not only couldn't she sleep, she had also tossed and turned a fair bit. Normally she'd take a brisk shower to wake herself up, but she also had a mandatory one awaiting her once she arrived at Mizutomo Tower. She mulled it over in her head for a few moments before reaching down to pull the shirt over her head, exposing her naked body underneath. She'd likely need a third, maybe even a fourth one before the day was over, so what could her normal morning shower hurt?

But even as she stepped into the shower and turned on the faucet, she knew that things were quickly becoming a lot less normal by the minute. Nothing about her assignment up until this point could be considered normal, and she knew it had the potential to get much, much worse rather than the other way around. Danger was part of the job working in the clandestine intelligence community, but very few assignments would have left her as exposed as she was in this particular one. And as that realization crossed her mind, she became very acutely aware of something else she had found out during her previous day as a mailgirl: being naked in a public setting had made her wetter than she had been in a long time.

Being an attractive woman in her mid-twenties, Claire had had her fair share of sexual experiences. She had lost her virginity to her high school boyfriend in their senior year, and had a few more partners during her time in college. The sex had been good and enjoyable, but for the most part, she considered herself fairly mainstream in terms of kinkiness, as the wildest thing from her sex life was the one and only time she had tried anal during her freshman year.

Which made the fact that Claire had gotten actively aroused during her first day as a mailgirl all the more puzzling to her. The degradation and lewd treatment from the clothed employees at Mizutomo Tower had been even more humiliating than she had expected. As she had hustled from job to job alongside Sixteen, their sweaty, naked breasts bouncing with every step of their bare feet, she had convinced herself that she was surviving the day on sheer will and determination.

And then Morten Mansfield had stuck his finger inside of her pussy with almost no resistance at all.

Claire shuddered as she relived the memory of his assault into her most intimate of orifices. It had been unexpected and uninvited, yet the fact that her pussy had all but welcomed his intruding digit caused her to briefly question her own sanity. Did this stuff excite her? Did she really become aroused at the prospect of being molested by a short, balding and completely lecherous businessman?

As the water dripped from her body, her right hand slid down the flat of her stomach and between her legs, her fingers sliding easily inside of her achingly wet pussy and providing Claire with the answer to her self-posed questions. A moan escaped her lips and reverberated around the bathroom even as she finger-fucked herself with her middle and ring fingers, her palm grinding hard against her mound and brushing up against her clit with every inward stroke. She bit her lip, bracing herself against the cold tile wall, spreading her legs further apart as she continued to masturbate furiously. Her left hand traveled up to twist a sensitive nipple, the slight jolt of pain sending satisfying shivers down her spine.

The sensible, logical part of her mind screamed at her to cease, to stop giving into the twisted and perverse idea that she got off on the treatment she had received the previous day. It was a fight that she wanted her rational self to win, but any notion of that was quickly lost as she felt the orgasm that had been building up explode throughout her body. She felt her pussy spasm and tighten around her fingers, a new rush of wetness coating them as she withdrew from her aching orifice. She convulsed involuntarily as the pleasurable sensations hit her brain and turned her legs into jelly. "F-f-f-fuuck,", she groaned, leaning her head back against the wall of the shower as she rode the last waves of her orgasm out.

Discipline finally took over, despite the fact she could have easily gotten off again; with some effort she raised herself into a standing position and finished her shower. Grabbing her towel from the rack nearby, she pulled the curtain aside and stepped out into the hazy bathroom. The mirror had fogged up from the steam, so she wiped it clear with her towel before patting herself dry. Something she saw in the mirror gave her pause, however.

The black "20" traced on her left hip had degraded in legibility somewhat, but was still easily readable against her skin. She traced a finger over it, idly debating whether to scrub it off in earnest. She decided against it, however. After all, Mistress Henckel would only write it on her again once she arrived at Mizutomo Tower. For the next few days, it would be the only way most people knew who she was.

Before she could stop herself, her hand had moved inward again, swiftly finding her clit with practiced ease.

*****

The elevator doors slid open and Claire stepped out onto the third floor of Mizutomo Tower, colloquially known as the "Atrium". She hadn't seen it her first day thanks to Mistress Henckel taking her through the service lift, but now that she had her own badge, she was expected to pass through this section of the building to access the rest of the Tower just like all its other employees.

The Atrium was a wide, expansive concourse level bearing many similarities to floors she'd seen in other office buildings. It was designed as a central traffic hub, as the many elevator banks on the far end linked the many floors of the tower together. There were concession stands flanking the main thoroughfare, and although Claire was very much tempted to grab a cup of coffee, it would only work against her during her day.

She found herself looking around to see if there were any naked women running around, even though she knew that mailgirls only serviced floors Four and above in Mizutomo Tower. This was by design; the lobby and lower three floors were designated retail and commercial space. She recalled these facts from the packet she'd received upon starting her assignment; it was tangentially useful information, though she still wasn't sure why the building designers hadn't included elevators which bypassed the Atrium and instead forced all traffic through it.

Someone brushed past her roughly, bumping forcefully into her right shoulder, nearly causing her to lose her balance. She looked around and spotted a bespectacled, slightly overweight young man in a business suit moving briskly towards an open staircase to the right of the elevator banks. He looked back at her and shouted "Sorry!" before bounding up the steps.

"The way he's moving, you'd think he was late for an important meeting or something."

Claire looked to her left. The derisive comment had come from a smartly-dressed businesswoman, who was watching the man with a disgusted look. "He's not?" Claire ventured.

"Nope." The businesswoman pointed forward. "Though I'm sure it's important to him."

Claire looked in the indicated direction, following the young man as he climbed up the stairs, which led him not to the next floor, but rather to what appeared to be some sort of pedestrian bridge spanning the width of the Atrium. Gathered in the center of the bridge was a group of people, almost all of them men, from what she could see. They all seemed keenly interested in the windows in front of the bridge; standing room at the railings looked like it was at a premium.

"What are they all up there for?" Claire asked, even as her mind tried to work out the answer.

The other woman chuckled, the sound dripping with sarcasm and absolutely devoid of actual amusement. "Feeding time at the zoo." At Claire's curious and confused look, she elaborated. "They're all looking into the locker room for those mailgirls. One-way glass gets them a peek at all those sluts fingerbanging themselves into oblivion."

"Oh." It was all Claire could offer in response without giving away her actual reaction of shock. She had seen the locker room on her first day, but it had barely been a blur in her memories due to the entirety of what had happened to her yesterday. "They like watching the mailgirls shower?"

"Shower, touch themselves, get whipped by that dominatrix madam of theirs. All part and parcel of the Mailgirl experience." The businesswoman looked incredibly unimpressed with the entire notion.

Claire ventured a look upwards as they passed underneath the bridge on the way to the elevators; sure enough, the glass windows opposite the railings were clear enough to show the locker room with about a half dozen mailgirls walking around, most of them already naked and the few that weren't were working on disrobing. Almost all of the men at the railing had their smartphones out, snapping pictures and videos of the sights, some of them leaning far over the railing to try and get the closest view.

"Pathetic, the lot of them," the businesswoman said, shaking her head.

"Yeah... really," Claire agreed even as she reached down to draw the ID badge, which she'd been issued the previous day and was hanging from her blouse into her handbag. The ID badge which not only bore her assumed name, but also her assigned Mailgirl number of "20" as well as a full body shot of her, completely naked.

*****

The digital clock just above the door of the Mailgirl locker room read "6:58" as Twenty passed through. She had arrived with plenty of time to spare before her shift started at 8 AM sharp, a cushion which was precious and valuable given the mandatory pre-shift inspection by Mistress Henckel at 7:45 AM.

The locker room itself was basically a long corridor spanning the entire width of the fourth floor. Twenty had entered from the right side, which meant Mistress Henckel's desk was on the opposite side of the room. The row of open, doorless lockers stretched all along the wall to her right; on the left hand side were showers, toilets and sitting benches. The left side wall was one long mirror, and given her morning encounter, Twenty was fairly sure that she knew what was on the opposite side.

There were forty total lockers, each numbered sequentially. Being Mailgirl Number Twenty, she naturally had the one right in the middle of the room. There weren't forty total mailgirls (Thirty-One was the highest numbered), but she had no doubt that they would be adding more in the weeks and months to come. She had simply lucked into the next available number.

Twenty did a quick scan of the half dozen other women in the room; most were naked already and the few who weren't were quickly remedying that. Five was a lithe, statuesque blonde (much like Twenty herself) who worked the night shift; she was conversing with Twelve as they both walked towards the showers. They passed by svelte brunette Twenty-Six, who was by herself on one of the long benches, her back pressed against the polished metal, long legs up in the air as she fingered herself with reckless abandon, as if she were in the privacy of her own bedroom rather than an open locker room at the heart of a busy office building.

Open and public masturbation was one of the many things that had surprised Twenty on her first day as a mailgirl, and seeing it again on her second wasn't any easier. Mistress Henckel hadn't commented on it directly, but she also hadn't explicitly prohibited it, which led Twenty to believe that it was tolerated among the small mailgirl community. And although it shocked her to her very core on first glance, Twenty had to grudgingly admit that allowing the mailgirls to sate their desires in the locker room was a blessed allowance as much as a shrewd business decision, especially now that she was aware of just how much all the other employees in the building were able to see. The mailgirls could relieve themselves after a long day of running between offices completely in the nude, and the employees who watched them got free shows of naked, attractive young women pleasuring themselves.

To her credit, Twenty-Six was playing her part perfectly. Her face and chest were flushed red, and her skin shone with sweat as she writhed and moaned, oblivious to almost everything except the frantic movement of her hand between her legs. She had ample C-cup breasts with large, perky nipples; her free hand was firmly clamped around one, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh in time with her very audible gasps. In the relative quiet of the locker room, the unmistakable sounds of her fingers entering and exiting her soaked pussy at a frenzied pace served as a complement to the throaty moans escaping her lips. No doubt the onlookers behind the one-way glass were enjoying the show almost as much as she seemed to enjoy giving it.

Twenty eyed tall, willowy Fifteen next to short and petite Seventeen, both girls disrobing at their lockers; they would be on the same shift as she was. Conspicuously empty, however, was the locker between them, the one belonging to Sixteen. She knew that Sixteen was assigned to train her for the week, so the brunette's absence coupled with what she had seen yesterday after work only caused Twenty to worry more.

She set her handbag down in her locker before taking a few steps towards Fifteen and Seventeen, her fingers already working on undoing the buttons at the front of her blouse. "Hey, have you seen Sixteen?"

Fifteen straightened up to look at Twenty, having just removed her panties from around her ankles; she stood with only her bra on. "No, she hasn't been in yet," she replied, reaching behind her back with and unclasping the last garment she wore, her D-cup sized breasts spilling into view moments later. "Haven't seen her since the end of the day yesterday."

Seventeen cast a glance at Twenty and was about to say something when an ear-splitting scream of pleasure from Twenty-Six briefly silenced the entire room. They all looked over to where the brunette lay on the bench, her entire body limp and sagging save for her left hand, which still worked back and forth between her legs diligently. "Yeah, I think she was called away when she finished her shift," Seventeen offered after a moment of relative silence. "Not sure where, but she didn't take any of her things."

Sure enough, Twenty spotted the neatly folded clothes still laying on the small shelves in Sixteen's locker. On the topmost one, a pair of diamond stud earrings and a small silver necklace sat. "Is it like her to leave like this?" she asked, folding her own blouse neatly and setting it aside before reaching for the zipper at the side of her skirt.

"It isn't the first time she's done this," Fifteen stated, pulling off her own earrings. "Last week she left her things twice during the week. Came back the day after saying she had taken sick."

This took Twenty aback slightly. "She seemed fine yesterday when she was showing me around. Didn't look like she was feeling under the weather."

"It's not like her to lie about that sort of thing either," Seventeen added, grabbing a towel from her locker. "She's been here longer than I have and I've been here almost two years. Always been punctual and rarely misses a day. Just been within the past few months that we've noticed things like this happening."

"She's supposed to be training you today, right?" Fifteen asked Twenty.

The blonde nodded, her mind already trying to process the information her fellow mailgirls had just told her. "For the rest of the week, as Mistress Henckel said," she replied, hooking her thumbs through the sides of her panties and sliding them down her legs.

"I'm sure if she doesn't show up, Mistress Henckel will assign you a new partner, so I wouldn't worry too much about it," Seventeen said.

"Yeah, I'm sure she will," Twenty agreed with a nod, though her thoughts were still preoccupied with what had happened to her partner from the previous day. "Thanks."

"I'd actually spend more time worrying about passing muster down there," Fifteen intoned with a glance down towards Twenty's groin before starting towards the showers.

Twenty caught the veiled nuance in Fifteen's voice, but had to look down before she fully understood what the other mailgirl had meant. Despite having shaven her pussy the previous day, a few stray strands of pubic hair had grown back on her mound, evident enough for a casual observer like Fifteen to notice. And if Fifteen had seen them, there was little chance that they would escape Mistress Henckel's detection. Twenty finished folding her clothes and placing them in her locker before reaching for the small two-blade shaving razor and tube of shaving gel on the top shelf, along with the white terrycloth towel folded up next to the black Lycra armband which housed her MMU.