Good morning gentle readers! I hope all my sirs’ and ma’ams’ had a good night’s sleep because I need your attention for today’s blog. LOL. This should be enlightening so you better perk up!
Bubbagum gave me a couple of things to chew on:
“How many people have you slept with on duty? (Actual people not other Mailgirls.) What’s the most humiliating thing you’ve ever had to deliver?”
Thanks for the question Bubbagum! Now before I start to answer I want to assure my reading audience that Mailgirls are indeed people and some of my favorites to sleep with. LOL! As I’ve stated before I don’t consider myself a lesbian (or even bisexual). Mailgirls sleeping with Mailgirls is so different than women sleeping with women. It’s tough to explain but partially it’s because we Mailgirls share a unique work experience. The humiliation, exhilaration, physical and emotional fatigue, desire, denial; so many things go into doing this job well, so many pent up feelings. I’m not turned on by women per se, but when I see a Mailgirl doing her best to be a Mailgirl; repressing all those emotions, the self-denial for the good of the company, the physical exertion. I feel for my fellow Mailgirls on a such a deep emotional level, it is difficult to describe. I know how badly they need a release; I can see it in their face, their body, their movements. I feel for them. If I see a Mailgirl in need of that kind of release I’m compelled to oblige, even if I’m not especially horny. I need to do it because when I feel that same need again I hope a Mailgirl is there to help me release as well. I think it’s something the best Mailgirl’s feel, that oneness in our nakedness, our femininity. You couldn’t pay me enough to go on a date with a woman, but if a Mailgirl needs a deep tongue-kissing and a fingerblast I am there.
The cheeky answer to Bubbagum’s question is “0”. I have never slept with anyone at work. Who could sleep with all that sex going on?
But I get what you mean Bubba. How many coworkers while on duty and excluding other Mailgirls.
With that being said, I don’t really know all the times I’ve had sex at work. I’m not one for making notches on the bedpost, and carrying a bedpost around would definitely be a uniform violation. Same for notching equipment.
Most of the times I’m having sex at work it’s because I have a need, limited time, and a willing partner. I’m not one for enjoying being forced into it. Those times that has happened have actually dried me out, making the damn task more difficult. But sex is a very personal thing. If I don’t like the person I don’t want the sex. My body just reacts, even when I just want to get the deed done and move on.
The corporate environment at the first and the third companies I’ve worked for is similar; Sex with Mailgirls is grounds for immediate termination. So when it’s done we do it quick and quiet. I only get that urge every couple weeks and I never do it with the same guy twice. If you do it twice they think they own you. Males can skip right over dating and marriage and go straight into possession, so I never do the same guy twice… unless it’s a group setting.
(Geez, there are going to be a lot a caveats to this number.)
The second company I worked for, where sexual harassment was common, unpunished, and sex with Mailgirls was encouraged (if not compulsory), I actually used my hands, mouth, or let them tittyfuck me more often than vaginal sex. If it was dry, unless they had a lubricated condom or didn’t mind eating out a Mailgirl, vaginal sex was often off the table.
Would you count handies, blowjobs, or tittyfucks as “sleeping with”? What about the times someone had a fetish and wanted me to do something that wasn’t overt sex?
Story time; At the SF company there was a businesswoman we’ll call “Barb” (cause she looked like the character from the first season of Stranger Things), a good middle manager but not a corporate climber. Anywho, Barb saw me orgasm one day. It wasn’t something she planned or anything. I was having a rather tense day, so when I was on a break I found the nearest resting mat and took care of myself. Mailgirls can be pretty discreet about this sort of thing. Kneeling at a mat it only takes one hand if you know what you’re doing.
I had thought I’d gotten away with something, choked down the noises and waited for the shudders to stop. As I got up to clean myself off I saw Barb standing there with coffee trembling in her hand. I explained I was on a break and needed to clean myself off. Barb laughed nervously and said “You do you.”
Poor choice of words. Now we were both embarrassed.
Anyway, I didn’t think much more about it and went back to work. Living at the place 24/7 time would seem to crawl. It must have been a week later when Barb worked up the guts to approach me. “Good afternoon Six, are you on a run right now?”
“No. I’m free ma’am.”
“Good. I have one of those Mailgirl executive credits. I was wondering what I could have you do during that time?”
I was a little taken aback. There were a lot of Mailgirls running around the building. Surely she knew. “Well ma’am, I can help you with any office tasks, filing, running messages. Sometimes I’ve been tasked with going out into the city and picking up lunch or dry cleaning. It’s good for twenty minutes, ma’am. So I can do just about anything you can think of in that time.”
Barb nodded. “I think I would like to give you that time to rest. If that’s okay.”
I found my situation there rather dreadful. Work was my only distraction. Giving me extra time off was not exactly an enticement. “I would suggest you save it until you have a specific task for me ma’am.”
“I have something particular in mind, but it’s okay if you say “no”.” Barb said, lowering her voice. “If you remember I walked up on you the other day when you were taking a personal moment.”
Naked I could not hide my blushing. “Yes ma’am.”
“Well I would very much like to see you do that again.”
Barb pushed her glasses up her nose. “I know the dirty things the execs ask you Mailgirls to do. I’m not gay, at least not totally, and I wouldn’t want to force you to do anything like that. But I very much enjoyed seeing you come the other day. I’ve never seen a woman orgasm before in real life. It was beautiful, inspiring, weirdly empowering. If you wanted to do that again I would like to watch. Is twenty minutes enough time?”
I laughed nervously but her face was serious. She really wanted to watch me come. It wasn’t the weirdest thing I’ve ever been asked to do. But it was certainly the most memorable.
We wandered around the fourteenth floor for a while, looking for a quiet place. This was towards the end of the day and there was an unoccupied kitchenette away from the elevators. There for the next nine-and-an-half minutes Barb watched me play with myself as I leaned against a Formica counter. I had to close my eyes. The way she was staring at me was making me nervous. I know other people did walk by but Barb waved them off. Middle management had its privileges.
Nine and a half minutes can seem like a very long time.
When I was done she gave me the rest of the time to myself. While I was getting cleaned up I got a four star review. “She’s game.” Was the comment Barb left.
After that, the SF execs had me do more sexual and humiliating things. Barb was a trap.
A year or so later I was working up on the 30th floor. This is the territory the most powerful executives worked in. Mailgirls were being full on sexually exploited there. Sexual harassment law is a double edged sword for Mailgirls, without it you have no protection and if you use it your life can become very difficult. The rule at this company was Mailgirls willing to “play ball” moved up to the executive floors. Their lives became easier, more time off, bonuses, vacation days, etc. Thos who didn’t stayed on the lower floors and got the crap assignments; graveyard shifts, custodial duty, ambiance (which just meant you had to stay on a pedestal in the lobby for an hour at a time as a “living artwork”. This time was best spent doing yoga poses).
I had managed to get myself up to the 30th floor. I didn’t mind doing sexual things but I hated being forced into it. Offer me, entice me, but don’t order me. I may even do it but I won’t like it. You can’t require someone to ‘love’ doing anything. Very few Mailgirls did. Some were just better than others at faking it.
This low-level exec liked being the “master of his domain”. He liked being the only one allowed to “play” with his Mailgirls. Every day he would summon a Mailgirl to his office using the executive credit. He would take the resting mat and put it right next to his chair, ask you how it was going, were you being productive with your time, etc. Then he would swivel around in the chair and look at you expectantly as you knelt there, eye level with his crotch.
Needless to say, I did not play ball. I did not report him to HR however. After the second time he did this to me I turned around and knelt the other way, facing away from him and looked out the window. I thought he would dismiss me but instead… well I could hear his zipper and belt being undone. In his defense, at least he didn’t come on my back.
A couple weeks later I caught another Mailgirl on my shift sobbing. She was a sweet little Chinese woman and was normally very cheery. I asked her what was wrong and she told me here parents were coming in to visit. The office had rejected her request to leave the property. Even though she had clothes she would not be allowed any time off, not even a couple hours to go to dinner with them. I was more than upset when I found out which exec blocked it.
I went right to his office after my shift was over. “Why are you blocking Eighty-Eight’s time off? Her parents are in from China.”
“Favoritism,” he looked at me with that shit-eating grin, “I’m not supposed to show favoritism.”
“Yeah,” he looks at the mat next to his chair. “It’s a situation you created Six. I have to treat all Mailgirl’s the same, right? If they all do nice things for me and I do nice things for them it’s fine. But if I only do nice things for the ones that do nice things for me, that’s a quid-pro-quo. That would be favoritism.”
He spun his chair to face the mat and spread his legs. “I’d like to approve her time off Six, yours too if you want it. But I can’t show favoritism to some Mailgirls unless I do it for all. As much as I’d like too but it’s out of my hands. So what are you going to do about it, Number Six?”
I knelt down on that mat but hated myself for doing it. “I want you to approve that request before I’m done, ok?”
“Sure Six. And I want no teeth, a lot of tongue and to come in that stubborn little mouth of yours, ok?”
I didn’t respond. I just started in. Apparently another Mailgirl had already done this once today so it took a little longer than it should. That’s another point for sex between Mailgirls, licking pussy is easy, sucking dick is work.
After about fifteen minutes he was ready do blow. “I’m close,” he whispered, “don’t swallow. Don’t spit. Just hold it in your mouth till I say so.”
I hummed an ok and picked up the pace. For all that jerk’s flaws at least he kept his hands off my head while I was blowing him. I hate the guys that just grab you by the hair.
Anyway, he came. I held his goop in my mouth while he shuffled some papers around. As I wiped my chin he handed me the request approval.
“Take this down to the head of building security. And you know that Charlie Brown coffee mug on his desk? Spit my come in that. Let him know I collected the whole set again.”
So Bubbagum, to answer your questions; I would say conservatively I average 26 sexual encounters per year with non-Mailgirl employees at my fist and third companies. Half that at the 24/7 place. For a total estimate of 91 sexual encounters with different individuals so far, give or take group settings encounters.
And you asked what my most humiliating delivery was? A load of come held in my mouth, thirty flights of stairs and a message for Security about how good some executives were about manipulating favors from naked Mailgirls.
Geez, all the Mailgirls I passed on the way down the stairs said “hi.” All I could do was wave or nod. They knew what I had in my mouth. Yuck.
That’s it for this time, kiddies. I feel the expressed urge to gargle some mouthwash before I leave for work. Maybe take a shower before I go to work and shower. LOL. Keep those questions and comments coming (no pun intended), and remember health and efficiency matters!