Oh my… it seems there was a rupture in the space-time continuum as we got to read Fanmail answering Nine’s blog before the Blog even got published.
I tried to close the rupture with my tachyon beam but to no avail… you know what? A new letter came out of it… I have to be carefull… the next thing that comes out may be a whole Klingon bird of Prey… ^^
Whatever… Me thinks that when Readerman updates his story, I’ll have to go back in time to avoid that two versions of the same reality end the whole universe… Have fun guys! :oD
[Edit 1 – 2022 07 16 Edited the timetable + some typo’s]
Letters to Nine (2)
Leiden, Saturday 9th of August 20xx
Oh. My. God! Really! OH. MY. GAWD!
WOHOOO!!! I still can’t believe it! It happened! It really happened! I, lowly Amalia can say that I’ve been Fifteen, a real, breathing specimen of a Mailgirl! No! That I still AM Fifteen.
It was SO exciting! But let me recount…
First I had to suffer through the longest week of my life. The mail with the announcement of the starting Mailgirl-program went out Monday evening. When I arrived at work on Tuesday morning I sensed that things had changed. Everybody was checking me out, the females were looking at me, their looks ranging from curiosity to disdain.
The males were already stripping me with their eyes already. Till Monday evening I had been all but invisible to most people and one simple mail had catapulted me right into the center of attention. People were checking me out and I never felt this vulnerable and humiliated in my whole life. The thought that this was a mere hint of the main dish that would be served to me on Friday made me silently moan under my breath, what brought another round of looks of utter disdain unto me.
Either way, this first hint of what I had brought unto myself made painfully clear to me that I had some preparations to do. First I upgraded my Gym membership – I’m not out of shape by any means of the imagination. I’m quite healthy in fact, but there are always some slightly problematic body parts a girl can work on, especially If she plans on presenting it to the world in all of its naked glory!
Oh… that doesn’t mean you would need to. On all photo’s taken of you, you look absolutely stunning.
Second I made an appointment for a waxing on Thursday evening. Look… I’m tour typical Dutch girl, creamy white skin and golden blonde hair. I can barely see most of my body hair, because… how am I supposed to shave it all, if I can’t even see it? That’s why the waxing was the only way in my book.
I barely slept the whole week. With every night it became more difficult to follow Antje’s suggestion to keep my hands to myself. It became harder and harder not to try to ‘rub away’ the sense of dread about the coming Friday.
On Thursday I had to use my lunch break to change my undies. I had thoroughly wet them. I had the distinct impression that everybody knew about my excitement and my horniness, which didn’t help at all. Luckily it’s the quiet summertime, because workwise I didn’t pull my weight all week.
When I was ready to leave work on Thursday, Antje called me into her office. She looked at me knowingly and asked how excited I was. I gasped.
“very.”, I answered honestly.
“very, Ma’am.”, she corrected me.
“very, Ma’am.”, I repeated. I think she was testing how far she could go. In all honestly, at this moment she could have done anything to me. Fortunately (or unfortunately ?) she didn’t. She just asked me what my plans for my evening were. When I told her I was going to the gym and getting a waxing she just smiled and send me on my way.
Of all the nights in this week, the night before my big day was easily the worst. I didn’t sleep at all. It was a warm night and I sweat a lot, but my sweat wasn’t the only reason I had to change my bedsheets after that night. But I insist, I didn’t masturbate, not once.
I did it! I succeeded… barely.
I didn’t even wait for my alarm clock, which I had set half an hour earlier than usual. I took an ice-cold shower and tried to eat something but couldn’t. I knew that Antje planned to start the day with my public stripping, so I chose to wear my usual office attire. I thought that shedding a classy business skirt would be far more erotic then some baggy comfy wear. At last I applied my usual decent makeup and was on my way.
I entered the office about 50 minutes early, but Antje was already there.
Emotionally I was a mess. There were just so many different emotions raging through me at the same time: excitement, dread, horniness, happiness, exhaustion, relief, determination…
I felt like crying, and laughing, screaming and hurling at the same time.
Antje felt my troubles and came over to me and gave me a big hug.
“Gawd, I’m so proud of you”, she said smiling and for a moment all my troubles went away at least for the time I felt her close.
She kept me close to her, then she sniffed and asked slightly amused: “You’re horny. Aren’t you?”
“Yes, Ma’am”, I answered embarrassed.
“That’s good.” She said smiling. “Everybody will think that you are a slut. That will make things that much simpler!”
I never felt so humiliated and so horny my entire life!
“Listen!”, she said. “We expect 14 people today. 11 male, 3 female. That’s not terrible but I had hoped for better. Here’s my plan. If we want to make this little program a success we need to give today a stellar performance!”
“It has to be classy, but erotic. We will go for Lighthearted and playful today…” then she griped my bottom which made me shriek by surprise “…we will become more serious later. Promised!”
And so we went for classy, but erotic as my colleagues arrived one by one. While Antje greeted every new arrival wholeheartedly, explaining the philosophy and the rules I would be subjected to, I thankfully faded into the background for some time.
Antje pulled me back into the limelight. “…I love to work with her. She is an absolute natural.”, she told the three female coworkers who had attended. “Look! We didn’t forbid her to speak, she just knows that a good Mailgirl doesn’t speak, when she wasn’t asked a question. Right, girl?”
I was baffled but managed a shy: “yes Ma’am”.
“Good Girl!” These words sent a shiver down my spine. My female coworkers relaxed a bit. I’m sure they could discern all the telltale signs of my arousal.
Antje didn’t let me bask in my idle humiliation for much longer. From then on I had to work for more. She ordered me to strip. I tried my best to act classy end erotic, but my soaked panties betrayed me.
“What a slut!”, Isabelle, one of the onlookers remarqued just loud enough for everybody to hear. And nobody corrected her.
When Antje took a permanent marker and wrote a very big “15” on my left tit and on my right calve. For them it wasn’t something special, but for me it was one of the most remarkable moments of my life. I bet you can recall the moment your number was put on your skin the first time. Every Mailgirl can!
I can finally call myself rightfully “Fifteen”. And it’s all thanks to you Nine! You’re a hero!
Antje gave then a speech, but I was mentally too far gone to really follow it, then we spend a long time studying and training my first poses, all of them pretty standard and straightforward “Inspection”, “Present” and “Kneel”.
I was happy. Everybody seemed to have a very good time, especially Antje, who seemed to relish every second she could correct my posture, positively beaming. We ended this part of the day with “drills” as Antje called it. Everybody formed a circle around me, then the first shouted a pose I needed to take as fast as I could, when achieved, the next would shout another position while the others would cheer me on.
I grew tired very quickly and it took only five poses till I made my first mistake. The playful cheers went to very loud boo’s immediately. Antje told me to stand up, gave me a wink and then slapped me playfully on my backside as “punishment”. I played along and gave some exaggerated shriek op protest. Everybody cheered again and the drills restarted.
Finally the lack of intake of food got to me. I really started to feel somewhat wobbly on my feet. Fortunately Antje had kept close attention to me so when I made Eye contact and blinked in rapid succession, she understood that something was wrong. She stopped the drills almost immediately and sent everybody to work. When we finally had some privacy I could tell her that I hadn’t eaten in more than 16 hours.
“Shit!”, she said and led me to her private office.
It took her two minutes to organize me a chocolate bar. I knew it wasn’t really compatible with my diet but I took it.
Eating this chocolate bar felt sooooo goooood… but not as good as hearing all the compliments Antje showered me in. It’s safe to say she had had the time of her life and she ensured that I had a good time too. In this moment I understood that a Mailgirl, even a natural one as me, is only as good as her handler.
I went out to do some simple fetches and some playful poses for my colleagues, than Antje and I ate lunch together in her office. Then she sent me out for some rather lazy fetch runs as everybody was too tired from digesting their lunches themselves.
At 4 o’clock, Kees and Antje sent a very happy and motivated workforce home for the weekend.
Before they let me go home Antje “suggested” that I would make use of the weekend to relieve my tension properly, because I should refrain myself the whole week. I don’t know how you feel, but is the idea of letting your boss control your orgasms hot or what?!
I can’t wait till next week!
Thanks again Nine! I’ll keep in touch!