I’m considering to limit my writing to the story of the rupture in space-time right behind our fridge. Odd things are hapening here.
Not only are things appearing out of thin air like todays 4th letter of Fifteen to our friend Nine… No! Things are disappearing as well… most of all my favorite chocolade cake and ice cream. LOTS of ice cream.
I suspect the Ferengi from several days earlier. The fellow seemed a bit shifty.
While I try to figure out this mistery I hope you keep enjoying Fifteen’s story!
I certainly do.
Letters to Nine (4)
Leiden, Sunday 17th of August 20xx
First and foremost I wish send you my heartfelt thanks for your kind letter. You can’t discern what your words of encouragement meant to me! Of course you can use excerpts of my letters in your blog, calling me “Fifteen from the Netherlands” is absolutely fine!
Sorry that it took me till Sunday evening to write you this time. I got a very nice surprise yesterday morning. Antje and Kees had a very nice basket delivered to my address. It contained enough delicious food that I don’t need to leave my apartment for the whole weekend and a… vibrator. Oh boy… they take so good care of me!
So well… I didn’t forget. I just was uhm… busy till now.
I looked forward to my second Mailgirl-Friday the whole week, but first I had to go through my meeting with Antje’s Dietist, wel… my first meeting with Antje’s Dietist as it seems, because from now on I’ll see her quite regularly apparently. Fair enough! She seems to be a nice woman.
First we talked about my eating habits, which weren’t too bad to begin with apparently. Then she asked me about my training regime. She got slightly frustrated when I had to tell her that I really hadn’t one. I do a lot of stuff, I really do… I just don’t have plan. Lastly she asked me to get some blood- and urine-samples done, so that she can make a proper nutritional assessment.
Then she asked if our ‘sexual roleplay’ was still on. I blushed and nodded. “you’re very kinky. I give you that!”, she noted.
After she had left, I asked Antje about these words. “Do you trust me?”, Antje evaded.
I do trust her as a matter of fact, I have no reason not to do so and I told her so. “Then you will find out soon enough.”, she said with a devious smile. Oh my…
Thursday evening I went for another round of preparations. Let me say it diplomatically: Waxings suck! Oh… they suck big time! Maybe I should get rid of my bodyhair in a more permanent way. But rules are rules, hairless means hairless. I said it myself, being a Mailgirl should be hard… well I’m a fool, am I?
This time I slept better before my big day. Not good by any stretch of the imagination, but better nonetheless. I was far too horny to get a good night of sleep, because I’m a good girl and didn’t masturbate the whole week like “suggested”.
I managed to get a solid five hours of sleep this night, which beats the weak before by about… well five hours. This time I managed to eat a full bowl of cereals before going to the office. I knew that was not ideal but it would have to do. As the week before, I chose a nice office attire to wear, because appearance is everything, applied some very light makeup and was ready to go.
When I came in, Antje already waited for me. Does this woman never sleep?!
She welcomed me with a cheery smile and a big hug then she pointed towards a whole stack of yoga-mats in the company-color (bright red) and sighed… “I’m afraid we have some work to do.”
The next thirty minutes we spend walking around the office space. She started to mark all the places where my Mailgirl-mats later would go with little crosses of black tape. If you don’t know what to look for these marks are virtually invisible but they’ll serve ME as a constant reminder of my Mailgirl-status wherever I’ll go in the office, even on my ‘normal days’.
A quick look to Antje convinced me, that she knew exactly what I was thinking… and she was clearly but quietly enjoying my predicament.
It will be my task to place the mats on Friday morning and to remove them on Friday evening. We will place and remove them on Fridays “For now.”, Antje said with a devious smile. It seems that she never wastes an opportunity to get my ‘dread-excitement’ going.
She marked about half a dozen spots in the open office area, one in the vicinity of every cluster of desks, additionally she marked one spot each in our break-room, her office and Kees’ office. It seems that she hopes that he will join our fun eventually. I noted that she didn’t mark a spot in the archives room. Antje is smart enough not to antagonize our resident crones. It’s not worth it in my opinion…
Never forget… be and let be.
I had started to place the mats when the first coworkers came in. I immediately felt that more of them joined us this time, 19 in total as Antje told me later, 12 males and 7 females. I’m relieved that my female coworkers are at least giving the program a chance. Now, we just need them to get comfortable with the concept.
When I returned most people had arrived. The sphere was far most relaxed then the week before, probably because most people now kind of knew what to expect and their relaxed demeanor easing in the new ones. Also I was more relaxed than last week. I put on a smile and tried to fade in the background.
At 8:30 a.m precisely, Antje ordered me to come to the front and strip, which I did without hesitation.
When I was naked I instinctively took on the “Present” pose. “Isn’t she just a natural?!”, Antje exclaimed to some laughs and cheers. I blushed in humiliation and instantly started to become wet down there. Yes, I’m clearly a natural Mailgirl, no question.
Antje took the opportunity to welcome everybody, especially the new ones. Then she briefly ran over the rules I would have to follow pointing out the new one: “You maybe have noticed. Mailgirls tend to emit a lot of… uhm… body fluids.“ Some stifled giggles showed that my coworkers understood exactly what Antje had insinuated. “Therefore it would be a health and safety hazard if they would use regular furniture like chairs and benches. So… Mailgirls aren’t allowed to make use furniture. If Mailgirls need to rest, they use specially issued Mailgirl-mats henceforth.” Oh… that sounded very much like a corporate decree. I loved it.
And we weren’t even finished yet with our preparations for the day. Two new poses were introduced. “Plank”, which is dropping flat to the floor, while locking my hands behind my neck.
“It’s great that Fifteen knows her place at our feet.” One female voice commented. It’s great that my coworkers are easing into the mindset… I guess.
“Ankles”, means I have to just slightly spread my legs for some stability, bend over and grasp my ankles with my hands. This gives everybody a spectacular view on my behind… and my private parts. It comes to nobody’s surprise it became one of my most popular poses very quickly.
We practiced my poses for some minutes, then Antje made them form the a large drill circle around me and the “drills” started.
Getting a random combination out of five poses right is a lot harder than getting a random combination out of three poses right, …who would have thought?
With every mistake Antje ordered me into “Ankles” and gave my some spanks to the overall amusement of my coworkers. I found myself in a vicious circle: with every mistake I god myself some spanks, the light pain and the embarrassment got me hornier which made me lose focus some more, which led to just more mistakes.
It was panting in no time and not just from the physical exhaustion and everybody knew it. Antje let them drill me till I and she and everybody else knew I was this close from an actual orgasm… then she ordered us to stop and sent everybody to work, including me.
I felt like crying from frustration, the knowing looks of my coworkers, especially from the female ones didn’t help in the slightest.
And then the boring part began. At the beginning it wasn’t too bad as I was still recovering from my drills and some of my coworkers had a few things for me to do: a few sent me on an errand fetching something from our little storage of office supplies or sent me out to a colleague with some bogus-note.
Later near lunch time some ordered me to bring them their lunch from the fridge in the break room. One or two of my coworkers even took a short pause and called me over to take their mind of work for a few minutes by doing some poses for them. These were the highlight of my work day.
But for the majority I just knelt on one of the mats just getting bored.
I start to understand why in the stories these corporations are this damn big. In a real office, there is just not that much of demand of what a pure Mailgirl has to offer. There isn’t just that many stuff that needs fetching in a modern office environment. To keep a Mailgirl busy, even with the most dull of work, you would probably need hundreds of office workers.
And even then… to be perfectly honest, the hottest part of a Mailgirl-story isn’t the fetching. It’s everything that happens around the core duties… it’s about how a girl becomes a Mailgirl and then the reluctant exhibitionism, the powerplay, the control, the pressure, the thrill, the coercion and even the punishments, …especially the punishments.
All in all, I now can absolutely understand why you keep yourself busy with your programming.
I was relieved when Antje fetched me out of a bore-induced trance for lunch.
Her concerned look told me, she must have picked something up. In her office she asked me how I was doing. “Fine.”, I answered. She frowned at that, but didn’t probe further.
We had actually a good time in her office. We chatted along. We were both satisfied, that everybody seemed very much at ease with the program. Antje estimated that we’ve won over more or less everybody over who had been open minded to begin with. She thinks the rest will follow along eventually or will just enjoy the additional days of remote work.
“I think we are ready for the next phase. I think from next week onward we can start tightening the screws a little bit!”, she said. I know that this words were meant to cheer me up, so dutifully I put the most genuine smile on my face I could muster.
Antje told me she would get me in touch with a “kink-open” special trainer to create a training schedule for me. That intrigued me. I mean what the heck, is a “kink-open” special trainer? I’ll find out next week, I guess.
Before sending me out again, she asked me when I would be able to make an appointment with my general physician. Well… It’s then I had to tell her that I didn’t had one. You know… when I left my home village behind for my studies in Leiden I also left ‘my’ GP behind. And because I never went sick, I never bothered to look for a new one.
Who would have thought that my overall good health would bite me in the ass one day?!
Antje was absolutely horrified at my answer.
“Do you want to say, that we are doing this… shit… while not being sure, that you are healthy?”
Well… that was certainly a negative way to put it…
“No… No, No, NO! That won’t do at all!”, she said. For a moment I feared she would suspend the whole Mailgirl-Program. Then she grabbed her phone and called the private practice she goes to and made an appointment for me for the following monday.
Personal trainer, dietist and a doctor’s appointment… next week will be a very busy week for me, apparently. Then Antje sent defeated me out to an even more boring afternoon.
“Hey Fifteen… a dietist, a coach and now a MD… you are quite expensive… you know that you will pay for this, with interests…”
I know it was her way trying to cheer me up, to return some spice to the game, Alas it didn’t quite work for me this time.
As expected, the Afternoon was even worse then the morning. Most of my coworkers had had heavy lunches, some left early. There was barely something to do for me. There is nothing sexy about kneeling in some corner and being ignored by everybody.
I was relieved when Antje finally came out of her office and sent everybody home.
Antje did her best telling me how proud she was and how good I did, but it’s so hard to believe that when you barely did anything all day long.
So I just hurried to collect the Mailgirl-mats. Then I got out of there as fast as I could. Probably Antje and Kees sent me the basket because they felt bad for me.
The Weekend got my spirits up again. It’s just that there are some smaller kinks in the program… I’m sure we will sort them out.
When things get more intense, there surely will be more stuff for poor old me to do:
hard stuff, painful stuff, humiliating stuff, and fun stuff too.
I’m looking forward to it!