Mailgirl Twenty

And they did, which lead to her present situation. As she gazed at her own reflection in one of the glass walls of the building lobby, it was plainly obvious why she was chosen.

While she had taken the night to think about it, the choice to commit wasn't so much easy as it was necessary. Undercover agents took risks all the time... she just wouldn't have anything covering her, at all.

Grimes had told her to play a mailgirl convincingly, she had to experience the role. Thus her presence in Mizutomo Tower. The mailgirl phenomenon had started in Japan and had spread across the world. In the United States it was a little slower to catch on, but Seattle was a gateway to the east and many Japanese corporations had operations in and around the SeaTac area. Mizutomo Tower was the first of a handful of buildings that had naked young women running through its hallways, delivering mail on their bare feet.

It was ludicrous and degrading, Claire had told herself millions of times. She could never let any of her colleagues, family or friends know. The thought of exposing her body to strangers in a professional setting was enough to make her hair stand on end. Yet here she was, standing in the lobby of a building serviced by mailgirls, waiting for someone who would take her and show her how to be one of them.

The elevator to her right chimed and the doors opened to admit a tall, striking woman into the lobby. While Claire considered herself to be on the tall side at five ten, the woman approaching had at least two inches on her, even factoring out the inch-long heels clack-clack-clacking across the marbled floor. Claire couldn't help admiring the woman's figure, concealed as it was behind a tight black dress.

"Miss Hathaway, I presume," she greeted Claire, a slight German accent punctuating her speech as she came to a stop in front of the lobby desk.

Claire nodded. "Madam Henckel."

"Mistress," Henckel corrected with a slight glare at the lobby guard. Obviously he'd made that mistake more than once before. "Shall we be on our way?"

"I understand you will only be with us for a week or so?" Mistress Henckel queried in the elevator, her eyes raking over Claire's form.

"Yes," Claire confirmed, meeting Henckel's gaze. The cover identity the CIA had provided her gave her an appropriate backstory of a mailgirl needed for an international customer with a very tight time window.

Without preamble, Henckel reached out to grasp Claire's chin in a firm grip. It took all of Claire's willpower to restrain her self-defense training and stand there without reacting. "Yes, Mistress," Henckel corrected. "Mailgirls must address superiors with either 'sir' or 'ma'am' or by their titles. Do not make that mistake again."

"I won't... Mistress." The word felt foreign in her mouth, but Claire forced herself to say it. She knew the life of a mailgirl would be degrading, but the immediacy of Henckel's indoctrination still took her by surprise. Grimes had told her to be prepared, and his words continued to ring in her head.

The elevator slowed to a stop and the doors slid open. Only then did Henckel release Claire's face. "Follow me," she commanded, striding purposefully out into the hallway.

Claire obeyed, falling into step behind the taller woman, her jaw still numb from the vice grip it had just been in. They were in what looked to be a service area, with grey concrete walls and exposed piping overhead, a stark contrast to the pristine marble floors and walls of the rest of the building. She wondered idly if Henckel was taking her this way to keep the inhabitants of the building from seeing her clothed.

Henckel lead the way up a metal spiral staircase at the end of the hallway, her booted heels clicking on each step. At the top of the stairs, she placed her hand on a scanner pad on the wall next to the single door, which slid open slowly. In a move that surprised Claire, Henckel stood aside and beckoned with her hand. "After you."

Resisting the urge to grimace, Claire nodded. "Yes Mistress," she said, walking through the door into a richly decorated office. Dark mahogany bookshelves lined the walls, and the large desk in the middle of the room was also made of the same material. Red velvet cushions lined the large chair behind the desk and the smaller ones in front of it. The equipment sitting on top of the desk looked state of the art.

Claire heard the door close behind her, then felt Henckel brush past her. "Middle of the room," the woman commanded. "Undress and leave your clothes on the table to your right."

Swallowing the last of her pride, Claire walked to the indicated spot, then turned to face Mistress Henckel, who now stood in front of the desk, arms crossed, facial expression stern.

Claire stepped out of her shoes and placed them next to the table, then reached to the side of her skirt to unzip it, sliding the garment down her legs until it collected in a pool around her ankles. Reaching down, she gathered it up and folded it neatly before placing it on the indicated table, something which elicited an approving click of the tongue from Mistress Henckel. Claire next reached up to undo the buttons of her blouse, exposing her ample bosom, supported by a red lace bra, which matched her panties. As she reached behind her back to unhook it, Claire could feel Henckel's eyes continue to rove over her body, even as her natural, but shapely and firm breasts came into view. The room was slightly chilly and Claire felt her nipples harden as the air hit him, sending an involuntary shiver through her body. She placed her bra next to her clothes, then reached down to remove the final piece of clothing.

The red panties took their place on the table and Claire stood there, completely nude.

She felt helpless, but she didn't let any emotion cross her face as Henckel started walking around her, inspecting her naked form. It wasn't the first time she'd had a physical examination, but the incredulity of this particular one was enough cause her to clench her fists in stressful anticipation.

"Your body is in excellent condition," Mistress Henckel pronounced, coming to stand in front of Claire again. It wasn't a compliment, but an objective assessment. "No piercings, no tattoos... this is good."

Henckel reached out to take hold of Claire's arms, which were straight to the sides. "Put your hands at the small of your back, and grasp your left wrist in your right. Spread your legs shoulder width apart and push your torso out."

Claire did as she was told, adjusting her body so her legs were apart, her arms were behind her back and her chest was thrust forward. She could only imagine how degrading this looked, and was slightly thankful the inspection was being done in a closed office.

"This is the 'Feet'' pose and is the standard position you will take upon entering an office after delivering your duties," Mistress Henckel informed her. The taller woman traced a hand down Claire's chest, through the valley between her breasts and down the flat of her abdomen before unceremoniously cupping Claire's exposed sex.

The action caused Claire to gasp in surprise and her eyes sought out Henckel's to glare at them. Their gazes locked for the slightest of moments before Henckel brought her other hand around to slap Claire clear across the cheek.

Henckel's voice was impassive. "You are not to look into the eyes of your superiors without their permission. Doing so would earn you a demerit, as would this." The hand on Claire's pussy moved upward, fingers tracing over the small patch of blonde pubic hair over her mound. "All mailgirls are to be hairless from the neck down."

Claire swallowed, the feel of Henckel's hand on her body sending what seemed like electric shocks through her system. "Yes, Mistress," she managed.

Mistress Henckel smiled for the first time, looking down at Claire with a rapacious gaze. "Good, you're learning quickly. Let's get you up to speed. We haven't much time together, after all." She made to move back towards the door, but stopped as if remembering something. "And before we go any further..."

The taller woman reached into her purse and fished out a thick black marker, the kind used for writing on postal packages. Turning back to Claire, she knelt down until her eyes were level with Claire's waist. The marker moved to Claire's left hip, just above her pelvic bone and slowly traced the number "20" on her bare skin.