The Price of Infiltration

"Over here. There's an empty mat."

Mailgirl Number Twenty (she was not allowed to think of herself as Claire or Clarissa on duty) followed the other naked mailgirl to a lavender mat tucked in the corner of a foyer area. It was emblazoned with the company logo and was just wide enough to accommodate two kneeling mailgirls. Parked in front of it was a metal bowl filled with water.

The other girl was Mailgirl Number Sixteen, who had been assigned to train Twenty for the duration of her stay at Mizutomo Tower. Sixteen was younger than Twenty by a few years, but had already been a mailgirl for two and a half. She had a delicately featured face and dark chestnut brown hair done up in a braid which hung between her shoulder blades. Her body was lithe and toned, a dancer's figure, if Twenty had to venture a guess. Her breasts were smaller than Twenty's, but were ample B-cups capped with small dark nipples. A sheen of sweat glistened on those breasts as Sixteen took her place on the mat.

They had spent most the morning on various runs around the building, wherein Twenty had quickly learned that being a mailgirl was every bit as degrading as it sounded on paper. The same lustful, perverted stares from the mostly male employees greeted them at every department they visited, along with disdainful looks from the scant few female workers. Twenty could count on one hand the number of clothed women she'd seen, whereas they had encountered at least five or six other mailgirls darting through the hallways and stairwells, each moving as quickly as their bare feet would allow.

"It's like this," Sixteen said, demonstrating the proper position for "Knees". Dropping to her knees, she lowered herself, her ass coming to rest on her ankles while her thighs spread wide, exposing her shaved pussy to anyone who happened to be looking.

She pushed her chest outward, thrusting her breasts forward. Her hands were clasped behind her back, nestled right above her buttocks. She looked up at Twenty and tilted her head, her green eyes twinkling. "Now you try."

Twenty froze for a split second, enraptured as she was by Sixteen's brazenly open posture. She had seen mailgirls around the building adopt the same position during their morning runs, but now that she was expected to do it, her mind locked up.

Sixteen's eyes darted to a spot behind Twenty before looking back up at the blonde. "Hurry," she urged quietly. "There are people coming and mailgirls must be in the proper positions when not on assignment."

This is ludicrous, Twenty thought to herself as she stepped onto the mat. Bending her knees and spreading her legs, she mimicked Sixteen's stance as best she could. She felt a cool breeze drift across her freshly shaven pussy as a glass door on the other side of the room opened, admitting a trio of well-dressed men. They started walked towards the two naked girls, headed for the low chairs surrounding a coffee table near the mat where Sixteen and Twenty knelt.

"Don't stare," Sixteen whispered under her breath. "Eye contact is not allowed unless authorized by a superior. Look down." Her voice did not belie any anger, but it did carry a sense of urgency, which snapped Twenty out of her daze.

Twenty fixed her gaze on a spot in front of her, still tracking the men with her peripheral vision. They were talking to each other animatedly, but all three were looking at her and Sixteen even as they approached the table nearby. Another involuntary shiver went up her spine and she had to resist the urge to cover herself up and bolt from the room. Instead, she pushed her breasts out further and spread her legs wider. You're only another mailgirl, she told herself. They don't know your real name and will never find out who you really are. You can get through this. Just play the part.

The men took their seats and continued their discussion, all while still blatantly looking at the naked girls kneeling mere feet away. Twenty could feel their eyes scanning her sweat-covered body, from her heaving breasts down to her warm and, as much as she was loathe to admit it, decidedly wet pussy. The entire situation was so ridiculous, she found herself being strangely turned on by the whole thing.

Twenty, like most attractive women, didn't mind flaunting her body whenever she was in the right situation to. Most often this was at the beach, where she could lay out in the sun and attract the attention of passersby. However, she never extended this into exhibitionism, and still covered up whenever necessary. So it surprised her to find that her nipples were standing to attention not because they were cold, but because she was becoming aroused. There was something scandalously wrong with kneeling naked next to fully-clothed businessmen and for reasons unknown to her, Twenty's body was betraying her mind.

"Sixteen," one of the men called out.

Sixteen raised her head at the sound of her number and glanced over at the men. "Yes, sir?"

"You're not a run, right? Why don't you come over here and introduce us to the new recruit." His voice was genial and both girls heard hushed mutters of agreement from the other two businessmen.

Sixteen locked eyes with Twenty before nodding and rising up off the mat. "No, we are available, sir." It was true; the smartphones encased in black elastic around their biceps had been silent for the past several minutes. These Mailgirl Monitoring Units, or MMUs for short, were what summoned mailgirls from job to job. Twenty's had been linked to Sixteen's for the day, so whatever job the brunette was called to, Twenty was there with her.

Walking over to stand in front of the trio of men, Sixteen and Twenty assumed the "Feet" position. Twenty felt their stares even more intensely as she spread her legs and thrust her breasts forward, knowing they were drinking in every inch of her unclothed body. Part of her felt humiliated by the whole idea, but she suppressed that feeling as best she could, rationalizing with herself that it was all for the cause, all for her career. But that didn't account for the dampness between her legs.

"This is Mailgirl number Twenty," Sixteen said by way of introduction. "It is her first day here, so I have been assigned to train her."

The man who spoke grinned lasciviously. He was short, portly and balding, probably in his mid fifties, with a round, pinched face that made his smiles seem predatory. "Fresh meat," he crooned, standing up and taking a step towards the girls. "I told you that you were going to like working here, Kenneth."

One of the other men, who had been staring right at Twenty's pussy, looked up at the first men. He was much younger, likely late twenties and sort of attractive in the bookish, nerdy sort of way. Pushing his thick-framed glasses up on the bridge of his nose, he nodded. "I thought it was only in certain cities, Mort. I had no idea there was a Mailgirl program here in Seattle."

"This one has been here only for a little while," the third man informed Kenneth, finally speaking. He was somewhere in the between the other two in terms of age, probably pushing forty with salt and pepper hair and a pleasant, if unremarkable face. "Ever since Mizutomo Tower went up."

"They had one where you worked in New York, didn't they, Cash?" Mort asked, glancing back at his colleague.

"Yeah, they did," Cash affirmed, flipping through his smartphone. To his credit, he seemed to take only a casual interest in Sixteen and Twenty, having looked at them merely once or twice since coming into the room.

Mort was now directly in front of the girls, his round belly mere inches from Twenty's flat, naked one. "Were they as pretty as the ones we have here?"

Cash tilted his head, sizing up Sixteen and Twenty. "Some," he admitted after a moment's deliberation. "Gotta say though, I've seen plenty of good lookin' mailgirls in my time, but Twenty is fucking gorgeous."

Twenty felt herself flush red, the heat from her embarrassment traveling down her face to the rest of her body. She'd been complimented on her beauty before, but not while standing completely unclothed in front of three men she didn't know. It was simultaneously mortifying and electrifying.

Mort made a tsk-tsk noise. "Aren't you supposed to thank him, Twenty?"

"Ah..." Twenty glanced over at Sixteen, who nodded almost imperceptibly. Turning back to Cash, she cast her gaze on his expensive-looking shoes. "Thank you, sir."

Kenneth, whose eyes were now fixated on the slow rise and fall of Twenty's breasts, spoke up again. "What are the rules?" he asked, an undercurrent of excitement behind his words. Twenty dared a glance at his crotch; sure enough, she could make out the outline of his rigid cock straining against his pants.

"Unfortunately, this is still America, so it's very much look, but don't touch," Cash replied with an amused expression on his face as he gleaned the meaning behind Kenneth's question. "Places like Dubai and Singapore, however, they tend to be a little bit more... lenient with their regulations on interactions with mailgirls."

Twenty had read up on other mailgirl programs around the world. Cash was correct in the sense that American mailgirls were for the most part protected from being touched in any way by employees of the companies they served at. Ostensibly this was done to keep the girls from becoming full on sex slaves, and it worked in most circumstances.

"Still, doesn't mean you can't take full advantage of the whole 'look' aspect," Mort said, his eyes glinting. "Twenty, Ankles position."

Twenty looked at her counterpart again for guidance, though her mind was already dreading what was likely about to transpire.

"Ah, sir, Mailgirl Twenty has not yet learned that position," Sixteen said. "May I demonstrate it for her?"

Mort licked his lips in anticipation. "Go ahead, Sixteen. Show her the right way."

Sixteen nodded, then turned to Twenty. "Do as I do," she instructed, meeting the blonde's eyes for a moment before turning her body around so her back was to the men. Bending at the waist, she lowered her upper body as far as she could, reaching her hands out to grasp around her ankles. This presented Mort and company with a complete, unencumbered view of her genitals, a fact that was not lost upon Kenneth as he fished his smartphone out of his pocket and began snapping pictures of Sixteen's bare sex.

"Well done, Sixteen," Mort said, his eyes drinking in Sixteen's presentation before turning to Twenty. "Your turn."

Twenty swallowed, the lust in the man's eyes unnerving her to her core. Summoning ever ounce of willpower she had, she turned her back to them and emulated Sixteen's pose. She had felt naked and exposed before, but this was something new and even more humiliating, as she was basically thrusting her pussy at them. From her upside down viewpoint, she could see Kenneth furiously snapping pictures with his smartphone and even Cash had brought his out and trained it on Twenty's glistening slit.

Mort had not, however, instead choosing to just stand just behind the bent-over girls, admiring their lewd displays. "You learn quick, Twenty," he crooned, a wicked smile on his face. Before she could react, his hand reached out and gripped her left asscheek, kneading the soft flesh roughly.

Twenty felt her whole body stiffen at his touch. Despite the mailgirls' status as sexual objects, everyone from Grimes to Mistress Henckel to Sixteen had told Twenty that she would be just that, an object to ogle, not a plaything for the hundreds of men at Mizutomo Tower. Yet, she had witnessed more than one instance of a male employee initiating contact with a mailgirl during her admittedly brief run with Sixteen in the morning. None of it was near full on sex, but rather more of the pinched ass and tweaked nipple variety. She had asked Sixteen about it, who told her that overt and purposeful physical contact between employees and mailgirls was strictly forbidden by the letter of the law, but in practice merely kept the men from actively molesting the naked women who delivered their mail and memos. The way Sixteen told it was that the higher up on the food chain you were, the more you were allowed to get away with. As Mort's hand kneaded her ass, Twenty wondered what his spot in the food chain was.

Kenneth stopped snapping pictures long enough to look at Mort with some incredulity. "Hey, you're not allowed to touch her, are you?"

"Kid, when you've been here as long as I have, you know what you can get away with," Mort scoffed, his hand still planted on Twenty's ass. "I mean, how the hell do they expect us to look at these girls and not have some kinda reaction?"

"I think that's exactly what they expect," Cash offered, an amused tone to his voice. "Sixteen, come here and take down this memo."

Sixteen, who had not moved since assuming the Ankles position, glanced over at Twenty for the briefest of moments before straightening and walking over to where Cash was. "Yes sir," she said obediently, taking the proffered pen and pad from him.

Mort had a different idea in mind for Twenty, however. "Twenty, correct me if I'm wrong, but it looks like you're all kinds of wet right now. You're getting off on this, aren't you?"

Twenty's first thought was to immediately deny his assertion, to say that no, this wasn't something she wanted or enjoyed and that she was utterly humiliated and offended by the entire situation that she was in. Yet, while part of her brain wrestled with that thought, another part came to the slow, gradual realization that, yes she was in fact enjoying being made to spread her legs and present herself to them and that she was excited by the attention. And there was no denying or hiding the fact that her pussy was almost dripping with arousal. Drawing a deep breath, she shook her head to clear the slight dizziness from bending over for so long before answering. "Yes, I am, sir."

He laughed loudly, the sound reverberating off the walls of the room. "Oh you're gonna fit right in here. Bless wherever they find you sluts." He finally took his hand off her ass, and she could see him move back slightly. "Do me a favor and spread those cheeks for me. I wanna see just how wet you are."

What the fuck? Twenty's mind screamed internally, even as her hands traveled up her long, shapely legs to grip her ass and pull herself open even further.

"Look how fucking wet she is, Kenneth," Mort crowed. "These bitches totally love this exhibitionsm shit. Great we found a way to put them to good use."

Kenneth merely made a murmuring noise of agreement, his concentration entirely focused on taking as many pictures of Twenty's drenched sex as he could.

It was a few moments before Mort spoke again, a new, dangerous undercurrent to his voice. "Hell, I bet she could get off right now," he stated. Before Twenty or anyone else could react, he placed the palm of his hand up against her asshole and plunged his middle finger deep inside her pussy.

The intrusion into her most private of parts took Twenty by surprise, but she was so horny that any sound of protest was drowned out by the involuntary groan of arousal that emanated from her mouth. His finger met no resistance sliding into her, coming to a stop with his knuckle nestled between the outer folds of her labia. "Oh God," she whispered, chest heaving as she unsuccessfully attempted to corral her body's response to the fact a stranger's finger was buried inside her pussy. She felt her vaginal walls tighten involuntarily around the intruding digit, then exhaled a guttural sigh as Mort pulled his hand again from her, the finger slipping almost effortlessly out of her well-lubricated orifice.

"Pretty fuckin' ballsy of you to do that," Cash observed, his voice more amused than admonishing. He had stopped dictating his memo to Sixteen and was watching the older man's actions with a curious expression.

Twenty was gasping for breath as she heard Mort reply almost nonchalantly, "The hell is she gonna do? Rat on me?" He made a scoffing noise, then raised his middle finger, which was coated in Twenty's pussy juice, to his mouth and sucked it clean. "Nothing like the taste of a new mailgirl."

Before anyone could offer any further reactions to what Mort had just done, the MMUs on Twenty and Sixteen's armbands buzzed to life, indicating that the mailgirls had received an assignment. Sixteen, who had been dutifully taking down the memo Cash had been dictating, offered the paper back to him. "Sir, unless you'd like me to take this to any employee in particular, Twenty and I must leave to attend this call."

He nodded, taking the proffered sheet back with a dismissive wave. "On your way, then."

Sixteen moved next to Twenty and touched the blonde on her shoulder. "We have to go."

Twenty whispered a small noise of agreement as she straightened up out of the "Ankles" position, her sweaty, naked breasts heaving as she attempted to compose herself. Mort's intrusion into her pussy had been unexpected and unwelcome, but simultaneously arousing in the extreme. She willed herself to follow Sixteen as the brunette mailgirl led them to the elevator bank down the hallway. It was only when she knew they were out of earshot of the men did she dare speak. "What was that?" she breathed.

Sixteen's look was almost apologetic. "That was illegal," she answered. " Any sort of sexual contact between employee and mailgirl is strictly prohibited."

As they stood there, Twenty's pussy throbbed and ached and she had to fight the almost overwhelming need to touch herself. She knew that masturbation was allowed in the mailgirl ranks, but not while on duty. The rational part of her mind railed against the very idea on principle, as well as the fact she had just been touched in a way that amounted to sexual assault. "Doesn't he get in trouble?"

The elevator arrived and was thankfully empty. Both girls stepped inside and Sixteen pressed the button for their floor before answering Twenty's question. "Technically, he should," she said. "But I don't think he will."

"Why? Who is he?" Twenty asked, brushing a sweaty lock of blonde hair out of her eyes.

"His name is Morten Mansfield. He was the one who brought the Mailgirl program to this area."

Twenty stopped brushing perspiration off her stomach to look at Sixteen. "So he's in charge of the whole thing. Great." She didn't need to wonder where his spot in the food chain was anymore. "Do we tell Mistress Henckel?"

Sixteen shook her head. "You can, but nothing will likely come of it. Maybe if it were any other employee, but Mr. Mansfield has been doing things like this for as long as I've been here and nothing has happened."

The elevator was slowing down, but Twenty had caught the slight hitch in Sixteen's tone. "Has he ever done anything like that to you?"

The younger girl finally turned to meet Twenty's eyes. "At least once a week," she admitted, a hint of resigned sadness in her voice. "I hadn't seen him at all since last Tuesday, so I thought it was going to happen again today but... he seemed more interested in you."

Great, Twenty thought to herself, offering Sixteen a sympathetic look as the doors to the elevator slid open. Both girls stood to the side to allow the other employees on before darting out, breasts bouncing as they ran to their next job.