Operation: Mailgirl Ch. 02

Out of the corner of her eye, Twenty could see Seven roll her eyes in bemusement. Sexual contact of any kind with mailgirls was prohibited at Mizutomo Tower, but employees were free to impose as much verbal abuse and harassment as they wanted. Twenty estimated that in the one and a half days she'd been working there, no less than twelve men had told her that they wanted to fuck her, one for every hour of her employment. Just that morning, a particularly bold product manager had described in obscene detail just what he would do to each of her holes if given the opportunity. In any other work environment, she would have had him reprimanded and disciplined, possibly even terminated. But at Mizutomo Tower, all she could do was nod and say, "Thank you, sir."

The fourth man, who had been alternating his gaze between Seven's breasts and Twenty's, finally spoke up. "What are your sizes?" he asked.

Seven stood a little straighter, pushing her chest out as much as she could. "These are 34Cs, sir," she responded, with a brief glance at his face.

For the longest time, Twenty had been self-conscious about her breasts. They had grown in when she was fourteen and in the ninth grade. Dealing with having such a large chest at a young age proved harrowing, and for a time she considered them getting reduced because of all the attention they drew. In the end, she'd decided against it and was pleased with her decision. They were natural and they were hers. And despite herself, she found a small sense of pride even as she endured the humiliation of being a mailgirl. "They're 32Ds, sir," she informed the man who asked, her voice quiet but firm.

The first man let out a low whistle, his eyes still locked on Twenty's rack. The third man, clearly the most forward and instigatory of the group, took a step towards her, to where he was close enough that she could smell both his cheap cologne and the sweat clinging to his brow. Despite the running air conditioning in the elevator, Twenty quickly became aware of just how hot it had become. Both Twenty and Seven's bodies were naked and sweating, but more importantly, their pussies were soaked from arousal. And everyone in that tight enclosed space could smell it.

Twenty had always taken pride in her hygiene, but working as a mailgirl had literally stripped her of almost every method of keeping herself fresh. Between perspiring from being on the move the whole day and the lubrication her pussy produced upon becoming aroused, the two showers she had taken earlier in the day might as well have counted for naught.

"You know, we could give you demerits for the state of your... uniforms," the third man said, his face inches from Twenty's, an evil glint in his eyes. "What do you say to that?"

It wasn't the first time Twenty had been threatened in her professional life; being a woman in her chosen field meant that threats were an unfortunate part of the package. However, this situation was decidedly different from the offices at Langley. She resisted turning her eyes up at the man and instead looked over at Seven for guidance.

The other mailgirl seemed less worried than Twenty with the situation, but she did meet the blonde's gaze for the briefest of moments. "If you deem it necessary, sir..."

Twenty recalled Sixteen telling her the threshold for accrued demerits before punitive action was seven. It seemed like an arbitrary number, and Twenty hadn't questioned it. She had, however asked Sixteen what the punishment for reaching that number was; the other mailgirl was less forthcoming with that information. Mistress Henckel had made reference to it in passing, stating that when it came time, Twenty would find out for herself just what seven demerits entailed. During her brief time at Mizutomo Tower, her MMU had recorded three demerits, all for delivery-time related issues. Sixteen, as the training mailgirl, had received the same amount, but Twenty was unsure how many the brunette had started with...

A dark realization formed in her head, and she had to physically restrain herself from gasping. What if what she had witnessed yesterday was the result of Sixteen receiving a seventh demerit? Was she responsible for Sixteen's disappearance? The thought made her sick to her stomach and she involuntarily reached a hand back to press against the wall of the elevator to steady herself. Her training took over and helped her suppress sudden nausea, but as she cleared her head she realized that the four men in front of her could each give her a demerit and bring her to seven total.

The second man had noticed her discomfort as well as the number displayed on her MMU. "Wouldn't look good for you on your second day on the job to get your seventh demerit, would it Twenty?" Before she could respond, he looked over at Seven. "How many do you have?"

"One, sir," Seven responded, her voice cracking slightly.

"Might have a deal we can make here, then," the third man said, moving back towards the elevator panel. The floor indicator had just flicked to "56" when he slapped the red "EMERGENCY STOP" button. The elevator shuddered, then jolted to a stop. A low, keening beeping noise started up, reverberating throughout the small space. "We've got about two minutes."

The second man pulled a handkerchief from his suit pocket and tossed it on top of the small surveillance camera in the corner of the elevator before turning back to the two naked mailgirls. "If the two of you don't want to get demerits, you'll do exactly what we say, capisce?"

Twenty had caught herself observing their actions, but as the second man spoke she averted her eyes down to the floor again. She feared what would happen next, but she honestly did not see a way out of whatever the men were going to do to them. "Y-yes, sir..." she replied, hearing Seven utter similar consent.

"And not a fucking word of this to anyone," the third man warned, the venom dripping from his voice. "Got it?"

Despite the alarm bells ringing in her head, Twenty forced herself to grind out another "Yes, sir" with Seven echoing her moments after.

The second man nodded, seemingly satisfied with the mailgirls' responses. "Good. Twenty, take a step forward and lock your hands behind your head. And close your eyes."

Trembling, Twenty did as she was told even as she heard the first and fourth man instruct Seven to turn and face the wall. She had barely gotten her fingers laced together at the nape of her neck when she felt the first pair of hands grab her breasts. This caused her to jump slightly in surprise and she had to bite her bottom lip to keep still and quiet. She felt the hands knead and fondle her breasts, and despite herself, she felt her nipples stiffen up even further at the attention. Whichever man was squeezing them noticed, because the next thing she felt was a tug and a twist on her left nipple, sending shocks of pain through her chest.

"These are so soft and natural, damn." That was the voice of the second man, identifying himself as the one groping her breasts.

"Pretty sure that's a requirement for these bimbos," replied the voice of the third man. Both of them were still in front of her as far as she could tell, and she wondered with trepidation where the third man's hands were.

Her concerns were answered moments later when she felt two large fingers glide over her well-lubricated labia, then push themselves into her drenched pussy with a wet squelch. She gasped, her body involuntarily drawing away from the intruding digits.

"Hey, no moving," the third man growled, his fingers sliding deeper into her vaginal orifice. "Hell, you should be thanking us. We're gonna help you get off."

Despite the man's clumsy attempts to fingerfuck her, there was some truth to his words, as she felt the walls of her pussy contract around his fingers in response to his thrusting them in and out of her. As his goal was not to help with her own pleasure, but rather satisfy his own perverted desires, she wasn't going to reach orgasm, no matter how wet she currently was. The only thing she could do was endure the assault.

Her Agency training had prepared her to withstand a variety of hostage situations. Some were almost extreme in methodology, and she had the remnants of bruises and scars as souvenirs. Yet none of them had gone to the extreme that she was currently experiencing. The rational part of her mind screamed at her to fight back, to stop the abuse and hurt these men who were violating her body. Two days ago, if a man had laid a hand on her, she would have broken the offending limb three different ways. Yet here she was, standing naked in an elevator with her eyes closed as a pair of strangers used her body for their pleasure.

Twenty was fairly certain that what they were doing was illegal under the rules set forth for mailgirls, but given her experiences from the previous day, she had the feeling that things like this happened more often than not and simply went unreported, or worse yet, ignored. Grimes had assured her that her time at Mizutomo Tower would be safe and controlled, but this wasn't the first time an assignment had deviated from his promises. She told herself if it wasn't such an important operation, she could have pulled out of it completely and told Grimes and the Agency to shove it. But for now, she was committed and she had to see it through.

Besides, this was easier than admitting to herself that she found being a naked mailgirl in a building full of lustful, ogling men arousing on a basic, carnal level.

An electronic buzzing noise snapped her out of her thoughts and back to the present. The hands on her body paused as a voice filled the elevator, seemingly coming from the overhead speakers.

"Elevator Eleven, this is Maintenance, is everything all right in there? We show you stuck."

"Ah, yes, we accidentally hit the emergency stop button, no worries," the fourth man's voice answered. "Couldn't figure out how to get it moving at first, but I think we're all good now."

"Gotcha. For some reason, the camera doesn't seem to be working, so we just wanted to be verify your status."

Twenty wondered if anyone actually took the time to review the surveillance footage; they would have seen the handkerchief placed over the camera lens. In the end it wouldn't have mattered, however, as it was the mailgirls' word against four male employees with no definitive visual proof of what they had done. Sure, the cover-up of the camera would look completely suspicious, but it had done its job.

The fingers in her pussy finally stopped their thrusting and she felt the third man withdraw his drenched hand. She wondered what he would do to clean up; she had her answer when she felt him wipe her juices off on the skin of her hip. The man working on her breasts gave her stiff nipples one final tug before stepping away.

"Back to 'Feet' position, the both of you."

Twenty obliged, but she refrained from opening her eyes as she had not been given permission to do so. Her pussy ached from the abuse she had just suffered; the man had not been gentle. For all his thrusting in and out of her, he had left her clit unattended, denying her from even coming close to release.

She felt the elevator hum to life again as it began its ascent anew. She heard nothing from either the men or her fellow mailgirl and was sorely tempted to open her eyes, but she kept them closed even as the elevator slowed again. She heard the doors open and felt the slight breeze of the air waft over her bare skin, causing her to shiver involuntarily. A few seconds passed before she heard the doors close again, and the elevator begin to rise.

It was still quiet, and Twenty's curiosity got the better of her. "Sir? May I open my eyes?"

There was no response.

This confused her. "Seven?"

Nothing but the subdued humming of the elevator answered her back.

Twenty finally opened her eyes to see that she was alone. The men were gone, having disembarked on the previous stop, but Seven was supposed to come with her. Her coworker's absence was alarming, but as she watched the floor numbers tick closer to "75", she knew that there was nothing she could do about it. She checked her MMU to see that the red number indicating how many demerits she had accrued was now up to four; the men hadn't added any additional demerits, but she had received one for being late to her current job. The brief encounter in the elevator had added extra minutes onto an already tight time window, and if she was going to make it without further marks, she would have to hurry.

*****

"You're late, Twenty."

Twenty had barely gotten into the Knees position in the cavernous office when her summoner had spoken from behind the desk at the far end of the room. His voice was familiar, but she couldn't quite place it and his chair was turned away from her. "I-I'm sorry, sir."

"Care to explain why?"

She briefly entertained the idea of telling him the truth. The latest assault had left her rattled, but she knew she wasn't likely to find a sympathetic ear among the male employees at Mizutomo Tower. "My last assignment ran over, sir. I apologize again for being tardy."

The man was silent for a few moments. "Wasn't elevator trouble, was it?"

A bead of sweat slid down her temple before dropping onto a heaving breast. What was with this line of questioning? Twenty thought to herself, wiping perspiration from her face with the back of her hand. She hadn't taken any time to compose herself before arriving to her destination, but now she wished she had. She was likely to get a demerit either way, but at least she could have tried to clean herself up. As it was, she was covered in sweat, her hair was clumsily tousled and her pussy was soaked. "It did get hung up for a minute or two as I was ascending, sir."

"Is that so? Well, then I think it is hardly fair to charge you for something that was out of your control, don't you think?"

Something about the whole exchange rubbed Twenty the wrong way, but she could do little except offer a puzzled "Sir?" in reply.

The chair finally swiveled around. "Do you agree?" Cash asked again, revealing himself as the speaker.

"Y-yes," Twenty stammered, slightly taken aback. Had he remembered her from the previous day? And if so, did he summon her specifically?

Cash chuckled as he stood up. He was dressed in an expensive looking suit that fit his tall frame well, which only served to remind Twenty even further that she wasn't wearing anything at all. She knew to avert her gaze, but even so, she could track his movements with her peripheral vision as he walked towards her. He had a little swagger in his gait that spoke to a well-cultivated self-assuredness. Despite herself, she realized that she was not only evaluating him as a potential threat, but as a man as well.

"I thought you might," he said, coming to a stop just in front of her while she tried very hard to focus on a spot on the carpet behind him. "Do you know why I summoned you here?"

"You need to have something couriered, sir?" she asked, acutely aware of how hard her heart was pounding in her chest.

"Not quite. If I did, I'd have one of the other mailgirls in the area do it, not one coming from over forty stories down." He crouched down, putting him almost at eye level with Twenty. "No, I summoned you here because I think we can help each other, Twenty. Or should I say, Agent Claire Holliday?"

She felt as if she'd been struck by lightning at his use of her real name. Abandoning protocol, she jerked her head up to meet his gaze, a look of startled incredulity crossing her delicate features. "W-what? How?"

He grinned at her and shrugged. "You're not the only agency running an op in this building."

The reality of it hit her like a ton of bricks. "I can't believe... it can't be. Who are you with? NSA? DHS? Why are you here?"

Cash raised his hand to forestall any further queries. "We'll get to that, Agent Holliday. Just know that we've been here longer than you have." He allowed himself a glance down at her naked body. "Gotta say though, never thought the CIA would have the stones to send one of their own as a mailgirl."

Twenty was acutely aware that she was completely nude in front of someone who appeared to be a fellow federal agent and the paradoxical urge to cover herself almost overrode her discipline. Instead, she balled her fists behind her back. "How do I know I can trust you?"

He sighed, reaching into his pocket and producing a golden badge. "Satisfied?"

She'd seen enough badges in her career to know that the gold Federal Bureau of Investigation insignia he carried was legitimate. "You're Bureau. What's the play here?"

Cash stood up, towering over her. "After what you saw yesterday, you can probably venture a guess."

It clicked in her head after a couple of seconds. "Mansfield," she breathed. "You're going after him. Human trafficking?"

He nodded. "Something like that. Damn near untraceable though. Great at covering up his tracks and we've run into a wall. That is, until you came along."

Twenty blinked, then grimaced as realized the potential implications. "You want him to take me? Like they took Sixteen?"

"Too risky. Besides, don't think the Agency would take it real well if we jeopardized you. We've got something else in mind." He took a step back, his eyes fixed on her exposed breasts. "Will definitely make use of your assets."

She bit back the retort that threatened to escape her lips. "What do you need me to do?"

"We have to impede part of his operation. Going after one of the weaker links in his scheme and getting them to flip for us will be key. To do that, we need leverage."

Twenty knew how to read between the lines. "You need blackmail," she reasoned. "Jesus."

"You can say no, if you want," Cash offered with a shrug. "But by the time we get close enough to Mansfield to take him down, Sixteen might already be lost forever."

Goddammit, she swore to herself. Cash was playing dirty and that didn't sit well with her, but she didn't see any other alternative. "How does this help me?"

"I've seen the intel on your op. Let's just say that whatever you're getting into in the Emirate will make what's going on here look like a walk in the park. Better start getting used to really stepping out of your comfort zone."

She allowed herself a small, exasperated sigh. Running into another undercover investigation was the last thing she expected to happen, but she had been given a chance make something of it. And it wasn't like her to waste those. "When do we start?"

"Just so happens we have an opportunity at this very moment. You happen to be just the type for one of Mansfield's accountants. Give us leverage on him."

"Won't I get demerits for this? I still have a couple of hours left in my shift."

"The beauty of my cover is that I have an executive-level supply of credits," Cash informed her.

Twenty swallowed hard. "How far do I have to go?"

Cash favored her with a wry expression. "You know the rules regarding Mailgirls. Play the part. Compromise him. The more, the better. And don't worry, I'll be watching and making sure things don't get too out of control."

She was sure that wasn't the only reason he was going to be watching. "And you'll be recording all of this?"

"Don't worry. Whatever's recorded is only to be used as leverage on our target. Black boxed as soon as we get what we need."

The lengths she had to go through to advance her career. "Fine. There isn't much time. Let's get this done."

*****

Twenty didn't like being used.

Throughout her career, she had always fought an uphill battle against being marginalized and passed over. She had known this going into it, and had always sought to prove her doubters wrong with her work ethic and drive to succeed. But if there was one thing she despised, it was being treated like her appearance was her only valuable asset. She had never refused an assignment where her looks were clearly being used, but it still ate at her.