The Maing of Medicimbee

In retrospect, I shouldn't have expected things to change the next time I worked a probationary shift at the fire department. I mean, really? They had all seen me almost nude. One, in fact, had seen me bare assed, up close, and it had been so ridiculously sexual in nature, that any boundaries were destined to be down. Still, I don't know, perhaps it was wishful thinking that left me puzzled and surprised when I walked in and found that the throw away ultra-thin t shirts with the fire department logo were there, but the already too small shorts were missing, replaced by ridiculous selection of little cotton thong panties.

These were even worse than the cheap short shorts, these panties were ultra cheap, as in a crummy minimal weave so when I stretched the material over my hand it was almost see through. These were the cheap kind you got for 6 to a pack at some place like target or Walmart of the Dollar Store. They fell apart in the wash and barely made it through a single wearing before looking like they had been worn for a year. Holding a pair, I walked into Captain Kuskow's office where he was seated behind his desk.

"Uh Captain?" I said hesitantly.

He looked up. "Oh, hi, Kim, or should I say Crystal?"

I blushed as he grinned.

"Oh, don't be embarrassed. After what the guys told me about the other night at the club, we should all feel like good friends around here now. Besides, in the fire service if we aren't teasing you, we don't love you."

I smiled halfheartedly. "Uh, so these?" I held up the thong. "Are just a joke then? You don't expect me to wear this, right?"

"Of course we do. The guys will love it." He was still grinning.

I smiled back in response. I knew I couldn't afford to offend or alienate the very guy that signed my paperwork for the probation department. Plus, I had come in that morning intending to float the idea of joining the next cadet class at the department to justify a request to have the Captain petition the court to reduce or end my probation. Still, the idea that I was allowing myself to become even more of a source of dirty entertainment for the station crew was embarrassing and felt like a huge step down to something I couldn't fully fathom. Instead of saying absolutely not like the voice in my head was screaming, I just nodded agreeably.

"Sure," I said. "Yeah, these are fine."

I turned and walked out of his office to the women's locker room. Entering, I saw something that immediately set off a mixed, conflicted reaction. At the end of the row of lockers with permanent nameplates, someone had put up a piece of tape on one with the name Kim/Crystal written on it. On the one hand it was a sign of inclusion and bolstered my desire to suggest ending my probation in exchange for joining the department ranks. On the other, it said that if I did join, I would always be saddled with a certain subordinating label and perception based on how it came about.

Sighing, I stripped down. I had just taken everything off and was bending over with my back to the door when I heard it open, and a female voice laughingly said, "Oh my, there she is. I'd recognize that--"

I looked back over my shoulder and saw that it was Lt. Tuggersly. Her eyes went from my shaved crotch over to my surprised, slightly reddening face.

"-- face...anywhere." The happy expression on the face of the woman who had opportunistically licked my exposed pussy at the club was tinged with a barely perceptible superior, salacious, mocking expression.

It just made me feel all the more naked and powerless. Even so, just like when I was told I would have to wear the thong to wash the fire trucks, I just manifested a compliant, agreeable smile. It was a very subtle signal to anyone with even the slightest dominant and exploitable nature that I was powerless. Of course, Tuggersly picked up on it instantly.

Making no pretense of consideration for my modesty, she looked directly between my buns at my pussy and ass. Now, I realized that she had seen it already, that she's had an even closer look when I bent over and sidecarred her under duress at the club, but that was in the club. It was different. This was in broad daylight, or at least fluorescent light, and now she was in uniform where the rules of a polite society should have held. I blushed, not that she saw my face. Realizing I could do nothing about it I just picked up the tiny, flimsy uniform and pulled on the thong. Like I suspected, the material was cheap and inadequate. It was also a size too small, and I felt that material insinuate insultingly into the crack of my ass and between my lips.

Grabbing the top, I pulled it over my head and down around my chest, I realized that it too had been modified. Unlike the previous thin, cropped, tank top style, cotton undershirts, this one was barely long enough to prevent a serious case of underboobage. I looked over and saw myself in a mirror. I instantly wished I hadn't.

Clunk, Clunk.

A grinning Tuggersly came over and dropped the fire boots before suddenly appearing in the mirror image next to me. A second later, I felt her hand playfully, gently, and oh so presumptively, smack a bare bun. Then...as I startled, she gave it a bold little squeeze.

"You know," she said as if reading my greatest motivation in putting up with all this, "there was another woman that came through here a while ago. She really wanted to get on with her life and was willing to do what it took. As it happens, if the station Captain and a lieutenant or two are willing to sign a letter indicating that a probie has shown the proper motivation and willingness then Judge Humphreys will not only eliminate the probation order but..." She gave my bottom another little condescending pat. "... also will expunge the record if the probie agrees to join and work for the department for a year."

She stood next to me looking at our reflection as that sank in.

"Are you properly motivated and willing?" she asked with a suggestive tone.

Now, like I shared before, a topless club is a different kind of environment and there are sexual pressures and dynamics that really apply only there. You do things that otherwise you wouldn't, like extras for certain select regular clients. It's just part of that world. Like I also shared, anyone who has danced long enough has had that moment when she was just sick of men and was willing or allowed for some girl-girl interaction. For most, for me for sure, it was a very, very esoteric one-off sexually. I'm really mostly straight, but yes, when completely fed up with men, I had "eaten out" elsewhere, with just one particular friend.

This, though, was really different. What Tuggersly was insinuating was a really dirty, sexual qui pro quo, a trade off with me as some kind of submissive server. My natural sense of self-esteem and pride flared, and I wanted to tell her to get her arrogant hand off my ass and that no way was I going to go down on her for a favor. Unfortunately, pride was something I couldn't really afford.

With a slightly sad smile, I nodded and said, "I am."

The look on Tuggersly's face almost made me look away from the mirror. It was just so triumphant and pleased and so very horny.

"Well, then, I guess you should show me."

She gave me a little pat on the bottom and a push in the direction of a door marked Sleep Room. She walked ahead of me into the room. Pausing just inside the doorway, she smiled and crooked her finger beckoning me. Swallowing my pride, I followed. It wouldn't be the last thing I swallowed that day.

As I closed the door, she turned and grinned and started pulling off her boots.

"I have to tell you, I have been looking forward to this since I saw you in the locker room that first day," she said starting to unbutton her service pants.

Sliding them down and off I saw that she had thick muscular thighs and had on a pair of low-rise tan bikini style panties. Sitting down on the edge of one of the lower bunk beds that occupied the female crews' quarters, she pulled off her socks. Then standing back up she unbuttoned her top and slipped it off. Underneath she was wearing a sports bra that matched her serviceable utilitarian underwear. Looking at me and allowing, or maybe expecting, me to take in her looks she placed both hands on her hips.

She had shortish brown hair, and hazel eyes, and a tan complexion that indicated some Latin or Mediterranean heritage. Her gaze brazenly moved up and down my body, as she flaunted her own.

"Well, we have on the same amount of clothes now, don't we?"

I nodded. "Yes." I forced a pleasant smile.

Why don't you come over here and take off the rest of my stuff for me," she said.

It wasn't a suggestion. It was clearly an order.

I walked over and standing so close that I could smell the warmth emitting perfume from her body, I reached down and grasped the sports bra and hauled it up and over her head. The movement and effort caused the crop top to ride up exposing the underside of one my big 34DD tits.

She chuckled as I set the bra aside and looked back at her smaller, but still large breasts. They were easily a large C or possibly D cup, with a tank top style bikini tan line that contrasted her large brown areolas and bolting nipples. Then I looked down. All she had on now were the panties.

She gave me a look and raised a fairly thick brown eyebrow that seemed to say, well?

I took a deep breath.

I think it would be easier to pull them down if you knelt," she said. Again, it was not a suggestion.

I dropped slowly to my knees and reached up to grasp the elastic waistband. Hooking my fingers in, I pulled them down her thighs, revealing an edged but thick brown bush. She had obviously been anticipating this situation and I could tell she had done some serious work with a beard trimmer. As someone whose work required a pretty detailed knowledge of pubic grooming, I knew she'd used the next to closest cut setting. Even so, my suspicions about her heritage were born out by the thickness and prominence of her southern hair do. I only hoped that once her legs were apart and I saw in between them, I would find that she had at least shaved that area.

Dragging the panties down to her ankles I waited as she lifted first one foot and then the other. The movement caused the material to stretch, and I saw several clipped black hairs in the crotch panel. That affirmed my guess about the clipper setting. I stood back up as she sat back down on the bunk, and I placed her panties alongside her bra. When I looked back, she was grinning again with a hungry expression.

"Okay, your turn," she said.

It was a directive, an order to strip down for her. Reaching up I pulled the top back over my head exposing my big boobs and then reached down to pull off the ridiculously cheap thong.

"Uh hang on. I like to see you do that facing away," she said.

Giving a compliant smile, I turned around and keeping my knees straight I bent over as I pulled down the thong. I knew it was giving her a nice long look at everything, my shaved asshole, taint and pussy, but it was something she had already seen and I had no real choice anyway.

From behind, I heard her gasp ever so slightly. I stepped out of the flimsy garment and turned around. As I did, she looked at me and with a brazen expression that might as well have been a barked order to go down, she leaned back on her elbows and spread her legs showing me her entire crotch.

She hadn't shaved. The same uber clipped strip of dark hair ran all the way down to her asshole and despite what I might want, this was as groomed as that thing was going to get. I guess I took too long thinking about it because suddenly I heard a snap of her fingers.

I startled and looked up from her crotch and saw that she was pointing at it with an expectant look on her face. One index finger was pointing right toward were she wanted my face. Trying not to offend I gave her a weak smile and lowered myself to do what she expected.

As I moved in between those large tan thighs, I could tell she was already terribly aroused. A musky breath emanated and as I moved in close it was an overpowering sexual sweat that showed on the closely cut hair of both plumped outer lips. Almost as if to assure that I would do what I clearly was about to, I felt her hand on my head pulling me in. I nuzzled that aroused pussy and with the prickly sensation greeting my tongue, I began to lick.

Lick, lick, lick, lick, lick.

"Oh, fuck yes," she gasped.

I obeyed and doubled down, licking and lapping, up and down that aroused slit, tonguing that fat prominent clit of hers that stood out in a way I had never seen. It was profoundly engorged, a tiny girl-cock. It also was well down the path of arousal just from our power dynamic and so with an increasing, juicy crescendo she began painting my face in her juices.

"Rub your slutty pussy," she commanded.

I kept up the action we both knew she required now, as she groaned and humped her perineum against my face. I also slipped one hand between my own legs and began a circular rubbing.

Lick, lick, lick, lick lick. It was now accompanied by the wetter, squishier sound of her very sloppily lubricating pussy.

The action of her undulating hips was making the control of where my tongue went virtually impossible. I was, through no control of my own, licking everything down there, her clit, her lips, that salty tangy slit, the narrow taint and yes, even the dirty puckered sphincter of her asshole.

A moment later, she arched and grabbed my hair and used my face like a sybian sex toy. Another flood of juice and the slightest little squirt coated nose lips and chin. I was overwhelmed and even a tad repulsed but I knew what I had to do so I just kept on licking. Unfortunately, my own pussy was wet too. In yet another fusing moment of shame, submission, and arousal, I was starting to associate submissive, even humiliating sexual use with stimulation.

Now, the thing most men don't consider is that with a woman an orgasm isn't a one and done like it is with the boys. It can go on and on and on and on. Tuggersly was just like that so instead of releasing my hair to set me momentarily free, she just began another sloppy build up to yet another juicing and face riding orgasm. By the time the overhead tones of the alarm system indicated that the trucks were out of service and ready to be washed, I had brought her insatiable crotch to 4 little explosions of pleasure.

As she sat up and began hastily putting on her clothes, I grabbed my own flimsy submissive uniform.

I exited the crew quarters and hastily went over to a sink to wash my face. Even though it meant ruining what little makeup I had on, I wanted that telltale scent off my skin. I did not want any of the guys to know what I had just been doing.

Tuggersly emerged from the room completely dressed and as she passed by where I was bent over performing my little cleansing efforts, she gave one uncovered bun a playful spank.

......................................................................................................................................................

The truck washing went exactly as I expected. In that tiny outfit, the crew had a ball watching me soap and spray and soak myself as I tried to bend and reach and scrub the big engine. It was impossible not to get drenched, and soon the thin material was all but see through. It was just what they wanted and after what I had done with Tuggersly I just let them have their show. Besides, her words about the elimination of my sentence by Judge Humphreys were still ringing in my ears and I knew that no matter what was asked of me, I'd willingly comply.

Three hours later, looking like a big-tittied, very nearly naked drowned rat, I walked into Captain Kuskow's office. My hair was all stringy and shapeless, the areolas and thick nipples of my big tits, and even the outline and hue of my little trimmed pubic landing strip over the obviously shaved lips were on display through the soaked, ruined material.

I don't think he knew what to expect when I accepted the new dress code for my probation at the station but the way his eyes widened and his face changed to a reddish embarrassed color, I could tell he was taking everything in.

"Oh...my goodness. Uh, yes? Uh, Kim?" he sputtered.

"Yes sir," I said with a red and ruddy makeupless face that wasn't the most flattering look for a thirty-year-old exotic dancer. "I finished washing the trucks."

"Oh, sure. Very good." Just like his cousin had done that day that I wore just the track suit at the probation department, Captain Kuskow, reached down and adjusted himself.

I knew what that meant. His anatomical fire hose was swelling uncomfortably. It made what I had to bring up next, even more uncomfortable.

"Uh, sir, I was wondering..."

"Yes?" he said.

"Well, I heard that if I obtained some officer signatures supporting my joining the department, I could potentially have my probation appealed with Judge Humphreys."

A very subtle little light around his eyes made them crinkle and he looked like he had just the edge of smile form under his mustache.

"Yes, it's certainly true. Are you saying you want to join?"

I nodded in my near nude state. "Yes sir, I am."

"Well, it's rigorous. You'd have to do the recruit academy and training. Lots of requirements. You'd also have to enter the EMT class so there would be a lot of work."

"I understand," I said feeling like he was toying with me a bit.

"And you know we are very selective regarding who we allow in."

There it was. I knew what was coming, and yet, I had to say what I didn't want to say at all.

"I'd be willing to do whatever it took to be accepted," I said with a pleasant expression the belied the cringing I was experiencing inside.

"Oh really?" he said with an apparent grin now.

"Yes sir. I'd..." I wanted to just run out of there and I would have but the fact that I had already just eaten out a demanding lesbian meant I really couldn't turn back now.

"I'll do anything it takes."

"Hmm," he said sort of pushing back from his desk a bit. "Would you be willing to demonstrate how committed you are, you know, so I can feel personally invested and give your letter my all?"

It was so humiliating, but I just smiled and walked around his desk. He turned in his chair and swiveled it so I could see the outline of the fat erect cock in his pants.

"Maybe an example of how far you are willing to go?"

And with that he unzipped his pants. Looking around I realized that his office wasn't the most private place in the station. Then again, I wasn't in a negotiating position. I dropped to my knees and pushed his legs apart so I could get at the opened fly. Reaching up, I unfastened his belt and unbuttoned his pants. He had on tight boxer briefs, and I could see from the shape that he had a very thick circumcised cock.

Pulling down his underwear, he accommodated me by lifting his hips. I dragged down everything well below his knees and as he legs spread, I saw the thick pink cock with its slightly darker, hot pink collar below the head pulse above the shaft that rose from a curly sandy haired bush. Making no pretense at all I looked at him and said, "You have a beautiful cock." Then I lowered my face and engulfed the fat head.

He groaned as I began a workwoman-like, metronomic blowjob. Sadly, after all I had already done, I also felt the reinforcing humiliation of his hand on top of my head. As I suck-suck-suck-sucked, he pushed down on my head, forcing me a little farther.

Now, while he wasn't a porn giant as far as his cock was concerned, he wasn't small and with his thickness, I had to open really wide to get it down. On top of that, I am not some deep throat queen so as he pushed even more, I found myself making that degrading gag sound as I choked the plump head beyond the back of my throat. He loved it, but then again, in my experience all men do.