I developed this story from cc's "Beach Cop's Predicament" -- with his blessing. MY RISE TO THE BOTTOM by C. Lakewood My name is Jeane Barry, and I was once a "bright young thing." But I'm in my mid-30s now and a lot less naive than I used to be. Ten years ago I never envisioned things unfolding for me the way they have. I'd put together a fine record in school and got in on the dot-com boom in the spring of 1999, while it was still the place to be. I was fresh out of grad school with a shiny new MBA, and life was good. Sure, I had amassed humongous student loans, but money was rolling in, I had a little red MG, an up-scale condo, designer clothes, and plenty of generous males sniffing about. They were mostly guys I worked with and tended to come in two varieties -- marketing meat and computer geeks -- both of which were easy enough to handle if you knew how. And I did. Unfortunately, I guess I didn't really understand the weasels at the top, who ran the company...and who kept talking about "building market share" and about "making sacrifices to grow the company" -- right up to the time they took the money and ran. From the spring of 2000 until the fall of 2002, I kept believing...then hoping...then praying that things would stabilize, and we'd return to the go-go good times. But the dominoes just kept falling.... When the dust finally cleared, I had lost my money, my car, my house, most of my possessions, and all of my prospects. I did finally land a job as a "security officer" (one step up from rent-a-cop) on a semi-private beach. I'm supposed to make sure that only Approved Visitors swam there...and follow dress and conduct codes when they do. By virtue of my education, IQ, and administrative skills, I rose to a supervisory position (BFD!). It was a dead-end, but at least I could impose some discipline on the shiftless scum that the owners hired to police their beach. And I admit that I enjoyed cracking the whip over those louts, most of whom seemed capable of speaking only Ebonics or Spanglish. And the most useless of them all were "The Bruthas": HOO-lio Cruz (a sort of latin Leo Gorcey) and Tee-Rex Jones (who was big, but a lot stupider than his name-sake). ****************************** I was making the rounds one sizzling summer day, when I was astonished to see a large, noisy crowd of interlopers (most brandishing cameras) gathered near one end of the beach. Hurrying over (and getting my shoes full of sand in the process), I found that the crowd was ogling a gaggle of naked bimbos prancing around...on MY beach! I temporarily ignored the crowd and shouldered my way over to a scruffy, overweight, Guido-looking guy who seemed to be in charge. When I confronted him, he merely beckoned a toady, who produced written permission from the beach-owners to use the beach for a day to take a lot of location shots to be incorporated into several "movies" (read "porno flicks"). Lesbian porno flicks at that...with naked, jiggling tits, sweaty skin, bubble butts, and plump, hairless cunts.... Oh, god! I cast an eye over the scene. (I intended it to be baleful and disapproving, but...well....) Those gumbas had the audacity to smirk at my frustration...and then, amazingly self-absorbed, to ask me to disperse the crowd (which apparently was edging into the picture and messing up the sound as well). Fuck 'em! I was not so infuriated that I didn't notice that the agreement with the beach-owners made the production company responsible for security during the filming. So I just snorted that, unless they could show me some rider authorizing me to perform crowd control for them...I had better things to do. I left in a huge huff. I was livid, and my mood was not improved by the realization that my response had been so totally lame. ****************************** By the time I'd completed my sweep and returned to the clapboard shack we called "the station," I had calmed down some, but not much. I was still trembling with rage -- and dripping with sweat. I decided that the best way to cool off (literally and figuratively) was to indulge in a private swim. Accordingly, I changed into my swimsuit, stowed my uniform in a locker, pinned the key to my shoulder-strap, and, taking a circuitous route, made my way to my favorite spot -- a secluded area surrounded on the landward side by a tangle of rocks. It was a place where I could always be alone and at peace. On my private scrap of beach, I could think more clearly, and I gradually became aware that my agitation maybe wasn't all simple rage, but.... Well, all those girls cavorting around...naked...in public...so shamelessly...doing all sorts of lesbian stuff.... Of course, I considered myself 110% straight, but the memory was beginning to turn me on. I've got a nice body, I think -- maybe an inch taller than average and a couple of pounds lighter and very well toned. But I've always been rather shy about showing it off. And just the thought of having to be out there naked -- omigod! completely naked -- in front of strangers like those "actresses"...and having to do what they were doing.... I blushed hotly and squirmed on the sand. I looked about me. It was private, but not private enough. I took off my swimsuit and put it aside. Then I swam out to neck-deep water. The water was cool and pleasant, but I needed a different kind of relief...and so I began "touching" myself. I don't know how long I was there, fingering my...my "hot cunt" as I supposed they'd say in a porno movie, but it must have been some time. Doing it in public was turning me on and putting me off, and it was a little awkward having to divide my attention between my masturbatory fantasies and the need to keep from drifting too far out. Besides, it was sort of fun to prolong the tease.... So I still hadn't cum yet when approaching crowd noise interrupted me. What the f-? I swam back to shore...and discovered that MY FUCKING SWIMSUIT IS GONE! AND THE CROWD NOISE IS GETTING CLOSER! I cautiously peeked around the edge of a big rock...and gaped at the sight of the crowd being herded in my direction and away from the film company...by a uniformed policewoman.... A woman in MY uniform! I hunkered down, angry but still horny. Then it dawned on me that I couldn't remain crouching there much longer, lest I be over-run by the gawkers, so I scrambled to my feet, sprinted back to the water, and began swimming toward the far end of the beach. It was more open there, but I really didn't have much choice. I figured that the "Bruthas" would be off somewhere smoking something weird, and, if I were lucky, I could slip out of the water, circle around, and get to the station un-noticed. There, I could wrap myself in a curtain or something. Of course, I wasn't lucky. The girl who'd stolen my uniform intercepted me in "no man's land," too far along to retreat to the water. Initially, I tried bluster. "That's MY uniform! Hand it over, right now, or you're in so much trouble." She just smirked at that. "I heard you say that we're responsible for our own security. But I also saw how you looked at all us naked girls...heh, heh. So I kept my eye on you. And then I 'found' this uniform and volunteered to control the crowd -- for a nice bonus, of course. And here I am. But, you know, since I'm doing YOUR job, it's only right that you do MINE. And you're dressed for it." "The hell with that! I'm no cheap bimbo...." She shrugged and held up my brass whistle. "How 'bout if I blow this, huh? People'll come running from all over...and what are you gonna tell 'em?" "No, no! Wait!" "Okay. So now you listen to me...and stop with the hypocrisy. I saw you practically drooling over the girls. Well, you're gonna get to know a lot of 'em...'up close and personal.' Come on!" She seized my left ear and started pulling me along, back down the beach toward the cameras. "Please! This isn't right! I-I just can't let anyone see me like this! If I'm recognized, I'll lose my job! The other cops hate me...." "Shit! Is that all? Well, we can fix that.... But only if you do EXACTLY what I tell you." As crappy as this job could be, I just couldn't lose it. And, even if I weren't fired, Julio and Tee-Rex would make this place a living hell for me if they found me like this. I felt weird, too, dazed, sort of feverish.... I was never at my best in a crisis, where I had to improvise.... I surrendered. "ANYTHING!" "Then let's get to it," she said. She hustled me over to a table where several girls were getting their makeup re-touched and handed me over to a burly faggot. "Shave her," she told him, and he took a noisy, vibrating electric clipper to my crotch while she had a hushed conversation with a skinny goth girl off to one side. After the clipper had removed most of my pubic hair, the fairy lathered me up and used a straight razor on me. Though I'm ashamed to admit it, the whole process WAS a turn-on. (Was I a pervert? Or was I being corrupted by these porno people?) By the time he'd made my crotch totally hairless, the goth girl (in rubber apron and gloves) had gone to work on my head. She cropped my trademark red hair and doused it with some chemical that turned it black and caused it to frizz wildly. After re-shaping my eyebrows, she began massaging me with some kind of aromatic, soothing oil. Grinning, she rubbed it well in and soon had me weak and stinking wet with arousal, my nipples stiff, my cunt-lips swollen, and my clit throbbing.... Oh, god! But, the thing was, when I finally got to peek into a mirror, I discovered that she'd made my pink skin darker, and, all in all, I looked like some damn Mexican bitch! The girl in my uniform -- the goth girl called her "Sharon" -- sauntered back over then. "Nobody's gonna recognize you now, for sure," she said. She nodded and, with a sharp slap to my naked bottom, herded me over to the other naked bimbos. My first "acting" job was to crouch down and eat out a number of hot young women -- younger than me -- as they loafed around in canvas beach chairs. Their cunts were dripping...and I guess I did okay...but I didn't really get off on it -- I swear. (Though I couldn't help cumming from the sheer humiliation of it all, especially when a girl I was servicing stuck her leg between mine and made me hump it like a dog.) The position did let me keep my face hidden deep within a succession of young, demanding cunts and away from the eye of the camera. It was disgusting...but what choice did I have? At one point, I was lapping away when I heard familiar voices. Julio and Tee-Rex were talking with Sharon, the girl in my uniform, and she was saying, "Who knows? She just said she had 'better things to do' and let me use her uniform so I could handle the crowd easier...." The Bruthas promised to keep an eye on things. Just then, the girl I was eating clamped her thighs hard around my head, and I lost the rest of the conversation. ****************************** I spent the rest of the day desperately keeping my face buried in crotches or between butt-cheeks...or butt-fucking myself with a big, black, warty dildo...or getting soundly spanked while I wiggled my bottom lasciviously, as if asking for more.... But I was willing to do just about anything in order to keep my face from being caught on film. Late in the day the light began to fade, and they wrapped. The crew started pack up, and the girls dressed, signed out, and drifted away. I was wondering if I could dash for the water and escape at last, when Sharon appeared at my side. "M-my clothes?" I murmured. "Not yet. And stop whining; I told you I'd take care of you. I've even fixed you up for tonight." She fastened my hands behind me -- with MY OWN GODDAMN HANDCUFFS -- and pointed out a busty, worried-looking blonde some yards away, who was the only other person on the beach still naked. "She's shit-out-of-luck, too. A real airhead. Lost her clothes playing strip Three Card Monte. Tsk, tsk. Her name's 'Brandy.' You two'll be double-dating tonight. Oh, look -- there's your dates now!" (Jesus H. Christ! Julio and Tee-Rex...in civvies.) "But-but-but...." "Oh, get a grip. You look way different, and, anyway, you'll be with the big black dude, who's much too dim-witted to recognize you. The other one seems a tad smarter, but he's gonna be pretty well preoccupied with Brandy. Still, I don't imagine you're fluent in Spanish, so you'll be 'Dancing Fox,' an Algonquin. Don't talk much, and, when you do talk, keep your voice submissive. Drape yourself on Tee-Rex. Be...accommodating. You'll get along fine, IF you do what you're told. The boys'll drop off you and Brandy back here before dawn. Hide out in those rocks, and I'll find you." (God! I don't deserve this!) "Please. These cuffs...?" "They're part of the image. But Tee-Rex has a key. Be nice to him, and he'll take 'em off...sooner or later...prob'ly. C'mon, Foxy, time to meet your date." She laughed and slapped me on my sore butt. "Lick your lips, wiggle, look like you're hot for dark meat...." I did as I was told...as the remnant of the gawkers drew closer, cameras flashing.