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Double Jabbed
Dear C|Suite,
I never thought that this would happen, but here goes my tale of erotic woe.
Still shaking and quivering, a wet, hot mess; I feel violated.
It all began a month ago, when I was looking for a new place of employment during the pandemic. A lot of bar/restaurant owners were looking to get positions filled due to the shortages. One of my friends told me about how this one bar had a 'hawt' owner; he is in his mid-forties, in shape and has tattoos!
I applied immediately. Being a Twenty-something female college grad, I was pent-up from staying home during lockdown and needed to fill my time and get back to what I do best: Servicing others.
Living in California, trying to make it as a cheerleader/dancer for the L.A Rams has been expensive. Everything is so expensive, I just don’t understand! I mean, how can a girl survive when she can’t afford bottle service, weed, lululemon, Starbucks Carmel macchiatos, and clubbing on the regular?!
I like to work with my hands, get down on my knees if I have to: Hard work is no stranger to this broke and desperate girl! I was born and raised in a small town outside of Houston, TX. Like my mom always said, “Our ancestors were always down on all fours…and if you can’t suck it up.. how are you supposed to soar with the eagles?” I would always say back to her, “Ma, I wanna get Rammed…my favorite team ain’t the Philadelphia Eagles!” Plus, their outfits for their cheerleaders ain’t as good.
Anyways, let’s get back to me getting a job to pay-the-rent part of the story, whilst trying to pursue my cheerleading career.
So, this bar I was telling y’all about, it’s called Tits & Splits, basically a ‘juice bar’. I wrote up a quick resume and drove down one morning to meet the owner, Tucker. My friend was telling me the truth; he dampened my panties after one look at him. This wasn’t so good because I needed to save money on laundry.
Fuck, I needed this job so bad, though.
At this same moment, it also dawned on me that I hadn’t been fucked properly in about three days, which is a massive dry spell for me hence why I literally soaked my panties upon first meeting Tucker.
I was honestly thinking about dusting off my old vibrator from my high school days at that point. That purple beauty got me through some tough times after one of my ex-boyfriends from our school’s football team dumped me. It would always get me fully juiced to the point where my room would smell like take-out from Burger King.
When I went to meet Tucker for the interview, we sat at the bar and had a drink together while he pored over my 320-word resume. It was super casual and cool, so was Tucker. I was still a nervous mess around him, though; the drinks did help a bit.
He asked me stuff like, “What positions have you been in over the years with other employers?” and if I liked just being in one position or if I would like switching it up halfway through a work session. I told him that I had been in tons of positions and that I was pretty flexible, eager to please and willing to put my body to work for him.
Tucker seemed to like those answers a lot; he smiled at me and literally stopped reading by that point. Like, 320-words is a lot to read, ok! I once had to write a 1,600-word essay for my Gender studies class titled, Peruvian Lesbian Tap Dance Therapy and the Human Response. I literally took me 6-months to write it so I can only imagine how long it would take to read just even 320-words and understand the brilliance behind it all!
I was kind of disappointed because I wanted him to read the rest of my resume. I mean, he didn’t even want to know about my ‘interests’, or what my favorite color is, or that I once broke the record for "longest distance any woman has shot a ping-pong ball out of her pussy"? C'mon.
It took me months of performing Kegel exercises (while I was writing my essay about the Peruvian lesbian tap dance culture) to strengthen my PC muscles, in order to get the kind of arch needed for that!
It was OK, I thought. He’s lucky he is hawt because otherwise that would’ve been seen as disrespectful and rude.
However, things got a bit more serious after that.
He told me he was serious about hiring me on the spot right then and there.
I could tell he was speaking his truth by the manner in which he was looking me up and down. Studying me like I did those Peruvian lesbians when I took a trip down there to watch them tap dance, fuck each other, and do a bunch of drugs. It was extracurricular; my professor, Dr. Klitsphlichar gave me an A+ for the amount of effort put into learning about how tap dancing can bring out the animal spirits in Peruvian women whom are lesbian and how aroused (to the point of self stimulation) I got from watching it all.
Tucker was probably thinking about how good I would be with customers, given my awesome personality. I was trying to figure out what astrological sign he was and if our destinies were meant to align.
He then looked at me in an almost professional manner, “Now Katrina, I have to add that as a part of the mandate handed down by the state, I do have to ask that you have your first jab (vaccine) before you can be allowed to work here. It’s not my rules, but we do have to follow them, or else the bar could get shut down.”
I explained to him that I was a bit apprehensive and my feelings toward letting others, especially the government, have full autonomy/control over my body and choices. I asked him if all the other girls who worked at Tits & Splits had gotten the jab. He told me "yes, and that if they didn’t he would, unfortunately, have to dismiss them, fire them for not having done so."
I told Tucker that I didn’t enjoy little pricks, either. We both laughed, then he touched my thigh. My clit at that point could've pricked a hole through my panties.
Something in his eyes showed me that this was right, the vibe was there; my vagina felt like it could burn a hole through the cushioned stool I’d been sitting on for a mere five minutes.
I needed this job; I needed the money to fund my dream of being a Rams girl and get rammed.
I needed, Tucker.
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A week later I showed up for my first shift at Tits & Splits. Tucker was thrilled.
I became wet again and it felt awkward to walk.
Everything was going well. I started feeling really good about getting jabbed, just like how all the politicians said it would. I had met the other girls, we were a team now. Part of the group!
One day, some girls who worked there kept asking me if I “had the jab” yet.
I was confused. I told them all, “Well, of course...I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t.”
They all giggled; one of them (I think her name was Casey, she had bigger tits than me) told me not to worry and that we were “All in this together.”
Later that night after the close, Tucker asked me to stay late and help with the clean-up. All the other girls had left, I assumed this was because I was a greenhorn and the bitch work was on me since I was the new girl. I didn’t care, it was just Tucker and I, and it made me feel like I was special from all the others.
It was around 1:45 A.M, I was stroking one of the stool legs with a damp cloth and some Lemon Pledge to make the wood come alive. That’s when Tucker appeared from his office in the back and asked me to “have a chat” with him about my "work performance review" and other business to discuss.
I don’t know why, but my pussy got super throbby; it had all the angst of a midnight’s temptation while I was following Tucker’s lead into the dark recesses of the bar area, toward his office in the back.
Memories of the floodlights on the football field, backseats of a Ford, and bucking bronco fucks given to me by half of the offensive line throughout the four years of college all came back to me: All those state championships; so many late nights doing my laundry so my mom wouldn’t have to scrub the stains out of my cheer uniform. I was a good girl. When she was taking care of my alcoholic father, the last thing my mom wanted to do was figure out how to get bubblegum and cum out of my leggings without ruining the pair.
We got to Tucker’s office; I sat on a couch against the wall while he leaned against his desk with his firm ass taking a rest. I can recall my nipples being hard enough to cut diamonds at this point.
He went on to say that my performance as of late had been stellar and that I was sure to pass my probation period given that I stay consistent.
The customers all liked me, he liked working with me. I explained to him that I was enjoying the work and that he was a great boss, who made me feel valued, included, and appreciated. I told him that I understood that because I was a greenhorn I would have to earn his trust. I told him I wasn’t jealous if he was more standoffish toward me, as opposed to the other girls who had worked here longer than I have and it would take time to build that rapport and connection.
He then came close to me at that point and said, “Well I am glad, Katrina, that is why I wanted you to close with me tonight so we could talk.”
Tucker then further explained to me that he felt ready to endorse me, give me a stiff raise and to welcome me—officially—as one of the crew, equal to all the other girls on his staff. I had such a big smile on my face, I couldn’t help it. He has the cutest dimples when he smiles too!
He then stated that, as part of his policy, after three months of probation it was required that I would have sex with him, to keep my job and be a member of the team at Tits & Splits.
As soon as I heard these words escape from his hawt lips, I was fuming; my pussy was so hot and bothered it would’ve been able to melt through those steel columns from the World Trade Centers on 9/11.
So, this was what the other girls meant about getting the jab, I thought while trying not to cross my legs so hard while staring at Tucker as to cause loss of circulation.
I tried to play it cool without coming off as too eager and unprofessional, but I almost immediately told Tucker (without critically thinking about it or doing my own research) that I would totally have sex with him in order to not get fired and to keep in "good standing" as a member of the team at Tits & Splits.
He said, “Awesome, Katrina! Now, I’ll just have you bend over my desk, drop your panties and roll your skirt up a bit so we can get this done and you can be on your way. I promise it won’t take long.”
Those 60-seconds were intense. I mean, it felt so good having Tucker’s warm piercing penis enter my body, injecting me with a foreign substance with unknown and known consequences to my overall health.
He did it with such sharpness and precision, he was very professional: An expert.
I felt like I was doing my part and was also excited about getting my reward at the end: A pay increase and Tucker’s hawt cum inside my pussy, after treating it from behind as his own personal pump station.
When I was fucking him to keep my job, we talked casually between all the heavy breathing, the moans, the sound of him clapping my cheeks. He banged me like he was trying to cheat the pinball machine at an old arcade. We talked about things like “Morale” and “team spirit/building” in-between bursts of pumps and thrusts.
After he finished inside of me, he slapped my ass; we got decent, then had a drink at the bar, I lit a cigarette and offered one to him.
He then told me he had some other news and that he didn’t want me to get mad because it wasn’t his fault. Still, in post-coital bliss, I just stared at him and could still feel his warmth leaking out of me on that stool I’d just cleaned with Lemon Pledge 10-minutes ago.
“What is it?” I asked.
He whipped out his phone, it was thick and black. It got me thinking about Tyrone, who was one of the linebackers for my college football team. We fucked a few times, blew my back out with him. That’s why I hadn’t worked in a while and was on government subsidies. I didn’t tell Tucker this, it’s just something I thought about while also simultaneously thinking about how I’d just “got jabbed” by my new boss so he wouldn’t fire me; I liked his phone too. He had the latest model iPhone. I love Apple! I had a Mac that I used for college! I don’t have one anymore because it broke; I spilled a Mocha frappe-dick-a-chino on it one day in Psych class.
Anyways, where was I?
Oh, right.
So, Tucker then showed me his phone and it had a document on it from the government. It was a new press release stating that they were reversing the mandate and that it was no longer required for employees to be jabbed; no vaxxpassports for customers were required to patron establishments.
I was so pissed!
Tucker then said, “You will still have to fuck me every six months, same with the other girls…there is no discrimination or preferential treatment toward any of you to keep your jobs.”
“That’s fine, geez!” I told him, “I don’t care about that; this is like totally not the same thing! This is not right!” I added.
Tucker understood my frustrating and I could tell he cared.
He is such an amazing boss, I love him!
He hugged me; he could tell I was upset with how the government was treating everyone and how it was like we were all in some kind of abusive relationship with it.
I mean, get this. The government has been telling me, us, how to dress, what we can say, where we can go, tracking our every move, monitoring our phones and emails, telling what is for your own good, punishing us for not following orders, the rules keep changing, dismisses your opinions and gaslights you into believing lies are truth. It’s like the government just finished treating me like all my ex-boyfriends did! Pumped and dumped.
Tucker shared all the same feelings with me; he and I were connecting even more at this point as we had another drink over the depressing news. I told him that I just felt so violated and used and that the government basically used coercion as a means of getting control. It was my body, my choice, but the government basically gave me only one choice or else.
I quickly changed the subject back to what had just happened with Tucker and I and our business relationship.
“So, about you giving me ‘the jab’…earlier?” I said, nervously feeling my cheeks burn with redness and my loins tingling like I was eighteen again.
“Yes, what about it?” he asked. “If it’s about me 'giving it' to the other girls every six months too, I get it…some get jealous and this job might not be for everyone.” Tucker added.
I looked at him while putting my hand on his. “Oh no, it’s not about that. I get why you need to do this and trust me, it’s fine, I am Ok with you giving the jab to other women just so long as I am getting the same kind of jab you give to them. We are all in this together as a team; I just don’t want to be treated different.” I told him.
“Of course.” He told me, while taking a sip of his whiskey.
"You aren't different or special, Katrina. You are just like all the rest."
When Tucker told me that, I knew he meant it.
Yours truly horny,
Ms. Poked & Prodded