Jessica had flunked out of nursing college, but she was terrified of telling her parents, unable to bear their disappointment and hurt when they learned the money they had paid for her education had been wasted.
She found her salvation (she thought) in a small advertisement on an online jobs site: “Female nurse wanted for alternative medicine practice. Qualifications nice but inessential. Must be willing to enter long-term contract. Send photo with application.”
The pay was quite good for a no-degree position, and she applied immediately, attaching a selfie of her smiling in a way that she hoped was cute but professional. The clinic responded within an hour with an offer of interview.
The interview itself was strange. The interviewers – two men and a women, spent almost no time on her work history, and instead focused on her romantic and sexual history. She confessed that her last two boyfriends had both been abusive, and she found it hard to say no to men generally, but that (blushing) the abuse (though unwanted and traumatic) had made the sex extra hot. Throughout the interview, she was uncomfortably aware that both the men were staring at her breasts – awkward, but not an unusual reaction to her embarrassingly large tits.
They hired her on the spot, and walked her through the contract. It was for three years, and it was quite severe. There was a confidentiality clause – she couldn’t disclose anything that happened to her in the course of her job to anyone, including the police, for any reason, and if she was told she was required by law to speak, she was to visit their lawyers so they could fight it. There was a non-compete clause – if she left their employment for any reason other than completion of the contract, including being fired, she couldn’t take paid employment *anywhere* for three years. There was a fitness for job clause – the company could prescribe use of such medicines, training, and uniforms as it deemed necessary and appropriate for her job.
There was even a surveillance clause – the company were authorised to surveil her in any way they choose, including through an implanted microchip, and send security to intercept her and return her to work if she didn’t turn up at her scheduled hours. “Like if you were abducted,” said one of the men. “We could rescue you.”
It was a little scary, but she signed the contract. She blushingly raised the hem of her skirt a little and let the woman use a kind of gun to fire the microchip surveillance implant into her glutes. And only after it was done did Jessica ask the question, “What kind of procedures do you do here?”
It was the woman who spoke. “We treat sex offenders, and men who have identified to their psychologist that they have urges to rape and seek treatment. Just rapists, mind you – not killers. These are men who want to non-consensually fuck a woman, maybe slap her around a bit, but leave her basically healthy afterwards.”
Jessica flinched. This was not what she was expecting. “And… what kind of treatment do you give them?”
“We give them an outlet,” said one of the men. “We show them into a room with a pretty nurse, and we tell them that the nurse doesn’t want to fuck them, and won’t consent, but that if she’s raped she will never, ever tell anyone about it.”
Jessica paled. She looked towards the door, contemplating running. “But… I *don’t* want to fuck them. I thought this was a nurse job…”
The woman laughed. “You clearly can’t do medicine without a degree, Jessica. What kind of work did you *think* you’d be doing? Don’t think about running – the contract authorises us to send men to drag you back. I’d advise you to be a good little rapetoy. If you’re well-behaved, we’ll give you the men who are forceful but safe, and maybe you can have some nice orgasms. But if you make it difficult for us, we’ll keep you for the men who like to leave bruises… or maybe the ones who get off on impregnating unwilling girls…”
The men were smiling. “Sit, Jessica,” said one, in a commanding voice, and Jessica, who hadn’t even realised she’d started to stand, fell back onto the interview chair. She’d never been able to resist a man speaking in that tone – something about the combination of the confidence, and the knowledge that he really might hurt her if she disobeyed. Embarrassingly, her cunt started to wetten.
“Good girl,” he said, rising from his own chair. “Now, good girls show men their tits, don’t they, Jessica? Show us your tits.”
Trembling, she lifted her shirt to reveal her large breasts. She had never really paid as much attention in nursing college, but she realised now, as the man unfastened his pants to extract his cock, that she was about to get a very different kind of job training, and that not paying attention was not going to be an option…
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A story following her 3 years of employment.