Stories from a former sex worker
Sex Worker, Prostitute, Escort, Rent Boy, Hooker, Street Walker, tart, Whore, Giggilo, SEXUAL SOCIAL WORKER Call it what you will. It is known as The Oldest Profession - by men and women for men and women. It has its extremly down market side and then there is the 5 STAR GOLD side to the business. It's not always what you imagine.
People often have an attitude towards the sex worker which is usually completely misplaced. Men use prostitutes because their wives do not give them sex, or because it is simply convenient, or to have the sex they dream of and their partner is not into, and for a million other resons - and anyone damning and trying to destroy the sex worker needs to see beyond - and see the good that sex workers offer society by keeping its loins calm and stops a mountain of explosive arguments caused by sexual frustration within relationships and where many get hurt. Sex alieviates this pent up frustration and takes it off the boil - so - easing society from the main cause of many relationshiop breakdowns... the lack of sex.
As a professional full time sex worker for 15 years - and where I was available 24/7 - took credit cards ( and this was the 80's and 90's when NO ONE accepted cards in the sex industry ) and I even had a book keeper and accountant and - believe it or not, I paid tax - and told the tax man face to face exactly what I did for a living - EXACTLY - and when someone takes a portion of a prostitutes money - they are called PIMPS, so when the government and the HMRC takes a portion of a sex workers income , does that now make them PIMPS - mwhich is illegal and a prison offense ?
As a former leading sex worker, there are many MANY fun and sometimes horny and / or disgusting stories I have to share, and here is one for you...
Let me know if you want more.
I knew this man well.
I knew all about his wife and kids.
His past female lovers.
His whole life history.
After some years of seeing him on a regular basis, where he would come every 3 weeks for an overnight session – this day was to remain in my mind for ever and become one of those laughs shared between sex workers. It was late.
He had already been with me for the afternoon and it was now late at night and he had already been well throat and butt fucked, all tied up in the dungeon and being forced to take it.
He lay there in the dim lights as I started naming names from his past.
‘Your girlfriend from decades ago, Muriel, - she was a whore - WASN’T SHE ?’ He answered with a quiet ‘Yes.’ ‘YES – WHAT ?’ I screamed at him.
Louder he said ‘ She was a whore ‘
‘ WHO WAS A WHORE ?’
‘Muriel was a whore.’ ‘LOUDER ‘
URIEL WAS A WHORE ‘
‘LOUDER YOU CUNT’
SCREAMING NOW, ALMOST THROUGH TEARS HE SCREAMED
‘ MURIEL WAS A WHORE.’ I let that hang in the air for a few minutes, standing in silence – and then
‘ AND WHAT ABOUT JANET ?’
( another girlfriend from just a few years ago which his wife never knew about )
‘YES – ‘ faltering now – ‘JANET WAS A WHORE.’
‘ WHAT WAS JANET ?’
‘ A WHORE.’
‘WHO WAS A WHORE.?’
‘MY X GIRLFRIEND JANET WAS A WHORE.’ ‘AND YOUR WIFE – DIANE - IS A FUCKING WHORE – RIGHT ?’
Whimpering and holding back tears –
‘ Yes, my wife Diane is a whore.’
Sobbing now – ‘ MY WIFE DIANE IS A WHORE.’
And this is where it went slightly wrong….. ‘EVEN YOUR MOTHERS A FUCKING WHORE.’
In a quiet and genuine voice he said real quickly -
‘Oh I don’t know about that.’
Ooops - me thinks...
Think I went a bit too far there, need to reign it in a bit
‘Maybe not your Mother but MOST WOMEN ARE WHORES – RIGHT ?
‘ Yes , most women are whores.’
There are times in any fantasy when you can take it close to the edge and create an amazing fantasy but there are times when you take it too close and it becomes too real and too close to their reality and it can ruin the whole scene as they crash into reality and leave the fantasy way behind.
As a bondage master, many would inform me on arrival that they had a password in case it became too much, and the word was always BROTHER or UNCLE – to which I would inform them – aggressively, that my password was CUNT.
If – for example, I am the Israeli soldier beating a Palestinian prisoner – the prisoner would scream obscenities at the abuser and when screaming ‘ You cunt leave me alone.’ – The aggressor being me – would acknowledge hearing the password with something like ;-
‘Don’t you call me a cunt, you Mother Fucker’ –
So I had acknowledged hearing the ' password ' and meanwhile bringing the beating down to a more bearable level – for a while… and still staying within the fantasy, still being in character – both of us – and still living the nightmare.
You would keep it softer for a while and slowly bring it back up again until he repeats the password and you keep him on the edge of saying it – or not saying it – depending on how hard I felt I could go and how hard he could take it and always - ALWAYS – push it beyond what he was expecting and wanting, ALWAYS taking him just that little but further than he was comfortable with and ALWAYS staying in control but paying attention to his every move, never allowing myself to loose control and for it to become something unwanted by both parties, which can happen.
Once while still in my leathe gear I went to Copas in Earls Court and accidentally stepped on someones foot at the bar and he complained in a camp manner -
'Oh that was my foot .' ‘Well fucking move it then. ‘ I said ‘ Fucking queens.’
and as I said ‘Fucking queens’ I looked over the bar and into the mirrors straight into my own eyes and saw - me – looking back at myself and although still in the leather uniform ( just another form of drag ) – I saw me – not the aggressive Master – but me – and cringed at what I had just said to this guy whose foot I had stepped on.
I was still in the aggressive role I had been in with the client – I had taken that role out with me - and I then noticed a couple of friends the other end of the bar and had to go and have a camp up with them to exorcize the aggressive part of my nature from my being at that moment, and be John again, and this was a big learning curve for me.
After that, any time I had a session that was really heavy or I had done something for several hours that meant I was to be the aggressor, I would phone a friend after and have a camp old ‘You’ll never guess what I have just been doing…’ and share a great laugh about it,and that was all it took… just to become me again.
Laughter healed me of any negative aggressive side my personality was slipping into through my work.
Do you want more stories from my sex worker days ? Just let me know
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