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I even started taking the money, mainly since I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret get in the way of typical sense. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little ladies do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long time.
I just worked 3 or 4 nights a week anyhow, because I needed to be home by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. But Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing due to the fact that he might actually charge more, especially if the person I was opting for picked me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a number of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't truly like it. I was constantly afraid someone would see me getting into a weird vehicle, a various odd automobile each time, and wonder what was going on.
Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was ridiculous, however you 'd be stunned how many people desired precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an underage slut to draw and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my dad's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a great deal of cash to invest and it was the ideas that really flushed my checking account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous because he was my supervisor, my representative, my security guy, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. He did all the work if you listened to him tell it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to really like these people for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a whore. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt truly guilty initially, but that had disappeared when I realized I wasn't hurting anyone. The men loved me for a bit, although a few of them liked me for real and asked me if I 'd wed them, or a minimum of return to their cities and cope with them. However they were in love with who I pretended to be for that short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonesome due to the fact that I knew it wasn't truly me they liked, primarily I felt a little more secure that way. Like a person who liked me wouldn't injure me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, most of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a various name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little girl next door maybe.
I might close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me truly was my daddy. I could talk to him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel full-grown and special and loved. And someplace, in some way along that flight, I 'd begun to believe it. I 'd go home and see my real papa and nearly forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more before. However I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not help it. It was programmed into me, growing up not as his daughter but as his partner. We 'd done whatever however consummate our relationship, I believed, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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