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I even started taking the cash, primarily since I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret get in the way of typical sense. I would have been simply 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 lady in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing because he might in fact charge more, specifically if the man I was going with selected me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't truly like it.
I 'd been doing it for nearly two months currently, and I 'd lost track of how many men I 'd made love with. I didn't would like to know, however it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of money too. Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for two. Picking me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was ludicrous, but you 'd be surprised how many people wanted exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an minor slut to fuck and draw . These were all older people too, like my father's age, or regularly even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. They had a lot of cash to invest and it was the ideas that actually flushed my checking account. Deke provided me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous since he was my manager, my agent, my security person, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk 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 given that I had to actually like these men for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful often too, as a little lady possibly eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine talent for it.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a whore. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt truly guilty in the beginning, but that had disappeared when I realized I wasn't injuring anybody. The men enjoyed me for a little bit, although a few of them enjoyed me genuine and asked me if I 'd wed them, or a minimum of come back to their cities and deal with them. 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 lonely due to the fact that I knew it wasn't really me they liked, mainly I felt a little much safer that method. Like a man who enjoyed me wouldn't injure me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, many of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little girl next door maybe.
I could close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me really was my papa. I might speak to him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel unique and grown-up and enjoyed. And someplace, somehow along that ride, I 'd begun to think it. I 'd go home and see my real dad and almost forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 before. But I was falling in love, in developed love, and I couldn't help it. It was set into me, maturing not as his child but as his spouse. We 'd done whatever however practiced our relationship, I believed, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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