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I even started taking the money, mostly because I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of common sense. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little girls do.
I hadn't been a little woman in a long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing due to the fact that he might actually charge more, especially if the man I was going with chosen me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it.
Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was ridiculous, however you 'd be surprised how many people desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage whore to fuck and suck . These were all older guys too, like my father's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He stated that was generous since he was my manager, my representative, my security guy, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the things I need to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to actually like these men for an hour or two. I had to act younger in some cases too, as a little lady perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine talent for it.
Mary Magdalene had been a whore. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt actually guilty initially, but that had disappeared when I recognized I wasn't harming anybody. The men loved me for a bit, although a few of them enjoyed me for real and asked me if I 'd wed them, or at least return to their cities and cope with them. But they loved 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 safer that way. Like a guy who loved me would not injure me, you know? I loved my dad. That had changed too and I don't understand if one thing had to do with the other exactly, but I do not believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty guys or something, most of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. A few of them wished to call me by a various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little woman next door possibly. However a lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that troubled me in the beginning, but then it didn't and I started liking it.
I might close my eyes and envision the guy who was making love to me truly was my father. I might talk to him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel special and full-grown and liked. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not assist it.
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