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I even started taking the money, primarily because I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt 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 silly things that little women do.
I hadn't been a little lady in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing because he might actually charge more, especially if the person I was going with chosen 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 practically 2 months already, and I 'd misplaced how many guys I 'd made love with. I didn't need to know, but it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of money too. Way excessive 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 additional 200, which I believed was ridiculous, but you 'd be surprised the number of guys wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an underage whore to fuck and draw . These were all older guys too, like my papa's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He said that was generous due to the fact that he was my manager, my agent, my security guy, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the things I need to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. That wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to in fact like these people for an hour or 2. I needed to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little woman maybe eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. None of the men spending for me desired a woman, just a woman, and knowing that I really was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine talent for it. I had a skill for the sex things anyhow, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a whore. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt really guilty initially, however that had actually gone away when I realized I wasn't harming anybody. The men loved me for a bit, although some 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. But 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 more secure that way. Like a man who enjoyed me would not harm me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, many of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them desired to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little woman next door perhaps.
I might close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me actually was my papa. I might talk to him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel unique and developed and liked. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't help it.
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