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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 typical 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 ladies do.
I hadn't been a little lady in a very long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing due to the fact that he could actually charge more, specifically if the guy I was going with picked me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really 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 thought was absurd, but you 'd be shocked how many men wanted precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an minor whore 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 mainly. They had a lot of cash to invest and it was the suggestions that actually flushed my bank account. Deke offered me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous because he was my manager, my representative, my security person, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I require to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. He did all the work if you listened to him inform it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. But that wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to actually like these men for an hour or 2. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little lady maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never older. None of the men paying for me desired a lady, simply a girl, and knowing that I actually was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine talent for it. I had a talent for the sex things anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a whore. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt actually guilty initially, however that had disappeared when I realized I wasn't injuring anyone. The men loved me for a little bit, although a few of them enjoyed me for real and asked me if I 'd marry them, or a minimum of return to their cities and live 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 since I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, primarily I felt a little more secure that way. Like a guy who loved me wouldn't injure me, you know? 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 girl next door maybe.
I could close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me actually was my papa. I could talk with him, inform him I liked him, how he made me feel unique and full-grown and loved. And someplace, in some way along that flight, I 'd begun to believe it. I 'd go home and see my real daddy and almost forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two prior to. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not help it. It was set into me, growing up not as his daughter however as his partner. We 'd done whatever but practiced our relationship, I believed, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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