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I even began taking the cash, mostly because I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret 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 silly things that little women do.
I hadn't been a little woman in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a excellent thing due to the fact that he might in fact charge more, specifically if the person I was going with chosen me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it.
I 'd been doing it for practically 2 months already, and I 'd lost track of the number of guys I 'd had sex with. I didn't wish to know, however it had to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of cash too. Way excessive for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for 2. Picking me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was ludicrous, but you 'd be surprised the number of men desired exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an minor whore to suck and fuck . These were all older men too, like my papa's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He stated that was generous since he was my supervisor, my representative, my security guy, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to really like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act younger often too, as a little woman possibly eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine talent for it.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt truly guilty at first, but that had actually gone away when I understood I wasn't injuring anybody. The men loved me for a little bit, although some of them loved me for real and asked me if I 'd wed them, or at least come back to their cities and live 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 lonesome because I understood it wasn't actually me they liked, mainly I felt a little much safer that way. Like a person who loved me would not hurt me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty men 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 perhaps.
I could close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me really was my father. I could speak to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel special and grown-up and loved. And somewhere, somehow along that ride, I 'd begun to believe it. I 'd go home and see my real papa and nearly forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 before. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I couldn't help it. It was programmed into me, maturing not as his daughter however as his wife. We 'd done everything but practiced our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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