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I even started taking the money, 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 girls do.
I hadn't been a little lady in a long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a great thing since he might really charge more, particularly if the guy I was going with chosen me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't truly like it.
Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was ludicrous, but you 'd be surprised how lots of men desired precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an minor whore to fuck and draw . These were all older men too, like my papa's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a lot of cash to invest and it was the tips that actually flushed my savings account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous because he was my supervisor, my agent, my security guy, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. He did all the work if you listened to him inform it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. That wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else since I needed to really like these people for an hour or two. I had to act younger in some cases too, as a little girl maybe eleven or twelve years of ages; but never ever older. None of the men paying for me desired a female, just a girl, and understanding that I really was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine talent for it. I had a skill for the sex stuff anyway, 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 comfort and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt actually guilty at first, but that had disappeared when I realized I wasn't injuring anybody. The men enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed me genuine and asked me if I 'd wed them, or at least come back to their cities and cope with them. They were in love with who I pretended to be for that brief time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely since I knew it wasn't truly me they liked, primarily I felt a little safer that way. Like a guy who liked me would not harm me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, most of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them desired to call me by a different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little girl next door maybe.
I could close my eyes and picture the male who was making love to me truly was my father. I could talk to him, inform him I liked 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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