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I even began taking the cash, 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 homework, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little ladies do.
I had not been a little girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a excellent thing since he could in fact charge more, particularly if the guy I was going with selected me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it.
I 'd been doing it for practically two months already, and I 'd lost track of how many guys I 'd had sex with. I didn't need to know, however it had to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of cash too. Way too much 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. Choosing me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was outrageous, but you 'd marvel how many people wanted precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage whore to draw and fuck . These were all older people too, like my dad's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He stated that was generous since he was my manager, my representative, my security man, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. However that wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else because I needed to actually like these people for an hour or more. I needed to act more youthful in some cases too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. None of the men spending for me desired a lady, simply a lady, and knowing that I really 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 skill for the sex things anyhow, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt truly guilty initially, but that had gone away when I realized I wasn't hurting anyone. The men loved me for a bit, although a few of them liked me for real and asked me if I 'd marry them, or at least return 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 lonesome because I understood it wasn't actually me they liked, primarily I felt a little safer that way. Like a person who enjoyed me wouldn't 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 various name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little girl next door perhaps.
I might close my eyes and picture the male who was making love to me truly was my daddy. I might talk to him, inform him I liked him, how he made me feel unique and full-grown and liked. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not assist it.
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