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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 research, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little girls do.
I hadn't been a little woman in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing because he might actually charge more, specifically if the man 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.
Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was ludicrous, but you 'd be shocked how numerous people wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage whore to fuck and draw . These were all older people too, like my dad's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a great deal of money to invest and it was the pointers that really flushed my checking account. Deke provided me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous due to the fact that he was my manager, my agent, my security man, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I require to work, like prophylactics 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. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to in fact like these guys for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little lady perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had been a whore. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt actually guilty initially, however that had actually gone away when I recognized I wasn't harming anyone. 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 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 lonely because I understood it wasn't truly me they liked, primarily I felt a little more secure that way. Like a man who enjoyed me wouldn't 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 possibly.
I might close my eyes and think of the guy who was making love to me really was my papa. I might talk to him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel developed and special and liked. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not help it.
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