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I even started taking the cash, mainly due to the fact that I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of common 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 girls do.
I hadn't been a little lady in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing since he could in fact charge more, specifically if the man I was going with picked me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it.
Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was absurd, however you 'd be surprised how lots of men wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage whore to fuck and draw . These were all older men too, like my dad's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He stated that was generous due to the fact that he was my supervisor, my agent, my security person, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to in fact like these guys for an hour or 2. I had to act younger in some cases too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had been a slut. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt truly guilty initially, however that had actually disappeared when I realized I wasn't harming anyone. The men liked me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed me for real and asked me if I 'd wed them, or a minimum of return to their cities and deal 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 knew it wasn't actually me they liked, primarily I felt a little more secure that way. Like a man who liked me wouldn't harm 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 desired to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little woman next door maybe.
I might close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me actually was my papa. I could talk to him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel grown-up and special and loved. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not assist it.
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