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It turns out I liked being an escort, a lot more than I thought I would anyway. I even began taking the money, mainly due to the fact that I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret get in the way of sound judgment. But then, if I had the sound judgment I would not have been an escort either. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little girls do. I had not been a little woman in a very long time though. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a excellent thing since he could in fact charge more, especially if the guy I was going with selected me up at school. That opportunity 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 invest, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was ludicrous, but you 'd be shocked how lots of people desired exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage slut to draw and fuck . These were all older men too, like my papa's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a great deal of money to spend and it was the tips that truly flushed my savings account. Deke provided me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous since he was my manager, my representative, my security guy, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I require 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. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to in fact like these people for an hour or two. I had to act younger in some cases too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real skill for it.

Mary Magdalene had actually been a slut. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt really guilty at first, but that had gone away when I understood I wasn't hurting anybody. The men loved me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed me for real and asked me if I 'd marry them, or at least come back to their cities and cope with them. However they loved who I pretended to be for that short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonesome since I understood it wasn't actually me they liked, mostly I felt a little safer that way. Like a guy who liked me wouldn't hurt me, you understand? I was in love with my papa. That had actually changed too and I don't know if something related to the other exactly, however I do not believe in coincidence either. I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, most of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little woman next door perhaps. However a lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that troubled me at first, however then it didn't and I began liking it.

I could close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me truly was my daddy. I might speak to him, inform him I liked him, how he made me feel developed and special and liked. And somewhere, in some way along that ride, I 'd started to think it. I 'd go house and see my genuine daddy and practically forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more prior to. However I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not help it. It was programmed into me, growing up not as his daughter however as his other half. We 'd done whatever however practiced our relationship, I believed, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?

 

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