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I even began taking the cash, primarily because I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of typical sense. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little ladies do.
I had not been a little lady in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a excellent thing due to the fact that he could in fact charge more, especially if the person I was going with selected me up at school. That advantage 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 made love with. I didn't wish to know, however it had to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of cash too. Way excessive 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 extra 200, which I believed was ridiculous, but you 'd be surprised the number of people desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an minor whore to fuck and suck . These were all older people too, like my dad's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He said that was generous because he was my manager, my agent, my security person, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the things I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to actually like these people for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful often too, as a little girl possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a whore. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt actually guilty at first, but that had disappeared when I recognized I wasn't injuring anybody. The men enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them loved me genuine and asked me if I 'd marry them, or at least return to their cities and live with them. But they were in love with who I pretended to be for that short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonesome because I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, mostly I felt a little much safer that way. Like a man who enjoyed me would not hurt me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, many 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 lady next door maybe.
I could close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me truly was my papa. I might talk to him, inform him I liked him, how he made me feel full-grown and special and enjoyed. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't help it.
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