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I even started taking the money, mostly 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 just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little ladies do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a very long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a great thing due to the fact that he might actually charge more, specifically if the person I was going with picked me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't truly like it.
Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was absurd, however you 'd be shocked how lots of people desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage whore to suck and fuck . 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 said that was generous because he was my supervisor, my agent, my security man, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the stuff I require to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. But that wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else because I needed to really like these men for an hour or two. I had to act younger often too, as a little girl possibly eleven or twelve years of ages; however never ever older. None of the men spending for me wanted a woman, simply a girl, and understanding that I truly was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine skill for it. I had a skill for the sex things anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.
Mary Magdalene had been a whore. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt actually guilty in the beginning, however that had disappeared when I understood I wasn't hurting anybody. The men loved me for a bit, although some of them loved me genuine and asked me if I 'd wed them, or at least come back 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 lonely since I understood it wasn't really me they liked, mainly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a man who liked me would not hurt me, you know? 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 child's name, or a niece or the little girl next door possibly.
I could close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me actually was my father. I could talk to him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel full-grown and special and liked. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not help it.
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