I need money for BareMinerals foundation and MAC lipstick and soy lattes and pizza. If I earn money I will no longer be a financial burden on my parents; I will be productive and accomplish something. I will be a commodity, and I will be in demand and valuable. I am so beautiful and young that men will pay three hundred dollars to have sex with me; sex work will reify my youth and beauty. I have no friends and nothing to do except school and this will give me something to do and a way to study other people besides through the Internet. I’ll find out for myself what sex work means, and what kinds of men pay for sex and why they do it.
*
I stood out in front of my apartment, waiting.
I could tell it was him the minute I saw him get out of his black SUV.
He was very tall and bald; I guessed he was in his mid-30’s. He was wearing an orange hoodie and khakis.
“Are you Emily?”
“Yes.”
Most clients were nervous, but he didn’t hesitate before he walked ahead of me to my apartment door.
I followed him in. I shut and locked the door behind us.
We stood in the entry way.
“Do you want to get payment out of the way?” I had gotten in the habit of saying this firmly, robotically, but here my voice cracked because I was intimidated by his confidence. I was used to feeling like I had all of the power over the scared, pathetic johns, but with him I had the same feeling as when I was a little girl and my father called me into the living room for a lecture. There was that same guilty, anxious feeling.
“Here you go.”
He handed me the money. I counted it. Normally I went into the bathroom and hid the money, but now I felt too scared to do that. I just put the money on top of my dresser, which was in arm’s length of where we were standing near the front door.
“Um, do you want to sit down?” I asked.
“What? I couldn’t hear you. You talk too quiet.”
“Do you want to sit down?” I asked again, forcing myself to talk louder, and motioned towards my couch.
He went and walked and sat down on my couch, and I walked after him and sat stiff and rigid, feeling unbearably nervous and awkward.
I faced straight ahead.
I have to say something to him but him but I can’t think of anything to say.
We sat like that in silence for twenty seconds with me desperately trying to think of something to say, but my mind was completely blank.
I decided to just stand up. I stared at the blank white wall to the right of his head. I began to take off my clothes. After that extended awkward moment, I felt like I was in a race to take my clothes off as quickly as possible. I was afraid of him losing his patience with me.
You have to keep the customer satisfied, Emily, or he might take his money back.
I just stood there naked for a moment while he looked me over.
“Oh. You’re cute.”
“Thank-you,” I muttered. I am not “cute,” I am extremely beautiful. (Around normal men, I had severe anxiety about the way that I looked, but with johns there was this resentment, this bitter anger at the thought that my immense physical attractiveness could even be a question to them.)
“Can I take some pictures?” He asked.
“No…” I said weakly.
I shook my head. I’m not going to give you anything extra.
He unbuttoned his pants and pulled them down. I was disgusted by the sight of his tight, dingy grey briefs.
I sat down next to him, and he stood up.
He rubbed his penis all over my face.
I get turned on whenever I watch this happen in porn, but now it’s happening to me and I feel sick, though also slightly turned on. I want to like this more.
He touched his penis to my lips and I opened my mouth mechanically.
He placed his hands on the back of my head and gripped my hair and began to move my head wildly back and forth.
My eyes were shut tight. I stopped thinking then and was only aware of the pain in my throat and how much I wanted to gag but I couldn’t. I can’t show any weakness, I can’t let him humiliate me. I can’t let him win.
This continued for minutes and I felt irritated.
Why won’t he just fuck me so he’ll cum in a few minutes and then this will be over?
“Look at me,” he said.
I opened my eyes and looked up at his face. Usually my eyes were always closed during sex work, so I could dissociate from the experience. Maybe he knows why I close my eyes and that’s why he’s forcing me to look at him.
“Have you ever had your mouth fucked before?”
Why is he asking me questions when my mouth is full of his penis and I can’t talk?
He began to jerk my head back and forth even faster and I became very dizzy.
I finally gagged and started to cough and gasp.
“It’s a lot of cock to swallow, sweetie.”
It’s big, but it’s not that big.
He pulled his penis out of my mouth.
“Let me fuck you doggy-style.”
I positioned myself so I was on all fours. I turned my head to make sure that he put a condom on, and when I saw that he had I turned my head forwards hoping he hadn’t seen me looking back, and I closed my eyes.
He penetrated me and he thrust his hips so fast and his penis went so deep inside of my vagina that it caused a sharp pain. I forced myself to fake moan, like I was enjoying it, but sometimes gasps and cries of pain escaped.
“How many guys do you fuck a week? Ten? Fifteen?”
“Um, three or four…”
He wants me to degrade me; he wants me to degrade myself. What if he demands his money back at the end if I don’t do what he wants?
“How many, princess?”
“Usually two a day, sometimes three…”
“Do you fuck black guys?”
“Yeah…” I could feel blood rush to my cheeks as I was so incredibly embarrassed.
“What guys your favorite?”
“Um…”
“Black guys?”
“Um…”
“White guys with big cocks?”
“Yeah…”
He laughed at me.
“Tell me how much you love my cock, you nasty slut.”
I was scared and humiliated to the point where my mind was numb.
“I love your cock,” I half cried from the pain.
He laughed at me, and slapped my ass really hard. I cried out in pain.
“You are a horny little thing.”
I had to blink back the tears that were welling in my eyes.
(I entered, temporarily, into a bizarre mental state induced by my need to disassociate from the humiliation, the pain, and my disgust at my willingness to engage in it.)
“You like being submissive don’t you?”
“Yeah…” I moaned.
I have to go along with this to get paid because I’m a whore. I deserve to be treated like this it’s my job I have to make him happy. I’m getting off on being treated like this and I like it. I love it. I want to be treated as a worthless whore, I am a worthless whore. I feel so relieved. I don’t have to think or impress. I’m so tired of lying to myself and keeping up the illusion that I’m not a worthless sex object when I am, I am, I so obviously am. I am a stupid worthless whore and I like being treated like one.
“I’m going to cum in your mouth.”
“Okay.”
“What do we say?”
Yes, I want to beg for his cum. He is going to cum in my mouth because he wants to degrade me, he sees me as less than human. He is honest and it’s a relief. I am so tired of men pretending that they see me as something other than a whore, that they see any woman as anything other than that.
“…Please,” I muttered.
He ejaculated in my mouth.
I love the taste of his semen.
I gagged.
I got up immediately and ran to my bathroom and spit the semen out and rinsed my mouth out.
When I came back out he was standing near the door, fully dressed.
“Well, thanks, sweetheart.”
I tried to say, no, thank-you, I hope I see you again, but I just found myself nodding.
I walked him to the door, smiled at him, and then shut the door after he left.
I collapsed onto the floor and curled up into the fetal position and began to hyperventilate and sob.