Hi! I will return to the saga of Anne-Marie soon, but in the meantime I thought I'd share another diary entry. This time it is one from before I worked in the specialist spanking brothel.
I was 21 and a relatively new sex worker. I had been working in a low-rent brothel/massage parlour above a betting shop in Barking, London for two months. I'd been selling myself for financial reasons due to massive student debts, but after even a short time working in such a degrading environment, I had realised the reasons I kept on doing it were much more complex. I felt I knew it all at this point -- I was so naively confident and so pleased to have discovered how turned I got by the shame of selling myself. The nervous virgin whore of the first three-four weeks working was already long behind me, by the time I came to write this following entry.
I am still nervous about sharing these entries as it is one thing having your writing and fantasies being slagged off, it's another thing when it is genuine bit of autobiography. I regularly re-read my diaries from when I was student sex worker and this day is one I often go back to. Please keep in mind that the following is transcribed from a diary entry so doesn't read like a traditional story.
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I've now memorised the menu. Saying it out loud to punters humiliates me, turns me on in an almost scary way. Saying the sex acts I will do, putting a price on them -- it's the most whoreish of things and it makes my cunny flutter. £30 for 30 minutes and a handjob. £40 for 30 minutes with oral. £60 for 30 minutes with sex. £100 for 30 minutes with anal. Al the extras -- £10 for dressing up, £10 for role-play, £10 digital penetration. Toy show -- £20. Bondage, spanking and kissing -- all at £20 and the girl's discretion. Come In Mouth £20 at girl's discretion. Reverse oral £20. £100 for a full hour. Speak to management to arrange a two-girl show or session. All other extras negotiable at the girl's discretion.
When I think about it at night, the menu makes me face up to a what a cheap whore I actually am. Cheaper than the punters know when I remember that £40 for 30 minutes with oral means I am sucking a cock for just £30 after the house takes its 25% cut. I don't think I will ever be able to explain to anyone why selling my body for so little thrills me. I don't think I can even explain it to myself.
I now know from working in the brothel that humiliation, the mortification and shame of being a prostitute excites me like nothing else has. Being bought is my ultimate thrill. I need the degradation it provides.
I didn't ever expect the humiliation of having to parade in lingerie with others girls so that punters can choose which one they fancy fucking more would make me so wet. I didn't know having regulars that come back week after week because they enjoy fucking me in school uniform or sodomising me or both would make me simultaneously feel pride and total shame. Make me so turned on that sometimes I can actually come before the punter does.
I didn't know before I started this that my cunny could actually drip from someone counting out six tenners and knowing that the money meant he could fuck however he wanted, use me like a cheap piece of meat. I never guessed I would be so turned on by servicing a parade of obese old men, by servicing so many anonymous Turks and Pakistanis. I didn't know I'd come from being called a "white whore" during rough, brutal sex. Didn't know I'd come from having my hair pulled back and being called an "anal whore" whilst someone fucked my bum for £75.
I know the other girls I work with dislike me because I'm "posh" (only compared to them!) and I actually get off on what I do. I know Margo would have me working every day she could because I am so popular with the punters. She keeps begging me to add an extra shift to Friday and Sunday, but to be honest I am taking so many customers I need the recovery time of being off for the rest of the week -- that and I know my studies would suffer if I did an extra shift. Besides, I'm now making around a £1,400 in total for the two days that I do work.
Today was incredibly busy for the Sunday shift and working 11am to 10pm I still saw 10 punters. I felt a sick pride that as soon as I'd turned up and was sitting in the kitchen having my first cup of tea, Margo brought out the appointments book and told me I had bookings at 3pm, 4pm, 6pm and 7:30pm. I felt even more shame and excitement when she told me they were all: "Your regulars."
I found out the other girl working the shift was Nuong, the pretty young Asian girl with unfeasibly big breasts. She doesn't like me and not only doesn't speak to me when we are in the kitchen, but often just glowers at me while talking to Margo. I felt childishly superior to her when Margo told her she didn't have any bookings.
However, my smugness didn't last long. Within a couple of minutes of Margo opening up at 11am, we had our first walk-in. Nuong and I both came down to the lounge so he could select which one of us he wanted to hire. She was wearing white stockings, lacy white knickers and a lacy white basque. She also had on a pair of gorgeous red heels that helped disguise that like me she is about 5 foot nothing. I was wearing black patent leather 2-inch heels with a sandal strap, black fishnets and black lace garter belt, and my black mesh knickers and bra set.
Nuong looked stunning. I even found her attractive. I slyly kept looking up and down between the neatly trimmed but dense black pube landing strip that you could see through the lace and her enormous breasts -- they must be at least 36D. Between the prospect of the shame of being sized up as a piece of fuck-meat worth paying for and seeing Nuong look so hot, I was somewhat excited before we even went into the lounge. My cunny was a little damp.
The punter was an old Pakistani man, probably in his late 50s or early 60s. He made us parade for a good minutes or so which was making me feel increasingly humiliated and therefore turned on when he asked me: "Do you suck well?"
"Yes. I think I am good at that."
He then asked Nuong the same question and she gave me a snide glance and said: "I'm much better than her."
Of course, the punter picked her and I was left feeing mortified and frustrated. There's a huge sense of sexual indignity having to parade to around in lingerie in the hope of being picked to be fucked for £60 by some old man. I've discovered it turns me on, but there's a cruelty in the abashment of not being the one selected. It makes me feel not only cheap, but a failure. I went back up to my room feeling disappointed, thwarted and in need of an orgasm.
After about 10 minutes, Margo fetched me down to the lounge to introduce me to a walk-in. He was Turkish, in his early 50s and had quite a paunch on him. His hair and beard were going grey and he smelt really strongly of stale tobacco. Margo introduced him as Alp and he gave me a very leering appraisal. He then said: "You suck and fuck for £60?"
I felt so cheap hearing those words and so of course, I was turned on.