2 comments/  4255 views/  1 favorites

I Am Whom I Am and Why Pt. 01

By: genevieve_



This is an extended profile about me. It is mostly fact.

I am a prostitute, a working lady, a whore, call me what you like. I service men and women for a living. That is what I do. If you don't like what I do then tough!

But first a little about myself that might help to explain my attitude to life and my work. 

I'm in my mid thirties and a single mother of one, my ten year old son Zac.

I never knew my parents. I was born and have lived all my life in Australia.

I was raised a Catholic and it was the nuns in the local convent who looked after me from a tender age. They clothed and fed me, saw to my education and made sure I had a roof over my head. There were other children like myself under their care. We were little more than slaves to these servants of the Lord. Each day began early with a communal breakfast, then tasks such as cleaning and washing was followed by school. Discipline was harsh and there were regular beatings from the nuns if we transgressed their strict code of conduct.

I became the favourite of Sister Jerome. She was easily twenty years my senior and when I was old enough, and stopped wetting my bed at night, I was invited into her chamber and her bed. On these occasions she wore a dowdy old nightdress. She had short, grey hair. Her arms, legs and body were thin. I suppose she was quite pretty in a strange kind of way. She had very high cheek bones that made her look rather stunning. At night, she was really quite different from the proud Sister of Mercy I knew during the day, dressed in her formal wear. 

She would order me to remove my pyjamas and would undress in front of me. I used to marvel at her huge sagging breasts which seemed so out of proportion to the rest of her lithe body, and compare them to my tiny newly forming boobs. I would compare her thinning grey pubic hair that hardly hid her labia to the dark tuft of hair that was growing between my legs hiding all my nether regions. I don't know if she used to reminisce of what her young body may have been like when she touched me, but her long, bony fingers ran over my naked body awakening me to the various sensations that I began to enjoy. She took care of my sanitary needs and each month made a big deal out of the fact that I was having my period by placing a big red cross on her wall calendar, marking the day that each period began. I think it was to remind me that I was now a woman.

In the eyes of the Church, my sex education was complete and all I needed to know had been passed onto me. So years later when I reached university; boys, condoms, contraception etc. were totally alien to me. There was so much to learn and so little time in which to learn it. I made a few new friends, both male and female, in my English 1 class but my naivety was always the butt of their jokes.

I didn't mind, I had met Sean.

Sean was a giant of a man. He was huge. I barely came up to his shoulder and I could easily hide under his armpit if I wanted to. He had tattoos on his arms, legs and back. He had long red hair that was tied back in a ponytail, and a beard that made him look like an actor out of a Viking movie. He wasn't the university type. He was an electrician. I first saw him in the University Library, where the company he worked for was doing some rewiring.

I was in love. In hindsight I was also very naive. I always found a seat in the Library near to where he was working and I would just sit and stare at him with a stupid smile on my face. Occasionally he would climb down off his ladder to get more tools and wink at me as he passed my desk. He had the cutest bum. Eventually our communications progressed to using words. He had an Irish accent which made me weak at the knees every time he spoke. I was so in love, I was speechless when he came over to where I was sitting and whispered in my ear. "Would you like to come for a drink on Friday night after work."

I immediately regretted eating all those chocolates the other night and knew they would feed the zits that were already forming on my forehead. On Thursday night I washed my hair and my jeans then took out my favourite AC/DC fake t-shirt and laid them all on my bed ready to wear the next day. 

Sean worked for a company that worked rather strange hours. They started early and so a "drink after work" meant arriving at the pub just after 3:00pm.

I happily followed Sean into the front bar of the nearest pub, where he introduced me to his two friends, Johno and Paul. They weren't Irish like Sean, they were Australian like me. We all got on well. The boys drank huge quantities of beer that afternoon. Well the others drank beer, Sean drank rather large glasses of Guinness. I was a good little Catholic girl and drank orange juice.

As the alcohol began to take effect, they became noisier and more raucous. Eventually Sean broke into song. He had the most gorgeous voice. Nearly everyone in the bar stopped talking and listened to him. He sang and he sang and I was proud to be beside him. Then for no apparent reason he stood up and moved to a seat in the corner of the room. I followed him and sat down next to him. He wrapped his huge arm around me, groped my left boob and went to sleep. A few people laughed, I blushed crimson and wondered what to do next. After a few minutes, I extricated myself from under his arm and called a taxi to take me home. 

That was my first date with Sean.

He phoned me later in the weekend and apologized. I accepted his apology and I agreed to join him the following Friday at the pub. This time he restricted his drinking, he did plenty of singing, in fact we all did a lot of singing and then offered to take me home in his van. I accepted, as last week's taxi fair had cost me well over $50.

When we arrived at my single room apartment, I thought it only courteous to invite him in for a cup of coffee. The evening was going well, then he stood up and swept my up into his arms. We kissed. Oh my God what a wonderful sensation. This was my first kiss with a man. I thought Sister Jerome was a good kisser but Sean sent me into a swoon. Before I knew it, his great big paws was on my boobs again, squeezing the life out of them. But I didn't mind. I was in love. Somehow in all my confusion, I realised that he had managed to get it inside my bra and was painfully squeezing my nipple. He continued for a minute or so before he yanked off my fake AC/DC t-shirt and unclasped my bra. I felt so naughty letting a man touch my boobs.

Things were moving quickly. Too quickly in fact. I half heartedly tried to slow events down. His huge hand was between my legs, squeezing me through my jeans. I tried to stop him but he deftly undid the zip and pulled them down. I protested, saying that I was a virgin and I didn't want sex nor was I on the Pill. I tried to think of anything to stop him from going further. Then I felt skin on skin as his hand slipped under my panties and between my legs. He was nowhere near as gentle as Sister Jerome had been with her long slender fingers. A huge finger was probing roughly at my vagina. Somehow my pubic hair had become tangled in his fingers and that really hurt to as he tugged and pushed. Despite all my protestations, I knew I was becoming wet. I must have been ready because his finger suddenly slid inside me. It was a new sensation. I was being stretched. His finger felt far different to Sister Jerome's. This was far more satisfying, but it was wrong. I didn't want it to go further, but yet deep down I did. I was confused. I was in the arms of the man with whom I had become infatuated and he was doing what deep down I wanted him to do.

I heard him undo the zip of his jeans. Then I looked across and saw his huge erect cock. I froze. I had never seen an erect cock before. It was long and hard and the head of it looked as if it was inflamed. The only cock I had seen before was a rude painting on the wall of the convent and that was of a naked baby Jesus. Sean's cock was huge and more appropriate to equip a horse.

I whispered in his ear as I tried to remove his hand from my panties. "I don't want to get preggers, Sean. Please stop."

He smiled and confidently whispered back. "This is your first time isn't it, my love."

"Yes" I choked.

"You're a virgin, right?"

"Yes" I said, half embarrassed with my admission.

And then with the confidence belies the Irish, he exclaimed. "Then you can't get pregnant! You can't get pregnant if you are a virgin and this is your first time."

Sister Jerome hadn't told me anything about this. She had been more intent on making me count days from the red cross on her calendar. I had no calendar and I was certainly in no position to count the days from my last period. I felt betrayed by my lack of knowledge on such things, my naivety was so profound.

"Are you certain about that?" I enquired.

"Am I'm sure? I'm as sure as God made little green apples, I'm sure. To be sure." He gushed enthusiastically.

I knew nothing to the contrary to what he was saying. I relented.

I let him remove my boots and my jeans which he had tugged down around my knees. Then he slipped off my panties and dropped them at the end of my bed. I felt embarrassed lying naked in front of a man. He stood up and removed his t-shirt and his jeans. His cock swayed in front of him. It was more huge than I thought it was earlier. It was like an appendage that had been attached to him.

I wondered how on earth it was going to fit inside of me. It was much larger than his finger and way, way larger than Sister Jerome's slender fingers had been.

He pushed my legs apart and knelt between them. He once again slid his finger inside me, while at the same time he leant forwards and squeezed each boob in turn. It hurt. Then I looked down over my chest, between my boobs, as he peeled my labia apart with this slippery fingers and guided the head of his cock inside me.

Oh God it hurt! I wanted to scream but the neighbours would hear. I just wanted to squeeze my legs together and make the pain go away. But he was relentless, pushing deeper and deeper inside me. Eventually the pain began to subside. My lower tummy felt stretched and full. I imagined that the tip of his cock must be pressing somewhere up near my ribcage. 

From the short glimpse I had had of it, his cock was well over one and a half of my hand spans in length, maybe two even. One cold night Sister Jerome had established that a hand span width was the approximate distance from my pubic bone to my belly button. Mind you, she double checked internally with her long skinny dildo and an old wooden ruler that she kept in her desk drawer and sometimes used on my bare bottom when I offended her.

Sean pushed in and out of me for what seemed like an eternity. The bed squeaked as I was worried that it might collapse under our combined weight. His body stiffened and he let out a low guttural growl as his whole body seemed to go into a spasm. The effect on me was wonderful. For some reason I felt a wave of pleasure had just swept over me. My body shook and pure pleasure replaced the discomfort I had endured earlier. Was this an orgasm I was having?

Sean rolled off me and I could once again breath normally. He got dressed without saying a word, leant over the bed and kissed me, then left. I was somewhat miffed at the abrupt completion of our first lovemaking session.

I cleaned myself with paper tissues. There seemed to be blood and semen everywhere. It was on my inner thighs, on the sheets, on the blankets and on the tissues. I opened the drawer of the bedside table and took out a sanitary pad and secured it with my panties. The flow of bodily fluids seemed endless. I had never experienced anything quite to gross in my whole life.

Six weeks later I still had not had my period. I was pregnant.

I Am Whom I Am and Why Pt. 02



I missed my period two months in a row. I visited the university doctor and she confirmed that I was pregnant.

I now needed the courage to tell Sean. We were still seeing each other but we hadn't had sex since that first time. I visited Sister Jerome and sobbed out my sad story. She was quite understanding in a clerical kind of way. She told me that God would forgive me for being such a sinner and having sex outside of marriage. Naturally the topic of termination didn't come up.

One Friday night after a really good session at the pub, Sean was in a good mood. I had forgone my orange juice for gin and tonic, which I knew I shouldn't do. My head was spinning when I confronted Sean and just blurted out "Sean, we are going to have a baby."

He stared at me with a blank look in his eyes. 

"But ..."

"Yes" I said "That first time."

He sat down and put his head in his hands. Both our worlds were about to change. Termination was out of the question because of my faith and he understood that.

"Give me a few days to think about this, my love." He finally said and smiled.

I was relieved when I saw the smile but I was still apprehensive.

He went to the bar and ordered a bottle of whisky, then sat in the corner with me and quietly drank himself into a stupor.

Three days later he appeared in front of my desk in the University Library and looked down at me. He leant forwards with his elbows on the desk and put his face close to mine. 

"Will you marry me?" He whispered and opened his clenched fist revealing a diamond ring.

I was so relieved. I wanted to tell the whole world. I jumped across the desk throwing my arms around him and kissed him firmly on the lips. There was going to be sex tonight I thought and there was.

I had known him for little over two months and now I was going to marry him. My University course would have to go on hold if I was going to be a "good" mother.

But that would be a small price to pay.

The wedding was a small affair in a room at the back of our favourite pub. There was no honeymoon as Sean couldn't get any time off work. We rented a small house in one of the outer suburbs and were a happily married couple waiting for their first baby to arrive.

The time arrived and I went into labour. It was a long but natural birth. Eventually after much coaxing and cursing by me, Zac made his grand entry to the world. It was a joyous moment and Sean went off to celebrate with his two mates Johnno and Paul.

The ensuing months were difficult. I found breast feeding difficult and Zac always seemed to be hungry. He cried a lot and Sean and I would have given anything for a good night's sleep. But like most young families we managed to get through it.

The next few years seemed to fly past quite quickly. Zac became ill and we had to have his tonsils removed. He was growing quickly and was a cute little miniature of his Dad. He went to Kindy and finally we felt our freedom return when he started proper school at the age of six.

It was about that time there was a downturn in the economy and Sean's overtime was reduced. This hurt us financially as a family. As things declined Sean was asked to take all the holidays due to him. Then he was reduced to a four day week, then a three day week and finally he was retrenched.

During this time the strain on Sean became evident. He spent more time with his two friends. They drank together for hours each day. Sean was coming home late at night, drunk and out of his mind. He was losing it. He was becoming irrational. He was getting into fights and coming home with blood all over him. I was fearful he might become violent towards Zac and me. Our savings ran out and we relied on social security payments to live. We seemed to be in a never ending downward spiral and landlord was constantly reminding us that our rent was getting further and further behind. It was becoming obvious that it was only a matter of time before he evicted us.

One day I came home from picking up Zac from school to find the three of them sitting in the lounge smoking Ice (crystal methamphetamine). I was furious that he could waste our meagre income on drugs while Zac and I were going without. I found out later this had been going on for months without my knowledge.

All three of them, Sean, Johnno and Paul stormed out of the house in a rage and disappeared, presumable to the local pub where they had almost become permanent fixtures in recent months.

I gave Zac his dinner and put him to bed. He wanted to know why I was crying. But I was beside myself. I sat down and was watched TV. At about 10:00pm Sean and his two friends burst in through the front door. I sprang to my feet and confronted them. They were covered in blood and I assumed they had all been in a fight.

Sean's face was red with rage. He was out of his mind.

"Get out of my way you fuckin' slut cunt." He yelled as he approached me.

I didn't see the punch that broke my cheekbone and nose. I just remember lying on my back on the floor looking up at the ceiling with the three of them standing above me, shouting and waving their arms.

Sean stood over me with his feet on either side of my chest. He dropped his pants and pulled out his cock. He dropped to his knees pinning my arms to the floor and forced his cock into my mouth. It wasn't erect but it filled my mouth all the same. In an attempt to push it in deeper he leant forwards, his huge belly smothering my broken face and making it difficult for me to breath The pain was unbearable. I don't know how long he lay on my face. I think I was in shock, my whole body was shaking uncontrollably. Everything seemed so surreal. Then he sat up. He seemed almost oblivious to the fact that I was underneath him. He arrogantly took a swig from his can of beer. His hips moved rhythmically back and forth as he pleasured himself in me. Then without warning he vomited, covering my head and face in his vomit. 

He finally finished with my mouth. The taste and smell of his semen seemed to engulf me. It was everywhere. It was in my throat and in my nose. I felt that I was choking. He was heavy as he sat on my chest, blood was running down the back of my nose. I tried to swallow but couldn't. I thought that I was going to die. Who would look after Zac? Was he going to kill Zac too? I was so helpless. He looked down and made eye contact with me and laughed. His eyes were vacant and yet they were filled with hatred. I had never seen him look like this before and I am still haunted by it. He waved his fist and threatened to hit me again. I turned my head. Thankfully he lost his balance and fell off me and onto the floor beside me in a drunken, drug induced stupor. 

While he had been on top of me, Johnno and Paul had taken it upon themselves to pull my tights down. They pulled my legs apart and were pushing goodness knows what into my vagina. I couldn't see them because of Sean's hulk sitting on top of me and obscuring my view. What ever it was they were doing, it was causing excruciating pain. The pain in my lower tummy was almost worse than giving childbirth. Sean's cock had prevented my screams of pain from being heard and they had only came out as a mumble. I was told later at the hospital that they had both unlawfully violated my vagina. (This site won't let me use the råpe word.)Their semen was found deep inside me. Their attack had been so intense that the tampon I was wearing was forced up into my uterus. The surgeons found it and removed it later on that night when they were trying to repair the internal damage.

My blood was found on the end of a broom handle and other items phallic shaped items we had in our lounge.

When Sean's two friends had finished with me they proceeded to kick me and urinate on me. It must have been about then that the police arrived. I didn't realise it was the police. In all my confusion I was just aware that the room was suddenly filled with faces. People were shouting. I can't remember exactly, it was about then that I lost consciousness. 

I can remember the rocking of the ambulance and the noise of the siren. My next memory was being surrounded by people in green masks and gowns. There was a bright light above me. It was a hospital operating room. There were people giving orders as I was attached to various electronic machines. I mustered all my strength and whispered "Zac? Zac? Where's Zac?"

Someone squeezed my right hand and whispered in my ear "He is safe. He is with your neighbours. Now go to sleep, love, it is all over."

As the anaesthetic wore off I became aware of all the tubes in my arms. I couldn't open my left eye and it took all my effort to move my arm. Through my blurred vision I could see the nurse looking down at me. I shuddered as I remembered the moment that Sean had looked down at me with that look of hatred in his eyes. I began to cry.

She took my hand in hers and gently stoked my forehead. I sobbed and sobbed.

"There, there. It's alright. Doctor will be here in a moment."

I sobbed my self to sleep before he arrived. 

I was in hospital for six weeks. They repaired the depressed fracture to my left cheek. They straightened my broken nose. They strapped my two broken ribs. They told me I would not be able to have any more children. The blurred vision in my left eye decreased as the swelling went down.

They arranged for Zac to be brought in to see me each day after school. I hugged and hugged him each time he visited and each time I sobbed uncontrollably.

I had numerous visits from the police asking me if I could remember any more details of what had happened. I told them everything I could remember, but their questions seemed to have an ulterior agenda and not necessarily about what happened to me.

Finally a very important sounding Detective Inspector told me that after I had walked in on the three boys during their Crystal Meth episode they had gone out and robbed a petrol station. During the robber they had bashed the cashier. He died in hospital two days later.



I Am Whom I Am and Why Pt. 03



I didn't ever return to our home. The neighbours brought a few personal things to the hospital, including my teddy bear, Zac's clothes and a few toys. 

Then Zac and I headed straight to the safety of the Convent and Sister Jerome.

I convalesced there for nearly six months. I had regular trips to the doctors, psychologists and various other specialist until they finally all said that they had done about as much as they could for me.

I decided it was time to get on with my life and so one spring morning, Zac and I said farewell to the Convent and caught a bus. It was a long journey but in the end we were in a new city in a new state.

I found a lovely second floor apartment in a quiet leafy suburb. It had two bedrooms, one for each of us. The letting agent was concerned that I might not be able to pay the rent. He was right, lack of money was going to be a problem for me. After paying the fortnightly rent there was very little left over from my welfare payments for food and clothes. But I was determined to make this work and assured him that I wouldn't default. I had reverted to my maiden name and hoped that he wouldn't find out about the unpaid rent from our previous home.

Our street intersected with the bustling Hight Street with it's crowds of people, coffee shops and stores. Zac's new school was only a ten minute walk away.

We settled in and one morning after walking Zac to school I dropped in at a fabulous coffee shop. It had tables and chairs out on the footpath and it was so easy to sit and watch the world go by. 

I soon became a "regular" and befriended the owner, Marco. Each morning I would sit in the same seat and Marco would bring me a hot cappuccino for which I would burrow into my purse and find the $3.50 to pay for it.

One morning as I sat watching everyone walk by I noticed a young girl standing on the corner across the street. She looked out of place. She was tall and thin, had long blonde hair and I guessed that she was probably about twenty years old. She stood out from the crowd because of her ridiculously high heeled shoes and her tiny mini dress, the hem of which she constantly tugged down to stop it riding up over her bottom. She carried a large shopping bag and a bottle of water. She had a routine. She would press the button at the pedestrian crossing and wait for the lights to change, but she never cross the road onto my side. She would then walk briskly back down the street to the bus stop and wait, but she never caught a bus. She repeated this over and over again and on each sweep she would try and catch the eye of the male drivers as they cruised by. If they stopped she would lean in the passenger's side window and talk. Sometimes she would get into the car and be gone for twenty minutes or so, other times she would toss her head back in disgust and continue her walking.

I had never seen a street walker before and I guessed that is what she was. I could only guess what she did once she got into a car. 

As I stared at her, Marco came up behind me and softly said, "That's Chrissy."

Each morning as I drank my coffee I watched Chrissy go through her routine. I wondered how much she earned. One day when it was quiet in the coffee shop and Marco sat down opposite me and we both looked across the street at her. He must have read my mind as he suddenly said, "She makes good money, that young girl does."

I looked at him curiously.

"You know she is a hooker?" He asked

"Yes I had guess that." I replied

He smiled.

"Each car she gets into, the guy pays her $50 for a blow job or if he want he pays $100 to have sex with her. It's negotiable. They go down behind the primary school and do it there."

I must have looked shocked. 

"How do you know how much she charges, Marco?" I asked.

He shrugged his shoulders and said, "I just know. People talk you know. I've never been with her, if that is what you are thinking."

He stood up, cleared the table next to us and disappeared to the back of the shop and the kitchen.

The topic wasn't mentioned again.

One morning, much to my surprise, Chrissy did cross the road and came into the coffee shop. She used the toilet. Marco scowled at her. So she bought a bottle of water from the fridge and put it in her big shopping bag and left.

"Lazy bitch." He muttered under his breath. I was surprise, it wasn't like Marco at all.

Marco and I became close friends. We talked and although I had at first thought he was gay, he wasn't. He was just one of those hard working people who loved what he did and had no time for a social life. 

One morning as I finished my coffee, I came out of the toilet into the narrow passage next to the small kitchen. At just that moment Marco came from the kitchen and bumped into me. It seemed like an accident, but it wasn't. He pinned me to the wall and lightly kissed my cheek. I was flattered that he found me attractive. It was the first affection I had received in over a year. I turned my head and he kissed my lips. I nearly melted. His hand lingered on my breasts and then slid lower.

"Not here." I murmured as I was fearful someone might come. 

He stepped back, took a key from a hook on the wall and unlocked a door that opened into a tiny storage room. He guided me inside and turned on the light. There were no windows and it was dusty. There was a small table at one end that was covered with storage boxes, a couple of brooms and a mop leant up in the corner. It was more like a large cupboard than a room.

His groped me above and below. Then he turned me around and beckoned me to lean over the table, which I did obligingly. He lifted my skirt to my waist and tugged my panties down to my knees. He tried to enter me from behind but I was dry. He grunted and rushed out. Moments later he returned with a bottle of virgin olive oil in his hand. He smothered his cock with it and wiped some onto my labia. He worked the area until he could slide his finger inside me. Much to my surprise the oil worked and at the next attempt with his cock he slipped inside me quite easily. I was a little tentative at first as this was the first time I had had sex since I had been sexually violated and damaged. But thankfully there was no pain.

He finished and quickly left, leaving me to clean up. By the time I got home my panties were soaked in olive oil and semen, but thankfully there was no blood. My insides must have recovered from the trauma I had suffered at the hands of Sean's two friends.

I decided to be ready, should there be a "next time." So, I went to the pharmacy and bought some condoms, lubricant, wet wipes and some tissues all of which I carried in my purse. It was better to be prepared than to be smothered in olive oil again.

Christmas was approaching and Marco's coffee shop was thriving. He complained about being too busy and he would most likely have to put on staff. That was going to cost him money and effect his profit margin.

I needed money as I desperately wanted to buy Zac a Christmas present. So one day I confronted him and asked if he would employ me. I had no training in hospitality but it would be ideal, just two hours at lunchtime while Zac was at school. perfect!

He smiled at me and said, "I was going to ask you if you wanted a job, but I can't pay you much. Maybe $15 an hour, cash, two hours a day, 5 days. In Australia at that time, $15 an hour for a "casual" was quite good money; not brilliant but OK.

I was so excited. That would mean an extra $150 a week to my budget! I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him full on the lips in my excitement. He was taken aback by my response. We agreed that I would start at noon on Monday and work through the busy time until 2:00pm, when I would walk down to the school and collect Zac. 

My tasks in the coffee shop were simple. Waiting on tables, clearing tables and washing dishes in the kitchen. I could do that and set about my work enthusiastically.

I loved talking to the regular customers, finding out about them. Most of them had such interesting lives. 

After a few weeks I was on first name terms with many of them. 

Christmas was soon behind us and life in the coffee shop became a less hectic. I was a little fearful that Marco would no longer require me and would let me go.

Then one day he was in the kitchen and beckoned to me, "Jen can I have a word with you?" He solemnly asked.

I thought the moment had come and I was about to lose my job and my income.

He looked at me so seriously as fumbled in his pocket and took out a $50 note. He took the storeroom key from it's hook on the wall and laid the key on top of the note. He looked me straight in the eye. 

"Jen, the gentleman on Table 6 would like to spend some time with you. But only if you want to."

My jaw must have dropped.

"You only have to do what we did in there before Christmas." He said.

"Now?" I croaked.

"Yes, I have some oil if you need it." He quipped.

"That won't be necessary." I assured him.

I went out to the front of the shop to see who was on Table 6. It was Martin, a retired engineer. He was a lovely guy and we had spoken quite often. He was married.

I went back inside where Marco was waiting and nodded.

"OK, I'll do it." 

I picked up the money and the key and unlocked the door to the storage room, turned on the light and went in. I put the money in my purse and took out my lubricant. I slid my panties down and put a little dab between my labia, then pulled them up again.

Just as I was opening a condom, Martin appeared at the door and closed it behind him.

"Are you OK with this?" He asked. I nodded.

He kissed me on the cheek and squeezed my boobs through my t shirt. I lifted it up and slid the cups of my bra up so that he could touch my boobs. He leant forwards and kissed my nipples, which had become quite hard. He fondled me for a few moments while I unbuckled his pants and slid them down to his knees. I massaged and rubbed his cock to hardness and rolled the condom onto him. I pulled down my panties and turned around and leant forwards across the table. I reached back and guided the head of his penis inside me. I felt very little as he entered me, but I was aware of his grunts and groans as he satisfied himself inside me. When he was finished I wiped myself with a tissue and pulled up my panties. I turned and slid the filled condom off his now flaccid cock, tying a neat knot in the end so that the semen wouldn't spill everywhere. I cleaned him with a "wet wipe" and dried him with a tissue. He pulled his pants up, thanked me. kissed my cheek again, saying "That was $100 well spent, my dear." and left. I was miffed, Marco had only given me $50 to go with him.

I looked at my watch. The whole episode had taken less than ten minutes.

I returned to the kitchen where Marco was waiting.

"Was everything OK?" He enquired.

"Yes, he was fine." I told him.

"Are you happy with this arrangement?" He asked shrugging his shoulders

"Yes." I said softly, not admitting that I knew I had just been hired out for $100 and only paid $50 for doing all the work. 

I looked him straight in the eye. "Tell me Marco. Does Chrissy work for you to?"

A wry smile came over his face and he winked at me as he raised a finger to his lips.

"Shhhhh."



I Am Whom I Am and Why Pt. 04



The next morning when I arrived at work, Marco asked me if I wanted to earn more money the way I had yesterday. Put quite simply, he wanted to be my pimp. 

Overnight I wondered if he would ask me to do it again. I had earned $50 for fifteen minutes work, which was a lot of money for me at that time. There were things to consider. One of which was my anonymity. I didn't want people to know that Zac's mum, Jenny, was a prostitute working for Marco. It seems silly now, but I thought if I used a different name no one would know who I was. So I asked Marco if I could wear a name tag with "Genevieve" engraved on it. He agreed.

If I was going to work out of the storage room/cupboard, it needed to be cleaned and tidied up. He agreed that I could move all the old boxes and junk out and put them on the back verandah. But I had to do it in my own time and after I had finished my other duties. I told him in no uncertain terms that Chrissy was never to use it. He agreed and to make sure, I went down to the hardware store and bought a new lock and key. He was good enough to fit the lock for me, but I didn't let him have the keys. They were mine.

The room was tiny and could only be used for limited activities. It was only eight feet long and half as wide. What I had thought was a table, turned out to be a low shelf fixed to the far end back wall. So I left it there. As I mentioned before, there was no window, but I found a switch that turned on a very noisy ceiling exhaust fan which drew in a draught of fresh air from under the door. 

I swept and washed the whole room. I bought some dark green paint and painted the walls and ceiling. I then changed the light bulb to a 15 watt coloured bulb. I moved one of the chairs from the public area and slid it under the shelf. It fitted neatly and Marco probably wouldn't notice that it was missing. On one of my visits down the High Street, I went into the Salvo's shop and bought a fine gold chain onto which I attached my door key and hung it around my neck. As I was about to leave, I also bought a blue, square foam rubber cushion like the one I had used years before in the local gym and a yoga mat.

I was ready for work. 

Something new had happened out in the public area while I had been preparing my room. Marco had bought a small plastic "Reserved" sign which he had put on Table 6. From time to time some very strange men were guided to Table 6 by Marco. They all turned out to be my clients. Table 6 was exclusively used by my clients.

It was a good arrangement. I would serve them coffee while they waited for their appointment with "Genevieve" and they could tell from my name tag, that I was the one who was about to service them more intimately. Not only that, I had a chance to look them over before locking us both away in the little room out the back.

When the time came, the client would follow me as if he was going to the toilet. Marco would whisper what service I was to provide as we passed the kitchen. It was quite simple, I would receive $30 for a hand or blow job and $50 for full sex. There was no time stipulation, that was up to me and if I liked the client I would let him stay a little longer. Sometimes this would pay off and he would give me a tip when we had finished.

I told each client there would be no kissing my lips, either upper or lower. I would take off my t shirt and bra and slide off my panties leaving my black skirt in place, but I would hitch it up so that it rested on my hips giving him a full view of my body. 

If he was there for a blow or hand job, I would tell him to lower his pants and stand with his back to the door. I would kneel on my foam cushion in front of him. The hand job was easiest and I would let the client cum on my boobs if he wanted. A blow job always required a condom, which I supplied and rolled onto his cock, before I took him in my mouth and brought him relief. 

I offered a variety of positions for full sex. I could sit on his lap while he sat on the chair. He could take me from behind while I rested my arms and head on the shelf. I could roll out the yoga mat and ride him, or if he wanted, he could do it missionary or we could just do it doggy.

I learnt very quickly to guide the client's cock inside me when he approached me from behind. More than once a client removed his condom the moment I turned my back and presented my bottom. So guiding a client's cock inside me with my hand meant that I could feel if the condom was still on him! 

When we had finished I would clean him with wet wipes and then dry him with tissues. I always tied a knot in the end of the used condoms to prevent leakage, then wrapped it in a tissue and put it in my bag. If we had used the yoga mat I would wipe it with wet wipes and roll it up. When he was dressed, I would open the door and let him leave. Then I would tidy up and leave the room a minute or two later and go to the bathroom and clean up. Usually I would then head across the street to the public rubbish bin and dispose of the condom and wet wipes. I had learnt this disposal method from watching Chrissy.

On a normal day, I would be back at work within twenty minutes of my client leaving Table 6. Marco didn't mind covering while I was away and he never gave me more than two clients in a day.

At the end of the day he would hand me my daily earnings and I would go and pick up Zac from school and take him home.

Mondays' were always quiet and Marco and I agreed that I could have the day off. 

With my free time I attended a number of courses on massage. I did a course on Anma massage which is a kind of Japanese massage, then sports massage and finally Swedish massage. With my experience in the back room at Marco's coffee shop and my new found massage skills, I answered an advertisement in the Classified Adverts section of the local newspaper. They were looking for ladies to work in their "very trendy busy studio." They paid $140 an hour and paid their girls daily. The thing that caught my eye was the part that said "New to the industry welcome."

I stated work at 10:00am the following Monday. I was "paired" with an experienced "masseuse" and together we were offered to clients as a "Twosome. Four hands are better than two" they claimed.

I worked with Charlotte who was much younger than me. She had long dark hair and enormous augmented boobs. We both presented ourselves to our clients dressed in lace bra and panties and high heeled shoes. Once the client was naked and face down on the massage table we both removed our tops and bottoms. There were mirrors on all the walls so the client could get a full view of us. There was limited touched allowed. Charlotte taught me how to press my thighs against the edge of the massage table if I didn't want the client to touch me between my legs. She also taught me how to position myself so that it made it difficult, if not impossible, for the client to put his probing finger inside me. This was useful strategy at times like when I had my period or I noticed the client had long dirty fingernails. She taught me how to do body slides both front and back on the client, and little hints like blowing in his ear and nibbling his earlobe. One day while I was doing a body slide on the front of a client she suggested stopping for a minute or so and let him suckle on my nipples. I offered him each breast in turn, it was almost like feeding a baby. I gave the client time to squeeze and fondle my breasts as well as have a good grope of my bottom as I lay on top of him, with only a thin layer of oil separating our naked bodies. This became part of my regular routine. It soon became apparent to me that many men just want to touch a young naked woman. They are very tactile creatures!

Charlotte taught me how to "time" a massage. She would point at the clock when we had finished massaging the client's back and get him to "flip" so that we could work on his front. She taught me how to massage around his cock and balls, just brushing them ever so lightly and how to massage his inner thighs including his balls. She taught me how do deliver the coupe de gras to his cock and balls with my oily hands. Using her method most men would cum in about a minute at the end of the massage. While I was delivering this final moment of relief to my client I would let him feel and grope me between my legs and possibly put a finger inside me. After each massage I would clean the client with hot towels. This was so much more sophisticated than in my little room at the back of the coffee shop.

Full sex was not offered; although I soon discovered that I could offer safe full sex to a client if I wanted, of course this service came for an extra fee, all of which was mine to keep. 

Once I was "trained," I was allowed to have clients on my own and if I liked a client I would offer him safe full sex. Some accepted; the younger clients most often went for the full sex while many of the older clients were there for just a rub and tug (RnT).

One Monday I arrived at work and found Charlotte so excited that she rushed up to me and hugged me. Then she enthusiastically led me back to the computer where she had been sitting. She tapped away at the keyboard for a moment and moved the mouse around until a page appeared on the screen with the name of the Studio at the top and my name, Genevieve, just below it. I had better not say what website it was, other than to say it was PP.

One of my clients had written a report about his experience with me. It began with a long list of my physical attributes such as height, if I was fat or skinny, my hair colour and length, the size of my boobs, if I was shaven, if I allowed DATY (I have never figured out what this acronym stands for, but I know it means if I would allow him to perform oral sex on me or not). It went on to indicate if I offered blow jobs (covered or uncovered) and if I offered full sex or just a massage.

Then below all that, he had gone on to give a long description of what we did together and the quality of the service. I tried to remember which client this might have been but I couldn't. There had been too many.

He had rated me as "excellent and offering the most incredible massage and a real girlfriend experience." He went onto to say he would make a booking to see me again the next time he was in town.

Below his report other anonymous men had made comments about me. Some had been with me and agreed with the author, others just thanked him for his report and they might come and seem me when they could. All the comments were positive and I was thrilled. So was Charlotte, because she had been my "trainer" and this report also reflected her success.

Charlotte had been pestering about removing all my pubes. I had been meticulously shaving and maintaining my "runway" for months with a razor and by waxing. This maintenance was tedious and sometimes painful. So I booked into the salon next door and over the next few weeks I had all my pubic hair removed by laser. When I looked in the mirror to admire myself, I was embarrassed to see how dark the skin was around my anus. I had never looked at it before. So back I went to the salon and bought some special cream which they assured me was safe and would have the desired effect of lightening the dark skin within a few weeks. It worked and within a short time the dark skin had lightened so that it matched the rest of the skin around my bottom.

I eventually plucked up the courage to tell Marco that I no longer wanted to service his clients in the little room out the back. But I would happily wait on tables when he short handed. He was concerned that I wouldn't have enough money to live on. I assured him that I would be OK and reluctantly agreed. 

As Chrissy had been picked up numerous times for soliciting and was on her last warning from the courts, I suggested to Marco that she might like to work from the little room at the back of his shop. He smiled, thanked me, stood up and walked purposefully across to the other side of the street and brought Chrissy back with him.

On the days that I worked serving coffee, Table 6 was in regular use and Chrissy was off the streets, and hopefully too busy to take the drugs she was becoming so dependent on while she was street walking. 

I hadn't told Marco where I had spent my Mondays off over the last six to nine months and he didn't ask. I told the Studio I could now work extra days only if they needed me.

I went home and went online. I opened up the page Charlotte had shown me. I registered myself using a suitable male name and went to the page containing my glowing report. I scrolled to the bottom of the page and began typing a new post which said:

"I have heard that Genevieve has gone private and is now working from an apartment in XXX YYYY (my suburb). Her phone number is 043 xxxxxx."

I hit the return button and thirty minutes later my phone started ringing with old and new clients from the Studio and Marco's.

I rushed out and bought a massage table and requested that it be delivered immediately. I set it up in my bedroom. 

I bought a huge appointment book.

I soon discovered I needed a larger washing machine and drier to wash and dry all the towels that amassed daily.

One of my new clients works at the local BMW agency and is pressing me to buy a car. The idea is very tempting.

And that dear reader, brings you up to date with my life. 

Smiles 

Genevieve_