I Figured, What The Hell

My introduction to the biz went down like this: I was boning this guy who would come up from Montreal every weekend and eventually I started seeing someone more local and so the last time that he came to see me I told him I didn't want to see him any more and he asked me if I'd considered ever doing it for money. At the time I figured, what the hell, I've already slept with this guy and now he wants to pay me. Works for me. It was such an ego trip. I branched out after that and started posting ads online whenever I needed money for anything. I discovered that I both enjoyed it and it was not what I had expected at all (sometimes it is exactly what I expected). Most of my johns are middle-aged men with beer bellies who are unhappy with their wives, or are out-of-town on business. They are, on the whole, pretty boring to talk to, but that is what they all want. To talk and then be seduced by a sexy twenty-something. And I am exceptionally good at making them believe that I am genuinely interested, that I'm not faking it (sometimes I'm not), that I really love it when you call me "sweetie" (this is probably my least favourite thing to be called during a session, my Dad calls me sweetie, not good associations). I really shouldn't complain, at $200 an hour you can call me whatever you want. My story isn't full of horribly degrading acts done in the desperation of drug addiction. I'm not from a broken home and my parents are still married. I take pride in doing my job well and leaving my clients satisfied. When I was reviewed the first time, for an online escort review forum, I remember being nervous knowing that the guy was going to write one and was thinking of all the possibly negative things he might mention, like that ingrown hair, or my calloused feet. I was totally obsessing over it. But the review was glowing, as were all the ones that came after it. It isn't a great feeling knowing that you are being evaluated sexually and that your looks, hygiene and even your location (of the incall) are up for criticism. I'm not sure my how my ego would react if I was ever reviewed negatively. It'd be a blow to my self-esteem to be sure. But my reviews speak of me as I wish I was (without acting). I often have trouble seeing what others see as positive in me (even in my personal life) and while the reviews do boast of my carnal skills and my good-looks, they also discuss my fun-loving personality and intelligence. Part of me does this to boost a self-esteem that isn't always there and the other part of me enjoys the power in it all. That is, having something that men want and then making them pay for it. Or alternatively, throwing their money in their face. Figuratively-speaking. I call the shots and if you don't like it, go elsewhere. That and I could never bring myself to work a legit, 9-5 job. I'm 25, I figure I'll do it for a few more years, prove to people that it should be decriminalized here, make some bank (so that I have something to show for it, if my parents ever found out) and get out before it eats me up inside.

I Am 26

I am 26. I'm a grad student in New York. Internet men pay to spank me.

If I don't maintain certain grades, I lose my scholarship, and at the beginning of the semester I was flipping my shit about this one class, insisting I was going to fail and whatnot. I was wondering how I was going to pull three or six thousand dollars out of my ass, depending on how bad I did, and my friend said, "It's too bad you don't live upstate, because my friend Mary has a dude that pays her a fuckton of money to just spank her. No sex." So I had to figure that if Mary can find a dude like this upstate, there HAS to be people like this in NYC I can find. And I have a high tolerance for pain and a passing interest in spanking, so it was on.

I didn't even have to post on CL. In the erotic services section, there were even men that posted stating they were looking for that and would pay for it. So kind of on a whim (with a lot of encouragement from my friend that gave me the idea) I went into Manhattan to meet a southern banker who was in NYC for business. We agreed on half an hour but he seemed nervous and rushed me out after about 25 minutes. I really think he was suddenly feeling guilty about what he just did or I could be making that up because of whatever stereotypes I have in my head about clean-cut married guys from the south.

It's weird though, and I'm not sure if this happens with other types of sex workers... But when he emailed me again to say he'd be back in NYC and wanted to meet again, he was concerned about how HE did. He wanted to know if he spanked too hard, how things were for me, what else I like, what he could do better, etc. I was thinking, "Seriously? You're paying me $360 and YOU want to make sure I am happy?" I really do wonder if that is common, so I hope you get letters from other girls.

Since I don't have sex with these guys, I have convinced myself that it isn't really "sex work" and I am not really a sex worker, but I kind of know that's bullshit. Oh, and of course I ended up getting an A in that class I was so worried about in the first place. But I will probably keep doing this, because getting spanked for money is kind of more of a turn-on than getting spanked in my personal life. In my personal life it always seems so contrived and scripted and set up, and I have a hard time playing along. But a bunch of money is a powerful motivator for me to play along, and it's kind of a thrill.

One problem I have is that I bruise REALLY easily, so after I meet someone for this, I end up with a purple ass for like a week. Which is annoying because it prevents me from having sex during that time, since there's only 2 people that know I do this, and there is no way I am explaining to someone I am about to have sex with that, oh, my ass is all bruised today because a man with several umlauts on his name gave me "the strap".

I know it's dangerous, and I'm not gonna pretend like I'm safe because I only pick "trustworthy" people to meet. You never really know, and no matter how careful I am, there's still a nonzero chance that I'll end up stuffed in a garbage can in Brooklyn and some dude will find me 3 days later when he's walking his dog. Or something.