Confessions Of A Former Craigslist Prostiute

September 14, 2016 | No Comments » | Topics: TRUTH

Why did you get into this line of work?

I was kicked out my parents house at 18. I had no real friends at the time, so the few people who let me stay at their place while I got back on my feet usually just let me stay for a few days, then had to send me on my way again. I had to get work quickly, but I lived in a Canadian city that was hit really hard by the recession a few years ago and there was no work to be found. Someone jokingly suggested I sell my body on craigslist. I thought it was a good idea, as I was quite desperate for money and I didn’t really think hard about what I was getting into.

After a few failed posts in the dating section, I learned about the adult advertising part and in a week, made enough money to rent out a pretty decent studio apartment to work out of and live in.

Why did you parents kick you out?

So in my family my dad’s always been abusive and hard on me and it’s been hard to deal with. I was his punching bag (sometimes literally, sometimes emotionally) during my little brother’s time battling leukemia (he has since beaten it twice, and is fine now) and I was ignored a lot and really forced to grow up earlier than most of my friends. I became rebellious and turned into one of those annoying Good Charlotte/MCR fan girls and went goth. I smoked pot, did E a few times, skipped school. I was a typical teenage punk. Hell, still am. Realized I was typing that while playing with my piercings and I’m resting my laptop on plaid ripped pants.

When I started really acting out, dad got worse with me. I was hit a lot, half assed kicked out where I’d spend the nights at friends and such and they took everything away from me. I didn’t have access to a computer, they blocked my TV channels, he donated my closet away, wouldn’t let me wear make up, it was painful, but I just got worse and acted out more. I was also dealing with major bullying and social awkwardness in school. I skipped all the time. I failed almost everything. I attempted suicide three times. I’ve probably had depression since my brother’s first diagnosis at the age of 10, and I still haven’t received help for it. I will soon, I promise.

I don’t mention my mum above, because she is a saint and I love her. She is pretty much the only reason my dad didn’t outright kill me or put me in the hospital sometimes. I don’t love my dad. I don’t talk to him. He’s the reason I flinch when my boyfriend of a year raises his hand near me, and why I can’t really get close to men. I know it’s stereotypical to have daddy issues and be a whore. I’m not ashamed that I fill that stereotype though. I’ve grown from it, and I’m a better human being now.

One time I confronted him about his physical abuse and he told me I deserved it.

But anyways to answer your question, I acted out a lot and I started coping by cutting/smoking pot. Now being the cocky asshole I was I figured out how to smoke inside my room. My city has a -50 windchill like winter, and it was really useful. I had a good technique, and got away with it for like 6 months. But one time I had forgot to turn on the fan, and he was walking by my room when I blew it out of my mouth. He smelt it, there was a huge fight and I was kicked out.

What was your operation like?

So I mostly did incalls, which is when you meet the girl at her place. It’s the preferred method for married men and such. I did some outcalls, but they can be riskier as I don’t know my area and I don’t know where things are.

I did the standard things, like oral on both, sex, no anal though. It was mostly blow jobs.

I also did a few “car jobs” but that was mostly in the beginning when I didn’t have my apartment.

How did you establish your rates – and did you change them over time? If so, on what basis?

I was a low-middle range girl for rates. I would rather not post them though. You determine them by comparing them to other girls and deciding what you have compared to them, and what you don’t have.

My pluses were my youth, my looks, my body and that I am awesome at sex. My minuses were that I have piercings and tattoos. And not just cute belly button shit, I have my cheeks and nipples pierced. It’s sort of extreme, and does affect your clients. My other minus was the studio apartment. While I did well, I couldn’t really afford to rent out a secondary apartment for work and buy nice furniture for it.

I changed mine only slightly when I became more established in the community. I was a little bit more official and permanent now so I felt it was okay to raise my prices.

Would you give me a rough estimate or an exact number of clients you had?

It’s less than 100, and probably under 75. Lots of regulars. I was picky. In my grand view of my sexual exploration, I don’t really count clients. I don’t remember them that much, except for the rare fetish guys, or the few hilarious or nice ones.

I don’t really do numbers, because I don’t care. I fuck, I like it, I enjoy sex. I have had many partners in my life, I’ve had straight sex, I’ve had group sex, I’ve had lesbian sex, I’ve had sex with a MTF transexual who still had a penis, but a glorious pair of fake tits. What do I count, what don’t I count? Does it count when all we did was 69? Or does his penis need to penetrate me? Does it count when I don’t know his name? Does it really matter? No.

My boyfriend does not care for the number, and neither should you. What matters to my boyfriend is that I am clean, that I am safe, that I take care of myself. He met me when I was a prostitute. He didn’t care. He knew I was smart and safe. I have never had an unwanted pregnancy, an STI or any scares of such.

Why does the number bother you? Do you feel inexperienced in comparison, do you think she’s a whore or does it not make you feel special?

What do you think of the guys that hired you? Do you consider them pathetic?

Most of them are just really, really, really lonely. A lot are widows, divorcees, or they haven’t had a real woman in their life. The men who have lost women use prostitutes to sort of “fill the void.” They know perfectly well at their age they won’t find “her” again, so they visit fake girls with no real attachments. That was most of the clients.

The rest were either subs, there to get off and go and some were experimenting with prostitutes.

A lot of men view it as a hobby (this could apply to any guy listed above), and use it to try out different girls and kinds of sexuality. Those were the men I usually found pathetic. A lot of those men viewed the girls as products, and not as humans. I had a client walk out on me because my pubic hair was not as blonde as I had advertised (I tried explaining that blonde is bright because of the sun, and I’m not sitting out in the sun with my pussy out) and he wanted to have a “platinum all over” girl that night. They viewed us workers as ice cream flavors basically. “Oh that skirt isn’t as blue as I requested” and then refused to give me the full amount. It was like they skipped over the idea that I was a person, and that I was just something you ordered off of a menu.

You could defend them by saying “well they are paying you a lot of money for your body” but that doesn’t omit the fact that I am human. It was hard to deal with, as it was a constant every day thing.

Well, the point is that if you sell your body, that body is your product and your customers thus feel all the right to be fussy about that. You indeed were ordered off of a menu like an ice cream flavour. I understand it was bad and tough, of course, but well, it went with the job.

Yeah. Like I said somewhere here I wasn’t capable of thinking like that. I was like “dude who cares about that, I’m just a person.” Some girls were super awesome at it, and disconnecting themselves. I could never lose the human aspect of it. I could never get past the fact that we were people but yet treated like varying flavors or paint samples. So much was asked of me, but if something small of me was wrong I was shamed for it. Some people are capable of getting that, I am not one of those types.

What was your scariest experience?

Scariest experience is by far the jesus freak. When I just joined the forum, a man wanted to see me at 2am. I stay up late playing videogames, so I figured I could just pause FO3, do the job, and go back to shooting ghouls. I was very wrong. He didn’t get past my door frame. He was very fat, very gross and unclean. He had a huge beard that hadn’t been brushed or trimmed. His hair was kinda dreading and he smelled awful. He was very much homeless or crazy. I shouldn’t have opened the door. I hate myself for doing so.

He stood in my doorway and started to sob and told me I needed Jesus. I told him that I appreciate his concern, I showed him my copy of the bible to show him I was a Christian (I’m really an atheist, but I was hoping this would make him…. not be so crazy? I don’t know. I was hoping it would help) He started rambling, and when he flailed his arms up in the air I saw a gun on his hip. I stayed cool somehow, and told him calmly to leave as I was tired. He look beyond furious when I did, got purple in the face and starting shaking. I started backing up to my bedside table for my knife, but he stormed out.

I lived on the first floor of this building and and my window faced a parking lot. He stood in that parking lot for 4 hours, calling my phone like crazy and sometimes came up to my window and tapped on it. When I first saw him standing there, I grabbed my laptop and hid in my bathroom and sat on tumblr until the sun was starting to rise. He was still there, but walking away.

I cancelled all appointments made for that day, and asked around with his username and phone number. Apparently he does this to all new girls, and works at a church near my house. I saw him a month later working at a downtown homeless food giveaway.

What were some of the stranger requests you entertained? Anything you refused to do? 

I had a sub who kept asking that I don’t bathe for like three days before seeing me. I liked him because he agreed to pay a lot more than my usual rates because with that request, I didn’t have to work for three days. If I can’t shower, that means I can’t shave or clean my self after a session so I just didn’t work. He also didn’t want to have sex with me, just touch me (I was naked, but he never touched me sexually) and smell me. He told me he jerked off when he went home.

When doing fetish requests, I refused refused refused to do any sort of underage role play, or incest role play. I was sent photos of guy’s daughter’s/nieces/cousins whatever and they would ask me to dress like them. I flat out refused every time. I have a really young face, so I was also asked to be a 14 year old for sessions and the like.

My favorite was the guys who just wanted to worship you. Men who loved women, and their bodies but were too old/ugly/whatever to get a woman. They didn’t ask for oral sex, but they gave it. That was mostly the whole session with the lonely guys. Oral sex on me.

Do you ever get off from your clients?

I am a girl with the body type that has difficulty achieving an orgasm (like I can’t get off on dick, or by half ass oral), and it usually takes a lot of intimacy for me to feel comfortable with you to relax and actually get off. I usually only orgasm from boyfriends. The few times I came from a client I cried hysterically when they left. Usually it’s older men who’ve done it so much that they really knew what they were doing. But it hurt to get off. I wasn’t close to that person. I didn’t want to get off with them. I got them off, they got to play around with my body in order to get off. But I didn’t like it when I came. It also leaves me too sensitive to the touch and I can’t really do much after one anyways.

What’s the nastiest thing you’ve done that you’re ashamed of and what is the nastiest thing you’ve done that you’r NOT ashamed of?

I caused a man very painful wounds and a divorce. He told me “marks are okay” and “go hard.” Well, I got carried away. He loved how hard I could hit with my hot pink horsewhip, and he didn’t care about the marks at the moment. He bled all over the place. It’s not like I wasn’t worried. Every ten marks I was like “okay if I hit here more, it will break the skin” and he kept encouraging me and kept giving me more money so I just rolled with it. He loved the session. He went home with the biggest smile on his face. But a few weeks later, he posted on the forum asking for divorce help. I messaged him, and I guess the guy thought the marks would be gone within a few hours even though I told him I was going to cause scars. I feel bad about it. He was a good guy. I do look back and feel shame for this. I hurt his wife so badly. I should have stopped whacking him.

The nastiest thing that I’m not ashamed of if is that I love love love fucking men with strap ons. Like, no matter what if I got this request I’d take it. If that was all I could do, I’d probably still be doing this as a career. After an “accident” and a blanket of mine being ruined, I had to enforce a “sit down and try to poop no matter how little you feel like shitting” rule.

What attracted you to penetrating a man with a strap on? Was there sexual pleasure, a feeling of psychological empowerment?

It’s fun! I don’t know what makes me attracted to it, I just enjoy it. I think it’s the act of fucking. I don’t feel “powerful” with it.

Did you ever have any trouble with law enforcement? 

The internet is considered private, so it was perfectly legal to advertise online. You just can’t discuss prices in public. So to be safe, if a man started to ask about my rates in my apartment I would ask him to leave. So many girls have been arrested/fined by being asked “so what was the hourly rate again?”

The police had set up an agreement with one hotel in downtown to do monthly raids. We all knew which hotel it was, and the moment a bunch of girls kept getting calls to it, the news was posted pretty quickly. They did this cycle where they got two rooms with the connecting doors. They brought in a girl on every half hour, and after arresting her they brought her into the next room then waited for the next girl.

Even if the news was posted, so many girls were so desperate they took the risk. And many girls wouldn’t see the news, or they were brought in from craigslist or the newspaper.

I avoided the law by being paranoid. If I had the slightest hunch over messaging, emails, phone calls or in person, I stopped anything. But I never ever got fined or arrested.

So long as the deal is closed on the internet, and the guy just leaves his cash on your bedside table at the end, it’s all good?

Yes. the standard technique was to get those deposit envelopes from the bank, put the money in, don’t seal it. Don’t hand it to her (this is very important). Don’t watch her closely while she counts it. AND this is the first thing you do.

When you were on Craigslist, what sort of emails or messages would alert you the fact that the sender might either be a cop or some kind of weirdo?

Cops 100% of the time asked you to go to a hotel. It was always the same hotel as talked about below. You learned about it quickly, and you always said no no matter if the person had references, was a regular or was offering double the money. You always said no. Police paid off people to use their names to bring in girls.

Weirdos were demanding, rushed and had a creepy vibe. You know when you meet someone and you just get that off vibe? That was all you had to feel. Being a young and beautiful girl (I don’t want that to sound like I’m bragging, but I was one of the most attractive working girls in my city) I was always in demand. No matter if a bad review, or if a bad rumor went around of me, I was always in demand.

Now, that may sound like I was sucking cock 24/7. I only did two clients a day, for my own bodies sake and I took lots of time off when I could.

Do you think it would be more safe to work as a prostitute, if it was legal?

If it was legal, I would have been able to report the jesus man to the police. The one time a man almost raped me I would have been able to call the police. When I almost got robbed, when someone threatened me with a knife for a deal. Girls who died would have their murders investigated. It would be so much safer it actually hurts to think about it.

When I got robbed, instead of being like “okay, I have your full name and phone number, so I’ll just phone the police and let him go on his way. This will be okay” I broke all of the fingers on his right hand, gave him a black eye and after I dragged him out to my alley, I gave him an other black eye. And you know what’s shitty for him? He can’t go to the police, either.

I want to cry when someone tells me it’s awful and should be illegal. It won’t go away. All you do is hurt the workers, the clients. You hurt everyone by brushing prostitution under the rug. It makes the business full of shame, and pain.

It needs to be fully legalized.

You were almost raped? What happened, how did you fend the person off?

He was a weird guy and when he came into my apartment he told me that I could either do it for free the easy way or the hard way (it was honestly that lame of a line) and I was all like bring it on. He was a very scrawny white dude and wasn’t going to be able to actually fight and was relying on fear. He lunged at me, so I basically kneed him in the balls and when he was kneeling over I elbowed him in the back of the head. Then I got him out of the apartment through hair pulling.

I’ve had some martial arts training. I did some kick boxing and I’ve done training with short swords and bastard swords, so my reflexes are good and I know how to hit hard. I don’t shy away from a fight.

By the way, whenever I hear a joke like “when you rape a whore it’s theft not real rape!” it hurts like hell. It’s not theft. It’s rape. Rape is always rape. Prostitutes have every right to consent as every other person, and it doesn’t fall under an other crime because their job is sex work.

Do you friends or family know what you did?

Most of my friends circle, but they don’t know details. My boyfriend of a year doesn’t know many details. Nobody asks. No one really wants to know. It makes people uncomfortable. So even if I have a really hilarious story, I can’t say it.

I tell people mostly because I want to avoid rumors being spread and people hearing false facts about it. I tell people “I worked as an online sex worker last year. That’s why I have designer purses, but a ton of anxiety issues. I didn’t work on the street. I didn’t do it for drugs. Please don’t spread that around.”

Do you think about men differently now?

Men I meet do not creep me out and I don’t think they’re monsters. 

How then do you relate to a normal sexual lifestyle with an SO?

After quitting, it was hard being intimate with him, but together we’ve broken down a lot of barriers I put up. He is the most incredible man I know. He has helped me so much. We’re very passionate in bed, we experiment, we love each others bodies a lot and frequently.” We met when I was escorting. He doesn’t feel like he’s on the clock. He’s fine with it. He doesn’t care. 

What do you do now?

I recently moved cities and I just got a job at a music store. I’m pretty stoked to start actually. My manager has a sweet beard.

You ever tempted to go back?

Never. I can’t disconnect like a lot of escorts can. They just go into sessions like it’s sitting down at an office desk and doing your standard job. Or for less classy girls, it was just as easy for them as ringing someone through in a cashier job.

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