I´m not sure really where to start with this. I just hope it´s anonymous.
I want to tell about my life, like a confession. More of a journal except if
it´s online it can´t be read. Or it can´t be found. Or if it is... well who´s to
say it´s me?
I grew just outside London, England. I lived with my parents, my little brother,
2 dogs and a guinea pig. Things were pretty nondescript, average and normal
until I hit my teens. I´m not going to blame all this on hanging with the wrong
crowd (although yes that was a big part of it). It´s all been down to me, my
indiscretions, my decisions, my will. Where there´s a will there´s a way. And I
always get my way.
When I was fifteen, well about 3 weeks before my fifteenth, I fell in love. For me
it was love. For him it was a game. Have you ever been so in love with someone
you´d do absolutely anything they asked you to? Well I was. In some sick way I
love him still.
This guy, let´s call him Jason, he was 19, which was oh so mature, or at least I
thought so at the time. He lived near me. He asked me out. We started seeing
each other. I guess then I was borderline rebellious. My home life had been
fairly idealistic but doesn´t every teenage girl get just a little bit rebellious?
I was banned from seeing Jason but it didn´t stop me. Everthing he wanted from
me I wanted to give. Like I was being reborn a whore and that was all I was and
all I wanted. He was so sweet to start with, calling me nice things, buying me little
gifts, stuff like that. Then he changed. I guess he saw me as a toy. I guess he
wanted just something to fuck and that was it. But I hung on to his every word, his
every whim. He´s grab me by the throat, throw me on the bed, rip off my clothes and
fuck me so hard it was like he was trying to break me in two. He´d call me a whore,
a bitch, his fuckpiece, his baby, his princess. I answered to every name he thought
up. It all applied to me. And you know the strange thing? The worse he treated me
the better I became. I became obedient and good and I loved to please him. I loved
it when he grabbed my hair, unzipped his pants and forced his cock down my throat.
I loved feeling capable of turning someone on so much. It was a big deal for a
fifteen year old. It was power. Just that. But the power was mine not his.
We kind of went along together until I was 17 but he wasn´t the only guy I was
with. Jason would let his friends fuck me too, I didn´t mind. He seemed so proud of
me. He got a kick out of watching them grope me roughly, fuck me and he loved it
best when two of them would fuck me at once. I was like a toy and I liked that. I
should´ve known how things would end up. But if you could see me today in my big
expensive house, my clothes, my body (ok some of it´s plastic), my face (botox,
plastic - what´s the big deal?) I am beautiful. I am strong. I am a whore and men
fuck me for money but I LOVE IT AND HOW CAN THAT BE WRONG?
I have travelled a lot, I have met some very interesting people, I have dined in
expensive restaurants, drunk vintage champagne, stayed in some of the best
hotels in the world because I sell myself. I don´t mind admitting that. If you are
rich and stupid enough to pay me for a fuck, that´s fine! Give me the money. Give
me your little frustrated dick for a few minutes. Wham bam thank you sir.
I´m going to tell you about my best customers but not today. It´s late. I have
someone coming round in an hour. Not a customer but a friend. My best friend.
She´s like me but not so strong. She´s my beautiful daughter, not just my
best friend. She´s a little princess, I´m just a dirty one.



