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Can Prostitution be Empowering?

Warning - explicit content!

 

Did I feel empowered sucking some old man’s wrinkly cock? No, I didn’t. Did I feel empowered sucking a young man’s cock? No, I didn’t. Did I feel empowered sucking on a middle-aged man’s cock? No, not his either. I did not feel empowered sucking any cock that I would not have sucked for free.

 

Did I feel empowered being finger-fucked by clients? No, I hated them touching me. Did I feel empowered being penetrated by clients? No, I did not – I wished for them to hurry the fuck up and cum so I could be out of there. Did I feel empowered kissing clients? No, that was the second worst thing about being a call girl. Did I feel empowered when clients’ mouths and tongues were on my vagina? No, that was the very worst thing about being a call girl.

 

Did I feel empowered being paid to fuck a premier league footballer? No, he was arrogant as hell, but if he wasn’t, that might have been a job I would have enjoyed. Did I feel empowered being paid £3,000 to go down on a beautiful woman for around three hours? Kind of, but I also felt a bit guilty as well, because I would have done that job for nothing. She was stunning and into it and the client was a regular who was one of my favourites – he was a gangster and I do believe he was an exception to most clients, in that he respected me and, to some level, cared. I know when my friend Q had some trouble that needed dealing with, he sorted it for her. Now, if he didn’t care, he wouldn’t have got himself involved. So there are some exceptions to the rule.

 

Did I feel empowered when I was raped by a client who held me down and forced himself in me without a condom? No, I did not. I cried after, I remember that. I probably took a heavy dose of drugs the following day, acted like it never happened and returned to work as usual. Did I feel empowered when a client beat me? No, I did not. Who the fuck would feel empowered being beaten whilst screaming and crying for it to stop? Did I feel empowered when I went to see clients who believed I was sixteen or perhaps even fifteen and they wanted to act out child sex abuse on me? No, I did not. I felt sick to the core, but I told myself that by my doing that, I was preventing it happening to a real child. And fourteen years on, all this still haunts me.

 

But at the time, how did I feel about the fact that men would pay hundreds and often thousands of pounds to have sex with me or watch me have sex with another woman? I felt empowered. And how did I feel knowing I had thousands of pounds in a building society account and thousands in cash stashed in a secret place in my flat? Empowered. I felt empowered being able to buy near enough anything I wanted. I felt empowered having nearly all my time to myself as I only worked a handful of times a week. I felt empowered by the freedom I thought I had, but in hindsight I now realise there was no real freedom for me.

 

I didn’t have freedom because I had to be in denial to feel empowered by the money and the things I had accumulated through working as a call girl. If, whilst driving my car, I thought about how I’d earned the money to pay for it, I would be filled with disgust. If, while wearing a designer dress, I recalled how I’d earned the cash to afford it, I would feel repulsed. In order to enjoy my money and the things I bought with it, denial was essential. There is an article I wrote purely on denial here, and I feel it is one of the most important things I have to say about prostitution. In order to operate as a prostitute, when dissociation alone wasn’t enough to shut down from what I was doing, I had to use drugs. They helped fuel the denial too. And I didn’t have freedom because I was tied to the needle in the end, and before that, I was bound to the crack pipe and mountains of cocaine.

 

Until, through being an intravenous user of heroin, I descended to such a degree that I could no longer work as a call girl, I could always afford to turn down clients. Did I feel empowered turning them down? Hell yes, I did. And walking out of jobs – I fucking loved it, the control and they don’t think you’d ever go because they think they’ve bought you, but they fucking haven’t. Did I feel empowered dumping a client after he spoke down to me in The Dorchester? Damn fucking right I did. Did I feel empowered refusing to have sex with a couple because the punter refused to tell his wife he was paying me? Fuck yes, I am not going to look her in the eye and lie that I’m his colleague from work. But I didn’t feel empowered when one of my regular clients, whom I was smoking crack with, found me in his kitchen trying to get a vein with blood running down my arm, and he shoved a fifty in my hand and chucked me out his flat. No, I felt rejected and I felt ashamed that I was an intravenous addict, using heroin. Although looking back, his place on the moral high ground, smoking a crack pipe, was rather shaky.

 

From around that time, I knew I couldn’t go on working as a call girl. I didn’t have the emotional, mental, psychological or whatever strength is needed to work the streets and see that many punters in a day, and as I still had savings then (until my addiction took it all and I tried to take my life), I didn’t have the desperation for money, which is what forces most women out there – to put electric on the meter before the emergency’s used up; to pay the rent before the final reminder; to put a decent dinner in the bellies of their children who’ve been eating toast for two days – poverty is the reality for most women in prostitution, not the luxury I had – and what kind of fucking luxury is it? It is all the same. There is no real hierarchy in prostitution; that’s as false as the emperor’s new clothes. Whether the act takes place in a back alley for £10 or for £1,000 in a four-poster bed in The Savoy, it makes no difference. A repulsive punter didn’t repulse me any less because he paid me more. The feeling of his hands on my body didn’t make me feel any less dirty because he paid me more. My chances of ending up with post-traumatic stress disorder weren’t any less because I was paid more. What the fuck kind of logic would come to those conclusions anyway?

 

XLondonCallGirl

About the Writer

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XLondonCallGirl worked as a call girl in London from her very early twenties until her mid-twenties. Like 75% of women in prostitution, she suffered abuse during her childhood. She also has post-traumatic stress disorder, which 67% of women in prostitution meet the criteria for. Like most women in prostitution, she had issues with problematic drug use and became a heavy intravenous user of heroin and crack. While in prostitution, she was raped twice, fitting in with the statistic that 70% of women in prostitution have been raped multiple times.

 

You can follow XLondonCallGirl on Twitter.

 

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