(Content warning: sex, misogyny, slurs)

intro ((room))

It doesn’t matter how I got here or why I chose it. It doesn’t matter who brought me into this world. This cock-filled, cum-stained world.
The first time, damn. When was that? The first time I had sex, you mean? Or the first time I got paid?
First fuck musta been that boy, way back. Lovely boy, lover, in that big, comfy, rich-person bed. Back when he had rosy cheeks and some meat on him. Not like today. Long-haired burnout, painted nails and a cigarette addiction. How I loved you.
That’s not what you wanted to know, though, is it? You want to know how it started, don’t you? Well, I told you. It doesn’t matter how I got here.
Every person’s road arrives at the same fork. The same sign pointing to Cock and Cash. You can take that turn anytime you want. And you know it. We come from every background, with every past. There’s no quality we possess to distinguish “us” from “you”. We are anyone. We could be you. You could be us.
The first time? Of course, it was scary, foreign, unnatural. Every movement is self-conscious, like you’re twelve again trying to impress your crush at the school disco. You paint your face and dress up for him. Heels a quarter foot high. It’s all unknown, every element.
You fumble through a flirtatious script. Send him off to disinfect. You’ve never seen such pristine, marble showers before. Then he sets himself atop the bed, fresh. And you overcompensate with every twist and suck.
It is during your labour, so fresh yourself, that you’re overwhelmed by this urge to go: ‘STOP!!!’
You almost burst: ‘This isn’t ME! This isn’t who I am! This is just something I’m doing for a bit. I’m a Normal Person!!!’ You want to explain yourself and all the Normal Things you do. You want to tell him about your family and how you did okay at school and how you could do something else if you wanted to.
You’re afraid he’ll think you’re a junkie or forced into it by an abusive boyfriend. What if he doesn’t realise you’re none of the stereotypes? What if he’s judging you RIGHT NOW??
There’s so much going on between the lines. You can feel his judgement like waves rippling out. It’s so loud. He loves you because you make him feel good. But you’re also his nightmare. You are the worst possible outcome for his daughter’s future. You’re the most treacherous act his wife is capable of. Just interacting with you is his biggest shame.
You want to explain how you’re different. An exception to the rule. An outlier. How he should be proud of his daughter if she ended up like you. How you’re not like the rest, you’re a Good Whore. In fact, you’re barely a Whore at all. You’re a student, a girlfriend, a daughter. You take drugs but not the addictive ones. And only sometimes!
But who is this Whore anyway and why is she so Bad? Why are you any better? Within that silent interaction of fear and judgement obscured by the noise of flirtation, a transformation occurs. You realise that until you were judged by this man as a Poor Decision Maker, you believed you weren’t guilty of making the same judgements on others. You were wrong.
You ignore the urge to go ‘STOP!!!’ You’re not here to explain yourself. Instead, lean forward girl. Show those tits, hold that gaze. Convince him he wants YOU. And when he’s almost through and you catch his eye, let him cum on your tits for an extra fifty bucks.

$$$

When “““God””” flipped my coin Female, I wonder if He knew what it meant. Or is He as ignorant as the rest of ‘em? Did He realise I’d be trained to serve, smile, submit and stroke ego? Did He realise to survive here Girl must master the Art of Pleasantness before she can master anything else? Did He realise that Girls are better than what His book says???
Suddenly it dawned on me, with a cock in my mouth, this wasn’t new to me. This wasn’t new at all.
That feeling when you’re new to a job and you feel like a burden. When your workmates manage your incompetence with an air of frustration. ‘I’ll get it soon, don’t worry!’ you want to say. At some point you’ll get it: student becomes teacher, evolution in the workplace. It might take months or years. But you’ll get it.
Suddenly, here in this Whorehouse, just as he was ordering me to suck it faster. Just as I was thinking ‘I’m not cut out for this…’ It dawns on me: I have never been so qualified. In fact, I have been training for this job my whole life. That feeling of being new and confused, incompetent, useless. It’s gone.
Had I ever introduced myself to a man buying Pussy? Of course I have. He tries to buy it every time I enter a bar, party, club or festival. Every day on the bus and in the street. I meet him every time I leave the house. He’s always ready, always wondering what it takes to convince me. And I’m there with him, like I am in that Intro Room, appeasing his gaze, flashing a smile, laughing on queue. I subdue him with gentleness, lure him with language.
Mastery of Pleasantness is Woman’s power and defence. It is her way to control without dominance, to resist danger without fighting. It is our burden and our strength. We learn young to be attractive in every aspect of our lives. To be attractive is to open the door to respect. We do it to capture love and hold influence. We do it to appease those gross, demanding eyes; eyeballs reminding you that in this world, man calls the shots!
It dawns on me that I’ve been arching my back since there were tits to push forward. I’ve been dressing and dieting since there was a Woman’s body to mould. I’ve been fucking with single flamed purpose – HIS orgasm, HIS pleasure – since I first spread my legs with that first fuck. In my pursuit of attractiveness, as a Woman, I have developed around the desires of man.
But I have stroked their egos, dressed up for them, painted my face for them (((FOR FREE))) for far too long. Only now, in this employment, am I rewarded for my efforts. Only now am I compensated for the endless, thankless task of Making Men Feel Good.
My only question is: where’s my goddamn backpay?

<3 <3 <3

Fierce women.
Sluts,
brutes.

Women who’ll pound you
‘til you burst.

Women who turn
ragdoll.
Endurance is strength.

Women who control,
who dominate
with stealth.

Women who embody
that Porn Star look
to lure their prey
and provoke their cocks.

Women who provide
for families,
who set bread on the table.

Women who will spread their legs
for a thousand strangers
without hindering their commitment
to The One.

Women who are not born deceitful
but must lie
for safety.

Women, rich women,
hard-working
whores.
Cunts of steel.
Tough, strong,
gorgeous,
flawed.

Learn about sex workers throughout history on Hannah’s Instagram here.