El Bastardo, The Pussy Punisher

One of my favorite regulars was the one I called El Bastardo. The guy was a complete misogynist and had some very sadistic tendencies... and he turned me on like no tomorrow. He was actually a pretty nice guy outside of session, but in session the gloves came off.
His particular fetish was for watching white women with black men. Or talking about white women with black men. Or thinking about white women with black men. Now, that's not a particular fetish of mine, but I was more than happy to play along with EB. He was a very tall, handsome man with a bad reputation with the other girls for wanting things you weren't supposed to do, but I didn't care. He wanted a slut and it was a role I would gladly play.

A typical scene with him went like this: He would pretend I was his girlfriend whom he had just caught cheating on him with a black man (this apparently happened to him in real life, hence his ongoing resentment towards "sluts"). He would pull my hair back and hiss in my ear what a slut I was, how I was the most over-fucked bitch he had ever met, etc. He loved for me to lay on my back with my legs spread wide so he could stare at my pussy and prod it with any black leather object. At first, his proddings were merely superficial, nudging at my pussy lips and clit gently, occasionally giving them a slap with a crop. Gradually, he tested the waters of my willingness to bend the rules, sliding the handle of the crop just slightly inside of me, bringing an enormous black dildo into session and threatening me with it's ruthless penetration. Once he saw that I was more than willing to indulge his passions, he would force me onto my back, pry my thighs apart and cruelly penetrate me with anything handy. He loved to use the handle of a black leather flogger, because it was large and unyielding, and the leather would defeat the best efforts of any lubrication my body would put forth as a defense. He forced the handle past the outer lips of my pussy as I winced from the pain. Once he got it in as far as it would go, he would move it in and out roughly, ignoring my cries and please for him to stop. He gave me a large black double-headed dildo and would force me to masturbate with it while he watched, slapping the insides of my thighs and calling me a whore. He focused all his energies on punishing the source of my imagined infidelity- my pussy. I often left our sessions sore and burning from the abuse my pussy would take at his hands. Eventually, I began seeing him as a client outside of the Dungeon. He would take me in his car and force me to proposition black men on the street. Thank god none of them ever took me up on it (most of them were put off by the fact that he wanted to watch). Once the game started to become to dangerous for me I had to call it off.

But I must say, I did miss him afterwards.

Fishnets and Mr. Pushy Nipples

My second client made me realize the high weirdness I was in for. He was a small man, very fussy and cranky. He liked girls with very large breasts, so I fit the bill. He also wanted a switch (someone who can take either role in a scene) which I definitely was NOT. But, he was adamant and I needed money. His whole scenario revolved around some very lame story about industrial espionage or some such thing. I was to stand facing the corner and then turn around and pretend to catch him "stealing secret documents". Then I was to tie him to a gynecological table, pinch his nipples very hard and pretend to try and get information out of him. At some point, he wanted to "break free" from my bondage and then capture me. Haha! The tables have turned! Then he would pinch my nipples and I was to pretend to get turned on etc etc. The whole thing seemed fairly straight forward, even though I was TOTALLY out of my element, as I didn't like being a Top or role playing at all.

So, the guy was wearing a pair of blue sweats and tennis shoes. He told me to stand in the corner, take my top and bra off, and wait for him to cue me before I turned around. Ok, easy enough. I heard him rustling around and setting out equipment. Then he told me to turn around.

When I turned around, gone were the harmless blue sweats and in their place he was naked except for a pair of fishnet stockings.

NOT what I expected. I mean he could have WARNED me about that part! The whole scene was awkward and I felt like a rank amature. It mostly consisted of him pinching my nipples lightly and obsessively and muttering "There you go you little SLUT!" while humping the corner of the table through his fishnets and I pretended to be in pain. He eventually got off and thanked me, but in all I found him pushy and unpleasant. A few months later he came in and saw another girl who canceled the session half-way through when he tried to force her into a body bag. When she told him she wasn't comfortable with that he became irate and abusive. she had to call for assistance and he was almost blacklisted from the club. A few weeks after that, she and I were walking down the street late one night when he came around the corner! He was so startled by seeing us together on a street corner at 3am he scuttled off like a frightened crab.

Pervs in the News - Russian Scientists Suggest Caning to Cure Drug Addicts

http://mosnews.com/news/2005/03/28/nopainnogain.shtml

A group of Russian scientists has suggested caning as a treatment for those who suffer from drug and alcohol addiction as well as depression and suicidal tendencies, the Izvestia daily reports...

My First Time

I suppose I shall begin at the beginning.

I came to work at the Dungeon as my first job in the sex industry. Without going into a lot of details I just don't feel like discussing at the moment, let's just say this was where I felt I belonged. I was going to have to start as a submissive, which was fine by me. This basically meant that men would pay $150 an hour to tie me up, beat me, molest me and subject me to multitudes of torments and fetishes and I would get half the proceeds. The rest of the time consisted of sitting around smoking and chatting with the other ladies. Not a bad gig in all reality. I had the right to decline anything I didn't wish to participate in and most of the time the guys were ok.

My first client was a rather large and unappealing deaf man who was a regular. He was one of the "creepy" clients who always tried to take it a bit too far. Now let's be clear, this venue was a legitimate business. We were not supposed to have sex with any of the clients and had strict rules about such conduct. That didn't' mean it didn't' HAPPEN, that just means you weren't supposed to. But you would be surprised what the promise of a $50 tip can do for you when rent was due and it had been a slow month. That said, some clients considered the new girls easy pickings and would try extra hard to push the boundaries of acceptable conduct.

Deaf Guy picked me, of course, because I was new and visibly. He took me into a room with a large wooden cross and a stretching rack. I was terrified, as I had no idea what to expect. His first move was to undress me strap me to the cross with wide leather belts. He began fondling my breasts passionately right away. This was a bit shocking and uncomfortable for me at first, but eventually I found myself involuntarily becoming excited by his advances. He tugged at my nipples incessantly, whispering "lovely... lovely" in a lurid voice. Suddenly, he slapped my breasts forcefully, making them swing and bounce with the force of his blows. I winced, still trying to deny the growing excitement in my loins. He pulled hard on my nipples, chuckling when I cried out in pain. He blindfolded me and began putting all manner of clamps and clips on my nipples. the pain was excruciating. Suddenly he ripped off the clamps and sucked my entire nipple into his mouth and began sucking hard. I kicked and squirmed, making desperate and confused noises in the back of my throat. He pushed my breasts together until my nipples touched and ran his tongue along them both like a snake. My hips were thrusting and bucking by now and I struggled to get away from that flicking caress. He finally unstrapped me from my cross and walked me over to the rack, my knees shaking and my head reeling. After tying me spread eagle and naked to the rack, he stretched my out so that my legs were as spread as they could be. I felt terror rising in me again, along with a sense of excitement. I was worried and embarrassed he could see how wet and swollen I was. He pulled a small leather flogger out and began gently striking my bare pussy with underhand strokes. The tickling sting of each stoke was drawing a response out of me I had not expected. I did not find this man the least bit attractive, in fact I found him creepy and disturbing, but somehow that was contributing to my excitement. As he struck harder and harder, I began to squirm and my heavy breathing began to betray me. He chanted "lovely... lovely... lovely" again under his breath and pulled out his cock to stroke it with his free hand. His blows on my exposed vulva came faster and faster, and the force increased to the point where I would cry out with each searing stroke. I felt myself beginning to climax, when suddenly he stopped and dropped the whip. He stood there, stroking his short unappealing cock and grinning at me as I writhed in frustration. He took two fingers and reached out and violently rubbed my clit up and down in broad strokes, my mound bouncing and shaking with each furious pass. My thighs began to quiver. I wanted this creep to stop touching me and felt a sense of self loathing at my unexpected response to his touch yet at the same time I felt a longing for this to continue. Suddenly, I came like a shotgun, pumping and panting like a desperate animal. He came too, squirting all over my knee.

After a moment, he picked up a towel and cleaned me up. He untied me without a word and I cleaned up the equipment while he gathered his wits. I walked him up to the front desk (as we were supposed to do so the front desk knew we were ok) and saw him off. He didn't tip me, but that was ok. I felt kind of weird for the rest of the evening, even after the second and far stranger client came to see me (more on him later). Deaf Guy became a regular client of mine for a while until he creeped me out so much I had to pass him off on an unsuspecting new girl.

Why This Blog?

"So what was it REALLY like?"
I have been asked this question many times over, and yet I can never quite explain why I spent the better part of the 90s working in the Adult Entertainment industry in a major American city, let alone what it was "like". As a "plus size" woman, I think it surprises many people that I was able to support myself having sex or being in sexual situations with men. In all honesty, while I was definitely not the most popular girl on the market, I held my own and had many devoted clients. The leggy blonds weren't really the hot property, it was the girl-next-door who prospered, the one who looked like the kind of girl you had a crush on in the 8th grade, but never had the nerve to ask out.
The men came looking for more than sex, they wanted the fantasy, companionship, something "real" they could hold on to in their minds after they went home. They were looking for something they often times had never had, but thought they could rent by the hour. Love, or an affordable facsimile. To answer some quick questions before they are asked:

1. No, I was not sexually abused as a child
2. Yes, I might be a bit of a nymphomaniac
3. I never had a drug problem
4. I wasn't a streetwalker
5. I am rather fond of men actually.

I started this journal to educate, titillate, and verbally fornicate. I started this journal to remind myself of headier times before the desk job and the perpetual quiet evenings in front of "must-see tv" and frozen dinners.

I started this journal for me, but I hope you enjoy it too.