ch: escort

I got raped, violently handled and to top it off he took my money

I just got home a few hours ago. I woke up in a ton of pain, covered in bruises, scratches and bleeding from places I shouldn’t have been. I wasn’t able to leave and I don’t know how much detail I will go in because I’m in tears right now, but I’ll try my best to tell you girls as much as I can. Reason being this:

I need you girls to know that you make sure you do NOT trust ANY of these fucking men no matter how well you THINK you know them. He could be a well known public figure, it doesn’t fucking matter. Some of these men couldn’t give a flying fuck about what they do to you and they have a lot more power than you think. I don’t want anyone to be in the position I was in. I don’t want any of you girls to compromise your safety for anything.

I had background checked this guy so well. I found out everything about him. He’s a very well known public figure, good looking, charming, easy to talk to and very nice. He was everything you’d want to see in a SD (or at least I thought.)

We’ve been on 3 dates before- no sex. We had a lot of fun, we got along so well and the only red flag was that I felt like something wasn’t right with some of the things he said. It wasn’t exactly what he said it was how he said it. I just brushed it off as him just not communicating things very well.

We went for drinks at an upscale bar, then stopped by a restaurant to grab takeout and headed to his place. He had a beautiful gated house in a secluded neighborhood. When we got to his place I remember leaving my clutch somewhere on his kitchen counter (in it was my phone, the money he gave me, etc.) but I couldn’t remember 100% because I was distracted and thought I misplaced it. He assured me it was somewhere close and that I’ll find it before I left. 

EVERYTHING was fine up until we started having sex. As soon as we both got undressed he turned into a completely different person and it was terrifying. He was very dominant and was a bit too rough for my liking in the beginning, but nothing too horrible. I basically gave him the PSE which I wasn’t too happy about because I felt no pleasure from it, it was all about keeping his dick hard while fucking me like one of those girls from a hardcore porn scene. He finished and we went to bed.

He woke up shortly after we went to bed. I was awake the entire time because I felt uneasy and he literally had a death grip on me while I was trying to sleep with my head was on his chest. He basically wanted to fuck again which I denied but he got aggressive and I was scared so I just gave in because I didn’t know what he was capable of. May I mind you that he’s a former bodybuilder so he’s huge and very strong. No matter how hard I would try to shove him off I couldn’t. 110 pounds compared to probably 200+ pounds of muscle isn’t a fair match. The smacking, gagging and choking got out of hand and I told him to settle down because it was getting too painful and I wasn’t ok with it. This idiot acts as though I didn’t say anything and keeps going. I was so angry and tried my best not to cry because I felt like that’s what he wanted. He wanted that power over me.

I was smacked over and over- face, ass practically every body part you could think of. He pulled my hair so hard he ripped out some of my extensions. I was choked to the point where he left hand and scratch marks on my neck. I passed out twice. I was gagged more times than I can count, he throat fucked me to the point where I was actually on the verge of tears because I couldn’t breathe and was in so much pain that I thought there was no way I’d be able to handle any more of it. No matter how much I pleaded for him to stop, he wouldn’t. In fact he pinned me down harder and got way more aggressive whenever he saw me trying to resist. He would throw me into different positions, shoved and smacked me against the walls and headboard, shoved my head into the bed and pillows so that I couldn’t breath. After being fucked on the floor I was dragged by my legs back onto the bed. He tried to anally fuck me without lube. That is when I started crying and really started to plead him to stop because the pain was unlike anything I’ve felt before. I was in a position where I was able to elbow him and keep him at a far enough distance to where it was difficult for him to penetrate me so he gave up on it and went back to gagging me. When he finished he told me to go clean myself off in the bathroom. I probably spent an hour in there cleaning myself off, panicking and trying to figure out what I was going to do. I was so scared to come out I didn’t know what was going to happen as soon as I opened that door. I was bleeding in places I shouldn’t have bleeding in and the water burned the broken skin. I was so exhausted at that point (it was 4am and we got to his place at 9pm) that I couldn’t cry anymore. I knew that no matter how much I wanted to cry I couldn’t because he would use that opportunity to do something to me. I got out of the bathroom and quietly lay next to him until I fell asleep. In the morning I woke up in so much pain and spent probably another good hour or two in the bathroom trying to calm down. He wasn’t there and I could smell food so I assumed he was cooking breakfast or something. I was so dizzy and tired. He walked back into the room and in a completely normal tone of voice said ‘come down to the kitchen, I made us some breakfast.’ I came down and we both quietly ate breakfast while watching TV, he would make stupid remarks about the show we were watching but made no comment on the night before (or the fact that there were fucking bruises and scratches all over my body.) I was completely numb at that point and didn’t say a word because I didn’t want to piss him off. What got to me was when he said my real name. I haven’t told any of these guys my real name. He had the most disgusting grin on his face when he’d say my name and then he referred to something about my personal like and that’s when I started to get shaky and really nervous. This guy was a complete sociopath and he knew stuff about my that I’ve never told any of these men. I was trying to act as though I wasn’t frightened. My voice was shaking as I was talking but I was speaking very nicely and was doing everything in my power not to get on his nerves. When we were finished eating he called a cab for me and gave me $100 to get home. He then handed me my clutch. He had obviously looked through it. Inside was my ID (has my full name, address, everything on it.) My phone has a pass code on it but maybe he was somehow able to bypass it, or maybe saw me type it in and that’s how he knew the personal things about me. On the way home the money he gave me was no longer there. I’m so upset, scared and angry I don’t know what to do.

I can’t tell you how scared I was and I’m in tears typing this but I want you girls to realize that this can happen to anyone. I never thought in a million years something like this would happen to me. I took every precaution possible, I background checked him to a T and I thought I did everything to keep myself safe. I always thought 'it can’t happen to me, no way’ but it did and I’m so scared and confused and I haven’t been able to stop crying since I got home. I don’t know what to do. He has something against me, he had access to my phone he knows where I live and I am so scared right now. Being a sex worker I don’t know how the police would act in a situation like this. Even with that aside, he wouldn’t have done this and acted so lightly on it if he knew there wasn’t a way to get away with it so clearly he must have planned this out and has a way to get out of it. My roommate is coming home from work in a few hours so I know I’m going to talk to her about it. This was all so surreal and uncalled for. I feel horrible and completely disgusted. I’m contacting my psychologist and scheduling an appointment as soon as I can.

I probably won’t be posting for a little while. I’m cancelling all of my appointments for the next 2 weeks and I won’t be doing anything sex work related for half a month or so. I know I’ll be going back eventually, but as of right now I need to have nothing to do with it.

I am pleading all of you girls to understand that no matter what safety precautions you take, that sex work will always be dangerous. It’s not all glamorous and exciting. It’s not a quick money fix. It’s not something you jump into without researching or taking the potential consequences into consideration. It’s not a safe job no matter how safe you try to make it.

I just want to sleep and clear my head, I’m not in a good state right now. I hope none of you ever have to go through something like this, or anything close to this, ever.

EDIT: I am contacting the police right now, reading over that I know there’s no way I’m letting him potentially do that to anyone else. He can expose me if he wants, I don’t care, he’s not getting away with any of this.

Cliffs Edge ch9

thanks to @luckiedee​, I finally did the thing.

(ao3)

Prior to their departure from the hotel, Kent’s first act of business is to Google something on his phone. He won’t let Alexei see what it is.

“Fuck yes!” Kent exclaims. When he looks up from the screen, he’s grinning. “Okay, we’ve got some hours to kill. Will you be warm enough walking around outside in just a shirt and jacket? Even at night? It gets cold up here.”

Alexei looks down at himself. “I’m Russian.”

“Yeah, and I play ice hockey and grew up in New York, and I can’t fucking stand the cold. That’s why I’ve got three layers on and I’m grabbing a jacket before we go.” Kent gets up from his chair. “So?”

Alexei gets up, too. “I’m okay. It’s warm jacket. Where we go at night?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.” Kent goes to his closet to fish out the aforementioned jacket, which he ties around his waist like it’s 1995. Alexei would chirp him but it’s too fucking cute.

Kent heads for the door but Alexei hangs back, looking around the room. It was mildly messy when they came in but now it’s kind of disastrous, with the beds further rumpled from people sitting on their edges and all the available trashcans filled up with leavings. The delivery bags have been rolled up and stuffed inside each other, along with the discarded pie and quiche tins.

“Housekeeping will get it,” Kent says.

Alexei still cringes at the mess, but he goes with Kent, who checks for his keycard before closing the door behind them.

Outside the hotel, all is quiet. Alexei doesn’t see anyone with cameras hanging out in wait.

“Probably stalking the Falconers,” Kent says, and hails a taxi.

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2

Escort

“You’re still looking.”

“I’m not looking.”

“Yes you are.”

“No I’m not.”

“Why does it matter if I think you’re looking?”

“Because I’m not looking. If I was looking I would admit I’m looking.”

“There’s only one person over there and your face is facing that person. You’re looking.”

“Well look at him.”

“I’m looking.”

“Men don’t do that.”

“Clearly they do.”

“Well not any men I know.”

“That’s not the same as saying men don’t do that.”

“Do they? Do they do that?”

“They do.”

“Why?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I don’t. I just…it’s just…I’ve just never seen a man do that.”

“I like it when they do that.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s pretty. I’m gay John, not blind. Like you.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“I heard you say something confusing.”

“Which part was confusing?”

Silence.

“Because from what I can see you can see, so obviously you’re not blind.”

John Watson’s eyes shifted back and forth fast. His sister does this to him. She always does this to him. She plays word games. No, not games, ploys. No, not ploys. Fishing. It’s fishing. Harry will say a lie so that he corrects with the truth, a truth that’s his business, but before he knows what he’s done he’s blurted it out and so no, just no, he would not fall for that again.

“I’m not falling for that again, Harry.”

The long-legged man doing that did it some more. This time with open legs. John cleared his throat so sharply he got saliva in his sinuses, then sneezed so hard his ears popped.

“Go talk to him before you have an aneurysm.”

“I don’t want to. I mean, I don't…I’m not… And he’s a… Isn’t he?”

Harriet Watson blinked, blasé. “A high-class rent boy? I have no clue. Maybe. Probably? I’ve seen others here.”

“This is some fancy local you’ve got.”

“Yeah it is. The drinks are fantastic, the girls even better, and the decor—” Here Harry raised eyebrows toward the reclining man. “—leaves very little to be desired.”

Ha. John Watson was not going to be fished thank you very much, so he didn’t respond to this, his sister’s eighth attempt today to get him to admit he may, just may, probably does, definitely absolutely sometimes does notice men. Especially pretty men on chaise lounges with their legs open and pink socks on and slicked back hair and were those gold-tipped Oxfords or—

Harry shouldered John in the back. He tripped forward and was about to whine his petulance at her—which Captain John Watson does not do ever anywhere, but this is another thing Harry brings out in him, along with too many inconvenient truths—when the man with the thighs that were not together looked right at him.

And didn’t look away. Or move. He just kept looking at John, one big hand holding the sofa, and John didn’t ordinarily think thoughts like he’s so…open but he was and did and clearly it showed on his face because the man dipped his chin and smiled.

John was halfway across the room before he had discussed this plan with his feet and by the time he let his feet know he wasn’t technically, precisely, completely gay his feet had brought him to nearly within touching distance of the man.

“That’s it.”

John tilted his head and only then realised he was, like some old codger, aiming his ear at the man to better hear him amongst the bar noise.

“Come now, don’t be shy.”

Well the aiming thing worked because John heard that deep-voiced purr loud and clear and that made heat rise, incandescent, up his neck and down between his legs.

Then the man held out his hand. John blinked at it a few times as if near-sighted and then the good doctor took it. Didn’t even discuss the matter with his own hand, just took it.

The man grinned up at John and said, “I’m Sherlock.”

“You’re beautiful.” John replied, flushing scarlet, betrayed by his mutinous mouth. Apparently his whole body was going over to the other side. As if no one had ever told this man he was gorgeous. (No one ever had.)

Sherlock’s gaze slicked past John. His grin faded. He went dead-eyed. He dropped John’s hand, stood, and walked away.

Jaw unhinged, the good doctor Watson turned and watched the pretty, maybe-prostitute sidle up to an elegant, bearded man in a perfectly-tailored suit. They talked briefly and then, his hand pressed to the small of Sherlock’s back, they walked together out the door.

Right about then John Watson contemplated bursting into flames of annoyance and embarrassment. This, however, was apparently where his willful body drew the line. He remained resolutely unsinged.

And then Harry was there, handing him a double of something brown and expensive and exactly one hour later Harry was chatting someone up at the bar, and John was drunk, slouched in a back booth, and—

“Well hello again you gorgeous little shit.”

The man in the expensive suit with the pink socks and slick-backed hair was standing beside the good doctor’s table.

John rose, swayed, then stilled himself with an index finger to the tall man’s chest. “Imagine I said that without shouting. Or swearing. Or calling you…” John looked to the left, as if the word he needed was—

“Gorgeous!”

Sherlock Holmes smiled. “That just leaves ‘little.’

John looked up and up and was busy not discussing things with his nose now, because he sniffed loudly, then giggled and said, "You smell like excitement.”

Can you know the moment your life changes? Can you? Because right then Sherlock knew, he absolutely knew.

“He was jealous of you. The informant. He wouldn’t show himself and then…you touched me.”

John was drunk, drunk, drunk. But somewhere deep inside John Watson was quite sober, somewhere that mattered. So he whispered back, very carefully, very sweet. “Imagine I said that other part. The nice part. Let’s leave that in, all right?”

Sherlock’s grin grew. “What,” he said, on this the first day of his new life, “is your name?”

 Previous: That Holmes Guy | A Shot in the Arm

Redscudery said high class escort and sent this image and though I didn’t take the story quite as far as you requested, I hope you like it Redscudery!

Cliff’s Edge, ch 12 (of 14)

Yes, you’re reading that right. Cliff’s Edge has gotten longer. This is not the final chapter. (But ch13 is nearly done with edits and will be up soon! You will like that. <3 )

(ch12 on ao3) (read from the beginning on ao3)

Rain or shine, strange bed or no, Alexei always wakes up at seven-thirty to work out before he starts the day.

However, he always wakes up at seven-thirty on the East coast. So the first time he emerges from sleep, he checks his phone and finds it’s four-twenty-two.

Fuck time zones,” he grumbles, and rolls over.

Keep reading

I will never, ever be able to trust a man

and this makes me really upset because growing up I’ve always wanted to get married to that (wealthy) special someone, have a family, etc. But after escorting and sugaring I’ve seen the other side. Men, no matter how sweet or amazing they are to you, will always be capable of cheating on you. In fact, I’m 10000% sure that the man I marry will cheat on me. It happens way more often than anyone thinks, especially among rich men.

Now here’s what brought up this thought. I live in a very expensive part of the city, tons of business men, luxury cars, apartments, condos, etc. Needless to say I get approached by rich, older men quite frequently. Yesterday I was walking home and this French man in his 50’s slows down his beautiful car so that he could talk to me. To be quite honest, I have a ton of POTs lined up and I’m very happy with Mr. Bentley so I didn’t feel like it was worth giving him a chance. I was quite hesitant. Our conversation went like this.

Him: You’re so beautiful, is there any chance I could see you again sometime? I’d love to take you out.

Me: I’m not too sure if I should. I have a boyfriend and he takes care of me quite well.

Him: We wouldn’t have to tell him. Besides, I’m not here very often. I travel constantly for work and I’d love a beautiful lady companion for when I am here. Have you ever been to Hawaii?

Me: Yes actually, I’ve been there quite a few times.

Him: Well I’m going there this Summer and I’d love to take you with me if things go well.

Me: You seem like a great guy but my boyfriend is very good to me, I don’t think it would be fair to him.

Him: Look, he’s going to do the same thing to you anyways, you might as well take up on my offer. I can assist you in many ways. Plus I have a younger girlfriend too so you wouldn’t be the only one sneaking around.

So girls, needless to say I gave him my number. Our conversation was longer than that but I just needed to summarize it. Obviously I don’t have a boyfriend, but when he said ‘look, he’s going to do the same thing to you anyways’ it hit me. These men are all the same. It doesn’t matter if they actually love you, it doesn’t matter if you have a family with them, they’re ALWAYS going to want someone else- whether it be on the side or someone completely new in general. And you know what, he was right. If I did have a boyfriend, he would do the same to me. His ass would cheat. Maybe not right away, maybe not even 5 years down the line, but eventually he would. The worst part is that I may not even find out about it. There will always be someone younger, smarter, prettier, etc. And you know what? That makes me sad. It makes me sad because it’s the norm now. As a sex worked I see tons of married men. I don’t feel bad for myself because I know that since they were looking for an escort/SB they’re going to cheat anyways so what difference would it make if they cheated with me. But I do feel bad for their wives and girlfriends. How can you do this to the woman you love? That’s something I will never be able to understand. I don’t want to be the girl that says 'all men cheat!!!’ but I am. I’ve seen it happen so often to the point where it’s now expected. I’m happy that I’ve been able to see this side of things because now it doesn’t come as a surprise to me. It just sucks because I’ll never be able to have a good piece of mind that my future husband is loyal, because he probably won’t be.

anonymous asked:

Is it normal for SD's to sound weird or awkward over text/messages? I've been texting one about potentially meeting up and his texts are kinda disjointed or don't entirely make sense sometimes. He's not foreign either so I don't think it's a language thing.

Seeing many conversations between SBs and their POTs/SDs, it doesn’t seem that unusual to me. Keep in mind that most SDs are going to be 45+ years old, and that means that they might not be great with technology or texting. Whether that’s response time, texting etiquette, lingo, or even coming across coherently. Additionally, he also may have 2 or more phones; one for home and work, and one for “work”. If he’s a high paid individual, he may just not have the time, patience, or opportunity for texting.

If it is really that he isn’t very talented at texting, try to cut your SD some slack, and maybe even teach him how to use it when you’re snuggled up in bed. You’re young and hip and could teach him so many little tricks that you know, lingo, or apps that might make texting easier for him. For instance, one app that might help is one that converts voice to text, which many phones already come with. (if not, here is one for Android, iPhone)

Edit: this is of course if he’s worth your time and isn’t just being a scammer, timewaster, or pic collector. Any one else have comments?