Thread: tortured's padded cell

And the Ho'cadamy Award for best actress goes to... There's a myth pervading modern society multiple times a night in a town like yours, perpetuated by millions and millions of higher end prostitutes, or escorts. This myth, one that men buy into with the giddy naivete of a toddler leaving cookies out for Santa, is that 'real' men are naturally good lovers, once they meet the right woman. Women who don't care for a particular guy's technique are not merely sexually incompatible, they're just plain wrong, frigid and probably closet lesbians. The media and advertising's insistence that proverbial 'soulmates' will naturally and spontaneously have awesome, life altering sex is one of the great lies of our time. It is aided and abetted cynically by the male-targeted porn industry, to the point where many male western teenagers actually believe that the average woman aches to give masochistically enthusiastic blowjobs and then be monotonously fucked in the ass for 30mins solid before having a load blown over her face. What poor pubescent teenage girl can deal with that kind of hype before she tries losing her virginity? Billions of men globally use prostitutes, the industry is responsible for untold misery as evidenced by illegally trafficked sex slaves who are forcibly addicted to hard drugs. What you have to keep in mind when shaking your head indignantly at the whole sorry mess of forced prostitution, is that the industry only exists at all by virtue of market forces. The fact that every developed country has an invisible underclass of imprisoned multiple rape victims is a direct result of there being enough men willing to pay money to fuck these sorry creatures, with not one iota of pity for their plight. These are men you pass in the street every day, men who are colleagues and even friends, men who maintain respectable public faades, who have wives and children with zero clue what daddy gets up to when late home, away on business or whatever. The exact same thing therefore, is true of child prostitution. There is a supply because there is a demand and that is where society should be trying to fight this battle, in the twisted hearts and amoral minds of hardcorerape porn-consuming, modern day male libertines. In the mid-level echelon of the sex trade in which I operate, men are generally conscientious consumers. New users of the agency will often ask for assurance that I'm escorting of my own free will and that I'm over-age. They'll encourage me to tell them if I don't enjoy some aspect of the booking, because they're actually usually fairly decent men who want enjoyment to be mutual. They're often unsatisfied at home and don't feel able to discuss this with their partner because she's going through issues of one description or another, maybe pregnancy or motherhood or something else that's left her depressed and knocked her libido. Some guys are divorced and twice shy of settling down with another woman. Some are widowers or have partners that are chronically or terminally ill. Of course, there are young thrill seekers, unmitigated assholes, gangsters and drug dealers or those who don't want a relationship because it interferes with their lifestyle in some way. Some are moderately well known or professional sportsmen whose lifestyles are too nomadic to maintain relationships. Some are disabled or chronically ill themselves, unattractive, shy or otherwise at a serious disadvantage when it comes to dating. In short, one of the most shocking things about my clientle is just how ordinary and largely law abiding most of them are. The only guys who really come across as sleazy are the corporate sharks, affluent men who already pretty much have it all but enjoy fucking escorts because it appeals to their own vanity, that they are successful enough to be able to pick up the phone and have a beautiful girl delivered within an hour or two, as cheap and disposable as take-out food. But what's that got to do with the award for best actress? I hear you ask. Allow me to elucidate. What this varied demographic of men has in common is that for a reasonable fee, they will experience much more than sex and for many guys, it's not the sex that's hopelessly addictive. I will find your conversation scintillating, all your jokes funny and whatever common groundtastes I can actually or fraudulently claim to have, I will exploit them. Men often ask me a great deal about myself and because I'm not a moron and because they wouldn't want to know the truth, I tell them a practised cover story, complete with fraudulent 'real' name and approximate place of residence. Because I'm intelligent, I will remember key details and the next time you hire my company, I'll appear enchanted to see you again and ask you about whatever family member or life event you spoke about the last time, compounding your belief that I genuinely like you and that you are therefore 'different' and 'special' in my eyes, rather than just another walking credit card. When we have sex, I will play the long game. Any escort who yelped vacantly like many porn stars would starve to death. I'll give you a high quality blowjob, assessing your reactions and filing away preferences for future reference. I'll do things that your girlfriend probably wouldn't be bothered to, like pay your balls attention or incorporate some frenulumanal play if it's made clear to me that this is one of your kinks. Then either you'll take the lead and move things along to intercourse or I'll get the message that you want me to show some initiative. If you choose to go down on me you'll find mine the most hygienically clean cunt you've ever encountered, you'll also find my mouth minty fresh when we kiss. I'll respond slowly and subtly but nevertheless within a reasonably swift degree of time given that this encounter is about you. When we actually fuck I'll get more enthusiastic, urging you on in whatever you're doing. Even if you're the dullest, most clumsy and pathetic man who ever had sex, I will fake an orgasm and I will do so beautifully. I'll even be careful not to roll around too much and push you over the edge before you're ready. I'll flex on your cock with rock hard kegels and convince the most cynical bastard that he is in fact an excellent fuck. Then the myth kicks in, that it's not his treatment of the women in his life that has resulted in his dissatisfaction but the fact he just hadn't had sex with the right girl yet. Hollywood owes millions of guys a metric fuckton of sex therapy. And what do I get for all my hard work? Do I get a round of applause? Do I get a sit down and a cup of tea? No. What I get is a cocky punter who now thinks he's a sex god. If I'm really unfortunate I get a cocky punter who starts suggesting that if I'm having so much fun, surely I should be the one paying him. What I almost always get is some arrogant moron who, having 'successfully' made me cum, gets an ego the size of his love handles and immediately tries to make me cum again. And I have to perpetuate this myth. Within about ten minutes I'll be faking another one and then usually I take the initiative and act like I'm 'rewarding' the guy, because I completely lack the patience to fake a third. By this time he's smugly pleased that my needs have been fully satisfied and I can make him focus on his own pleasure long enough to get him off. Then I have to linger and act reluctant to head to the bathroom. Naturally this is by no means the only motivation men have for using escorts, often they want to explore kinks their partner won't or just need the visceral catharsis of a hard fuck during a period of frustration and dissatisfaction in their primary relationship. Sometimes it's purely about recreation and that includes drug use, because sex on some drugs is just phenomenal. Obviously, no two fucks are ever exactly the same but the above dissection is how the majority of my transactions play out. I knowingly and cynically exploite male egos, which while very fragile can nevertheless inflate instantly, to the point where I'm itching to get my hands on a metaphorical pin. But I create these monsters, this rod for my own cunt. There are guys who buy wholly and often unwittingly into this myth, who are addicted to being treated like they're god's gift to women. Guys who regularly use escorts inevitably wind up believing their own hype and become utterly unbearable... without adequate financial compensation anyway. I'm convincing enough that I've been asked to become a mistress on more than one occasion, to travel with guys and even to quit the game and settle down with them. These men genuinely believe that I think they're awesome, that is the double-edged high of the escort industry and often more central to a guy's enjoyment than the actual sex. I know this is a ramble but I'm quite the amateur anthropologist these days.