Savannah the Peg Queen
By: William, Dollar Bill
Tags: Pegging, Culture, Sex, Escorts, Psychology

Savannah the Peg Queen

What’s good for the goose wasn’t good for the gander

Unsplash _ Dom Hill

She called herself Savannah. But that wasn’t her real name. In fact, I didn’t know her real name even though I was her best friend (according to Savannah) and we had sex a couple of dozen times. I know this doesn’t make any sense — until I tell you that Savannah was an escort who ran her ads to attract customers through my advertising agency. Prostitutes don’t like people to know their real names. It can lead to blackmail. And nobody — pro or amateur — wants that!

When I first met Savannah, she was scrounging around working for a variety of second rate escort agencies, and not making very much money. The person who introduced us was a third rate madam who had just hired Savannah. After photographing the girl for her new employer, I went drinking with the two girls. The madam got way too drunk, showed her true colors, and Savannah quit on the spot.

Contrite the next day at her display, the sobered-up madam forked over the girl’s phone number, which I called to convince Savannah to run her own ads through me.

Savannah was hesitant. But when I countered with “how about we do a session and I’ll run your ad free-of-charge?” she changed her tune.

Soon afterward, Savannah came over and we had fun for an hour. And when her ad ran, the phone rang off the hook. By 2 PM of Savannah’s very first day as an independent, she called to exclaim “oh my God! I’ve already made $2000 from that ad. You’re my hero.”

From there, Savannah was off and running, banking $10,000 a week routinely. I submitted her ads earning maybe $150 in commissions while she hauled off truckloads of cash. No small wonder I was her best friend.

Not every independent girl who advertised through me minted money like Savannah. Some struggled. Most made a couple of thousand a week. And some really made out. There are all sorts of factors that can make a girl a big earner. Good service and attitude helps. And of course, magnificent body parts are almost always paramount. Savannah’s appeal was more intangible.

She wasn’t that pretty…had some skin problems which necessitated Savannah wearing too much make-up…wasn’t especially busty…and displayed teeth that were a little cockeyed when she smiled. But Savannah had a magnificent round booty, and a valley girl personality. She billed herself as “the ebony princess” and/or “chocolate goddess.” And I think it was the ghetto booty coupled with her valley girl personality that were the two ingredients which made her so successful.

Savannah was incidentally a gym rat who boasted a very tight and fit body. In fact, she had guns (biceps) which Savannah used to flex after our sex play and my release as if to say “I just slew the dragon. I am woman, hear me roar.” Understanding how she felt, I thought it was a cute display of female empowerment and would always assure her she had indeed overpowered the beast.

(I should mention that Savannah had absolutely no romantic feelings for me. On the occasions we had sex, she would often recount the events of the day as if she had just come home to her BFF roomy. Such is the reality of having sex with a professional who views you as a best friend and not her love interest.)

But I digress. Back to Savannah’s gym rat ethos. Because her body was so muscular and defined, and she wore so much makeup, Savannah almost looked like a she male. New York had a division of transsexual escorts at the time who were very popular. Often guys would “see” a tranny on Tuesday, a woman on Thursday, and the wife on Saturday. It was like that!

Some men with gay tendencies — and a desire to be penetrated anally — didn’t want to admit to themselves their sexual reality. That or they were afraid of disease if they got with a she male. So what was the next best thing? Bingo! Savannah.

As a result, Savannah became the peg queen of the female escort set. She didn’t really understand why or how this all came about. But I did.

One week, her ad was placed right next to the she males in a local paper. I don’t have to tell you the rest. The peg queen was born. And she ran with it.

I’m not a guy who wants anything up his ass. In fact, I dread visits to the urologist. I’d rather have a root canal than a prostate exam. But there are those of the male gender who love prostate play. I’m (again) just not one of them. But that doesn’t mean I wasn’t curious about the MO of Savannah’s sexual relationships with these “straight” men.

What I found most interesting was Savannah’s attitude about these clients’ masculinity. “So do you do switch sessions with these guys?” I asked (meaning did she fuck them in the ass with a strap-on and then lie on her back and let him do her).

“Hell no!” she exploded. “Once I fuck you, you can’t fuck me!” And she was dead serious. Savannah acted as if she couldn’t understand why I would even ask that question.

Maybe some women enjoy “switching” with the mates they peg. I don’t really know. But I do know an escort who was clearly not one of them. Savannah was not about to 180 into bottom mode once she’d topped a pegging recipient. For whatever reason, once pegged, nobody was going to reverse the roles.