The Whore Diaries

“Aw,” She says. “Poor baby girl, you’ve worked yourself half to death.”

“Mmhmm,” I nod sleepily, I have worked every day since I got to Alaska. It’s noon and I have to get up, even though I just got here and fell asleep in the driveway a few hours ago. Healer heard my alarm going off and yelled through her open bedroom window and my open van window for me to get up, and now I’m laying in her bed and she is smoothing the hair back from my face. I could stay here forever.

“What do you have to do today so early?” she asks.

She is foggy when I look up through my sleep haze, and I don’t want to explain it. She will worry and she will judge and she will make bad predictions that will worm their way into my reality. Her face crinkles with concern as she waits to hear what kind of injustice would rouse me from bed after 3 hours of sleep and 12 straight nights of working.

“Oh,” I say, and pry my eyes open. “I don’t want to tell you.”

She smiles. “It’s okay, you don’t have to.”

My eyes slide closed again and I let myself fall to sleepier levels of consciousness.

The hotel is nicer than I’d thought. A kitchenette, a big closet, a living room, and a bedroom. It’s the cheapest room available in the whole town. The first guy is Jim, and he pays for two hours of cock and ball torture. I’m an intense dominatrix, maybe too intense. I don’t have all the equipment anymore, but I’ve got some handy dildos, a strap on harness, and a hand full of rubber bands.

In his emails Jim said he was experienced in kink play, and now he tells me about it. Domme’s on business trips, sad attempts to get escorts to kick him in the balls when he’s here. He wants it to hurt. He’s all clean cut and professional looking, with a hint of body builder and a hint of gay. His voice is proud when he says that he’s never had enough pain before, never even approached too much.

“I’ll take that as a challenge,” I tell him.

An hour later he is spread eagle on the bed, my garters looped over his hands and around the bed posts. The Iris is buzzing away in his ass, and I’ve got his cock and balls all tied up with rubber bands. Snap, snap, snap. I’ve slid the rubber bands over his cock in a line and I snap my way down to his balls and back up again. Snapsnap. I pull one big rubber band out away from his cock on both sides and let go of it. He is in pain. He is in ecstasy. He loves it.

Before he leaves he tells me about his career and his girlfriend. She won’t top at all, but maybe next time he’ll bring her and I can top them together, he says. I don’t tell him I can’t top women, just can’t do it. I hug him goodbye, take Bro for a walk to visit the homeless guy who throws the ball for him, and lay down for a quick nap.

The next guy just wants to be fucked in the ass. I think he might be more touchy feely than the first guy, who didn’t do anything at all without being told, and I’m not sure how I’ll feel about it if he is. I have all the dildos washed and displayed, new condoms and prettied up lube out before he arrives. He is short, asian, and shy. A hockey player, he says, and he lays on the bed demurely.

“Pick one,” I present him with my dildo collection.

“Oh,” he blushes, “which ever one you want to use on me.”

I prop his ass up on a couple pillows and finger it. It’s huge, so I start with my biggest one. It’s black and curved, and slips easily into the ring of my new corset harness, which I’m trying for the first time. I put a condom on it and lube it up before teasing it around the edges of his asshole until he sucks it in.

I sit up and play with my nipples, watching him writhe beneath me as I pump my cock into him. This must be what it feels like to be a man. In a way it feels powerful, and in a way I don’t get it. He loves it, though, and I keep him on the edge of orgasm for an hour in all the positions I can think of.

The base of the dildo rests on my clit, and it feels great when I pump into him, but not quite as great as the harness I used in San Francisco a few weeks ago. This harness has a secret ingredient, though, a magic bullet. I pulled it out of the little pouch and turned it on, a nice strong buzz. He stared up at me and I slipped it into the little pocket on the harness, right between my clit and the dildo. Right away the super strong vibrations are pushing me closer to orgasm with every thrust.

I grab his hands and put them on my breasts, and his eyes get huge. Gawdess these guys are so much better behaved than strip club customers. The lube is just within reach, and I drizzle it all over his cock, which has been hard since he arrived.

“I want you to come with me,” I tell him, and that’s all it takes.

Afterwards I do Her laundry.

“You know you can tell me anything,” she says.

“I know. But I don’t want to make you worry and I don’t want you thinking bad thoughts and making them come true.”

“I won’t. Just tell me.”

“Okay. I’ve been fucking guys up the ass for money all day.”

“Aw, honey, is that all? C’mere.” She wraps me up in a big hug. “You know I’ll love you no matter what.”

It’s like a fairy tale.

After the laundry I ask if she wants to go shopping. I might not be rich enough to make doctors care, but I can get her some groceries. She has an extra vic today, so she thinks she can handle a quick trip to the store. Just as I get her almost in the seat she remembers her FBI hat. Can’t leave home without it, you know. It keeps the satanists away, so I run back in and get it for her.

At the store she gets in an argument with the guy behind the gun counter about the bones in women’s wrists and what gun I should get. He says he’s retired CIA, and she believes him but still tells him he’s wrong. It’s a moot point anyway, I can’t buy a gun from a store.

The same guy as last time follows us all around the store, staring at us. I give him the finger every time he comes up behind me, thinking I don’t notice.

“You know how it is,” She says. “They see people like us and they just get a hard on for us to try taking something.”

Yeah, I don’t suppose they see me and think I’m an honest girl, fresh from a hard days work of fucking guys up the ass, who would never steal. I don’t suppose they see her baggy sweater and FBI hat and think she’s concerned about protecting them from the satanists. There’s a spot on the wall, here, she told me once. She had a vision and saw where the satanists had held a séance and invited evil spirits into the WalMart.

He passes by us again, leans over her scowling.

“Hey,” I tell him, “would you back off? You’re in our space.” I say it all slow and serious, the way a cop taught me once when a guy was hitting on us in a gas station.

“Oh,” he says smiling, “am I?”

“Yes. You are.” I step forward and he steps back and She calls me over to reach the vaseline on the top shelf.

Right under his nose I pay the peanut butter price for almond butter, just to prove I can.