A Prostitute’s Cry

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If you are into sex, this is not for to you. If are attracted by women, this is not for you. If you have put these two things together and believed that women give you the right to buy whatever them, this is surely not for you. If you are a jerk who gets off after hurting women in bed, this is not for you either. But if you are one of those many men who pay to have sex and think you are doing a mutually satisfactory contract that’s causing no damage to anybody, then you must read on.
That girl in the brothel has met many of you. Probably too many of you. And she has always pondered her thoughts over you. She wonders to her that how could you justify such an act to yourself? Paying a girl for sex. How could you convince yourself and believe that she was happy to have strangers’ fingers, penises and tongues thrust into the most intimate parts of her body? How could you possibly believe that she would be happy doing something you would never, even in your worst nightmares, wish for your own daughter? She wonders, most importantly, how could you look at her and not see her?
Do you want to know what she truly thinks of you? She thinks of you as the “good” client . You are that man who has a laugh with the woman you are purchasing. You are the man who caresses her hair and holds her close. You ask her how her life is. If she is comfortable. Why she is doing this business? But did you ever think of questioning that to yourself? You are the ‘good’ client. If you see a contusion or scar on her body you ask her if she’s okay. If anybody is treating her brutally. The answer to your question would be YES. There are several men who are and if you step inside your bathroom, you will find one above the sink too.
She dug her fingernails deeper into the bed, as you entered into her with rekindled vigour every time you came. She pursed her lips to stifle her groans. You slapped her face as she screamed in agony. You put your arms around her hair and pulled them hard till she was squealing. Her eyes remained closed. You entered into her and pounded on her like a monster until you reached your climax. She is your lust machine. That is what her title is. She is a prostitute in demand. She is beautiful, slim, heavy bosom, and a soft ass. All men want her. Who in her view are scavengers, beasts, and scumbags. She puts on lipstick on her lips for you to wipe off. Her lips are the only part of her body that truly belong to her. Her lips are the entrance to her heart. Her entire body might be for sale, but, her heart is not. No man has the access to her sensitive and virgin heart pounding deep within her numb, wasted body. The men’s’ business is only down under and apparently nowhere else. The men don’t care for her heart. The men don’t care for her.

The truth, that you desperately want to escape, is that you are a rapist in disguise. You are a tender kind of rapist. You fail to see that your attitude and behaviour does not diminish your actions. The harm you are causing to that poor woman is indescribable. But you convince yourself somehow that you are not causing any damage, and you shamelessly use the happy faces of the women you buy as some kind of money. They allow you to buy your own crap because they are helpless. You beheld her naked in front of your eyes and then you touched her most intimate parts and then you hd sex with her and then you held her. And that was the worst part for her. She would want you to know that. That will always remain the worst part for her.
She never liked or wanted to be held by you. She never wanted to be cuddled by you or in fact even touched by you. She never wanted you so intimate to her and never wanted you inside her. Your arms wrapped around her made her want to cry even more. She had to shut out that part because it was too terrifying for her to think of. Every second with you was a lie for the both of you, and she hated every part of it as much as you loved every part of it. You bought the lie that she liked it and she has to sell it to you as that was all she could do. You men can, but you obviously don’t wish to concede them. You don’t the balls to face up to what you have done. It does not fit with your image of what you have done. It doesn’t fit with your image of who you really are. But she knows it very well. Even better than you do.

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