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Edinburgh saunas: Police Scotland’s non-legal partial criminalisation regime

Police Scotland are closing Edinburgh saunas so that sex workers will be “safer”. What irony. These sex workers are being forced into street sex work which is more risky, independent sex work which is a little more risky, agency work which is about the same. Or, of course, other massage parlours.

If they choose street work, they will suffer even more stigma from police and the general public. This means police will be less likely to believe them if they report violence against them by clients, partners or the community – just like what happened to @JasminePetite, who wasn’t believed when she reported to police that she feared violence from her ex, who later murdered her. This stigma also makes it more likely thhat these sex workers will recieve violence from clients and the community. Street work makes it more difficult for outreach services and police to work with sex workers – which is a very bad turn of events, considering that street work is the most dangerous type of sex work. They will also find it more difficult to change their jobs (or “exit the industry”) because the “revolving door effect” of being fined for soliciting and then having to work to pay off the fine will keep them in the industry. Criminal records also mean they’ll be discriminated against if they do apply for non-industry jobs. In fact, the stigma against street work is so bad that it’s possible they’ll be discriminated against when applying for some other adult industry jobs. If the police want to make sex workers safe, why not help them get into adult industry jobs which they deem are “safer” than working in massage parlours, for example adult films or agency work or pro-domming? (I’m not saying those jobs are safer than parlours, I’m just saying the police could take the option of finding workers adult industry work which they think is more safe. This would still be state control of sex and it would still be stigmatising and patronising, but at least it’d have, like, a sort of veneer of concern that wasn’t entirely see-through. ).

If the sex workers choose to work independently, they’ll also arguably be less safe because brothel-keeping laws mean that it’s illegal for them to work with a friend for safety. However, in the massage parlours there would have been other workers present so it was more safe. Police Scotland are not making sex workers more safe. They are putting them in danger, or at best simply forcing them to change their workplace or work further from home.

The owners of the massage parlours and any non-sex-working staff such as receptionists, managers, bookkeepers, PR staff etc will also lose their business and their jobs. This is just contributing to unemployment. Does Police Scotland see these people (and sex workers) as collateral damage in their plan to police our sex lives and destroy our labour rights and freedom to sell and purchase services? Imagine the outrage if corner shops, newspapers or accountancy firms were suddenly shut down and people were losing their jobs and having their businesses – which they’ve built up over years- ruined. But, once again, it’s different for sex workers and anyone who happens to work in or own any adult industry business.

Though Rhoda Grant’s Bill has failed, Police Scotland are effectively continuing her work by implementing, if not the Swedish Model, then a non-legotimised, non-legally sanctioned Moralist Model of their own devising. Like the Swedish Model, it appears to be a partial criminalisation, but a criminalisation of sex workers themselves instead of criminalising the clients.  No new laws have been passed to give Police Scotland these new powers. So what gives them the right to endanger innocent people, destroy businesses, ruin lives and disregard our freedom to purchase sex, seeing as Lothian and Borders Police did not feel the need to dominate citizens’ lives so brutally? There needs to be a clear law limiting the police’s power over our personal lives and freedoms, and to protect businesses. They’re not only putting sex workers in danger, they’re taking away all our rigts to sell and purchase sexual services and to start and run businesses. At least Rhoda Grant MSP followed the democratic procedure in trying to implement the Swedish model. But the police ignored any kind of democratic procedure or transparency; they didn’t involve the public in creating this new partial criminalisation model. I wonder what Rhoda Grant MSP would say to this new model – the model of non-legally sanctioned partial criminalisation.

Police closing saunas: http://www.scotsman.com/news/edinburgh-saunas-to-close-with-sex-trade-crack-down-1-3013314#.UfBkB83DsIw.twitter

 
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Posted by on July 25, 2013 in Sex work

 

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To Newcastle

Unusually for me, I wasn’t dreaming of what I’d done during the day, or everday activities, travelling, car chases, being shot at by police or knife-fighting – which is usually what I dream about. One time I dreamed of gun and knife fights in a brothel which I infiltrated, taking out every escort until I killed my enemies and their daughter, then I wasted a load of other brothel girls as I escaped. Joyriding and nicking cars to get away from murderous police are frequent dreams, but usually I dream of mundane stuff.

What I was dreaming of that night was unusually materialistic (though I have had dreams of owning several hundred pieces of jewellery all stored in one place, or furniture made of gold, or a private plane. It was red.) I really liked that plane. Anyway, to get, at long last, to the point: I was dreaming of buying designer heels in Harvey Nichols. And I don’t even usually wear heels, especially high ones. I’ve never had anything designer cos of being a student and, more importantly, preferring to have lots of clothes instead of a few designer ones, so I can easily express my own style. If your style is eclectic with elements of Goth, Egyptian and steampunk, you will find it difficult to shop designer. There are not a lot of designer corsets (for the steampunk look) or Goth-esque clothes. The rest of steampunk is easier, as it is basically Victorian + utility with a dash of military. Cue military jackets, combat trousers, white shirts, tailored silhouettes, empire lines, buckle boots, ruffles and waistcoats.

*Although I don’t wear an Egyptian-, Goth- or steampunk-inspired look every day. Sometimes it’s just eclectic. But the cinched-in waist and layering are always, always there, and I never wear clothes that aren’t form-fitting; I like to look elegant. And the styles are subtle, not costumey.

Anyway, to get back to the Rolanding adventure:

I was dreaming of taking a pair of gold strappy heels off the shelf, looking at them. Then the blankets came down off me a bit, exposing my arms. I felt it, and knew they had dropped off. Then I felt pressure on my forehead from nowhere. I realised a large fingertip was pressed onto my forehead; then it rubbed in tiny circles. I slowly woke up, and thought it can’t be quarter to six already!

“How are you?” asked Roland’s voice.

“Good,” I murmured, my eyes still closed. Hearing his voice had made me remember where I was, and why – a good thing, as sometimes my brain panics when I wake up after staying over at someone’s house, as I don’t remember where I am or how I got there.

I opened my eyes after a bit, asking him what time it was. Then he switched off the light and left, saying “Fifteen minutes.”

I lay there, having had two or three hours’ sleep, and felt oddly refreshed, considering I’d slept just 5 or 6 hours the night before seeing Roland, too, because of general excitedness. I thought of all that had happened the previous night, and smiled happily to myself. Who knew I’d enjoy it so much? He’d said he’d pay me today; I would have to make sure of that.

He came in again and said “five minutes.” It was exactly how my mother used to wake me up for school.

I got up, showered, applied the Bio Oil I’d brought, checked for texts, changed into a red jumpsuit and went down to kitchen, which, as I’ve said before, is a nice kitchen. Magda really has a good sense of style, or perhaps one similar to my own – others may not have liked the style.

Roland got me a coffee. He was doing work stuff on his laptop. I said I’d never been to Newcastle, which is true – I’ve travelled all over the Highlands and (some) Islands but not been anywhere in England apart from a few places.  Incidentally, I got the sauce from Ann Summers in Carlisle. Didn’t think much of their spanking implements though, they seemed too light and thin to use. Maybe it’s what vanilla people think counts as BDSM. I have never understood the attraction of vanilla sex.

I’ve always loved long drives. I like looking out of the window at the landscape, which is usually beautiful in Scotland and a lot of England. As a child and teen, we’d drive 100 miles away every Saturday, to a few favourite spots and some other places anything from 70 to 170 miles away. And I love visiting new places, and taking photos of scenery, buildings, etc. So that might have factored in to me tagging along with Ro, where others might see a drive from Edinburgh to Newcastle as really boring. I said I wanted to eat something but he didn’t have anything that could be prepared in such a short time. BISCUITS, people! Always keep biscuits – or cereal – handy.

“Last night was really fun,” I said. That made him laugh.

“Well I’m glad you enjoyed it,” he said. After a bit he said we had to get going, and I felt that his haste was not purely motivated by a desire not to be late for the photoshoot, which he’d said he could easily cancel if he didn’t manage to get enough sleep. I knew Magda would be back sometime this morning, and I suspected he was eager to be off before she returned.

I quickly did my make-up in less than a minute – eyeshadow, liquid eyeliner, mascara and lipstick. I don’t wear foundation, primer, concealer or blusher. I ditched the foundation aged 14 because I felt I was getting dependent on it and couldn’t go out without foundation.I honestly think that if you’re young, you don’t need a foundation except temporarily to cover spots, dark marks from spots (which I had as an early-mid teen) or uneven skin tone. If you don’t have these problems, focus on getting your skin to be healthier so you don’t need foundation, concealer etc. You can use the money you would’ve spent on foundation to buy a product that makes your real skin look great! ( Did I mention Bio-Oil?) Then I plugged in my mini-straighteners, which I always carry if I stay over, and did my fringe but didn’t straighten any of my other hair.

Roland was running around making sure there were no traces of my presence and that I’d got everything; he worried about my necklace as I couldn’t find it, but I assure him I must’ve just stuffed it in my bag, which turned out to be true. I let him keep the anal beads as long as he promised not to use them on anyone else, so I wouldn’t have to stuff that many things in my bag next time. He kept the Pike book, (The Last Vampire 5: Evil Thirst) to read. He’d asked me to bring it so he could read it and see how we came to be here having this adventure. He thinks the book affected the 10-year-old Kalika and the fact that it’s my favourite means it could reveal things about me which led me to this point/being who I am today.

Then we were off, going down the A68 as rain pounded and the car automatically scanned through available radio stations. I found out he didn’t have a yacht, either. I said “You’re not doing the millionaire thing properly. You should live in a mansion and have a Ferrari and a boat like a proper millionaire.”

He laughed and said, “Well, do you know what happens if you do that? You don’t get to be a millionaire!” and laughed his head off.

My bum hurt after sitting for a while. I told him, and he said he was sorry; I’d expected him to be pleased or amused. Later, I asked him why he’d thought I didn’t like giving him a blowjob when I gagged, and he said it was because I had a disgusted expression on my face. But that’s just because I was gagging.

He told me about the book/film Dangerous Liasons, about a virgin driven mad by having sex with five men, which results in the death of one of them and the public ruining of another. Which is very unfair, as it’s hardly their fault, is it? Incidentally, the day before, in the studio, we’d been discussing the video of the consummation in the brothel and I’d told Roland that it might be better/more dramatic with some other guys in it too (I’d draw the line at 9 others and Roland/10 in all), as long as I get paid 9 times more (whether by him or those guys) but we didn’t reach any conclusive decision on this. Lochlan thinks I’m not ready for it emotionally. I’d need to know that they had degrees, so there might be practical difficulties, too. (Yeah, I’m a snob.)

Roland told me about a time he was on fire from having a BBQ in the back garden, which sounded scary but he hadn’t been scared at the time. One time my hair was on fire from a candle, but I didn’t feel scared, I just rolled and banged my head on stuff. Maybe people keep cool when stuff actually happens. He asked if he could keep my purity ring now that I was debauched and depraved, as he’d asked before and I’d said yeah. I said that he still hadn’t taken my virginity yet. Like I paid £8 for that ring, I wouldn’t give it up after wearing it for a day.

He’d said in the house that my job was to read the AA directions to Newcastle, which he hadn’t been to for four years but he used to go there…so why couldn’t he remember the way? I can remember the way if I’ve been somewhere once or twice, but I’m terrible with numbers or patterns. Eventually we arrived and parked and stuff. I got out of the car and, because of sleep deprivation, I suddenly wondered what was I doing in Newcastle so early in the morning? Roland had gone away to pay a parking meter so I’d forgotten about him. But then I remembered.

 

 

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Childe Roland to the Dark Tower came

In 2009, when I was 18 – or just turned 19 – I wrote a poem which was an allegory of a girl committing a murder while also, at the same time, being an allegory of her having sex for the first time. I thought it up in my student room. I then evolved a series of 7 poems which tell the journey this girl goes on, and simultaneously the psychological journey of her friend Roland who journeys into accepting her even when told about her murder. One of the seven poems was published; it also had a losing virginity allegory and was about Roland’s journey. The series takes place in Edinburgh – especially the Southbridge – and Edinburgh landmarks are referenced. The main point of the series is a psychological journey (for both the girl and Roland) rather than the physical acts of murder or sex. There are also Egyptian references that are less blatant than the Edinburgh references, as it is hinted that the girl is not an ordinary person, and that the events may never have happened/not happened in the way they appear as she is not really  – or fully -in Edinburgh. For example, she did not actually go through with the murder, though her intent was real.

The literature fans amongst you will realise by now that the published poem must have been inspired by Robert Browning’s poem, ‘Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came’. I first came across a reference to it aged 13 when reading Alan Garner’s ‘Elidor’, obviously inspired by the folk tale ‘Rowland and the King of Elfland’ but containing a preface featuring the last line of Browning’s epic poem, which is the same as the title. As soon as I read that line, I felt a sense of deja vu as if I had read the line before. The part about a dark tower, especially. I had to read the whole book – poorly wriiten as it was – because of that sense of deja vu. Years later, after writing a couple of poems in the series, I Googled for the poem (I remembered the quote in full) and realised Browning, whose other poems I’d read, had written it. I also found out about the Song of Roland poem, and Shakespeare’s reference to the folk tale as well as Stephen King’s series.

My own 7-poem series possibly inspired my subsequent story ‘The 7 Nights’, a yet-unfinished BDSM/rape/pantypooping story about Chastity and the pervert Roland.

A few days ago I was reminded of Browning’s poem and suddenly realised that the guy I’m selling myself to, whom I call Roland on this blog, did of course make the deal with me in the Tower (a top-floor restaurant on the Southbridge in Edinburgh). And of course the event was indeed about losing virginity and also about acceptance of doing something socially stigmatised, though not as badly stigmatised as murder.

I sometimes wonder if everything I write is doomed to come true. Like in my first year of uni, I wrote a story about my flatmates but then stopped because some things I wrote came true and it was getting creepy. Then, my extended fantasy about police and government spanking and torture in a particular country (inspired by Lochlan’s holiday there in 2009, the time of writing the poem series) was actually true (though not the spanking bit). Upon knowing it was true, I simply relocated the fantasy to Britain, embellished it a lot, threw in a lot of political stuff and called it ‘The UK Government Torture Act’. Now, with accusations against MI6, I worry that this story is also true, albeit that in real life Britain/MI6 gets other people to do their dirty work for them instead of doing it themselves like in my story. But hopefully the accusations aren’t true. All I know about the accusations is just hearsay – it always seems like if I watch the news religiously it is all unimportant, yet if I miss a day, something earth-shatteringly shocking happens. And no, I will not Google it! I can’t bear to hear about this sort of thing! I will just hope that the next update on this story happens on a day when I’m watching the news.If they’re guilty I will freak out, if they’re innocent I will freak out because they obviously destroyed the evidence/lied and got away with it.Interestingly, in the Tower, Roland claimed that MI6 frequently send people to other countries to be tortured so they could get valuable information from them by trusting those countries to pass on whatever the victims revealed. And that politicians knew about this. He said he knew it was true because he read an article online. This was before the recent accusations against MI6. However, what he said goes way beyond the accusations against MI6, which are only tied to 2 specific contexts: Libya and the CIA/Guantanamo.

A ‘childe’ was an untested knight. Like Browning’s Roland, pervert Roland journeyed towards the Tower to have a unique experience, and once turning onto this path he could not go back, instead moving inexorably toward his goal, then doing nothing except announcing his arrival. Though the journey is really mine, not his. And Pervert Roland knew why he wanted the experience – the virgin-whore art thing – while Browning’s Roland did it out of duty or fatalism. And I move inexorably toward the brothel where the artistic porn film/loss of virginity will take place; perhaps it is my own dark tower. And the loss of virginity, will, Roland has hinted, mean the killing of my ‘secondary personality’ Chastity (the murder theme). Another similarity is that, in the poem series, the girl confides in Roland (a character inspired by Lochlan) that she has murdered – a crime she imagines as loss of virginity/innocence. In real life, Lochlan was the first person I told about selling my virginity, and remains the person I feel most comfortable talking to about it.

The dark tower crops up in a lot of imagery: LOTR (Orthanc, Barad-dur), Harry Potter (Azkaban, Grindelwald’s home), C S Lewis’ unfinished story, The Dark Tower, the film Van Helsing, Stoker’s Dracula…though perhaps a lot of these images were inspired by Browning’s poem itself. Although the poem is depressing, I believe it has a positive interpretation, especially in Roland’s final show of defiance and the fact that he unbelievably succeeds in finding the tower. I don’t think the poem is morbid or that the tower represents death.

The ‘dark tower’ literature evolution

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Childe_Roland_to_the_Dark_Tower_Came

Browning’s poem

http://classiclit.about.com/library/bl-etexts/rbrowning/bl-rbrown-childe.htm

Analysis ( all non-academic, short analyses):

http://www.gradesaver.com/robert-browning-poems/study-guide/section24/

http://www.victorianweb.org/authors/rb/roland/roland1.html

http://voices.yahoo.com/analysis-childe-roland-dark-tower-came-by-5183043.html?cat=42

http://freejonah6.blogspot.co.uk/2007/03/childe-roland-to-dark-tower-came.html

http://www.victorianweb.org/authors/rb/roland/perquin.html

http://www.violetbooks.com/REVIEWS/rockhill-browning.html

 

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Summary of what happened

We went to a cafe and Roland looked less disgusting and more attractive this time, also less fat.

Roland said I’m a psychopath and a very happy person.

I found out he is a millionaire and he gave me a statement of one of his accounts showing 1.6 million which I’ll upload in redacted form here (in another post) and to Facebook.

We did another photoshoot in his studio involving oral (me recieving), a vibrator and the whipped cream I bought from the student shop while waiting for him to turn up;

At 7pm we went to his house where he spanked me for a long time with different implements (hand, wooden spoon, hairbrush, flogger, paddle, cane) and forced me to give him a blowjob; I tried to run away but he caught me so I had no choice but to use the strawberry and cream flavoured sauce I’d got in case of this worst case scenario. So at least it tasted good.

I tried to use the knife and needles I’d brought but he didn’t trust me to pierce his cock; instead, he did it, trying to draw blood that I could suck (as per my intentions). This was unsuccessful. So I used a firelighter to heat up a fork instead, which was a bit too sucessful.

He caned me and then let me cane him, but only too strokes because he said I did it “very hard” though I would call it mild. But I am more of a domme than a sub.

What happened next? How did he end up ‘abducting’ me to Newcastle at 5:45am the next morning? What other stuff happened and how did we feel about it, what did we say etc? And how did he end up paying me and dropping me off in the small area/town that I live, where I could potentially be seen with him and getting out of his car when I was supposed to be somewhere else? WHAT MADNESS WAS THIS?!!I’d LOVE LOVE LOVE to write it now but I’m tired, and I still hurt from yesterday thanks to him. I can’t even guarantee that the ‘highlights’ I just gave you were the most dramatic, surprising or important bits; so many weird dramatic things happened, like me holding a knife to his neck, or the handcuffs wrestling where I squirted him in the face with the cream and in his mouth so he had to eat it…heh. And learning what would’ve happened if I’d told him my tuition fees were 12k, our plans for taking my virginity, his Chastity theory about me, calling Roland by his fake name for three hours as two models got naked, and a load of other stuff, like lying to our families (and others) about where we were, as well as the other sexual stuff we did. I discovered a lot about myself. I think Roland did, too.

 

 

 

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When I first met Roland

The weird thing is, I feel like I’ve known Roland for a long time. I’m very comfortable around him. He was doubtful that it was my first modelling experience the first time he met me and I modelled nude for £100, because, he said, I was very good at modelling and obviously experienced. I know that he was surprised how comfortable I was modelling nude, like I’d done it before. But I think it was because I felt comfortable around him and also safe, well as safe as you can feel naked and alone with a man in a mostly empty building with your phone way over there because you made a rare miscalculation cos you were so busy wondering if he’d possibly pay you for future spankings or sex acts or buy your virginity. I didn’t feel nervous at all about modelling or taking it off. Of course, it helped that he started off with clothed shots and then progressed to taking off layers, so I had time to get used to the clicking, flashing and lights. It is light and sound that can cause anxiety in me, not showing off my body (though I refuse to wear tarty/skimpy outfits even to go clubbing; there is only a certain amount of skin I will show and looking sexy doesn’t mean a micromini with no tights or boobs nearly falling out of your top). So, I’m not Snog, Marry, Avoid material by a long shot.

Anyway he was nice to talk to and pretty easygoing, kinda fun. He didn’t give off the rape-y vibes that some people might expect from a guy utterly obssessed with erotic images of women to the point of producing beautiful art out of it. I’m just as obssessed with erotic BDSM images of both genders, especially guys, but my art isn’t as nice as his. Anyway, he never looked at me except in a professional way and kept skin contact almost nonexistent even at golden opportunities like rearranging strawberries in my crotch. Nor would I inappropriately stare at or touch a male model if I was photographing them either, because of cultural prescriptions for my gender. Only kidding! Of course I would!! (The staring, not the harassment/molestation). There was a notable absence of leering and drooling. So I was thinking, this might work, if he wants to pay me for more stuff after this time. (I’m not saying I was expecting something bad or uncomfortable to happen, just preparing for the worst. And sometimes people don’t realise they’re making the other person uncomfortable – a comment you’d take as a compliment when clothed might feel different when you’re naked.) This was the first time anyone saw me naked.

Afterwards he spanked me which left me very confused and shocked that such pleasure could exist naturally in the world and not cost anything. I felt saddened that we pursue movies, video games and commodities when all the pleasures of Olympus can be found in being spanked. I realised I’d frittered away my life not dedicating it to the pursuit of sexual pleasure. I was dizzy with the need for sex, but I wanted a proper negotiation when I was in my right mind and able to get loadsa money for it. He paid me, including £50 extra for spanking me, and I felt so proud and sick to be so favoured by my god. (That’s not entirely serious – I don’t believe God influences every nuance of our lives; I think he watches, judges, but is noninterventionist, as anyone dying of starvation will tell you.)

Roland had this look on his face like he would fuck me right there, a pure look of lust which I found intriuging. He was talking about maybe Saturday, in his office, with implements; maybe going to a hotel room. I was contemplating whether or not he’d pay me what I wanted. I wouldn’t agree to anything without being paid, and a fair price, not like £500 or some crap. So I wasn’t about to agree to it in this post-spanking state when my powers of negotiation were weak. I also wanted to talk to him about buying the rights to my hymen. So, I was all noncommital “maybes”.

On the drive to Buccleuch Place where he dropped me off, I told him I was a virgin, and he said he’d guessed cos I’d told him I’d never been spanked. I expressed reticence towards having sex with him, just spanking (due to not being sure I wanted to and also to justify asking a high price for sex in the future).

I also took the opportunity to find out a bit more about his kinks and concluded we were a good match. I also deduced from his car and the fact he co-owns a company that he could pay me around 3k/4k. He also claimed to be thinking of buying another car, and made a further claim that it might be an Aston Martin. I was pretty much thinking, ‘this is the one! But you accepted £50 to spank you, how will you justify 3k to fuck? No, justification isn’t the thing, it’s your prerogative to set the price. But nobody will pay that! He can! But he won’t! He will if you convince him to, just don’t act desperate! I’m not! He’s a good choice, though; well educated, and he won’t risk his success by forcing you to do anything. And he did well in the trial run, he didn’t try anything during the spanking and he stopped when you asked him to.And you like him.He’s mine. Just don’t go lower than 2.5k, not any lower than that; we want 3k or 4k. So don’t act desperate, play it cool. He’s mine! He’s mine! He’s mine!

It’s amazing I could talk with all that going on in my head.By the time he dropped me off I knew that if I wanted spanking-only prostitution I could have that with him; and I wanted it. But as for selling my virginity I wanted that too and I hoped my reticence over sex would pay off (literally) later.

I was feeling lightheaded as I walked into the uni library. I don’t usually feel any emotions apart from happiness, which is a constant, but the euphoria of pride, elation and hope that percolated in my blood was as potent as any drug. I thought I might vomit from happiness, it was so intense.

 

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Being a good prostitute

We drove through Edinburgh, and in response to something I said, Roland said “but you don’t have a husband,” which made me giggle because the thought of being married was incredulous to me. He said he would probably tell his wife (they have an open relationship among their friends) and I couldn’t stop imagining myself having a husband. I told him that although I’d always thought of myself as being a romantic as a teen, actually I’d just realised I wasn’t – since the age of 9 I had fantasised about having a husband. However, those fantasies consisted of me being caught cheating and spanked hard by my husband, or my lover being spanked by him. Of course, I also fantasised about spanking my husband (I am a switch). Though unlike Roland, I am polyamorous rather than favouring an open relationship. I don’t care for polyfidelity either. While I’m on the subject of my sexual preferences, I have never really wanted a boyfriend as I’m unable to be attracted to guys more than superfucially; I only want casual relationships and commitment scares me. It’s one of the reasons I wanted the installments – because continuing to see Roland aftrwards is way too much commitment for me to handle; I will need to lead myself up to it slowly. (I told Roland this in the Tower restaurant and he says I’m alternative sexuality). He seems to think my preferences rare. So do I, which is why I am proud of them.

However, there is one guy who I would consider moving in with, so this is an exception to my comitment phobia; he is poly too. Unlike with other guys, I don’t see him as merely attractive or just sex on legs; I see him as a person. Though of course I would never sleep with a guy who I didn’t see as a person; that’s just wrong and disrespectful. The reason I tend to see guys as just existing for my pleasure is that I never get to date the boys I like; the ones I like always aren’t interested or have girlfriends while the ones I don’t like follow me around like bitches in heat. So, basically, I never get to really know guys I would consider hooking up with so never get beyond superficial attraction. And none of my male friends are into spanking, enemas, diapers,pee/poop desperation, torture etc which are my kinks.

Anyway, we’re driving along under the Salisbury crags and Roland starts joking about making a legal contract,except that you can’t make contracts about illegal acts (or the contract is void) and I said “Well, prostitution’s not illegal, it’s just soliciting and kerb-crawling that’s illegal. So we could make a contract.” And he laughed and rubbed my leg and said “Well, there’s the whole ‘moral turpitude’ thing; and this, my dear, I think would count as moral turpitude.” Which was really funny, for some reason. The ducks and swans were flying off the pond when he said that.

“I’m your prostitute now,” I said. “I’m going to be a good whore for you.” We both laughed at that. It was kind of exhilarating – almost liberating? for me; I’m a feminist.

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