Hookers: Their Lives in Their Words Read online

  I now live near my sister and my new-found family, spending every minute I can with them. My sister has been told everything about my past and holds nothing against me. I live with a good man who knows about my past and it hasn’t caused us any real problems. He loves me to bits and treats me well. And my nieces think I’m the best babysitter in the world, which of course I am.

  Chapter 13

  Rebecca

  Age: 34

  London

  I CAME TO London about eight years ago all the way from New Jersey, USA. I met my ex-boyfriend Kevin while he was staying with some friends of mine he happened to be working with. Basically he was on holiday, travelling across the USA, working in bars and clubs to get extra spending money. We got introduced and hit it off right from the start. A few months later he moved back to London and shortly afterwards I followed and moved in with him. It was a big step for me but not the biggest I would make.

  We had a very sexual relationship and experimented with all types of sexual activities. We would tie each other up and do all sorts of things to each other. We started going to bondage parties, orgies and meeting people with the same interests as ourselves. A lady we met at a fetish themed party invited us to visit a dominatrix dungeon she owned that was doing kind of well for her. We both turned up and were shown around this apartment, which was kitted out with all different apparatus for inflicting torture by Sue, the woman who owned the place. In two lavishly fitted out rooms were chains, a bondage table, nipple clamps, whips, Catherine wheel with clamps so you can spin men around and whip them and an old-school gymnastic vault horse which I was informed was called a pommel horse. There were three young women working there and I was told that not one of them actually ever had sex with the customers. I was fascinated by it all. I asked questions about every aspect of it, wanted to know every detail. Kevin joked that maybe I was looking for a job there and Sue said she would employ me straight away. Even though we laughed about it, I couldn’t get the thought out of my mind. The girls were earning good money for slapping men around. Sounded like the job a girl could enjoy.

  A few months went by and Kevin and I split up over our constant arguing. He was drinking a lot and we ended up fighting all the time. I didn’t want to move back to New Jersey so we came to an understanding that I take on the lease of the apartment and for a fee Kevin sold me most of the furniture and electrical items. He took a few possessions and left to live in Somerset with his brother. Things had gotten so bad between us that while he packed his stuff I left the house for an hour so I didn’t have to see him leave. I was working as a secretary for a large building firm and there was no way my wages would stretch to cover the rent and general household bills. I started looking for weekend work to bring in some extra cash. By this stage I wasn’t eating much and the apartment was freezing because I couldn’t afford to switch the heating on. I loved London and wanted to stay but the cost of living was obviously too much for me.

  One Saturday morning I walked past the apartment where the torture chamber was. It was in a residential area of Hendon. I thought, fuck it, I’m going to chance my luck and ask for work. I pressed the intercom and at first Sue didn’t remember who I was, but after I explained a few things she opened the door. She was kitted out in a rubber nurse outfit and I had to sit down in the reception area and wait for half an hour so she could finish with a client. Eventually a man of about forty-five who looked your typical office type left the apartment and Sue and I got chatting. She already knew that I hadn’t any experience as a professional dominatrix and expressed to me that she wasn’t running a brothel but a dungeon where professional gentlemen can get relief by bondage, discipline and corporal punishment but on no account sex. Sue seemed to like me and said I could start part-time working for her in three weeks’ time as one of her girls was leaving to enrol on a college course. Into my hands she thrust a large bundle of bondage, S and M and dominatrix magazines for me to take home and study, homework I guess. She explained that for the first few weeks she would ‘train me up’ and I would be her ‘maid’ and helper until I was fully trained. At home I read every page of the magazines and began to realise that it wasn’t about sex, it was just that some men liked to be dominated by a woman, to be vulnerable. It was something that everyday life was just lacking for them. To succeed I had to learn to become a good actress and play the part of the dominatrix.

  The first day on the job I turned up a little early and sat down with Sue and the other girl I’d be working with who was called Alice. They explained that it was important to know what the client likes. Is it role play, where you act out a particular scenario that turns them on? Do they want you to whip or cane them? Would they want you to tie them up and humiliate them? It was important to know the customer’s needs, talk to them and find out what they required. If they weren’t sure then I was to let them read through some magazines first and see if something caught their eye. I was instructed in most aspects of the job but was told there was nothing better than the hands-on approach. You must learn how much punishment each client needs or can physically stand. Some need gentle whipping while others are only happy when they leave the dungeon with red whip marks and bruises all over their body. Many needed you to reduce them to tears. No two customers were alike.

  Sue showed me her small changing room, which was full of various costumes from black Nazi to school mistress outfits. She explained that she had a large number of regulars who returned each week that had to be treated well. With not having sex on the menu, it was essential that she kept ahead of the game and catered for all tastes. In her appointment book it was written that a customer was due in five minutes and next to their name the word ‘Nazi’ was encircled. Most customers found her business through fetish magazines and Internet sites.

  Both Sue and I dressed up as Nazi SS officers in the shortest skirts you could imagine. The client turned up and Alice showed him into the room where we were waiting. I had been told to play it by ear and listen for instructions. The man was about forty-five, bald and overweight. He was dressed like a solicitor. Sue spoke to him with a German accent: ‘Today I have something special for you. You will be interrogated by two SS officers. Now take off your jacket and shirt and stand over by the table.’ The gentleman did what he was told and stood by the bondage table awaiting further orders. ‘Helga, blindfold the British soldier and tie him to the table,’ she barked out in her fake German accent. I answered ‘Jah’ in the most unconvincing German accent you could imagine. I picked up a red blindfold and gently put it on the customer.

  ‘Don’t be gentle with him Helga, he is a prisoner of war,’ Sue shouted out.

  I was dying to laugh but kept a straight face as I tied him face-up on the bondage bench. His arms were strapped down by his sides and his ankles were strapped down with his legs apart.

  ‘Are you going to give us the information that we need?’ Sue screamed out.

  ‘No, I won’t,’ whispered the man.

  ‘Put the nipple clamps on him,’ Sue told me.

  I placed the clamps on each of the gentleman’s nipples and he began to whimper. Sue selected a cane with a small strip of leather on its tip and proceeded to whip his bare chest and belly, roughly. The man kept saying things like ‘I’ll never talk’ and ‘You’ll never break me, Nazi scum.’ He was really getting into his role. Every so often Sue would insult him or whip him then change tactics, talk nice and caress his face. All the time he would be sobbing and begging for mercy. After about forty-five minutes, Sue announced that the interrogation was over and the prisoner could be sent back to his cell until next time.

  Suddenly it was over and the man regained his composure and got dressed.

  ‘How much for today?’ he asked politely.

  ‘That will be a hundred and ninety pounds, with no extra for my assistant,’ Sue explained.

  The gentleman made an appointment which Sue wrote down in her book and she asked me to put the kettle on because we only had ten minutes before the ne
xt customer. I couldn’t believe it; forty-five minutes, £190 earned and no sex involved. The customer didn’t even get sexually aroused. Maybe he had a wank when he got home. I couldn’t believe how easy the job was. Not only that but she had at least four customers coming that morning. Alice was already with one customer and was booked up with at least four more that day. The whole operation was earning an absolute fortune. I was earning £300 to £400 for a few days working there part-time and usually that was just a few hours a day. What Sue was earning must have been spectacular.

  She showed me around some of the equipment she had that I hadn’t really looked at yet. She explained that she paid a carpenter to build her the Catherine wheel. It enabled a client to be strapped standing up and spun around, without them sustaining any serious injury. The vault horse was bought from a secondhand shop and you just bent the client over it, strapped him down and whipped or caned him. I noticed various types of gags, from simple leather ones to the ball-type ones. Suddenly I noticed a small strip of leather with chains attached and I just couldn’t work out what it was for. ‘Oh, that’s a cock and ball strap, I have absolutely loads of them around here,’ Sue explained.

  I was looking through her vast collection of tennis bats and various spanking equipment when it suddenly dawned on me that maybe I was required to help the customer into his cock and ball strap. When I asked Sue she just dismissed it with, ‘God, you’ll soon get used to it. By the end of the month you’ll be sick to death of the sight of men’s arses and cocks. You won’t have to do anything you don’t want to, don’t worry.’ At that time I was quite sure that I could stick the sight of the odd bare arse, I could maybe even beat one with a cane or table tennis bat. The thought of some fifty-odd-year-old walking around with a cock and ball strap on didn’t appeal to me one bit, let alone having to put one on someone. I thought I’d just play things by ear and hopefully not be put in that situation.

  We had to rush and change into our costumes as the next customer was making his way up the stairs. Sue was dressing up as a headmistress and I was going to be the head girl. This new customer must have been around thirty-four and was small and skinny, like what you’d expect a computer geek to look like. He was friendly and seemed pleased to see that the headmistress had the head girl with her. ‘You’ve been a very naughty boy, and you know I don’t stand for intolerance in my school,’ Sue said to him in a quiet but firm voice. ‘Strip off all your clothes and bend over the vault horse, Beccy, make sure he’s well tied down and is wearing this,’ and with that Sue hands me a leather cock and ball strap! The client is now facing away from me and Sue motions for me to just hand the leather strap to the customer.

  ‘Here you go, headmistress wants you to wear this,’ I said, handing him the strap and before you know it he’s buck naked and tightening the thing over his dick. It covers his dick but the balls are sticking out and it’s so tight they look about five times their normal size, just swollen up. I start strapping him over the horse and I explain that ‘the head mistress is really angry with you, I’ve never seen her so angry’.

  ‘She’s not going to hurt me is she?’ he whimpers to me like a young schoolboy.

  Sue selects a long bamboo cane from her collection and takes some practice swipes into thin air so the client can hear it swish. I position myself to the front of the customer because every time I look over from the other side I can see his asshole. ‘You’re in for it now,’ I inform the client. Sue starts caning him and unlike the first customer she really lets this guy have it, you could hear the cane hitting his butt. Before my very eyes red welts start forming across his butt. He is crying and saying things like, ‘I’m sorry teacher, I’ll be a good boy,’ and ‘Please don’t hurt me teacher.’ With all the research I had done reading the magazines I knew that the guy probably associated sex with school and being punished. Maybe when he was becoming sexually active as a youngster he found an attraction to his teacher or a woman in power. With that the guy gets an erection, but I don’t get embarrassed. I start saying things like, ‘Head mistress, look what’s happening, he’s being naughty again,’ thinking to myself, if this is the way I’m going to pay my rent I’d better get into the swing of things, so to speak.

  After forty minutes of corporal punishment and verbal abuse I’m told to let the client loose, and I untie him from the horse. Sue walks over and wipes the tears from the sobbing client’s face. ‘Here, come to me,’ she whispers and holds out her arms. The client walks over and she holds him as he cries on her shoulder and between sobs he swears to be a good child. Sue says, ‘Beccy, you can go now, class is dismissed,’ and points to the door. I guessed that some clients needed a moment alone with Sue and to sort themselves out before leaving. As I left the room, Alice’s customer was just leaving and he takes a long look at me dressed in the school uniform. ‘School’s out then love, is it?’ he says and off he walks out of the apartment. Alice is getting the kettle on and Sue’s customer is leaving. With a smile on his face and a spring in his step he waves goodbye to me and announces, ‘See you next week,’ and he’s gone. I’m thinking his butt would take ages to heal from all that caning but sure enough a week later he turns up for more punishment.

  I’d been to orgies with my ex-boyfriend so I wasn’t a prude but the sight of some body parts took a little getting used to. Just like Sue said, within a few weeks it became second nature to me. She eventually asked me to be full-time in the dungeon and I agreed. I packed my day job in and got stuck in and in a short period of time I was able to confidently handle all the customers I was given.

  Sue, Alice and I got on like a house on fire, each day was different and we enjoyed the work. When things got quiet we’d go shopping or looked around the sex and bondage shops for ideas. This was the first time I could say I loved my job. Money was rolling in and the list of customers grew each week. Some of the guys I think we went a little too far on. For instance we had an old ex-Army major who I put on the Catherine wheel and whipped mercifully. When I untied him he just fainted out cold, dropped to the floor with his spotty ass sticking in the air. I couldn’t wake him up and barged into Sue’s room while she was dressed as a German SS guard. She had a client tied down on the bondage table who was wearing a gimp mask and a cock clamp. Quickly I said for fun, ‘Mein Kapitan, we have a problem with the British Army major, he has collapsed under interrogation.’ Sue said something to her client and followed me into the other room where the major was just waking up. When he looked up and saw Sue standing over him dressed as an SS guard it nearly gave him a heart attack. We helped him dress and got him a nice cup of tea and before he left he looked fine and even laughed about being saved by a ‘bloody Nazi’.

  I didn’t mind the dressing up in various outfits and the role play as it was fun at first but I soon tired of it. What I did like was the dominatrix side of it, where I could take on the persona of a bitch from hell. I loved the idea of some guy being completely in my power with me being the master and them the slave. I started thinking that maybe I could open up my own dungeon. Maybe I could turn my spare room into one with my own bondage table, whips, chains and canes.

  By the time I’d been working for Sue for over a year I had saved thousands for a rainy day. I had slowly started buying items for my own dungeon and it was almost complete. I just needed a chance to tell Sue I was quitting; I knew she wouldn’t be happy but it was something I had to do. Before I did make the break I gave my regular customers a card with my number on and told them to phone me in a few weeks for something special but not to tell Sue. Well, I packed the job in and Sue was really pissed with me. She couldn’t understand why I wanted to leave such a well-paid job. I couldn’t tell her the truth so I lied and said I was seeing someone who didn’t like what I was doing. That seemed to do the trick and I was now free to do my own thing. I haven’t seen or heard from Sue since. I gather from mutual customers that she wasn’t happy with me opening up my own dungeon but as far as I was concerned there are enough customers for the bo
th of us. I’m not greedy.

  I put adverts in bondage, dominatrix magazines and on the Internet. I decorated the spare room with expensive wallpaper, lights and carpet. I bought expensive bondage tables and all the whips, paddles, canes, bats, leather gear and torture equipment I could find. Some of my equipment was just cheap items that I could put to good use, like large clothes pegs which I’d clamp onto vulnerable areas of the client’s body. There are combs for dragging down their backs, chest or abdomen areas and feather dusters for tickling their feet once they are tied down – not everyone likes that so I have to be careful who I tickle.

  My apartment was on the ground floor in a very discreet area which meant customers could come and go as they pleased. I had everything set up but for the first few days I didn’t get a phone call. I was starting to think I had made a terrible mistake but one afternoon the phone rang and I had my first client. He was one of the guys from Sue’s and I couldn’t hide the fact that I was happy to see him. I answered the door to him wearing a black leather bra, studded choker around my neck, my shortest black leather miniskirt, black thigh-high boots and red silk knickers that could be seen every time I bent over.

  I knew the guy liked to be submissive and have me dominate him so I ordered him to go into the back room and strip down to his underwear. I wanted to get away from the old Nazi and school mistress routines and be more of a dominatrix with my own slaves. I ordered him to take off my boots for me and to look at my beautiful feet and kiss them. Then I tied him face-up on one of the bondage tables and, gently at first, I whipped him. All the time I was asking him who his master was and whose slave was he. I roughly nipple clamped him and beat him harder with the whip until he cried out that I was his master. Then I very softly ran my red varnished nails up and down his chest and stood up on the table so he could see up my skirt and prodded him in the face with my whip. Next I grabbed a flogger, which is something like a cat o’ nine tails, and I whipped him across his chest and around his dick area. He was crying out, but loving every minute of it. After an hour of various tortures I released him and he paid me £195 and made another appointment.