Selling Sex

Selling Sex:

Tales of a Tart

A memoir by

Freya Faust

Selling Sex Overview

Foreword

The Strip Club

The People

Every Strip Club is Different

Stripper Stories

Pornography

“The Internet is for Porn”

My days as a Virtual Vixen

Escorting

The “Golden Rules”

Tales of a Tart

Massage Clients

Butt Guys

Slave Play

Party Boys

Fetishes

GFE

Regulars

Sugar Babying

Repercussions

Physical Toll

Emotional Toll

Life After Sex Work

Conclusion

Foreword

Readers,

I’d like to share my darkest and dirtiest experiences as a sex worker. I hope you find my words entertaining, educational, and--most of all--empowering. Prior to sex work, I went to college for musical theater, worked minimum wage jobs in restaurants, juice bars, costume shops, and gyms. I found myself in a financial crisis and sex work got me on my feet again. No, it was not my “dream job”...but I can say, without reservation, it was the most honest work I’ve ever done. For that, I am eternally grateful.

I believe life is all about storytelling--something many sex workers are ashamed to do. For one, sex is a totally natural thing, no one should feel ashamed; furthermore, I would argue that, in a way, every sexual encounter comes with some form of exchange (ie. time, energy, commitment) what’s so wrong with exchanging money? Additionally, prostitution has been an integral part of society since the beginning of time; they call it “the oldest profession” for a reason. Morals aside, it will continue to exist...why not embrace it, thus find ways to make it safer for the buyers and sellers?

Make no mistake: this is not intended to encourage nor discourage selling your body. It is also not indicative of every sex worker’s opinions or experiences; I cannot speak for everyone and I’m not trying to. I am merely sharing my collection of stories, lessons, and points of view.

The term “sex work” is a broad, umbrella term meant to cover everything from pornstar to prostitute to camgirl to dominatrix...anything that inspiries arousal. This book is divided into three sections covering my time as a stripper, pornstar, and escort in Manhattan. Each section includes a general synopsis of what each job entails along with personal stories. Naturally, the names of the clubs where I worked and individuals I worked with have been excluded or changed; but--just like my tits and ass--the stories are 100% real.

Despite the taxing nature of this work, I am thankful for every opportunity and experience. This industry gave me financial independence, a flexible schedule, and insight into the “darker” side of humanity. I look forward to sharing my stories and, with any luck they will open you wind to the wild world of sex work.

Let’s get to it: the good, the bad, and the kinky...Selling Sex.

--Freya Faust

The Strip Club

Ah, the strip club…

Stripping is a lifestyle choice. The late nights, the false lashes, the smell of cheese ingrained in your g-string after giving some sweaty guy a lap dance...nothing quite like the strip club. Of all the sex work jobs I’ve had, stripping was my favorite. Mind you, I was young, energetic, friendly, and could handle heavy drinking night after night. It was a good fit for me. On a good day, it felt like getting paid to party. With that said, it’s still work. Hard work. 7 hour shifts in 7 inch heels, pole tricks, grinding, fake laughter, unwanted touching, nipple pinching, bad tippers. That’s why strippers deserve to make the big bucks.

I will say, with the right mindset, it can be a hell of a good time. There is no feeling quite like dancing to your favorite song and getting the guys so excited they throw their entire stack of cash at you. What other job allows you to roll around on your earnings, naked and free, drunk off your ass? Anyways...the following chapter is dedicated to the lessons I’ve learned as a stripper.

The People

The patrons range from billionaire to blue collar; true, respectable men to perverts. The thing they all have in common? They want to look at boobs. The frequent flyers are simply looking for human connection. Oftentimes, men will ask for nothing more than company. No lap dance, no sexual favors. Just a drink and a conversation. Most of the time the conversations aren’t even sexual, they just need to talk. It’s like therapy, but instead of being in a boring room you’re in a titty bar. On numerous occasions, men have broken down and even cried to me over the passing/divorce of their wives, their miserable jobs, their struggle with depression, whatever’s getting them down. Some people have nowhere else to go and they know a stripper will listen...as long as they tip.

The dancers come in all shapes and sizes. Big boobs, small boobs, lopsided boobs, perky boobs, saggy boobs, big nipples, little nipples...black, white, brown, yellow, red...you get the picture. Some are there for quick cash, some are there to build a career. Some are the nicest, most hard working women you’ll ever meet and some have attitude issues. There is no “stripper type”. A stripper is anyone willing to get naked on stage. **Just a PSA for all the ladies reading this book: all bodies are beautiful and all bodies make money. Society tells us we must look a certain way to be “sexy” but the truth is human bodies are innately sexy. The only difference between your sexy body and that stripper’s sexy body is confidence. Embrace your sex appeal and work what you’ve got. I GUARANTEE someone will find you irresistible.** With that said, certain clubs favor certain body types or ethnicities. For instance, there are a few clubs in the Bronx that exclusively hire African American and Latino women with the bodacious curves because it suits the style of the club and the clientele. I personally feel that there’s nothing wrong with those kinds of preferences as long as those women feel comfortable and make their money. Same goes for the bars that hire the skinny white girls, like myself, because we fit the “aesthetic” of the club. There is not blatant discrimination in the hiring process. Virtually any woman can walk into any club and get a job if she’s CONFIDENT. However, she won’t feel comfortable working at the club if she’s the “token” anything. Anyways, more on the different clubs in the next section.

Bottom line: all people who go to the strip club are humans just like you and I. The men are not pigs (until they act like it). The women are not trash (so do NOT treat them like it). Always be kind, understanding, don’t judge...and enjoy looking at boobs.

Every Strip Club is Different

For those of you not familiar with how the strip club works, here’s a quick run down. Dancers have to pay the house a fee to work. This can be anywhere from $20-$200 depending on the club. Then, for the larger clubs, there are tip outs to the DJ, bouncers, house moms which again vary. Small, dive-bar like clubs have a stage behind the bar, typically with several poles. A few dancers go up at a time, do a 15 minute set and then go work the floor for the remainder of the hour. Larger clubs have one main stage where the girls get called up one at a time for a featured performance.

The standard lap dance lasts one song and is $20-$30 BUT sometimes the house takes a percentage per lap dance. Other times, lap dances cost more when they’re in a specific location (such as a back room where the bouncer will allow the client to get more handsy). Lap dances are the best way to make bank. Once you’re on their laps, your goal is to stay on until they owe you hundreds of dollars. Again, every club has different dance policies. The most common is the “one foot on the floor at all times” policy. Meaning no straddle. Some clubs require you to keep your top on until the second dance. Some clubs have a strict “no touching” rule; other clubs allow hands on the ass if the stripper is comfortable with it. Every club is different.

Not only do they differ in technical ways, they differ in the kind of music they play, the kind of girls they hire, the kind of outfits they ask you to wear, the clientele they cater to, and so on. As mentioned before, there are clubs that exclusively hire African Americans and Latinos; certain upscale clubs only hire girls with “fit” bodies, fancy gowns, and expensive lingerie; other clubs favor edgy-looking girls with tattoos and piercings. Once again, every strip club is different.

My advice to aspiring dancers: find a club that feels like home. Do not settle. You will make the most money when you’re genuinely having a good time. If the place doesn’t feel right, get out. There will always be another titty bar that is actually worth your time. I have worked at several clubs with all different types of people and I have found what I like. I can say with confidence that “upscale” venues are not for me. Go-go bars are not for me. Clubs that only play hip hop and rap music are not for me (picture someone as white as Pippy Longstocking trying to “get down” to a Kendrick Lamar song...something’s off...right?). My favorite venues are the intimate, rock’n’roll bars where the house fees are low and girls get to wear leather...more on that later.

Stripper Stories

The first place I worked was a Go-Go bar in New Jersey (go-go bars are just strip clubs minus the nipples). I was attracted to this place because they let me choose when I wanted to work, their house fee was $20, and (I thought) I wouldn’t have to go topless. Technically the dancers weren’t supposed to be bearing the nips but I soon found out that girls were expected to flash their boobs when they walked around the bar to collect tips. I also learned that if you dared to glue pasties over your chest--you know, to ensure modesty--the men would inevitably rip them off like bandaids (ouch!!).

The clientele at this place were “handsy” to say the least. Rough and tumble, working class men who wanted to get more than they were willing to pay; by that, I mean guys that wanted to fuck you for $50.

My first day on the job, this man who barely spoke English gestured to take me to the back room. Within 30 seconds his fingers were inside my pussy. I said “No”, got up and turned around hoping he would catch my drift. Next thing I knew, his fingers were jamming up my asshole instead. I let out a squeal because he was violently drilling a hole up there and I knew he wasn’t going to stop. I also knew that the bouncer wasn’t going to come help me. I figured it was already happening, why not just take it and make him pay extra for it later? It was sort of an out of body experience; to be completely honest I felt nothing. I just kept thinking about the money. The song ended and I said “I need extra for the touching”. He gave me $60 for a 5 minute “dance”. That was the moment I realized what I had gotten myself into...and I didn’t care.

Coming from a minimum wage job, making $13.50 for an hour of ass busting work--$60 for 5 minutes was a whole new world and whatever kind of bullshit I had to endure for that was worth it. All of the discomfort turned to pure joy with that cash in my hand. I was ready to sell myself. After all, it’s just a body, right? I went back out on the floor and left the club that night with just over $400...and it was only a Tuesday!

The more comfortable I got, the more I was willing to do. More importantly, the more I was willing to charge. One time, a guy came in, saw me on stage, immediately asked for a dance. We went to the back, making small talk as usual, he told me it was his birthday and that he was “looking for a good time...”

I asked, “How can I help with that?”

He said, “I want you to suck my cock”

I said, “I want a $100 tip”

He said, “Done.”

5 minutes later I was $120 richer.

Easy money.

Another time, this older man came in. I sat with him, we had a few drinks and talked for awhile. He wasn’t interested in a lap dance or anything like that because he couldn’t even get it up. He told me that it ruined his marriage and his self esteem. He went on to say that he missed pleasing women with cuntalingus. He asked if I would allow him to lick me. I named my price, $200 for 5 minutes of eating me out. He agreed. I went outside for a “smoke break” and met him down the block. He came back every Thursday at 10pm for a drink and a taste.

At this point I was making insane amounts of money in “ethical” and “unethical” ways. I never thought twice about offering extras for more money because I was a consenting adult. It was my body and I was making a choice to offer myself in these ways. As long as they compensated me for my time, it was a fair trade. I never did anything against my will and I never did anything that made me uncomfortable. I was also exceptionally good at compartmentalizing. It was almost like they were touching the shell of a person, not me. They could have my body all they wanted; they could never have my soul.

After several months at the go-go bar, I was getting sick of the commute to Jersey and looking to upgrade clubs. I ended up at an “upscale” gentlemen’s club in NYC that cost $300/night to work. They had all the finer things the other club lacked: a huge stage, the best lighting, a DJ, house mom, multiple stories, and bouncers that actually protected the dancers. We went topless. There were multiple rooms where the price of a lap dance was more than the standard $20; there were even VIP rooms that cost $400 per 30 minute sessions (although dancers only saw $250 of that). I soon realized that the men were just there to find a girl to take to the VIP room so they could get laid. Why would you waste your money on lap dances when you can get a pop in the VIP room? Those rooms weren’t intended to be used for prostitution--in fact, the managers threatened to fire us on the spot if anyone got caught--but everyone did it regardless.

Interestingly enough, I met some of the stingiest men at the high end club--which made NO sense considering they were the first to brag about their fat bank accounts. One night, this incredibly drunk man came in and scammed 2 other girls out of lap dances by flashing his platinum cards and rolex watch...pretending to be Mr. Moneybags himself...but then disappearing when it came time to pay up. When he came to me, I walked his ass to an ATM and said, “I want you to get $100 cash, pay my friends, pay me, and then we’ll dance”. He refused and later that night he ended up slapping one of the girls who aggressively confronted him about owing her for the dances. Needless to say he was thrown out. Some people are ridiculous.

I only worked at the high end club for a month because I hated the environment. Yes, some nights I would make $1-2k. Other nights, I would lose $200 because of the outrageous house fees. Every night I was miserable. The “upscale” culture was a sham. The long gowns and overpriced drinks didn’t change the fact that we were strippers. Not only were we strippers, we were whores. As you may have gathered, I don’t mind whoring...but if I’m going to do it, I’m going to do it on my terms. My body, my prices, my conditions.

Finally, I found the perfect fit. It was a no-bullshit-biker bar in Brooklyn. NO house fee, the other girls were friendly, the management was great, the clientele were respectful, AND--most importantly-- they played rock’n’roll. It was basically heaven. The men who came in weren’t looking for a whore house and they would never get handsy on the floor. For the most part, they wanted to blow off steam, throw down a beer, and look at tits. It truly felt like home away from home.

The best night I had there, a group of Japanese business men came in to celebrate someone’s birthday. One of them got a lap dance from me and immediately told his friends they MUST dance with me too. One by one, all 8 of them got a dance and by the time I got up on stage again, I had a whole fan club. They were cheering and throwing cash like crazy. It was pure, unadulterated fun. A few even wanted a second round of lap dances after my set was finished. It was simple, fun, and financially rewarding.

The next week, the coronavirus pandemic hit Manhattan, closing all strip clubs for the foreseeable future. Like millions of others, I was out of work. I still long for the day when I can hit the pole at this particular club again. With every end comes a new beginning, which brings me to my next chapter: pornography.

Pornography

In the spring of 2020, the global pandemic forced millions of people out of work, including myself. For about 2 months, I quarantined and lived off of my hard-earned-ass-shaking savings. Bills kept coming and money kept going. I took to the internet in search of other options. I decided to delve into the porn industry and in turn, discovered some interesting things.

Disclaimer: I have limited experience in the commercial porn industry (you will understand why after reading the following). I hope that my fellow sex workers have better opportunities than those presented to me. I fully support the adult entertainment industry as long as they provide their workers with fair compensation and safe working conditions.

“The Internet is for Porn”

We all know that our wildest pornographic wishes can be granted with a simple google search. FOR FREE!! But is free porn really free? Of course not. Who sees the money? Not the adult entertainers, that’s for sure. It is common practice for large tube sites (such as youporn and pornhub) to pirate clips which they have no rights to and use them for their own financial benefit. These companies are too powerful for the entertainers to take the case to court; it wouldn’t be worth the time and money it takes to hire a lawyer. They have to deal with their porn being distributed without their consent and without them reaping the benefits. Essentially, that “free porn” you’re jerking off to is stolen porn and those entertainers are getting stiffed in more than one way.

It is crucial--in this age of readily accessible porn--to know who you are supporting. OnlyFans and other platforms with a similar format are far better alternatives. The people you see in the porn are in control of the content they’re producing and the money goes directly to them. OnlyFans does take 20% of total earnings which is relatively good compared to other sites. Additionally, there are opportunities where you can directly interact with the pornstar! Many women on the site will make personalized videos where they say a certain name or phrase just for you. Unfortunately, many consumers have grown accustomed to the convenience of stolen goods and will often argue “why should I pay for porn?”

Let’s talk about that.

Entertainment costs money. If you are willing to go to a movie theater and pay for a ticket, or you have a Netflix/Hulu/Cable subscription, or you buy a video game...why would you be unwilling to pay the person who gives you masturbation material? I mean come on...most subscriptions are $10-$20 per month for daily content. Why is that considered “over priced” or “not worth my money”.

Porn is a LUXURY. We are not ENTITLED to it.

The porn industry wasn’t always as accessible. “Back in the day”, graphic nudity was not available unless you went to an adult video store to rent/purchase it. People were willing to support pornstars. As a result, they were well compensated and some even achieved a certain level of fame. Times have changed and so has the industry.

Accessibility is great, as long as we normalize paying for content.

My Days as a Virtual Vixen

Initially, I tried my hand at camming. However, I found the lack of face to face interaction and the long hours online unbearable. I was not willing to invest in quality cameras and novel sex toys to improve my streams...so I decided it wasn’t for me. (Shout out to all the cam girls out there that have the patience and creativity to make a living out of it, I respect the hell out of you!!)

I found a website that connected me with porn producers/creators and started getting offers right away. After providing my ID and a clean STD test, it was up to me to accept or decline their proposals. Every offer was different. One random guy even proposed a POV shoot for $200 (yikes). The larger production companies gave much better offers, but naturally each of them had a catch. Here is a generalized sample of the offers I recieved:

-We will fly you to location X

-We will pay for housing in a hotel for X days/weeks

-We shoot every day, 9am-4pm (with a 30 minute lunch break)

-You must agree to the following:

You are on birth control, no condom, anal sex, gaping, 3 way with another girl, orgy, gang bang, oral sex with gagging and vomit, cream pie, bondage, breath play (choking to the edge of asfyxiation), staged “incest” scenes…

You get the picture: show up, get the check, they own your body for the remainder of the shoot. Yes, the money was good...but is it worth all of that? Personally, I say no. Going into a situation like that is dangerous and degrading, regardless of the money. After all is said and done, they control how the movie is edited, marketed, and produced. It has the potential to make them hundreds of thousands of dollars and the entertainment doesn’t get anything more than a flat rate.

I respectfully declined all offers.

Soon after, I decided to launch my own brand of porn with OnlyFans. I was in control of my content, my schedule, and my earnings. I had a decent following from the strip clubs and I was able to grow my fan base over social media. At its peak, my account was bringing in $500/week. I posted new content daily, ranging from strip teases, squirt shows, dirty polaroids, and sex tapes. Sometimes my patrons would request personalized videos, sometimes they would leave a generous tip on my post...either way, I was making money on my terms.

I have since retired my account because--as you will read in the next section--I began escorting. My OnlyFans remains on the internet to this day as a collection of my finest nude content.

A huge benefit to virtual sex work is the lack of interraction with strangers. “Stranger danger” is real, particularly in this industry. A sex worker never knows what kind of client they are going to encounter...even if you screen them, there is still a chance you could end up alone with a dangerous person. It’s also better than a strip club in the sense that you have to deal with groping and grabbing. The computer screen provides an impenetrable barrier between your world and theirs. You share your content, they do what they will with it, you get their money. Done.

I hope the takeaway from this section is clear: pornstars are people too. They deserve to get paid for their work. The large companies that pirate porn are parasites who have degraded the industry; entertainers actually put in the work, therefore they deserve to get paid more. Support independent sex workers who refuse to put themselves in harms way. There’s a lot to be said for stubborn women who know their boundaries and don’t want to sell out to make a quick buck. Respect and reward them for it! They are (hopefully) the future of internet porn.

Escorting

Without further due, the chapter you’ve all been waiting for: escorting. This is where things get real and raw. I was in a place where the forbearance on my loans expired, rent was due, and I had exhausted my savings. I was desperate for cash and I needed it fast. I said “fuck it” and posted my ad that day. All I needed was (yet another) fake name, cell number, sexy pictures, and prices. Next thing I knew, I was in business. Before I share my uncut stories, I would like to say that--as always--I regret nothing and every encounter was completely consensual.

Let’s start by laying down the law. These are a few “Golden Rules” for hiring your whore:

Read her ad. It’s literally 3 sentences but it answers every question you will inevitably ask over the phone: “How much?” “Do you incall or outcall?” “Are you in Manhattan?” Read. The. Ad. Read the damn ad. Furthermore, if the ad says “I’m only available to come to your place/a hotel (outcall only)” THERE IS A REASON FOR THIS! Do NOT beg her to host. You are not special, she will not make an exception, you are wasting her time.

Cut to the chase--respectfully say what you want and when you want it so you can get an answer right away. Time is money and you must keep in mind call girls (in Manhattan at least) receive an average of 50 calls/texts PER DAY. That’s 50 potential clients. I personally choose who I respond to based on how concise and respectful they are in our communication. If you just say “Hey babe”...that doesn’t give me a lot of information and I assume you’re not serious about setting up an appointment. This is business after all.

Avoid pet names until we establish a working relationship. This is a major pet peeve. I can’t stand being called “baby”, “honey”, “love”, “sweet tits”, “sugar puss”, “dollface” until we’ve done a session. Even then, you’re making me cringe. Maybe it’s just me personally that gets annoyed by this, but the way I see it, you shouldn’t call me anything you wouldn’t call your hairdresser/barber. It’s just a service. I’m simply not yours to nickname.

DO NOT ARGUE ABOUT THE PRICE. This one is so important, it deserves to be in all capital letters. When a woman gives you her rates, it is a yes or no. There are escorts who do the same thing for more, there are escorts who do the same thing for less. Find someone in your price range. DO NOT act like you’re buying a used car. It’s rude and I guarantee it will make the woman you’re talking to hate writhe deep down inside. That’s no way to start a transaction. To compare, you wouldn’t go to a restaurant, call out the head chef and say “I see here the menu says the special is $75. Will you make mine for $50?” Hell no. Don't argue.

When it comes time to meet, your #1 priority is getting her the cash. Up front. The second you see her. Hand it to her in an envelope, put it on the bathroom counter top, set it under her wine glass, whatever...just get it to her immediately. Don’t be weird about it either. You knew this was part of it, just take care of it so you two can get on with the session. You don’t ever want her to think “Aah is this asshole going to pay up or will I have to beg for it”...that’s never fun energy to have. Get it out of the way, you will be able to relax and enjoy her company.

Respect her time. If you book an hour, you get an hour. If you book 4 hours, you get 4 hours. Don’t try to con her into staying longer. I have even cut a guy off mid stroke because he tried to go for a second round in the last 10 minutes of our hour. I asked if he wanted another hour and he said “Come on, baby, you’re already here, why not? I really like how the second pop feels…don’t you wanna please me more?” To that, I held up my watch and wiggled out from underneath him. Certain clients know how this works and they will compensate you fairly for your time. Others try to push your limits and you can’t let them get away with that. This particular guy was constantly trying to get more than he paid for and, after learning this about him, I had to put my foot down.

Don’t assume she’s single and in search of a relationship. You did not meet her on eHarmony. It’s possible that she’s not even interested in commitment. This is her job. You think she’s your dream girl because she is being paid to deliver the fantasy by catering to your every sexual desire. Time after time, clients ask if I would consider having a relationship with them because they think it would be exactly like the current arrangement: they call me, I show up in their favorite lingerie, we fuck exactly how they like, I leave. They just want it for free (ha!). In reality, sex is a fragment of a real relationship; there’s baggage, there’s family, there’s lifestyle choices (diet, exercise, etc.), there’s a future to consider. Chances are, we fundamentally have nothing in common. In real life, I wouldn’t take a second look at them. There is no real attraction. It’s acting on my part. Furthermore, our sessions are about satisfying them--not me--them. To assume I’m enjoying myself is foolish. Which brings me to my next point...

It’s not about me, it’s about you. Do not ask if I came because 99.9% of the time, I did not. THAT’S OKAY. I don’t want to orgasm with clients. For me, orgasms are emotional things, reserved for the men in my personal life (I assure you they are very capable of satisfying me). The sensation is pleasant sometimes...but being touched by some random man who I am not genuinely attracted to is nowhere near orgasmic. I am there for your pleasure, worry about yourself and I will give you my best moans and “oh yeah”. If you try and force it, it will just be uncomfortable for both of us.

I shouldn’t even have to say this one but I feel like it needs to be included: MAKE HER FEEL SAFE. By this I mean communicate, honor the agreement, be on time, listen, if you “like it rough” know your strength, “no” means “NO”, don’t be aggressive or try to intimidate her...respect the fact that she’s putting herself in a high risk situation and trusting that you will not hurt her. Men and women were designed differently. I can say that even as a strong woman, I am easily dominated by a man if it comes down to sheer strength. Please, make her feel safe.

That concludes my golden rules on how to hire your whore. All in all, it comes down to respect. I would argue that these points are not too difficult to digest and put into practice. The best sessions are simple and smooth...that’s the goal, right?

Tales of a Tart

Men who pay for sex are in need of human connection more than anything. They come in all shapes and sizes with different preferences ranging from mouth to butt to feet. Some are too socially awkward for the dating scene, some have demanding jobs that leave little time for pleasure, some are fed up with the “soulmate search”, some are old married men who have lost touch with their sexuality. Wherever they’re coming from, they’re craving to let loose without judgement. It’s a special interaction because they’re not trying to keep you around long term and they don’t feel the need to “court” you. They get to play out their wildest sexual fantasies without fear of rejection. There is a beauty in it. As a sex worker, you see the raw, truthful side of a man; you also see the sick side of sexual desire. The following is a collection of my personal stories.

Massage Clients:

The men who love a good massage are my personal favorites. Starting the session with some sensual touching and sweet smelling body oil creates a soothing atmosphere. They’re enjoying my hands, I’m enjoying the fact that they’re face down not expecting me to “perform” just yet. After about 30 minutes of rubbing...I go down on them, climb on top, and finish the job.

Easy. Simple. Painless. As it should be. A back rub with a happy ending; what’s not to love?

Psychologically, I like it because it eases me into physical intimacy. I also like knowing that I am capable of giving pleasure to their body in a non-sexual way before we get to the genitals. Lastly, I like it because it’s solely focused on them; their pleasure, their massage, their orgasm. They’re not trying to bang me into oblivion. They let me do my thing and leave.

I have 2 regulars that fit this profile to a tee. I kid you not, they are saved in my phone as “Favorite Massage Client (insert name)”. They are grateful for my work and I am grateful for how simple they make my job. I share a special, professional bond with these clients. One of them in particular always takes the last 10 minutes of our session to talk about life. Over time, he’s shared personal stories about his childhood, the death of his parents, family drama, etc. In a strange way, I feel like a 3-in-1 therapist (massage, sex, and psych). I’m helping him in ways that only a whore could and, to me, that is special. To show his gratitude, he always gives me a little extra money and thanks me for working my magic.

Butt Guys:

The polar opposite of the massage guys are the butt guys. When I say “butt guys” I don’t mean guys that prefer ass to tits...I mean guys that love anal sex.

Prior to escorting, I had done anal twice. Both times with boyfriends. Both times were in the spirit of exploration and experimentation. I will say that, when guys take their time and are conscious about how it feels for the lady, it can be surprisingly pleasurable. I 100% prefer vaginal sex over anal BUT it can be done well. On the other hand, when it is not done with consideration...it hurts like a mother f--

When I started selling sex, I realized that there was a HUGE demand for anal. With my prior knowledge and my favorite butt toys, I added it to my list of services. There are a few PROS to selling your bum:

They spend less time in your pussy (for me, the vagina is more sensitive and it’s harder to “detach” from during the transaction)

They can shamelessly ejaculate inside without worrying about pregnancy (yes, I am on birth control BUT there is always that .01% chance that thing go wrong...with anal, there is a 0% chance of conception).

There can’t be pro’s without CONS:

PAIN

Buttholes were not meant to stretch like that. They just weren’t. Furthermore, they weren’t meant to be aggressively thrusted upon. OUCH.

Constipation after particularly rough sessions. My waste crawls back up into my stomach, I swear! One time, I took it so hard there was even blood the next 3 days.

I endure this for what? So some random guy can get off on the novelty of fucking someone in the ass? They say “it’s tighter than a pussy”, “it proves you’re fully submitting to me”, “I don’t have to worry about knocking you up”...whatever. I don’t care about the logic. It doesn’t turn me on, It doesn’t bring me pleasure. No offense to gay men--in fact, I respect the hell out of you for putting your bumholes through that for personal pleasure--but as a woman with a fully functional vagina, I believe cocks were designed to go into pussies and vice versa.

One particularly gruesome evening, I booked a 4 hour session with a butt guy. He wanted 3 rounds, I wanted his money, we had an agreement. I arrive and right away he’s in my ass. No warm up, NO LUBE (yikes), just raw and rough anal. It’s over, we drink and talk until he’s ready to go again. This time, he starts in my pussy and slowly transitions to the ass. It doesn’t hurt quite so much this time (or maybe I’m just drunk at this point). Just before finishing he says, “I want to cum in your mouth. I want you to taste your own ass juice you dirty whore.” I get on my knees and open my mouth...immediately after I bolt to the bathroom, spit out whatever concoction of bodily fluids were in there and proceed to vomit out of sheer disgust. The final round was by far the most painful. It felt like someone was jamming a cactus up my ass. I told him to slow down and be gentle--he wasn’t listening. My body went limp. I was a human sex toy. I kept telling myself “It will be over soon enough. He can’t last forever.”

I left his apartment with $1,000 cash. The next morning, I woke up with a terrible yeast infection that put me out of business for an entire week. Mind you, I am very healthy and I take care of myself so I had never experienced an infection like this. It was my body’s way of punishing me for putting it through hell.

I will never understand the allure of anal. Maybe I’m old-fashioned or maybe I haven’t watched enough porn. It’s no doubt that men experience sex differently than women, but I have always assumed the common ground is pleasure. If you’re set on having anal sex, a word of advice: lubrication is essential, start with toys and/or fingers, go slow and gentle, listen to your partner, breathe.

Slave Play:

Disclaimer: I am about as caucasian as they come: red hair, blue/green eyes, pale skin. I grew up with a certain amount of privilege because our society is set up to favor my race. I have nothing against African Americans or slave play--if it turns you on, I don’t judge--this story is about the individual, not the color of his skin. This took place about a week after the George Floyd case ignited the Black Lives Matter movement; racial tensions were high. When I set up the meeting, I didn’t know I was going to meet a black man or that he had chosen me because I was white. I go in blind, as usual.

When I was new to the business, I was a bit too naive and trusting. In this particular case, I got screwed out of money and put myself in harm's way. This experience shook me to my core and I hope you can learn from my mistakes.

We met, he kept me waiting outside for 30 minutes. Just as I was about to leave, he let me in and right away, I could tell he was nervous about something. I assumed he wasn’t used to hiring a woman of my profession. He wanted to discuss terms. In a cold, intimidating way he stated,

“As you can tell, I’m a black man and you’re a little white girl. You got a problem with that?”

“No,” I replied.

“I want you to call me a dirty n****r in bed. Will you be able to do that?” he questioned.

“If that’s what you want” I said, with a bit of hesitation.

“That is what I want. I also want you to hit me.”

“Okay”

“I want to hit you too. Are you okay with that?”

At this point, I was officially uncomfortable. Nevertheless, I responded with, “As long as you don’t leave any marks, it’s fine.”

“I want you to whip me with a belt too, okay?” he asked.

“Sure,” I said.

“I want it hard. You’re small, do you think you can make it hurt?”

“I will do my best,” I responded.

“I will only cum if you hurt me, understand?”

“Yes” I said.

“Okay, good. I want you to treat me like a slave. I want you to pretend to be the plantation owner’s daughter and I want to take you by force. Will you role play like that?” he asked.

“Yes”

“We have an agreement” he concluded.

I will admit, I was extremely uncomfortable with his requests but I was almost more uncomfortable refusing. He was seething with anger--not towards me specifically--but general anger about life as a whole. Also with the social revolution going on, I couldn’t tell whether it was racist to deny this man of his role play fantasy just because it had to do with slavery.

From there, I requested my payment. He did not have cash (RED FLAG) and said he would send it electronically. We waited for it to go through, but it showed up as “Pending”. I didn’t want to start until I knew for sure it cleared...but time kept passing and I started getting anxious. He claimed that, because his bank was not local, it typically took 24 hours to post. I trusted that it would go through and we started.

Initially, I must admit I was skeptical that racial slurs and physical abuse would get someone in the mood, but sure enough the harder I hit the harder he got. We played out the scene, did unspeakable things, and it felt like the longest hour of my life. At one point, he had me in a choke hold, pinned up against the wall, and he looked dead into my eyes and said, “I could be a fucking murdurer for all you know.” A chill went down my spine but I refused to show him fear. That’s what he got off on. Fear is power.

When the hour was up, I stopped him because I couldn’t take anymore. He was so heated he punched a hole in the wall. I got out of there as fast as possible. The next day, the payment declined and I realized he had no intention of paying me. He was angry at the world and somehow scamming a whore was cathartic. I truly feel bad for him.

Party Boys:

Nothing like a healthy dose of drugs to make the sex part easier. The “party” boys take mind altering substances with you...most of the time hoping you will stay longer and not ask them to pay your hourly rate. As an escapist and long time recreational user, I enjoy these sessions every now and then. I adhere to a few rules for my own health and safety:

No partying with strangers. If they aren’t trustworthy and/or have bad energy, getting high with them won’t be enjoyable.

Take care of business first. He won’t know where his wallet is when he’s high as a kite...get the money now.

Know how long you intend to stay and how you’re getting home.

Anything substance more serious than cocaine isn’t worth the long term damage. I experimented a lot in high school/college and learned what I like and don’t like. I stick to mushrooms, LSD, ecstasy, molly, and on special occasions, blow.

I have great memories with one particular client who shares my love of psychedelics. We put on some good music and fucked for hours and there was something beautiful about our time together. He helped me, I helped him, we got high. Good, “clean” fun. No strings, Sex, drugs, and rock’n’roll.

Fetishes:

The fetish community is SO misunderstood. In my experience, they are regular people who know what they like. A fetish is any specific item or act that turns you on to an “abnormal” degree. I personally believe that every single person has something like that. For me, it’s hair. A man’s hair is everything: it can be long, short, curly or straight..if it’s well kept..mmmh. I’ve met people who fetishize things from tank tops, to spitting, to nipples, to toothbrushes. Human sexuality is much more inclusive than we realize.

In my days as a stripper, I was featured at a fetish party and I was expecting nothing short of a giant orgy. What I got was a pleasant surprise: a group of polite, respectful people hanging out and looking for someone to play with. As people started pairing off, there was constant dialogue about boundaries, ensuring no lines were crossed. I ended up stepping on a man’s face with my thigh-high leather stilettos for money (haha!). He was genuinely appreciative.

For a short period of time, I trained a submissive. Meaning I was his dominatrix, I “forced” him to clean my apartment, hurled insults at him, teased him then denied him...whatever he requested. It was voluntary torture. I was well paid and the sex was not a huge part of his arousal. He got off on the loss of power; the act of submission. His job was demanding and he had to attend to every detail. It was comforting to surrender. Our arrangement ended because the time commitment became too much for me. He wanted an ongoing “relationship” with a domme and I was unwilling to spend more than 2 nights per week torturing him. The job itself wasn’t bad, however, I did not enjoy causing him pain regardless of whether or not he begged for it (and believe me, I made him beg!!).

GFE:

“Girlfriend Experience”

There is a hidden danger with the girlfriend experience: feelings. If a GFE client is not careful, he can forget that it’s an experience--not the real thing. I’m going to be completely honest, these sessions make me uncomfortable...not because I am in physical pain or doing anything too kinky...but because I’m leading a sad, lonely man on. These are the sessions where they want to have a “date”, they want cuddles, and kisses on the mouth. It’s not a bad deal per se, but it is emotionally exhausting. Too many times these are the guys that try to develop a relationship on the basis of feeling a “real” connection. Feelings are never mutual and it puts the whore in an awkward situation.

Regulars:

There is a special place in my heart for my regulars. Make no mistake, it’s not a romantic place...but it is a warm, comfortable place. They make my job easy. When you see someone consistently over a period of time, you can’t help but become part of their lives. One time I signed a client out of the hospital after he had surgery to make sure he got home safely. I help them, they help me. It’s a win win.

Sugar Babying:

For a brief time, I was under the impression that having a sugar daddy was better than escorting. I soon learned that--just like the “upscale” gentlemen’s club--it’s a facade. I’m sure there are exceptions...but I found that these men not only expect a huge time commitment, they wanted a faux lover too. (Like come on, grandpa, be realistic. You truly believe a smoking hot 23 year old thinks your saggy balls are sexy?) More importantly, I learned that, if you’re not careful, these men will try and take advantage of your naivety. Too bad for them, at this point, I was a seasoned sex worker so I knew what a good “arrangement” was.

Of course, there are benefits. You have consistent meetings (meaning consistent money). You get material gifts (which has never appealed to me but it does to some women). You get to see a profile prior to meeting in real life (going in less blind is always good). Society deems it an “acceptable form of sex work. Furthermore, if they are generous, you can get a lot of money out of the deal.

On the flip side, these men come with a sense of entitlement. They expect you to act like you’re in a relationship with them. They view you as a project or investment. You are expected to beat around the bush when talking about money. If they give you an allowance, it doesn’t even compare what you make charging hourly. In addition, they demand more of your time, it’s difficult to juggle multiple “daddies”.

To put it in perspective, a “generous” daddy once offered me a $2,000 monthly salary if I would agree to 3 meetings per week. That’s 12 meetings per month at about $166 per meeting. He expected multiple hours per meeting, including dinners, dates, events, and so on. As an escort, I charge $300 per hour and $1,000 overnight. I typically make $2,000 per week working 2-3 days. When I tried to negotiate, he got aggressive and accused me of being a gold digger. To that, I said “You’re damn straight. My time is valuable and if you’re not willing to make it worth my while, you can find another girl.”

I’m including this story because I think it teaches an important lesson: a rich man is not always a generous man. In fact, some of my most generous clients have been middle class guys who understand what it’s like to struggle to build wealth. If you have a goal in mind, there are many ways to get there. Always weigh out your options before settling. Just because society deems a certain kind of exchange “classier” than another, it doesn’t mean it will be more beneficial in the end. Everyone is unique and if you trust your intuition, the right opportunities will present themselves. Finally, never let anyone give you less than you deserve. You decide what you’re worth, not them. If they can’t see it, someone else will. Don’t waste another second on them.

Wrapping It Up

As you can see, every encounter is different. Sex work is either the best job or the worst job. Chances are, you won’t know how it’s going to go until after the fact. That’s why you must have a sense of humour; don’t take anything too seriously.

I would like to point out that decriminalization would help us work safer and smarter. We would be able to screen clients to ensure safety and have some sort of legal protection. In turn, a lot of tragedies would be avoided. If you’ve watched any sort of crime show, you know that sex workers are often the target of violent crimes. It’s a “high risk” job. Despite it’s risky nature, we are people too and we deserve to be safe at our job. One doesn’t have to morally agree with the business to acknowledge that it will exist regardless of the legal terms. As long as dicks get hard and pussies get wet, sex will be bought and sold. It’s the oldest profession and it will be the longest running profession...let’s make it a safer one.

Repercussions

It’s no news that every job takes a toll on the body and soul. Secretaries sacrifice their shoulders and wrists sitting and typing all day; construction workers ruin their joints lifting heavy things; waiters ruin their feet during long shifts; sex workers sacrifice the most delicate, intimate parts of ourselves to get the job done. Naturally, it all depends on the specific type of work you’re doing. Strippers take more damage to the overall body whereas prostitutes take it more in the “hot spots”. The body is sensitive to everything that we put it through. This section examines taxing nature of sex work, physical and mental.

Physical Toll

During my days as a stripper, I endured the most physical damage. The pole bruised my legs from top to bottom, the sky high pleasers made my toes cramp up, the hours of lap dancing left my hips sore. My biggest issue was pacing myself. As a naturally energetic person who genuinely loved dancing, I’d give it my all...all night long. In the moment, I wouldn’t feel a thing. There was loud music, the money was flying, I was drunk, it was a good time! The next morning, my body was trashed. I was a hungover, bruised, sore, mess of a person; completely incapable of accomplishing anything.

Escorting was far less physically taxing. I would even dare to say it improved my physical health! In order to pay the bills, I only had to work 3 hours per week. Mind you, I would typically do more...but I didn’t have to. This gave me time and money to invest in my health. I could afford vitamins, organic groceries; I was getting an adequate amount of sleep and exercising daily. Certain aspects of my health flourished!

With the good comes the bad. Having sex with multiple partners is risky and definintly took a toll on my feminine health. For one thing, I had to go on the pill. For those of you who don’t know...artificial hormones aren’t compatible with every woman’s internal chemistry. Since puberty, I have tried 5 different brands of oral contraceptives and each of them made me nauseous, moody, gain weight...one particular brand made me hemmorage for 2 weeks straight, causing severe anemia. I don’t have insurance and cannot afford other forms of birth control and don’t like the idea of having a foreign object implanted into my uterus. Condoms are simply not reliable and, as everyone knows, men are babies when it comes to wrapping it up. (Sidenote: I only allow clients to go ditch the condom if they can provide a clean STD test. They would rather spend time and money getting a test than use a condom...crazy, right?) Anyways, I suffer through the artifical horomones because, I have learned, men who pay for sex feel entitled to finish inside of you. Not a single one will ask whether or not you’re on birth control. They just do it. Personally, I loathe the feeling. Especially when the man clearly doesn’t take care of himself in terms of diet and exercise. There are times when the semen smells like cheeseburgers. Nasty.

On the bright side, I’ve avoided pregnancy and managed to stay STD free.

There are a few other nasty side effects. Anal, in particular, always leaves me sore and constipated. Rough sessions hurt my lower back and hips. I’ve even pinched a nerve in my neck while giving head. Overuse of my vagina has resulted in yeast infections, UTI’s, and vaginal dryness. These things I had never experienced before sex work. In fact, I thought pain during intercourse was a myth until I felt it for myself. The fact is, if you’re not properly lubricated and you’re not aroused by whomever is touching you...forcing yourself to have sex will be painful. You can decide to do it mentally, but your body cannot lie.

With that said, it was still a choice. These were the consequences.

Emotional Toll

(Please read the following statement like a “toxic man”, thanks.)

“Women in your line of work hate men.”

To that, I respond, “We don’t hate men...we refuse to take a man’s shit, that’s all.”

As a heterosexual woman, I wish I could hate men. In my personal life, men are my weakness. I know too many good ones to categorize them all as swine. Of course they drive me crazy and there are things I will never understand. Likewise, there are things they will never understand about women. That is the yin and yang of a man and woman relationship. When you find a “good guy” who loves you for your spirit and treats you with respect and care, it is the most powerful thing in the world.

Not all men are good and not all men are bad--it’s up to you to distinguish the two. Decide how you want to be treated and go from there. Sex work made me see that we don’t have to put up with bullshit that doesn’t serve us. Pre-prostitution, I was a people pleaser. Especially when it came to men. I would bend over backwards for unworthy snakes. I wanted validation, I wanted to be liked, I wanted to submit...even if the man had nothing to offer me.

Once I realized that not everyone is worth my time and energy, I stopped caring. I realized that I am valuable; they want what I have to offer. Therefore, I am in control of whether or not they get a piece. They have to ask nicely, treat me with respect, and make it worth my while to even get a second thought. If they can’t meet my standards, they can fuck right off. My time is too valuable for games. For every man that makes your job hard, there is a man that will make your job easy...be patient and wait for him.

In the business you must stand your ground or else you’ll get taken for a ride. For this reason, I’ve changed the way I interact with men. If that makes me “sour” or “jaded” I’ll take it as a compliment. I am far more confident, direct, assertive, and powerful than I was before. If you’ve got a problem with that, there’s a good chance you’re the problem.

I’ll conclude this section up with a word about my self-esteem issues (it wouldn’t be a sex work memoir if I didn’t). At my best, I feel like the goddess of orgasm inspiration. At my worst, I feel like a “cum-sack”. It’s easy to slip into self loathing and depressive episodes. Especially when you’re genetically predisposed to depression and anxiety like myself. To add fuel to the fire, I tend to self medicate with wine and weed. Neither of these things are bad in moderation--what I do is not moderation. It's a means to an end; a way for me to further disassociate from the things I’m doing to my body. If I can’t divorce reality, it eats me alive.

Yes, what I do is consensual. Yes, it’s a choice. Yes, I have a certain amount of control. No, I do not want random men touching my genitals. No little girl dreams of being a whore when she grows up. All of us long for romantic love, a caring partner, someone who truly gives a damn about us. I never wanted to be a live sex toy, a cum-sack, a piece of ass. I am a woman who found myself in a situation where my best option was selling sex.

Life After Selling Sex

Getting into the game is easy. Getting out? That's the trick.

I’ve worked minimum wage jobs. I can honestly say I’d rather fuck for money. The amount of soul-sucking hours you have to put in for the meager paycheck is downright criminal. If you ask me, that’s why women turn to selling sex. It’s not because we’re not capable of doing a “real” job. Trust me, before someone chooses to sell their body, they weigh out every option. If the best way to make ends meet while either taking care of a family, going to school, or simply having a life outside of work is selling sex, something is wrong with the system. Then once you’re in, you’re in. Transitioning to any other field is difficult and you must be willing to sacrifice money and freedom.

Additionally, the stigma surrounding sex work eliminates a variety of “respectable” jobs. Anything that involves working with children is off the table. Anything in politics, not an option. If there’s a background check of any sort, you’re screwed. The list goes on. Sex workers have such a difficult time transitioning because that suspicious gap in their resume is grounds for interrogation. It’s easy to lie to employers, but if the wrong people find out the truth, you could lose everything in an instant.

The reality is, no other entry level job allows you to be your own boss, design your own schedule, and meet your financial goals the way that sex work does. Our society simply isn’t structured like that. Even if the job is tearing a hole in your soul, can you find a better way to sustain yourself? How do you escape for good?

If you’re lucky, you figure out how to work for yourself in a different way. Maybe you start a business or have a degree to fall back on. Perhaps you’ve found something else that will meet your needs. Yes, it will likely be a pay cut, but at least you’ll be out of the game.

If you’re like me, you don’t have a clue. You feel trapped. I’m currently figuring this one out for myself. I hit a point where the lifestyle of a sex worker is no longer sustainable. I don’t like the path I’m going down and I certainly don’t want to see myself here in 10 years. My anxiety and depression escalated to the point where I'd nervously pack my schedule and then cancel everything because I couldn’t get out of bed. I was drinking a bottle of wine a day just to go on a call because I couldn’t stand the reality of it.

The past month, I cleared my schedule, sobered up, and did some soul searching. I still don’t have all the answers...or any answers really. The one thing that’s crystal clear? Something has to change. While I figure out the details, I’m seeing a few regulars (the easy ones) and surrounding myself with people who care about me. Writing this memoir has been incredibly therapeutic. My mind was cluttered and this helped clear it up. It also materialized the things I wish I had read before pursuing sex work. I’m not saying it’s innately bad, in fact, it gave me many good things. Like everything else, it’s a double edged sword and it’s better to go into it with eyes wide opened.

I don’t know what my future holds, but I know everything will be okay. Life doesn’t come with a road map. We’re simply given circumstances; we make choices; we live with the repercussions. The circumstances change and we make new choices and live with those repercussions. The cycle goes on and on and on. We may not control the circumstances or their repercussions--but we can make better choices. When the choices get better, the repercussions get better, then the circumstances get better, then our lives get better. It all comes down to our choices. From now on, I’m choosing to do better, to be better. For the first time in my life, I believe that I deserve the best. The only way to make that my reality is to choose wisely. Learning that lesson is the key to growth.

Conclusion

Thank you for reading my story. Perhaps you’ve always been curious about the world of sex work or maybe you’re considering a job in the field. Whatever compelled you to pick up this book, I hope my words have inspired you. I’ve said it once, I’ll say it again: I write from what I know; my experiences are uniquely mine. Please develop your own opinions on the subject matter. If something in this book lights you up, do more research! Don’t be afraid to dive in head first. That’s how you live and learn. Everything is a lesson and everyone is a teacher. I am grateful for every single person who taught me a thing or two about life...no matter how painful it was. If you take away one thing from my story, please let it be this: answer to yourself and no one else. People will try to devalue you, manipulate you, make you feel like less than you are--don’t give their words power. The only opinion that matters is the one you hold of yourself. Live your truth. Embrace the power that is innately inside you. If you can do that, you’ll be unstoppable.

-Freya Faust