Letter to a Punter

This was written quite some time ago. I would love to know what my readers think – especially other exited women.

Dear I have no words to name you,

I am writing not because I think you will see this, or if by some chance you do, that you’ll be able to comprehend what I am saying. No, I write as a personal release for the many performances that I had to give to make you believe I was your Happy Hooker.

I was never happy. At best I was bored, at the very best I was relatively safe – but those times were very rare. Most of the time you, and all the other endless punters that had me, were violent, full of rage and hate, and filled with a cold violence that nearly killed me. I was often tortured by men like you.

All of you do not consider what you did to me to be harmful. You would never consider yourself to be violent; you do not think you have a rage against women. You would say you respect the prostituted – I suppose you would call me a sex worker. You think you are a good guy.

Well, I write to say you can never be the good guy.

A good guy would never even think of buying and owning a prostitute for his selfish sexual wants.

See that – you were selfish when you brought me and other prostitutes. I have heard in your excuse that you “need” sex – like it is impossible to masturbate.  No you need a living body under you – even if she is the living dead – to masturbate into.

It is not mutual sex – it is you fucking the prostitute who is stripped of the right to safety, the right to turn you away, the right to say no to any sexual act you have paid for, especially the dangerous and terrifying ones.

You refuse to see, or, if you do see the prostitute’s terror or deadness, you make the choice not to give a damn. As the consumer, you will get your money’s worth.

Now, I would love it if you could just be honest about the real reason you brought me.

Don’t speak to me of respect, of it as a sexual adventure, that you thought I was attractive or interesting, that I would do things your girlfriend/wife won’t, that it was fine for it was not sleazy like street prostitution.

Stop lying and face the truth.

You buy prostitutes coz you know you have complete power and control over another human being – buying a prostitute is like buying a slave.

You buy a prostitute knowing she can be raped, be battered, be murdered – and more than likely, there will be no consequences. You know you can damage her or she is just goods to you.

You know she is sub-human.

That is what you are buying – I don’t care how you sweeten it.

I want you to know that I and most other prostitutes always hated you. Sure we pasted on the Whore’s smile, sure we told you that you were a stud and no man could do what you did, sure we told you we loved being a prostitute.

But know that we lied to survive.

Sometimes, if we flattered you enough, the violence was less. Sometimes the right words meant you just penetrated our vaginas, and didn’t sexually torture us in other ways.

Making you happy sometimes keep us safe.

But in our hearts, we wanted to murder you. I cannot tell you how many times I thought of putting a pillow over your head. How many times I wanted to give you just a small taste of the terror and pain, that men like you made my everyday existence.

We were better than you could ever be – for we did not use violence as you did. You were lucky, for the rage inside a prostitute could destroy you.

I write this hoping it shows you just how hellish you made my life. I am not sure if it makes sense – but this what your hate has left me with.

You gave me extreme trauma.

Trauma from knowing that I had no control or way out as you used my body as your living porn playground.

Trauma from having horrific body memories of all the pain you poured into me, which, at the time, I was too dead to feel.

Trauma from the grief of knowing men like you stole my teenage and young adulthood years.

I hate you – unless you know that you are a criminal – that hate will always be there.

You never were innocent – but you destroyed my right to be innocent.



9 responses to “Letter to a Punter

  1. As always, I feel your words in the pit of my stomach.
    Male entitlement to women’s bodies, thru any means possible can never be reasoned, excused or accepted.
    I will share.


  2. Thank you so much, for this echos many of my own sentiments as well. Thank you for being a voice of change for so many women globally. ::HUGS:: Now, if I can only figure out why this goofy script warning is preventing me from “Liking” this post….


  3. A titre personnel,je ne vous plaindrai pas,vous avez fais ce choix,pour vous offrir des vêtements de marque,des accessoires,en profitant de la détresse sentimentale d’hommes,qui eux ont profité de votre détresse économique .A vrai dire,vous me répugnez,vous escort ,et vous clients. J’espère sincèrement ,que vous retrouverez la sérénité et une spiritualité salvatrice.Tous les êtres humains commettent des erreurs ,mais vous n’êtes pas une victime,à la rigueur une victime de votre sous culture anglo-saxone ,imposé au monde entier,et détester par le monde entier. Cordialement Thomas


  4. Rebecca, please read https://www.facebook.com/callgirlru/posts/1422750844694019.

    This a real Russian woman, a verified VIP Escort, Martina. Her twitter handle is @callgirlru.

    She seems suicidal. I know that she respects you because she quotes you on twitter. Maybe you are one of the few people who can really reach out to her.

    I hate to push this on you. I can’t help her, I don’t know her other than reading her social media, I would probably be just another pig to her.

    I hope you can help her, or connect her with some women who can. Honestly, I have no idea what’s the best approach.


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