No Room for Hope

I want to explore the dead emotions of being prostituted.

By writing into that deadness, I may drag back life.

It is and was a time where hope was nowhere, where tears had no meaning, when love was destroyed – it is and was landscape of killing all human emotions.

Emotions only make you vulnerable, make you think you have a future – emotions are pointless when trapped inside the sex trade.

I know many will compare prostitution to other forms of male violence – there are some similarities, but the differences must never be silenced, not by radical feminists, not by those who call themselves abolitionists, not by Leftists, not by the religious, not by the media.

To silence that the prostituted class are not just part of a continuum of male violence, but are part of it and much much more.

The more is not allowed to be known, it has become and always has been the unacceptable face of male violence.

It is a violence without emotions, a crime without passion, cold women-hating.

Everything about the sex trade and being prostituted is to know there is no hope, and to know so deep that every rape, every torture, every bashing up and every murder of the prostituted is never personal, and should be viewed as a crime.

Prostitution is not violence against an individual woman or girl – for she is made not to exist beyond what she in the eyes of the male orgasm.

To punters and the sex trade, the prostitute is no more real than a blow up doll – both are just there as holes for his fucking.

Punters want the prostituted to be silent, to never question any of his actions, never have her own thoughts or dreams, just be manipulated into whatever porn-dream he has.

She may as well be dead for all he will noticed.

The sex trade wants and needs the prostituted never to be individual – they must be interchangeable, must be whatever role gets the most profit, must know they are goods that will be thrown away.

The prostituted class never have the dignity or pride of knowing what it is to be an individual.

How would you feel if you knew every time you were raped, tortured or beaten up it was never a personal act of violence?

How would you feel knowing if it was not you inside that male violence, it will be any other prostitute, for they are all the same?

How would feel if violence was not done by one to five men – but more than 100, more than 1000, in reality more than you mind is willing to count?

Would you feel, or learn to murder all emotions and all signs of hope.

Would your brain explode with the knowledge that no punter saw you, no punter notice if you were in pain, no punter stop even when he pretended to be the good guy.

Would your brain explode knowing all those punters would go outside into the “real” world, and would invisible for they are just so ordinary, so outwardly non-violent and are just normal.

How would you feel seeing punters in the real world, passing by you on the street, speaking against real violence to real women and girls, standing next to you in a pub?

How would you feel as you see punters rise into positions of power, becoming imbedded as film stars and pop stars, see punters speaking up against the evils of trafficking?

This is normal for the prostituted – we live inside a world of silence about who and what the punters.

If every exited woman was to speak out who the punters are it would rip the fabric of nearly all societies apart.

I can speak to small parts of my silence – hoping beyond hope it may open eyes of those who think they know who punters are. I can only know what I know, but that knowledge is poison in my heart.

I was raped and tortured by men of the Left, men training to be leaders in their countries, men who collected the prostituted, men who fought for human rights, men who were students, men who sold drugs, men who were religious, men who thought the prostitute for his art, and of course by men who just wanted to copy the latest porn into a prostitute.

I was used and never seen.

A fuck toy – nothing more and certainly nothing less.

It hurt and damaged me so much that all I could do was to become empty.

But a few punters burnt into my brain – mainly for their hypocrisy and sadism.

I know one punter would lead the local Amnesty International group – which was ironic for he would torture me for many hours, pay to do it many times.

He enjoy seeing me go dead, enjoy how robotic I became.

He told it was ok coz I never cried, never complained – so it was not torture, just his buying me as goods.

I learn from his lies that as a prostitute, i could never be human enough to be tortured.

I was raped and tortured by rich African students who went on to run and corrupt their countries.

I had their sadism, lack of empathy, giant sense of entitlement and lack of self-awareness poisoning every cell of my body.

Through them I learnt to hate all politicians, all Leftist and right-wing politics, all nationalism – and all corruption of power.

I cannot trust politics, just stand outside with my prostituted heart knowing all used the Whore and throw her away.

I was raped and tortured by punters who collected the prostituted as their hobby.

These men saw their torturing and raping, especially their mind control as some kind of art form.

To these punters, the prostitute was never real – she was just a metaphor for his “deep” emotions, a symbol of what make him a man, a canvas for his passions and fucking to go into.

These punters still give me body memories and nightmares – or they destroy any idea that I had an existence outside the gaze of the punter.

I hope this post make some sense.

9 responses to “No Room for Hope

  1. First, You have to get a therapy for torture victims. Secondly, try to leave your country, write this book with some help, and NAME the PIGS! But you must know, that they will try to hunt you down, like Snowden, etc. etc.
    So maybe you have to leave the country first.
    Help the other prostitutes, get back your rage, feel it and fight for your dignity and the dignity of all the other prostituted women and girls.
    These men have to pay for their terrible sadism. They killed you by torture, and they still say it is legal…..
    Fight, also for all the other girls. Anything is better than slowly dying of your memories.
    Name them, shame them!


  2. Yvonne – I find it very strange to tell a exited woman to name and shame punters – for that assumes that we know their names or even remember what they looked like. Most prostitutes survive by not acknowledging or knowing punters – all punters become a mass. We try not to look at them, and having so many punters torturing you so often it all becomes a blur.
    I do have huge rage – but also grief. But as this post explains I could from a place of deadness. I am not dying from memories – those memories are vital for my fight for abolition.


  3. Sorry mott62, I didn’t want to push you or advise you, or tell you what to do…. I guess that is also a form of rape. Sorry. I just would like to help you, but I don’t know how.
    Even as a woman I feel responsible for what happened to you and I just want to stop this terrible business, and I want to stop your grief.
    Sorry, Yvonne


  4. It is fine – I like most exited women have loads of inner strength. We live with extreme complex trauma, but have many ways of dealing with it. Grief is vital for us, for it is a coming back to life.


  5. First, you are a gifted writer. I would read your book and promote it to raise awareness about this awful thing we call the oldest profession. Although I have never gone through anything like you have gone through, my heart breaks and the tears are flowing thinking of how you must feel and countless others. We cannot let this go on, we must fight until the majority ‘gets it’, paid rape doesn’t make it ok!!!! Fighting with you, praying for your healing.


  6. Thank you for your powerful words. I have worked with men and women addicts as a therapist and many had been in some kind of sex work. Some for a short time, some for decades. I heard similar words from them always, including in your response above about your survival skills and ability to distance yourself, detach. I am a leftist humanist feminist bla bla bla as well as a mental health worker. And I was abused not long ago by a fake leftist man who turned out to be a sociopath. He has sexually abused women and men. His favorite social circle – where he finds access to free sex, free water, attention, places to stay, admiration -even followers- is among self-described feminists. I think it gives him a kick to pretend to be an ally and play the game for a while until he has trust, which he uses then to use and humiliate those same women. So I believe and grieve your story, our stories, of monsters masquerading as decent and heroic social and spiritual leaders. What a fucking joke. My respect to you.


  7. Words of power, every time you write. Thank you for opening eyes to the reality so many of us are blind to. Your strength is an inspiration.


  8. hiiii I want to tell you that Im exited too and Im really liking this blog, its like you put words into my emotions and memories, I felt “bad” and still feel “bad” for “having allow it”, yet now I understand that I only wanted to be “good” and was trained that way. I know how the punter shame and blame and abusive personality get stuck in our bodies and now Im working on returning it to them, keep writting, send u lots of love, thank u for writing this


  9. It has been a long time commenting but I read this several times and you are far from dead. You are so alive and amazing that you soar above and beyond these less than men. They are the dead ones, functioning like a life support system for their penises. And they cause so damage, they know they cause so much damage and the scary thing; their poisoned hearts justify it by trying to kill off the prostituted women they use. Your reaction to these evil Left Wing, honour my brilliance disgraceful excuses for men is perfectly normal. I love you so much xox


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