On the game (4)

My name is Izzy. I was trafficked into prostitution for a year and half. This is part of my story. and experiences of that world.

Life can be an absolute bitch. Just when you think things are ticking along the curve ball appears. My curve ball came out of the blue.

I lived in a town 15 miles from the flat I used for prostitution. Hassan owned the flat, and he took me there to entertain his customers. I used to get taken there by Hassan, my protector, my pimp. Hassan didn't mind driving me around because it meant he could make sure I turned up to do business.

The day came when the landlord of my home decided he was selling up. I had two months notice to vacate. It was like the world was crushing me. It wasn't just the hassle of finding somewhere else to live, it was the expense. You have deposits, moving costs, new flooring to put down. You could easily wave goodbye to over a thousand pounds or more.
Finding somewhere was the easy part, affording it was a different ball game. I was making a lot of money as a prostitute and I did have sufficient savings to move, but I was pretty pissed off about the costs involved.
As the weeks went on I was running out of time. I couldn't find anywhere. As soon as I found a new home, it was gone, somebody else had taken up the tenancy. It was then that Hassan made a proposition. I hated the very idea to the core. I knew if I agreed I would be tied into the prostitution life far deeper than I ever hoped I would be. I always imagined I could walk away if I so choose, but accepting his proposal would make that impossible. Yet I was beginning to get a bit desperate.

Hassan offered to rent me the flat I used to do business. He owned it, and he used it purely as a prostitution den. When he suggested it I just thought 'No'.
It wasn't that it was horrible, I mean it needed a lick of paint, some new flooring and some new furniture, but he offered to sort all that and rent it to me as a furnished rental. The area wasn't where I would wish to live. It was in the middle of a predominantly Asian area in Bradford, UK. But it was pretty comfortable and well designed.
But then came the downside. He would still expect me to use it for business. This was a whole new hurdle for me. It would mean entertaining my clients in my own home. even in my own bed. I was heavily into prostitution, but the thought of having dozens of Pakistani men having sex with me in my own personal bed was horrific. I told Hassan "Thanks, but no thanks"

The weeks went on, and the situation got worse. I was running out of time. Eventually I was forced to accept his offer. It was like swallowing a thousand swords. He offered to rent it for £200 a month which was piss cheap really, but I was expected to carry on doing business in it. He said he would get it decorated throughout and replace the furniture. New wooden flooring, I could make it as homely as I wanted, but he refused to replace the bed.
I struggled to figure out why he was so insistent that the bed stayed. I offered to pay for a replacement myself. But he told me 'No'

It made no sense to me at the time, but it did to him. His explanation I found ridiculous, but I began to get the first feelings from what he told me that I was going to be more controlled.

He told me the bed squeaked when I had sex and the headboard banged against the wall. He felt that rhythmic noise added to the sexual atmosphere in the room. He wasn't wrong, it did. I still had to sleep in it though. He was also getting a huge buzz out of knowing I would have to sleep in the bed I entertained multitudes of men on. I pleaded to at least be able to replace the mattress, but no. He got quite angry and told me to stop asking.

I had to accept his ways, at least in the short term, and rent the flat unless I found somewhere else. I was getting desperate. Prostitution is bad, homelessness can be worse.

Hassan was true to his word. He had it decorated, a few minor repairs carried out, and new flooring and furniture including a cooker and washing machine. But the bed remained. I told him in a joking manner that I would replace it without him knowing. He got very angry again at that. I was told "You work for me, you will sleep in that bed, and you will fuck in that bed"

Once I moved in Hassan's control over me intensified. He clearly felt I was in a weak position, and he was right. His demands became stifling. I began to be micro managed. He would still walk in to the flat when he felt like it, and I wasn't allowed to complain. he started to impose rules on me.

Firstly I was told now that I lived here he was going to put me about more. "I'm going to get more business for you" he told me. "you are going to be available for sex at short notice, twenty four hours a day, seven days a week, fifty two weeks of the year".
He wanted to make a video on his phone he could show clients. He made me undress and videoed me naked front and back with a face shot. The video was sent to any men who were asking about the prostitutes he managed.

I was going to go out and buy a load of new sheets so I could change the bedding every night if I had entertained that day or evening. Once again he got angry with me.
I was told "You are treating the clients as dirty, yet it is you that is the prostitute. You seem to think you are above the men who fuck you and pay for your living. You can fucking sleep in the sheets you fucked on."

He also criticised my sexual performance. He told me I needed to make more noise when I was being fucked. He told me to do what was needed to keep the men coming back for more. "They want to feel you have enjoyed it" he said

He criticised my underwear. He went into my drawers and told me to get rid of my knickers and start wearing G-Strings. I told him "They're not comfortable to wear, or practical" He did relent on this point when I told him I needed some knickers for when I was on my period. He made the rule that I had to wear a G-String prior to sex only.

He also told me that I was to officially change my name to 'Shehed' by deed poll. A deed poll is a legal document that legally changes a persons name. 'Shehed' was the name he had given me. "Izzy doesn't exist" he told me, you are now 'Shehed' On that point I was going to ignore him. I called myself 'Shehed' all the time, and was well used to that. But I wasn't going to change my name legally.

I felt totally owned by him, and that point was going to be rammed home a day or so later.

My first client after Hassan's rules were imposed was a friend of his. A Pakistani in his late fifties. Hassan had phoned me prior and told me to dress for the occasion. I put a short thigh length skirt on, a low cut top, took off my bra, and put a G-String on I had just bought. I waited and Hassan and my client turned up together.

"This is Shehed" Hassan said, Introducing me.

You cannot help but look at them in a judgemental sort of way. You look to see if there is any attractiveness. One thing I had learned about Pakistani men was that every one of them wanted sex on or in the bed. There was never one single occasion that I had to perform anywhere else. They liked their comfort. They nearly all liked it missionary position also. I had asked Hassan why that was, he told me that they liked as much skin on skin contact as possible with white girls. There is also a misconception that Asian men frown upon prostitution due to religious beliefs, that is totally wrong. I often found it was a merry-go-round of the same men, and the number of men happy to go with a prostitute was vast.
I was led into the bedroom by both Hassan and this guy, I began to undress. I took off my top and jiggled my tits at him. He pulled me towards him and began squeezing and feeling them. He began to suckle on my nipples before I dropped my skirt and stood in front of them both in my G-String. I began to gyrate my hips in a thrusting motion to indicate what I wanted. Hassan told me to suck him off. I undid his trousers and pulled them down before taking his erect cock in my mouth.

"Ummm, Ummm, I moaned as I sucked on his cock. sliding my lips up and down the brown circumcised shaft.

"Do you swallow baby" he asked me.

Before I could say 'No' Hassan said "Yes she does"

I was mortified. I had always avoided doing that because just tasting the cum whilst licking the dick was bad enough. I knew what was going to happen though. I just knew. He pulled away and told me to get on the bed. I did as I was told and he started to fuck me. I was sort of relieved because I thought he would cum in my pussy.
Hassan was present in the room. I remembered what he had said about the sex noise. So I began to moan loudly with every thrust. As he slid it up and down I screamed in fake delight. He was going at me hard and the bed was smacking against the wall which I knew Hassan liked to hear. Our fucking went on for some time, I was getting a little sore because he wasn't exactly small. but then I made the fatal mistake of asking if he was nearly ready to cum. That was it, Hassan went mental.

"Don't you fucking dare rush a client, he shouted. "Your job is to keep your legs open, he'll fuck you and take as long as he needs, and you'll put up with it. He's fucking you for his pleasure not yours, you're fucking for the money"

I apologised and the guy continued. He eventually looked at Hassan and told him he was going to cum. As soon as he said that he pulled out and straddled my chest, his cock was level with my face. I wanted to turn away because I knew what was going to happen. I grimaced and instinctively put my hands to my face. Hassan came over and slapped me. "Get your hands away" he shouted, "and get your mouth fully open."

"Look at him, Look at him" Hassan shouted.

He masturbated faster and faster as I lay there quietly with my mouth wide waiting to receive my first ever mouthful of Paki sperm.

"Argh, Argh, have it baby" he moaned as a huge jet of semen shot out of his cock and onto my face and into my mouth. It tasted vile, Salty, sticky, and disgusting. I was nearly sick but Hassan told me to swallow it. I reluctantly did as he said. I wanted to rush to the tap and wash my mouth out but I was still pinned underneath the guy, he wasn't in any rush to climb off me. Not only was the cum in my mouth, it was on my face and in my hair. The thought of Paki sperm going down my throat was horrible. I knew though that Hassan was going to offer this activity to future men. What made it worse was some of the semen was on my bed, I felt totally violated.

I asked Hassan why he had made me do that once the guy had left. He told me "it is what he had asked to do. He wanted to cum in a white girls mouth because he liked the idea. It's your job to provide these services. That's why you are a prostitute baby, you didn't exactly put up a lot of resistance to being put on the game.
He then shattered my world, he said. There's a couple of men asking if you do anal sex. I told them you do, You are going to start having anal sex" he told me before he left.

I knew then I was in a darker place.