Below are the 5 most recent journal entries recorded in Whores "R" Us' LiveJournal:

Thursday, September 20th, 2007
3:18 am	The Hot Actor A few days went by before I got my next client. I pouted at the house, smoking, eating fruit from the fridge, and looking wistfully at the beige phone that sat quietly on the desk. I was and still am nervous at the prospect of a session, but not having any seemed like a complete waste of time and $7.20 that I spent on the BART rides back and forth. I placed an ad on Craigslist the night before my fourth shift at the house. The next day a man called, and asked for me. He didn't flake out, so when I came out to meet him behind the curtain where he waited for me reading a magazine I was startled to find a very handsome young black nicely dressed man. He appreciately looked me over with a sincere smile on his face. He was a foot and butt fetishist, had requested a sensual playful scene, and I was wearing the works -- stockings, garter belt, a cute teal and black set -- bra and lacy undies, four inch strappy heels, some sort of small dress over all that, and my wig done up in two long loose tails alongside of my ears. I even shaved my legs up to the knee for him, feeling self conscious as I was with my new T-enhanced fur. I took him to The Green Room -- the one that looked like a hotel. The bed there is in the corner, then there is a vanity and a chair on the other side, and mirrors all alongside one wall. There is a minimal amount of furniture and quite a bit of space that could be used for anything from wrestling to pony rides to bondage suspension to stripping. He asked me to begin there. Strip, please, he said. Slow and teasing. I had him help me out of my clothes down to my underwear set, stockings and shoes. I teased, he smiled, we made out and fell on the bed for a little of the old dry humpin'. He admired my feet and I asked him if he'd ever played with strap-ons. He said no, but he was curious. I was curious too. Something about his long lean muscular body, tight ass, gleaming smile and humongous cock made me want to put it in his ass. He also had very sensual hands that felt very good coming down on my reddening bottom. I was definitely getting turned on as well. It was strange to look up and see yourself curved around a strange man on a bed wearing some girly get-up. I was doing a good job convincing the men that I was really truly a girl. Of course. Perhaps they didn't see particularly girly curves, there were still tits and a cunt, a painted up face, and I suppose that was enough. Many a time I thought a client would get disturbed by my clit which definitely began to resemble a small cock, but no one ever asked. It was assumed I was naturally endowed and that was fine by me. Anyway, I never got the strap-on, because he was having too much fun enjoying my painted toes dancing in his mouth and hands. A footrub was an excellent idea. Eventually after the mutual spanking and the striptease and the sensual teasing body contact, he wanted to place me on my hands and knees and rub his condomed dick between my feet from the back, lifted up in the air just enough to tease him with the association of an entry from behind. He rubbed faster and I was afraid of him coming while participating. I knew the rules. I said honey, let me turn around and watch you cum. I'd really like that. I moved and he came into a towel, wiped off, fell onto the bed. I helped him clean up and we laid there together talking about careers and lovers and acting and LA and SF. In fact, his new play was about to open in a Berkeley theater. He said his character utilizes the services of escort agencies, massage parlors and such throughout the play, so he is just doing "research." That was simply the best excuse I have ever heard a guy tell to justify his being with me for money. He was wonderful. When I walked him downstairs I myself was still buck naked wearing my four inch strappy heels and a huge smile. I gave him a kiss goodbye and closed the door behind him. (Then I spent half the day gushing to all the girls in the house about how cute my client was.) (5 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, September 19th, 2007
2:43 am	Sweet Trample Boy With The Hair Not even five minutes of me alone outside with my cigarette, wet tear streaks still drying on my cheeks, mascara smeared, G. rushed out and asked me to take another client. It's an easy half an hour, she promised, he is already here. Trampling in stockings and heels. Okay? Sure. I put out my cigarette, and went inside. Put on a clean pair of thigh high stockings, my red punk doll dress from Hot Topic circa 2000, heels, and fixed my make-up and wig. There I went. The guy was sweet. Short and stocky, with long wavy dark hair in a ponytail. Jeans and t-shirt kind of a guy. I took his money, signed us into the smaller dungeon downstairs, The Red Room, and took him in. He wanted a simple gentle domination. He wanted me to stand on his back in my heels, he wanted to worship my feet and legs, run his hands along the smooth silkiness of the stockings, take my shoes off himself. He liked a little bit of verbal humiliation, so I told him that all he was good for is to be a carpet for some pretty girl to stand on, rest her feet on, prop her pretty legs on after a long day at work. He called me "Mistress," was ridiculously respectful, sweet, accomodating, which was a nice change of pace after the Russian sadist. He loved my shoes, feet, stockings. I told him a story about how if he was my slave he'd sleep at the side of my bed so the first thing I'd do when I woke up is stand up off the bed on his back and stretch. He turned over and came while I was standing on his chest, rubbing my stocking-ed feet all over his face and neck. He thanked me, told me I had beautiful legs and feet, got dressed quietly with a smile, and left. I cleaned up, removing the sheet, pillowcase and the towel he came into, sprayed down the bed and the waterproof pad on it, the railings I touched, took it all to the washing machine, loaded it, and sat at the table with some juice counting my money and writing up reports for the day. $120. Not bad for my very first day of work. (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, September 18th, 2007
6:19 pm	Mean Russian, The First One My first client at the house was my worst one thus far. It didn't even seem that bad until the very end. I lived through it, I was not damaged or traumatized permanently, but I learned my lesson. It was a valuable one to learn. S. was in his late thirties, balding, overweight in an unattractive way, with small beady eyes and sweaty hands. He was a top. Russian, like me, and wanted to have our session in our language, as his English was fairly bad. I was nervous but excited for my first session and ready to be non-judgemental. He asked for floggers, rope, paddles, and I got all of that together and took him to the larger dungeon upstairs. (It is our Black Room. Everything in there is black -- ropes, towels, furniture, bandannas, clips, sheets.) I noted the time on the wall clock and stood before him ready to submit. I reminded myself that this was not the time to go into sub-space, but rather to stick to my boundaries, be alert and not let him do anything I am uncomfortable with. He started asking questions: can I spit on you? can I mark you? can I humiliate you? can I tie you up? will you lick my feet? can I touch your vagina? can I blindfold you? Can I hit your face? Can I slap your vagina with my hands? floggers? I was fairly certain he was trying to push boundaries. Several of the questions had to do with fluid mixing. I told him I was not going to mix our fluids, so no spit, and if he ties me up then he can choose either my ankles or my wrists. No gags. No blindfolds. I was not going to lick his feet, but I was open to licking his nice leather shoes. Then he told me I was supposed to look dumb and submissive and I had too much intelligence in my eyes. He asked me questions and made demeaning comments about where I was from and what women were supposed to be and weren't. He seemed to be getting off on hearing me talk about doing outcalls in hotel rooms and having a black boyfriend with a big dick. I figured it was safest for me to take everything he said as fetish play and not reality, not the true thoughts in his little ugly head. He told me that if he'd met me earlier, he would have taken me to his house and made me his slave. I had a good laugh at that inside. He commanded me to strip, felt my body and made comments about my tits, belly and ass. He liked my ass, but  told me my belly was too round. I told him there are many men who appreciate having something to hold on to, and he surprisingly agreed. He asked me if my tattoos wash off. After about twenty minutes of verbal humiliation and making me lick his shoes clean, both of which I didn't particularly mind, and some ass slapping, he half assedly tied me up to the St. Andrew's Cross and started going at me with the flogger. Now this flogger which I brought out of our closet is my favorite, as it is light and soft but looks just like any other normal size flogger and makes good noise. The man did not know what the fuck he was doing. He swung dumbly and hit with all his force wrapping it around my sides and hips. It didn't hurt, but I knew that since he didn't know what he was doing he was going to leave marks. Yes, a week later I could still see the faint red stripes and dots on my right side. He swung harder and I told him to ease up. In the course of the session I had told him to ease up maybe ten maybe fifteen times. The guy was a dumb asshole. He pulled hard on my hanging belly button ring charm, my snowflake, and I firmly told him that was not okay. He seemed to get it, but then he did it again and I told him I would end the scene if he did that one more time. He pushed me for my real name after I had told him I was not going to disclose that. And where I live too. He told me he practiced yoga and though he was doing mean things to me, I must not get mad at him, lest I "spoil" his "energy." He asked me to not take his energy from him. I gagged inside. Not only did I not want any of his energy, he also didn't speak of energy exchange in any way that sounded sane. He put clothespins on my nipples and twenty minutes later when I told him I was ready to have him remove them, he didn't do it swiftly and gently like my previous lovers have done, but opened one and then clamped it back down. pulled. The sharp pain almost made me hit him. I really wanted to hit him in the balls with one of my nice high heeled pumps. But the session was going to be over fairly soon. I topped from the bottom with my powers of having Mom (our madam) in the house and if I said her name (screamed) loud enough, I'd be safe. But I didn't feel in danger quite yet and he was more annoying and creepy than scary. It all ended with him jerking off while watching me finger and rub my completely dry cunt. As I escorted him downstairs I had to wait in the hall with him for his ride to the BART station. He said, you know there are only two perversions I am into. BDSM and little children. Around seven or eight years old. I looked at him, turned around and went outside to the porch leaving him in the hall with Mom who had just come out. I lit a cigarette and cried. (6 Comments |Comment on this)
5:51 pm	basics about the house The house is a two-story structure with two dungeons, a medical room, a casual "hotel" room and a lounge. There are also several nice bathrooms with showers and one has a big bathtub. For us, "girls", there is the kitchen stocked full of food, a backyard where we grow tomatoes and where I leave my bike, a porch for drying delicate clothing and smoking, lockers, a desk for us to eat on, write on etc, and the telephone area with four phone lines. The phone lines are as follows: one is for clients who have never been there before, one is for those who are more or less regulars, and two for the general use of the house functions. ( Welcome and a FAQ ) (Comment on this)
5:16 pm	Happy Birthday to me! I work out of a house. In the Bay area. The house has been around for almost two decades and is run by a truly fabulous woman. I happened upon the house through a Pro Domme acquaintance of mine and I couldn't have asked for a better situation. (8 Comments |Comment on this)