the who’s who of punter forums

the who’s who of punter forums

I couldn’t agree more. Excellent post.

because i'm a whore

Once upon time about back when local hookers were just beginning to utilise the internet for business, i met a Annie. She was a tech savvy sex worker with an established online identity who introduced me to a whole new world. She showed me around sex industry forums, review sites and advertising options. It was all new to me and i spent hours reading the various posts and reviews engrossed in this ‘client community’. It felt like i was gaining some kind of inside knowledge about the industry, the workers and our clients. As i read the candid comments by the anonymous ‘punters’ as they refer to themselves, I felt like i was getting a true sense of what clients think, a real insight, a glimpse of our industry from their perspective. I was excited to see if anyone had reviewed me, so i searched my name, but i didnt find any mention. I began to…

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Swedish Model

Swedish Model

Of all the anti prostitution laws on the books, most aimed at making the lives of women seeking to make a living as dangerous as possible. Ireland of course chooses the possibility of criminalising the client, or the law more popularly known as the Swedish Model. Which makes it illegal to purchase sex, but not illegal to sell. The idea being to stop men from purchasing and exploiting women. Ha! The idiots who came up with this did not think this through. I have worked in countries where this law is in affect and it makes no difference.

But I have a feeling it will make a difference in Ireland. But not the one everyone thinks. The difference I think it will make is to possibly instill a slight modicum of manners into the punting population.

You must remember that the Irish punter as a whole is a slightly self entitled, xenophobic creature. But they are scared as shit of their own shadows, their neighbours, their wives, mothers, dicks, sexual urges. You name it. The idea of it being illegal to purchase sex will make them more skittish than ever. But trust me this is a good thing, why?

Because fear is a good thing when dealing with the Irish punter. It is shocking how many don’t know it is legal. And far be it from me to tell them differently. But adding the part that makes it illegal for them to buy will have the added benefit of making them even more fearful. Fear makes them behave, well in as much as they are capable of.

Guilt is another motivating factor. But the Catholic Church took care of that one already.

So the combination of fear, guilt, horniness and disposable income will create the perfect punter. Let’s hope the extra fear improves their ability to listen and follow directions.

Guest Columnist:  Molli Desi (Part One)

Guest Columnist:  Molli Desi (Part One)

The Honest Courtesan

Molli Desi is one of the small number of Devadasi (sacred prostitutes of India) still remaining; she and Rani Desi, a Nagarvadhu (high priestess) now live in London and are active on Twitter, which is how I got to know them.  A few years ago Molli was trapped in one of the rescue industry’s many “rescue centers”, but eventually escaped; I asked if she would share the story on my blog and she graciously consented to do so.

Molli DesiI wish to give special thanks to the Nagarvadhu for helping me with this article, which is a translation from an account written in my mother language.  In this short a space I cannot tell the whole truth about all rescue projects, but I think I can expose how structurally and institutionally dangerous most rescue centres are in much of South Asia.  Furthermore, I will suggest that many donors from…

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Guest Columnist:  Molli Desi (Part Two)

Guest Columnist:  Molli Desi (Part Two)

The Honest Courtesan

This is the second part of the story of Molli Desi, a young Indian woman abducted into a “rescue center” under the excuse that her sex worker friends might “traffick” her.  If you missed the first part yesterday, I urge you to go back and read it first before continuing.

At the “rescue” centre (which we only thought of as a “detention” centre) we were told that the NGO had custody papers for us from a court, and that we could not leave.  I think it is important to understand why we are held in custody rather than given our freedom after we are “rescued”.  Most anti-trafficking programmes must have what are called the “Three Ps”: Prevention, Protection, and Prosecution; without cases the NGOs cannot meet their prosecution quotas, and without women and girls in their centres they cannot meet their “protection” quotas.  Many of these NGOs are…

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The UK is Back!

The UK is Back!

Well, this international touring ho, may me lifting her skirt a bit more in the UK, why you ask, because the economy is back!

How do I know this? Is it based on the financial forecasts, the credit rating of the nation, the GDP predictions for the economic growth for the future? The retail index? The fluctuation of the pound against other currencies? The performance of the stock market? I wish I could say that it was based on these more acceptable gages.

No, my conclusion is drawn simply from the fact that I am seeing more coked to the gills clients. Now, why this difference is becoming more apparent isn’t that they stopped using coke during the recession, far from it. The difference now is they are using more coke than before.

Example, when you are called to an outcall to a seriously chic boutique hotel, ushered into a lush suite, and before I can slip into my sexy knickers, I am offered an assortment of class 1 substances, in quantises that if the police were to pop it would land the lot of us in some serious trouble. I am not talking grams of coke, I am talking ounces, and lots of them. I politely declined, I tend to like my drugs in the form of a well made cocktail, or a bottle of good champagne. But I don’t judge.

But the amount that was on offer is what gave me pause, and made me realise that people in the UK had disposable income again. God bless them.

But before I start to get too excited and unpack the knickers, the UK in its delightful wisdom have opened the borders to the EE countries. I personally haven’t a problem with the ladies from there, what I have a problem with is the fact they drive the damn prices through the fucking ground, ruin the market and the clients, then bugger off home leaving behind a mess. Just because 50 quid is half a months salary in their country, doesn’t mean they should charge that for the half hour! Men should pay for the privilege to get between our legs! Not act as if it is a right. The fuckers are entitled enough as it is.

10 Things Not to Ask a Sex worker!

10 Things Not to Ask a Sex worker!

1. Do you enjoy your job?It has its ups and downs.

2. So you must love cock, huh?There are some cocks I love, yours unfortunately isn’t one of them, which is why you are paying me.

3. Does your family know what you are doing? Does yours?

4. When are you going to stop working and settle down?I fail to see why I should stop working at a well paying job to settle down. Read, get married and become the domestic slave of a man. No thanks!

5. Do you use condoms?No, I just hope and pray you are clean.

6. What’s the largest dick you have ever seen?YOU!

7. So, how many do you see a day?Why is this important to a client?

8. Was I good?hahahahaha! Really! You need to seek approval from a paid encounter? And what do you expect me to say? The truth? Not likely.

9. What can I do to please you?Come as quickly as you can and fuck off! Answer 1. Nothing! Answer 2.

10. Can we go out on a date?Why do they think faked orgasms is the basis for a relationship?

Simplicity

Simplicity

Life is simple, but as humans we need to complicate things. And men make the mistake of thinking about shit and fucking up what could be a brilliant encounter.

Example, the client who couldn’t follow instructions, got lost, wondered about the place, then after about 20 phone calls, several verbal dressing downs, lots of huffing puffing and getting lost again, he finally showed up!

Upon which I discovered he was actually a lovely gentleman, delightfully quirky, funny, and had forgotten his hearing aide at home, so he wasn’t really hearing sweet fuck all of what I was saying to him! I could only look at him is utter shock and ask the obvious questions. And thank my lucky stars that he hadn’t actually heard most of what I had said, as I was rather abrasive to say the least. Silver linings and all.