I have not been able to write recently, for I have had very bad triggers.
Normally, I can write through and around the triggering, for it more than often is my background noise.
But this week, fear eat at my essence – for I was being by the voices of my managers/pimps.
I can shake off what happened to me physically and sexually, I can shake off that I deserved everything that johns made me do, I can shake off the mental violence they poured into my brain, I can even shake off the guilt that I am alive when so many good women and girls are dead.
But the mental abuse of managers is poison in my soul.
It is the voices that remind how you are nothing but a fuck-object to be sold until wore out.
The voices that say they care about your safety – then send you into sexual torture. Saying after it was a terrible mistake – as that mistake is repeated over and over and over.
The voices saying it your fault if it went wrong – you did not check if he was a bad john, you did not ask for help, you didn’t complain so really it can’t have been that bad.
The voices that call you “girl” whatever your age.
The voices you hear outside the room chatting and laughing as johns rape, sexually torture or attempt to murder.
The voices behind the camera filming cheap porn.
The voices taking most of your money.
Those are the voices that send me almost to my brink.
But – I am not their property any more.
I can only scream NO, NO, NO.
No, I was never a fuck-object. Sure, I may have been fucked close to death by so many johns, my mind loses count. Sure for them and you managers, I was nothing holes and hands – but that was never the real me.
I had dreams, I loved going to the movies, I had family members who to show their love for me, I love Arsenal Football Club, music follow me – I know that if I stayed alive, I would never again be fucked and fucked and fucked.
And if I did escape, I would record every torture, mental and physical, forced into me.
No, you did not give any heed whether I was safe or not.
I know now you managers were lying that they give a damn about my safety.
Safety means nothing when women and girls just disappear, and no-one talks about it. The only way to cope is to act as if they never existed – not allow the thoughts that you will be next, not allow that you cared for them even loved them. Just learn to be hard, and ready for the next john.
Now, every time I write or speak, I speak for those who the managers thrown away.
No, I could have done nothing to protect myself from the extreme sexual violence that the managers profited from.
The managers know those men wanted sadistic sex, wanted it in complete privacy and to have it as long as their money.
What protection is there when those who pretend to care about your welfare will ignore the beatings, the gang-rapes, the constant sexual torturing.
Tell me what good alarms, bodyguards, bad johns lists, health checks and kind words do in those situations.
There is no safety when huge profit is made from supplying “girls” for sadistic prostitution.
No, I was never your “girl”, even as a 14-year-old, I never belong to any manager.
No, I will never forgive or forget that you sit outside the room as I being tortured.
You may never grow a conscience – but you have the blood and guts of all the women and girls that sexually, mentally and physically tortured all over you.
To supply women and girls as fuck-objects to any man who has enough money – it to know there will be violence, there will be mental abuse, there will be torture, and there be the murdering of everything that makes that woman or girl a full human.
You managers hold complete and utter responsibility for destroying her essence – I don’t give a damn what pathetic excuses you make for your behaviour.
No, I was never really part of your porn movies.
Sure, you will see my body in them – but my presence was never there.
How could it be – you were filming my sexual torturing, my state of extreme degradation.
It was profit to you, maybe even a laugh as well – but for me it was terror.
Maybe those films still exists – but I cannot allow myself to care for that way madness comes.
No, even though I hate that I had to do paid sex – you had no right to steal my money.
Not when my life was on the line.
So, to all managers I have known and all I don’t know – I hate you.
Hate that you profit from the destruction of amazing women and girls.
Hate that you pretend you are a caring “employer”.
Hate that you manipulate mainstream media to see as a fun character.
You are drowning in the blood and guts of all the prostituted women and girls who were destroyed for your ego, profit and non-stop hate.