Notes on whoredom

I've had a few folks respond to my last post, the line about "I may be a cheap whore..."- and it seems folks are confused about my use of that term.I am a whore.I don't whore professionally as it is illegal, but I do identify deeply with the oldest profession. My mouth, cunt and ass have been for sale. My body has been bartered, traded, sold, used, and also been offered up as a temple, a center of healing, a sacred nexus for finding ones inner self or working through blockages. I have been a sacred whore, a dirty whore, a cheap whore, an affordable whore, a loving whore, a distainful whore, a playful whore.I have issues with the term whore because my first girlfriend was a streetwalker, her legs spread in exchange for another wad of cash into her pimps pocket which became a line of powder up her nose. I remember holding the key to the box she kept he stash in as she thrashed about. I remember her talking about the plans to get herself infected with AIDS so that when she was raped again she could pass it on. I remember, and that concept of whore I hate, loathe, do not condone.But in the pagan community I have met many called to the work of Aphrodite, Venus, Astarte, Bacchus, Dionysus and others for whom the offering of the flesh as temple, with pay or otherwise, is an import act of offering.In the BDSM community I have had a chance to live my fantasies of being a cheap whore.I have a "Whore Box"- a red box with a golden latch, in my office. My whore box contains much of the earnings I have made in my prostitution play. It will eventually go to my tattoo, my marque, each dot of ink an ounce of my cum, sweat and fears. My earnings from other forms of prostitution- the type on film for example, just pay my bills.Many in the world of Pornography insist that they are not whores, prostitutes are anything like it- it is true to a degree. Adding a camera crew depersonalizes the acts, adds a layer of protection in the form of the cameraman. But what about gonzo or Point of View (POV) films, where the cameraman is the john- he holds the camera, he gets fucked, he pays the bills. Besides the fact that the footage may (and I say may because some film never gets out in the world) end up being wanked off to by hundreds of other men- where does the difference lie there except in the fact that the cameraman in this case also gets to tell you what to wear, how to move your face, how to act- something a standard john can do, butrarely does during the acts themselves.I deeply respect women and men who I know who turn tricks as a full time living (or accentuate another career with the cash). Yes, I know a few. Some do their work with a deeply depersonalized role- that theirs is the role of nurse seeing to a simple issue then leaving. Some plunge head and heart first into their own demons through the form of a cock in their ass. Some find middle ground and see clients who are somehow also friends or associates. I respect them all- as long as they retain their soul.My own personal fantasies about whoredom are varied. In dream/real time (which blurs with reality for me much of the time, as I choose to live my surreality) I have been a male streetwalker, a boy used in an arcade, a temple whore, a sacred servant, an owned woman rented out for the night, an independent hooker making her own hours off a black book of high priced lawyers, a brothel worker, a Dominatrix who gives in to the porn BS and actually fucks her clients, a slave passed around, a woman giving horse and pony shows for $20 a head to those who want to watch... and more. The tangibility of cash is intoxicating, especially when money is a lacking quantity in the history of a life.I am an owned creature. I can be bought and sold. This is a role I have chosen... but Furry himself phrased it best that I am "like a dog or horse- I can loan you, train you to a degree... but at the end of the day you are simply a creature that grants me pleasure." I am more valuable the more I can do for him, the more I bring him, the more I live.I masturbate with cash. (here too)I say I am a cheap whore because the term gets me off. I like knowing that people pay me one thing and value me more- I am a steal, a deal, a $100 coat found at goodwill for $3. I am treasured because I am attainable. I dislike being on a pedestal for too long- I wnat to be real, visceral, touchable, tasteable.The quandry with this is that I want to get paid a lot more, as a capitalist pig. And, that those who do not understand my longing to be valued by being approachable end up treating me like my price tag. I am of value. I just happen to get off on being cheap. At the same time I long in my womb and in my mind for a sugar daddy- someone who will expose the other half of my whoredom to the light- the big butch man who will take his little boy out for whatever he wants: gym membership, new clothes, haircut, airfare to milan, rent- all the boy has to do is bend over and be used by the sugar daddy and his friends. I long for a rich admirer- a man with tailored suits who will take me out dressed in my long dresses to the most expensive dinners, pay off my student loans, and fuck me hard up the ass. So far on that last one I've only had one serious offer... but I didn't want to move to South Africa. Egads it was hot though having his hand on my thigh and that longing look in his eye as we ordered the third bottle of wine at the French Restraunt atop the Hilton at Hyde Park.There is a concept that whore is a negative term. Whore is a loss of power. Whore is a role one is forced into. Whore is a line of powder going up the nose of a young girl in 4 inch heels.But what of those who choose to be where we are?Just some notes, thoughts...