Another day, another sports star accused of rape: Lawrence Taylor, a former football player for the New York Giants, was arrested today for allegedly sexually assaulting a 15-year-old girl. The girl, whose identity will likely be kept secret because of her young age, was allegedly prostituted out by a pimp at a Holiday Inn in Suffern, New York. Police say the victim, a teen runaway from Bronx, New York, missing since March, was also allegedly beaten during the liaison, although it’s unclear who the beating came from. The girl reportedly texted her uncle while her pimp was driving back to the Bronx and he called the police, who intercepted the car. The teen was taken to a hospital, where she was treated for a punch to her face and given a rape examination. Taylor, who has had numerous past run-ins with the law involving drugs, will be charged with third-degree rape, which includes charges of sex with a minor. Keep reading »
The following is an excerpt from Whip Smart: A Memoir, by Melissa Febos, who we recently interviewed about her four years working as a dominatrix at a New York City dungeon. Here, Febos is about to have her very first “domination session” with a male client at the dungeon, for which she is being paid $75.
An hour can be a long time. Hell, a minute can be a long time. The minute before your first kiss with someone is a painstaking collection of seconds, each one more bloated with anticipation than the last. The first minute of a tattoo is a long one as well. Pain has few rivals in its ability to slow time. Fear, excitement, elation — these are kissing cousins, all with the sensorial power to render each second humming with every tick and gasp of our bodies, the whirr of insect wings and distant car engines. Sometimes, I could savor these moments, relish them as opportunities to walk straight into the fact of being alive. In the seconds that crept into the minutes of my very first domination session, I had no idea what I wanted. The $75 certainly, but beyond that? Character- building life experience? I would have confidently named these motives right up until the moment that the door of the Red Room closed behind me. With the clasp of its latch, all bravado and ideology dimmed with the light of the hallway behind. It was only me, a naked old man, and 60 minutes of palpable expectation. An hour alone with a naked man with whom you do not intend to have sex can be a very long time …
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A dominatrix: all of us know what one is. But let’s be honest: few of us actually know a woman who earns her living as one (that we’re aware of, anyway). But you’ll become, ahem, intimately familiar with one after reading the recently published book, Whip Smart: A Memoir, by Melissa Febos.
Febos, who nowadays teaches writing and literature at SUNY Purchase College in New York, was just a college student looking to earn extra cash at a Manhattan dungeon. But surprisingly, something about domme-ing men for money appealed to her. Febos — who was also busy acquiring, and then kicking, a heroin addiction — spat, spanked and insulted her way through clients for a whole four years before she left the dominatrix life for good.
I spoke with Febos about what initially drew her to sex work, how she broke the news to mom and dad that she was a dominatrix (yes, they knew!), and what she did with all those kinky clothes when she finally hung up her whip. Keep reading »
The following is an excerpt from Some Girls: My Life In A Harem, by Jillian Lauren, a memoir of the author’s experience as a sex worker hired by the prince of Brunei.
Day tumbled into night tumbled into party time. I could barely change my shoes fast enough to keep up. When we dressed for the party, I chose my best suit because it was sexy and was actually the most expensive item of clothing I owned. I hoped it might inspire some confidence.
Destiny, Serena, and I waited for Ari in the foyer. As I grew accustomed to it, the house was looking less like a palace and more like a banquet hall. I pictured a gaggle of bridesmaids posed on the staircase. But it was just the three of us, facing each other awkwardly, tallying up each other’s flaws and assets as we waited for Ari’s entrance. I figured that over Destiny and her acrylic claws, I had looks but not wildness. Over Serena and her china-doll eyes, I had smarts but not looks. Keep reading »
Move it, Easter bunny. There’s a new bunny in town — a Playboy bunny, that is. In honor of its 50th anniversary, Playboy will sell a limited edition set of bunny costumes similar to those worn by waitresses at Playboy Clubs. The $67 bunny costumes — complete with ears and a bunny tail — are available through the website of U.K. sex toys and lingerie retailer AnnSummers.com, which promises the bunny costume “will help women exude the confidence, elegance and glamour of a true Playboy Bunny.”
Uh huh. Seriously.
I, for one, am very excited about this. I totally have my outfit now for a saucy “feminist-activist Gloria Steinem goes undercover at the Playboy Club to write a scathing exposé” role-playing session. [New York Post] Keep reading »
The gloves are off! Ashley Dupre, the high-priced escort who brought down former New York Governor Eliot Spitzer, lashed out at other women in a blog post.
The 24-year-old said women—NYC ladies, especially—are hypocrites who judge her for having been a call girl, but they still date rich men and bleed their boyfriends dry! Dupre’s choicest insults, after the jump… Keep reading »
When hookers in Brazil want to protest discrimination, they take to the seams. According to the Sydney Morning Herald, prostitutes in Rio de Janeiro walked the runway as models for Gabriela Leite’s Daspu label (“daspu” comes from the slang term “das putas” or “the whores”). The former prostitute started the label four years ago “as a way for prostitutes to gain regular income while also fighting preconceptions of people affected with AIDS.”
“Daspu gets rid of prejudice,” says Leite. “It opens paths for the citizen whore.” Keep reading »
Michael Jackson’s past was checkered, but as Movieline.com pointed out, his death created an even more public spectacle: people prostituting themselves on Craigslist for MJ memorial service tickets. Talk about “Dangerous!” Man, everyone is trying to get their piece in the King of Pop’s passing. And boy were they perverted about wanting someone to just beat it for them.
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