Confessions Of A Sex Worker II: Trade Secrets And Drug Addiction

I was sick with bodily pains for days. It felt like I had been hit by a thousand tonne truck. My whole body hurt; I stayed in bed till Lady K came to get me. She moved me into her home, and took care of me. The paradox of this story is that the only person in this life who has shown me kindness, care and motherly love after my mother passed, is the same one that sold me into this sex trade. But I really do not blame her, she didn’t know any better, she was just perpetuating the cycle of what had been done to her. And the only way she knew to survive was to sell bodies; her own and others’.

Lady K massaged me day and night, and nursed me back to health. When I felt better and was out and about, she sat me down for a talk.

“What did that fool do to you?” she asked.

I was shy and didn’t want to say much, but she pressed me and made me detail everything; “He made me hang upside down on the kitchen counter…”

Right there and then, she called him, “Ousmane, you owe me extra two thousand dollars, for the cost of medical bills for the girl you tried to kill, else lose my number.”

I looked at her in awe. She was strong, this tall, beautiful woman with gold accented teeth. Her presence commanded a certain kind of respect. And she seemed to be in charge of this; this business, this life. I was lost and I wanted to be like her.

“Will he pay? I asked feebly.

“Oh he will pay. You are looking at the finest Madame in Accra. Everyone wants to be in my good books,” she bragged.

I moved permanently into Lady K’s plush home. She had no children, and she was the unofficial ‘wife’ of an Australian pilot whom she met while stripping in Germany. He maybe spent three out of twelve months in a year with her. She was just like me, she had no family, or at least she had no family she was interested in returning to. Maybe that is the factor that made her take to me and me to her. I became like a daughter to her.

Lady K began to teach me her trade secrets. 

Trade secret number one: Never appear weak, always take charge. If they come looking for a whore, give them a bitch. Men want what they cannot get from their submissive wives; a woman in charge in the bed.

I learned the skill of S&M and mastered it. I could crack a whip to make the baddest cowboy green with envy. And I took to the gym, doing all kinds of strength training to give me stamina. Looking back it is interesting how much effort I put into being the best. I am an intelligent woman, even if I toot my own horn. And in everything I do I want to be the best. When sin has your heart, it utilizes your gifts; prostitution utilized my dedication.

Trade secret number two: Do not do business with people who have nothing to lose. Go for the big guns. It did not take long for her to start introducing me to her top clients; ministers, CEOs, directors and pastors. 

To this day, I laugh when I see some individuals on television, giving self-righteous interviews and preaching virtue when I know they practice vice in secret. While you were watching them on TV at AU conferences and UN conferences thinking they were contributing something with your taxpayers’ money, I had emptied their balls the morning prior.

I have whipped some of these men. Have handcuffed some to a bedpost, I have diapered some. Have danced for some, and left some crying and begging because they wanted to domesticate a bitch like me.

Trade secret number three: Never you become a slave to anything. Not to this lifestyle, not to guilt, be a slave to nothing.

Trade secret number four: Don’t fail any of rules one, two and three. 

I did great with trade secrets one and two.But I failed trade secret three because, I became a slave to drugs. I went from weed, to cocaine and graduated to heroin. And while I made a lot of money trading the sex business, I paid heavily for drugs.

Something was dead or dying in me and I needed the drugs to medicate it. Remember when I said you either needed some witchcraft or drugs in this sex trade business? Yeah, I did drugs. I did drugs to numb the unending emptiness I felt inside. It was like a bottomless pit that I couldn’t quite identify. But it was there. No amount of jet setting, no amount of controlling and satiating powerful men made me feel good about myself. So I numbed myself with hard drugs.

Along the trajectory my life had taken, something left me. I lost my shame and conscience. I no longer even cried for my Mama. I stopped feeling, almost as if I had forbidden my emotions from existing. I numbed my body with drugs and numbed my soul with denial.

Lady K took me to a drug addiction rehab for drug addiction recovery. She insisted I needed help with my drug addiction. But I felt I was fine, I thought I had it under control; the drugs didn’t control me, I controlled the drugs. She made me stay at a drug addiction rehab center in Australia for a hundred and twenty days.

As soon as I got out, I made a beeline for Germany, to dance naked in a glass cage at Reeperbahn. I guess drugs weren’t the only addiction I had. I was about twenty four.

Lady K screamed and shouted, and she begged for me to return home. But I was a junkie, seeking my next fix.

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