Cyberus the Black Dog

Poetry

Cyberus the black dog, creeps in under Mary’s skin, licking his lips, penetrating her holes, gnawing away at her sinewy tendons and succulent bones.

Isolation Desolation

 

He rapes her subconscious crawl space, probing his wet nose into her closet crotch, sniffing out the buried remains there like Cujo; gnarled lips, protruding tongue and crazed eye stare.

Mary pricks her ears, Cyberus howls at the April blood moon, his mourn calling her out from behind her silvery veil, behind her mindful interludes – moonbeams bleed crimson and red rivers pour from her nightmares, blur the edges of her days.

Cyberus spreads his malaise like a disease.

He infiltrates cavities and grey matter mimicking the ebb and flow of tides; dopamine highs and serotonin lows, squalls hovering on the horizon – the ramblings of a mad woman batting her eye lashes, baring her sharp teeth.

Mary flatter’s her fans upright for .50c an hour to satisfy Cyberus’ insatiable appetite, gulping down terabytes like an insomniac slip streaming strip scenes and Mary rubs herself raw, learning how to love the hands that feed her.

The water slides off her duck downed back, down valleys and cracks her bareback fingertips squeezing every last drip from her drops.

Mary turns off the shower, swipes the window and peers outside. Two stray dogs have escaped lockdown, causing havoc on the streets.

She would take them both in and give them a good feed, if she had a backyard big enough to bury bones.

/

Tom stands outside on the pavement, peers up at the window, his threadbare trenchcoat just as superfluous as his empty pockets, except for the cornerstone content bulge. He watches Mary’s jailbird swagger dance and sway behind a steam curtain.

Cyberus can feel her skin crawl, he allows himself to rise – settling in between her mind and the blurred images of breasts and buttocks, infrared eyes stirring up his night vision.

 

 

© Copyright 2020, Jezabel, The Jezabel Files, escortjezabel.com. All rights reserved

 

 

Corona Games

Erotica

Corona Games

The doorbell rings one point five metres away.

Jack, steps back and waits, his head bowed in deference. A shudder circulates through his body and returns to his groin where his pathetic little worm jerks awake momentarily before it retreats, almost disappearing.

Domina, hazmat suit fitted, respirator adjusted and hands fully gloved, makes one final survey of her apartment noting everything in it’s rightful place before opening the door.

‘I see you followed my directions correctly, eventually’, she quipped.

‘Place your shoes in the bucket and strip’.

Her deadpan face and hardened stare conveying a don’t-fuck-with-me stance.

Domina’s new fetish was playing out like a Hunger Games episode: full lockdown, curfew and quarantine rules apply.

‘Follow me’, she commanded, leading the way to the bathroom.

‘Shower, put on the hazmat suit and mask and come into my den’.

Jack does as he is told, noticing the hairs on his arms and neck bristle and shrink back as the icy air-conditioning slaps his skin.

He’d been fantasizing about this day, ever since the first wave of Coronavirus (Corvid 19) swept across Europe, with Italy almost decimated in it’s wake.

It reminded him of his mortality, the beck and whim of governments and George Orwell’s 1984 dystopian nightmare coming into fruition. It made him feel alive, on the contrary, gave him a reason to live out his last days letting go of the old ways, going out on his terms.

Domina was a survivor. Gone were the days of luxurious 24 hour bookings, champagne and wads of cash. It was adapt or die slowly in her isolation, knowing her body wouldn’t be found for weeks.

These were the days of demeaning quickies and blow n’ go’s for a fraction of the price and the odd apocalypse fantasy that gave her just enough extra to remember how she once felt secure. Now, she controlled her working environment to suit and insisted on safety protocol.

It didn’t preclude the risk of contracting the disease, but it was harm minimised. What choice did she have? She had arrived in Australia post Iraq War and her protected immigration status had been drastically diminished, as would her bank balance be in the not-so-distant future if she didn’t find a way to make the most of a shit situation.

Jack looked at himself in the mirror, putting on his mask. He was reduced to an anonymous automaton. Nameless, faceless and nothing more than a number in a system designed to suck every last drop of humanity from his wretched soul, if he even had one. A nobody. A pitiful excuse for a human being. He wanted to feel the humiliation of his meaningless existence playing out one last excruciating time.

Domina watched her pain slut enter and ordered him to get on all fours on the bed. She picked up a 1 metre length of flexible plastic pipe and gave him six of the best in quick, hard succession.

/ / / / / /

Jack felt the weight of the whole world reign down. Searing pain shot through him and waves rippled along the length of his flaccid cock now awakening from it’s morbid slumber, standing to attention. It was all he could do to stop from crying out.

Jack knew he would fail, miserably and so did she.

© Copyright 2020, Jezabel, escortjezabel.com. All rights reserved

Escorts & Babes Profile

Corona Games Fantasy

Nefertiti, Akhenaten & the Qedesha

Erotica

Sacred Prostitute

Sacred Qedesha (Prostitute)

 

Nefertiti has her father’s eyes: blue grey, round and slightly protruding but entirely captivating. The all-seeing eye of Horus and Crow’s feet compliment her aesthetic smile by design. She enters the chamber, swathed in flowing layers of ivory silk adorned with lapis lazuli, onyx and handcrafted strands of golden pearls.

Akhenaten sinks low. Robe, legs and heart open admiring her curves, her sweet sway – ripe fruit seducing his eyes and craven appetite with every languid step.

Nefertiti slides in between. Akhenatens’ serpentine manhood rears, her narcissis skin soothsayer hips, drape and he slips, thrusts and bursts! She lifts, slides and rides his chariots rhythm, beaming through Ra’s realm and back again into her self, sated.

Amarna steps aside, hides behind a sandstone pillar. Stealing moments, she watches the lovers embrace, arch and peek.

She notices the tingles first, then a soft thudding throb that intensifies with every passing moment. A gasp! An electric spasm shooting upward from her liquid apex, filling her with euphoria. She quickly muffles her mouth, burying her face in her hands and shrinks back into the shadows.

Nefertiti pricks her ears and looks over her shoulder, peering back into the chamber. Akhenaten raises up on his elbows and follows her gaze, glimpsing a wisp as it pulls back out of sight.

‘Step into the light’, he commands, lifting Nefertiti from his rod, setting her aside.

‘Come forward slave’, calls Nefertiti, beckoning the shadow from the dark.

Amarna bows her head in an odd mixture of shame and excitement, tepidly stepping a toe out from behind the scene, testing her courage with fright, flushed cheeks betraying her conflicted desire.

Moving forward, she stands deferred waiting for her next command, allowing her hot wetness and damp musk scent to allay her senses.

Nefertiti glares. Akhenaten stares, his mouth parting at the recognition of his newest and most beautiful sacred qedesha. He leans into Nefertiti and whispers Amarna’s name, betraying his lust. She turns, spurned then reads Akhenatens desire, rekindling her own.

‘You have come to join us unannounced Amarna’?, Nefertiti leads. ‘What have you to offer your King and Queen that we have not taken before?’

‘Ripe fruit, my Queen, and moist Basbousa’…

 

© Copyright 2020, Jezabel, Escort Jezabel. All Rights Reserved


 

Cairns Cyber Siren

Reflections of Bohemia

 

I am a cyber siren.  I was chatting with a companion of mine Lindsay, that I have known for more than 14 years this morning and he asked me what I was doing with my day. 

While I wait for potential clients to ring, or the next booking to arrive, I often sit at my computer and refine my SEO configurations (Search Engine Optimisation) for my website, so I can generate more traffic to my blog. I made a joke that I was like a kind of ‘cyber siren’, and its true!

Those of you who are mariner’s will understand the sea legends of seductive siren’s and mermaids that would lure unsuspecting sailors to their watery graves. While no one is going to die from pleasure on my sexy watch, you may feel like you’re dying to drown in my delightfully juicy juices and that would be my SEO tugging ever-so-gently, at your rather large blue balls!

My alluring cyber siren call is loaded with keywords and phrases, designed to have you salivating at the mere thought of my delightful company, yearning to be inside me and wanting to suck and caress my sexy toes. Sure, a siren of the sea has no tail or toes to merit a mention but I do have a rather lovely derriere that loves to be spanked every once in a while. A funny thing happens when my ass is lovingly man handled…

My lovelies, I am the most exquisite, super sexy cyber siren there is in Cairns and Port Douglas. Not only do I have a wonderful tail, I also have the most luscious set of round bouncy DD breasts that would love to be dangling in your face, as we ride those waves of pleasure to the end’s of the earth and back! Consider your cyber siren’s needs thoroughly, while contemplating your own and we will be well on our way to having a wonderfully, splashy time!

It sounds so bloody cheesy doesn’t it? But it works! Now all you have to do, is make a booking with me and find out what all the screaming is about! Jx

 

Jezabel Cairns

 

© Copyright 2019, Jezabel Cairns ‘escortjezabel.com’. All Rights Reserved

Mermaid:The Body Found

Sexy Cairns & Port Douglas Adventures

Reflections of Bohemia

Sexy Cairns Escort

 

Hi all you sexy far north Queensland local’s and visitor’s! I am now available in Cairns and Port Douglas permanently. I have set up a beautiful, luxurious apartment in the Cairns CBD to share with you. I also offer a Deluxe Holiday Stay package to those desiring exclusivity, at a very reasonable fee.

I am available for short or long term sightseeing excursions as well as lunch or dinner dates. My favourite restaurants are Ochre, Coco’s, Mondo’s and the Port Douglas Yacht Club.

I see discerning ladies, gentlemen and couples who desire some additional fun, passion and humour in the boudoir. I am sometimes available for dessert at short notice, but advanced bookings would be preferred!

Mention that you read this introductory escort diary and receive an additional half an hour. I hope you are enjoying your day or night in the tropical far north and I hope to see you very soon. Jx

Tinders Cora Pearl

Poetry

Tinder dating.

Balancing on that tight rope between modern meat markets, vintage marriage proposals and a continuum of taffeta excuses for those with no idea about couture.

Coffee date number two,

torn between a Trelise Trelise Cooper bustle or Collette Dinnigan trousers, opting for mid length K-mart culottes and flat shoes – quite sensible really.

Then he makes a move, casually stroking her genius arm while he takes a business call leaning back on his wing.

It’s an affront to Cora’s touch-starved senses; Georgette raised speed bumps, bristle with expectations.

Its awkward for a moment –

deciding weather to pirouette or sashay onto the dancefloor with some spurious home truths.

Ta da!

‘I used to be a sex worker’,

she crowed, sipping on a nonchalant eyelash latte on the verge of treason

‘and if I decide to go back, you can’t stop me’.

Silence.

Ms Pearl takes another sip, the onslaught of ignorance threatening to tighten her whale bone corset breath, now held in contempt.

A standing ovation or white knuckled finale taking the bias edge out of contention, taking it all in.

See, she can’t see the point of another round of ruffles and rouge.

/

Spontaneous attraction hides in the shadows

of a cloak and dagger past life, frightened

by a mere unorthodox interlude.

 

 

© Copyright 2019, Jezabel Cairns ‘escortjezabel.com’. All Rights Reserved

To Grey or Not to Grey

Reflections of Bohemia

Jezabel July 2019

Hello everyone! It has been a while since I’ve written an escort blog post.

Firstly, I’ve been away from the sex industry for about 4-5 years (since Feb 2014 there about’s) and I’ve had a rather long hiatus and two failed relationships. I am also renovating my house pretty much from scratch. 

Secondly, I have run out of money, therefore I am going back to work to finish what I’ve started. Basically, there is no rest for the wicked!

Lastly, I have moved into a beautiful apartment in the Cairns CBD. I am on the 6th floor, with wonderful views of the city and Great Dividing Range! Off street parking is available for those choosing to stay with me, with my Deluxe Holiday Stay package.  AND I have a spa bath!

As you can imagine, a lot has changed. I am greyer! I actually don’t mind going grey or white actually. I want to let my natural silver come through – the problem is growing out my dyed hair.

I have had several professional attempts to try to blend my hair to a silver/grey colour, and they have all failed. I’ve been left with a fried natural belayage (my own darker roots, bleached lighter ends) and I don’t like it. So now, I have no choice but to go through the painfully slow process of growing it out. It truly is a heinous process. Luckily, grey is the new hot cougar colour, so there’s never been a better time to bite the bullet!

These selfie pics were taken a few weeks ago and the light captures my struggling grey’s quite nicely. So, please bear with me and embrace my courageous attempt at going natural with me, although I’m sure most of you are not really interested in the hair on my head (giggles), but you get my drift.

Thank you for taking the time to read this post and I hope I will see you all in Cairns or Port Douglas again, soon. I’m sure I’m not the only one whose ageing disgracefully!

© Copyright 2019, Jezabel Cairns ‘escortjezabel.com’. All Rights Reserved

Whore

Poetry

 

Clock app, I chime well.

The sheets are slithery crevices

Satin-lined, with serpent tongue poised to strike,

It is a meeting of the soul,

 

A shaft of light

Through cathedrals of stained glass.

Where you are safe,

There are no family heirlooms,

 

No dinner on the table, no lies.

Suave virile hips, the smirk of men

Glaze at her smoke

And I, in my honeyed plume,

 

Milk a gallon of amphibian seed.

To release

The roar of angst I swallow toads ~

Meat and three vege, a staple,

 

The ‘Elixir of Life’.

My mouth gags,

The mouth of Mary

When my accelerator touches the pan.

 

The giggle of my

Plastic features, my way of arching

John’s to rigors of trapeze

Lays on the charm, a gasp.

 

And it goes on and on, and on.

I shall remain a nymph. Old muscles

Strain like a bough and I

Blush like Betty Boop

 

Satisfied,

All the sighs of winter, fall

Offering up last seasons rosella

Tea to read.

 

 

© Copyright 2019, Jezabel Jodine. ‘escortjezabel.com’. All Rights Reserved

Visable Woman

Poetry

Escorts Jezabel

 

I’m a whore.
A hooker for all
Intents & purposes

I fuck

Men, women or both
If they show me
Respect & pay my fee

How they treat
Me is how I screen;
They peep through key
Holes in my web,
Mobile phone or face
Book

Leave me clues
I peruse at my leisure.

On my unpaid time,
Weeding
Always pulling
Out roots & bare
Back, barking mad
Messages

Cutting into my family!

My family time
Intrigues you & yours –

Watching how we
Balance on that edge,
While I swing my leg
Over, hold on
Tight & tiptoe
Around the giant
Dildo in the room

But we do

Those Bill’s
Just don’t stop coming!

*

I work hard for the money
I work hard for family
I work hard
Pulling my weight where it counts
To make ends meet;
Reconciling differences
Underneath

I bleed red & my shit still
Stinks but that doesn’t make me
Invisible, unless you’re
Anti

Anti this, anti that
Why should it matter
What I do to support my
Self or my family?

I should ram my fist right up
Your arse, to my elbows
(I’d like to – bend you over) &
Piss all over your pride & prejudice!

Your mind is already made up.
Stuck up, to the eyeballs
In condescending lies pandering
To (un) popular beliefs;
Nothing like countering ‘prostitution
Narratives’ in the belly
Of the beast

I am a very tall poppy.
I am not so uneloquently on display
I am not a victim
I am not coerced
I am not a survivor
I am not damaged
I am not suffering any
More than anyone else

I don’t buy into
Negative, stereotypically ignorant
Profit driven victimisation
Either!

I choose to be the
Architect of my own life
Doing my bit,
Arousing your awareness
So that those who are
Tarred with the same brush
Can find support
Not rescue

It’s called autonomy.
Something I have more of than
Some, but you are not one

Tomorrow I’m going to wake up
Turn on my phone
Answer messages
Boil the jug & light up a dart,
Considering all my options
Before heading back in to sex work

It makes me stark raving
Mad, to think you could
Possibly be offended!

*

For what it’s worth,
I feel sorry for you

© Copyright 2016, Jezabel Jodine. ‘escortjezabel.com. All Rights Reserved

 

Written in protest of the ‘World’s Oldest Oppression’ Conference in Melbourne, Victoria 2016

The Online Protest

Pieces of Meat

Sound of Silencing Sex Workers

Online Pocket Guide to Dealing with Antis

Sex Work & Violence

About Sex Work, Sex Work & Violence

pink1

On Sunday night, the 17th of February 2013, I got a distressed call from a young sex worker in Cairns.  For the purpose of this Blog her name shall be Gemma.

Gemma had taken an enquiry from a man calling himself Will.  He seemed warm, polite and friendly.  They agreed on a price, time and place for a 1 hour outcall at an upmarket hotel in Cairns along the Esplanade.  She took her time getting ready, making the effort to look and feel her best.  She chose light make-up, a lovely but casual dress and 3 inch heels.  Her supplies of condoms and lube were tucked away in an evening bag.  She headed out the door…

Gemma arrived on time and made her way up to the third floor.  A well dressed man in his late 20’s, early 30’s opened the door, smiled and let her in.  She looked around the room and noticed empty beer bottles and pizza boxes.  She made the comment “Oh is this your bachelor pad?” laughing and gesturing toward the mess in a friendly manner to break the ice.  He laughed and said “something like that”.  Then another male of around the same age came out of a side room.  Then another and another and another.  Five in total were in the room and making smiles and lewd gestures toward her.

Gemma asked to speak with Will, looking at the guy who opened the door for her.  He replied that Will wasn’t there, that they had borrowed his phone and that they wanted to ‘party’ with her.  Right about now she realised she was in her worst nightmare.  She stated firmly and calmly that she had made an hour booking with Will and that there was no mention of anyone else being involved.  They offered her more money and encouraged her to sit down.  Gemma declined.  One of them pushed a chair in behind her knee’s to force her to sit down but she remained standing.  They had been drinking.

By this time Gemma is trying to reposition herself away from the men crowding around her, to move closer to the door.  As she was trying to extricate herself, repeatedly stating that she was not going ahead with the booking, one of the five stated “Prostitution is illegal in Australia and you have to fuck us!”.  Another started yelling at her “get in the fucking bedroom!”.  She managed to manoeuvre herself in to the kitchen before making a dash for the exit, deliberately knocking everything she could off the kitchen bench onto the floor.  She made it out of the door and down to reception. shaken and in shock.  She phoned her boyfriend who came over immediately to pick her up outside the hotel.  He told reception what Gemma had told him.

Gemma is a 24 year old woman.  She lives alone with her pet dog and Goldfish.  She has a boyfriend whom works away for a couple of weeks at a time and who is supportive of her choice of work in the interim.  They both have goals and aspirations for their future together.

Like a lot of sex workers, Gemma entered into the sex industry to ease social and economic pressures.  A cash income meant she could begin to create an independent life for herself and pool her resources into savings, learning and up-skilling, ultimately to improve her chances of competing in a modern society.  A global financial crisis resulting in fewer job opportunities, and tighter budget constraints combined with poor leadership and cowardly politicians like Queensland’s Attorney-General, Honourable? Jarrad Bleijie and Mr Premier Campbell-Newman pissing all over human rights, targeting our most vulnerable in society, leaves little hope for our young people to see any kind of future.

This scenario could have been much worse.  Gemma was a very lucky young woman to have escaped from those lowlife scum who dared to call themselves men.  Could her risk be lowered?  You bet; yet under current Queensland law it is still illegal for two sex workers to work together to provide back up to each other and this immediately increases the risk of further abuses being perpetrated against us.  Who is more aware of our particular safety needs than another sex worker?  In my mind, current regulation is actually perpetrating gross negligence and causing undue harm which violates our basic human rights.

Queensland law does actually allow sex workers to hire a fully qualified bodyguard slash driver whenever we feel there is a need.  But lets face it, could Gemma have foreseen what was planned for her that night?  The answer is NO.  However, when isn’t there a potential risk for sex workers when we have a government that doesn’t support their basic human rights in general and a public who knows this and an element of depravity in some people who will continue to be violent by nature?  In Gemma’s case it is unrealistic to expect her to hire a bodyguard slash driver to serve as a chaperone on every single job, she accepts.  The cost alone puts this service way out of reach for most sex workers.  Where is this fictitious pool of bodyguard slash drivers on standby 24/7?

What about the Police? Gemma chose not to report this incident. That is her right.  When I asked her what made her think twice, she said she rang them anonymously and they couldn’t do anything unless she made a statement.  She didn’t want to make a statement.  She wanted the Police to go around and scare them to make them at least think twice about doing it again to another unsuspecting sex worker. This was not to be.  She could not see that making a statement to Police would enable them to visit the men and force them to at least tell their side of the story.  The only thing she could see, was that nothing would happen to them and she would become a known sex worker to Police.  This made her feel uncomfortable.  Sad isn’t it.

I referred Gemma to her local sex worker organisation for support immediately after the incident.  Respect Inc have drop in and outreach centres on the Gold Coast, Brisbane, Townsville (Head Office) and Cairns.  She was able to debrief over the phone with a peer in Cairns, was given information about her rights and the opportunity to have the respect Peer Educator with her if she chose to make a statement with Police.  What an invaluable service! Severely under resourced and very lucky to have escaped the heinous community funding cuts that surged though Queensland last year like a fiscal enema.

What happened to Gemma could happen to any one of us at any time.  It has happened to a lot of us.  Is this a deterrent?  No it is not.  We cling to what little support we have within society and lean on each other and pick up the pieces and move on with our lives – and continue to sex work.  Men, women and transgender alike have been making the best of difficult situations for centuries.  Sex work is not a new phenomenon.  It is known as the oldest profession in the world for damn good reason!  Historically, it was not always an illegal or heavily regulated profession either.

Australia needs to make a National change uniting the States and follow in the huge footsteps of New South Wales and New Zealand who lead the way with complete Decriminalisation of the sex industry.  Draconian laws and heavy-handed, often purely misguided moralistic regulations do nothing but make the lives of sex workers fraught with danger, ripe for exploitation and reek of political potato chips.  How many more stories like Gemma’s do you have to hear before you realise that she is a person just like yourself, with a family and friends, neighbours, work colleagues and a guy that comes around to mow the lawn every 2nd Wednesday. A person who deserves to have laws in place to protect her human rights to live and work free from harrassment.

Why is Federal Australia still turning a blind eye to screeds of evidence-based research stating how decriminalising sex work removes so much unwanted paper work for bureaucrats, free’s up resources for Police to actually focus on real crimes, empowers people to make better choices, makes would be criminals think twice, and more importantly begins to improves negative stigma and discrimination which in turn raises self esteem and a feeling of belonging in society for a vulnerable minority group?  Perhaps we need to invest our hard earned tax payer dollars into buying a pair of thick lens glasses so that each and every Member of Parliament can begin to read the not so small print in front of them.

Finally, I have one last statement to make.  Sex workers are here to stay.  Sex workers are uniting and growing stronger every single day.  Sex workers will not tolerate abuse of any kind.  There should be ZERO TOLERANCE against violence full stop!  To those of you who are foolish enough to try to hurt or belittle us, remember we are watching you with eye’s in the back of our heads.  We are becoming organised and united.  These men were exposed to the hotel reception staff who also took great offence and I have no doubt they would have been uncomfortable attempting to explain it away.  Be prepared to be questioned, stood up to, refused, denied and exposed as the low-life scourge of society that you are.  We are the majority.  You are merely that 1% of the population that resembles a sharp prick we encounter occasionally when pulling out the weeds.

 

Jx

Published by the Aim Network

Published by Sex Workers Outreach Project (SWOP)