Post by DareynnCainPayne on Aug 11, 2011 12:35:16 GMT -6
Name: Dareynn Cain Payne
Age: Seventeen
Sex: Male
Orientation: I'll do anything for fifty bucks, though I prefer the male sex.
I feel it deep within, it’s just beneath the skin
I keep it caged but I can’t control it.
[/right]Personality: I don't like talking about myself. I kind of hate it, actually. Why do you need to know me? I shouldn't have to open up to you. I'll fuck you until you can't stay awake, just please don't try to get my whole life's story. I don't really have much to say, unless you piss me off. Then you won't like me much at all. I hate it when people discriminate against others because they're gay or different or just being themselves. It's stupid. People need to grow the fuck up and learn to deal with differences. Seriously, who a person likes isn't any of their business; they can do what they want with their own body, it doesn't really hurt anybody else.
I like cats; they're self-sufficient and independent, and not always all over you like dogs are. They can take care of themselves if they have to. They're sleek and graceful, pretty little creatures. And soft. I like things that are soft...silk, fur, skin... All of it. Dogs are freaky; they're nasty and mean and I hate it when they bark and growl. They're scary. I don't know why they scare me. They just always have. I'm a cat person, I've already made that clear.
I can be kind of a smart ass, too. But, hey, if someone is stupid enough to say something...well...stupid, they kind of deserve it, don't they? I have my weak moments, though. I hate when people cry; it just...breaks me. Especially kids. That's horrible. I'm glad there won't be any kids in this place, or I'd be all over the place trying to keep them all happy. Kids deserve to be happy; they have their entire adult life to get fucked over and used.
I guess my own childhood kinda fucked me up, but like I said earlier...that's none of your business. If you really want to know, my step-dad was one fucked up son-of-a-bitch. I hate him, hate him more than dogs or pancakes or heights. And if I had to name three things I hate, those would be it. Other than him.
It's kind of his fault I started this whole prostitution thing, you know. I was fifteen at the time. I needed money. Some guy said he'd pay me for a blow or something like that--I can't remember, it seems like it was ages ago--and I was so desperate I agreed. And it just kind of kept going that way. I made money, I used that money to buy some food and cigarettes. It's kind of an addiction. I've done just about everything under the sun sex-wise, and there isn't much that surprises me. Sex is sex, money is money. You do what you have to to live, right? Well, I do, anyway. And that's the way it is.
Appearance: I'm pretty tall, I guess. About six feet. I don't weigh much, either...120lbs? I don't know, I don't keep track. I have to stay skinny, though, or nobody will pay for me. Skinny people sell. Fat...not usually. Unless the customer has a weird fetish or something. Ugh. Nasty. But, hey, I'll do anybody for fifty bucks. Or maybe anything, even. Depends on what it is. And how bad I need the money.
I'm white, or caucasian, if you want to be all technical about it. I've got some other sort of blood in me, though, because my hair is really dark. Like, so dark it's black. My eyes are a navy sort of color, so they're relatively dark, too. I had a few customers tell me I looked kind of Asian. Maybe that's it. I don't know, and it doesn't really matter, as long as they pay.
I like to wear low-riding pants, ones that show off my tattoos. My shirts normally stop somewhere around my belly button, and they're skin-tight. I don't mind fishnet or off-the-shoulder shirts; they're sexy. And I'm kind of picky about my hair, as vain as that seems. If I don't have it looking good, nobody will want me. And that's a problem, because I need money to survive, unfortunately. I'd rather do without the filthy bills, but you know...it is what it is.
I keep my hair cut sort of shaggy, making sure it hangs over one eye.
Piercings: Two cartilage rings and a stud in my right ear and snakebites, all silver. And let me tell ya, they hurt like a bitch to get.
Tattoos: Two. A heart with an eight inside it on my right hip and the four card symbols--diamond, spade, heart, club [in that order]--on my lower back (a "tramp stamp") with "LUCK" written in them (one letter per symbol).
You calm the poison, ease the suffering
when I'm afraid to feel again
[/right]Committed For: Prostitution.
Duration of Stay: To be determined. I'm just lucky like that.