Standing on the deck of an extremely luxurious ‘floating palace’ of £ 500,000, I thought I would vomit.
Not because I was at sea and couldn’t find my Zeebben, but because I witnessed an adult man in fifty who sucks on a baby’s doll.
Sarah, a stewardess who worked on board a luxury yacht last summer, reveals why she will never get on board again (posed by models)[/caption]
She reveals that sex toys and used condoms were left on the bed, and crew members were expected to clean the toys (stock) (stock)[/caption]
Sarah says that nothing was forbidden from contact persons with sex workers to cocaine binges (posed by models)[/caption]
Even worse, instead of normal underwear he proudly wore a diaper and the woman next to him had been given the task of changing it.
It is a strange world if you are seen as the lucky one because it is your job to simply wash the dummies and feed the man’s milk.
It was just one of the many shocking sights I saw during the five or so months that I worked on board a luxury yacht as a stewardess last summer.
And one of the reasons why I will never go back, even though I get a dazzling fortune in tips, up to £ 7000 a week for each charter.
From contact persons with sex workers on deck to cocaine binges and used condoms lying around, nothing was forbidden terrain.
It was really an eye -opener and I am not in a hurry to repeat.
I worked in a low -paid job as a waitress when a friend introduced me to the scene for the first time in March last year.
They lyrical about the wage – the salary and the combined tips were around £ 8000 for the season – and although she warned me that it could be loading on board, nothing could have prepared me for reality.
First I followed a training of a week in Spain, in which fire exercises, evacuations, flagging and first aid were learned.
It cost about £ 2000, my mother covered the costs, and then I was ready for my baptism of fire, literally thrown into the deep.
I was already on board with three other female stewardesses when the owner, a 60-year-old oligarch, came to us.
The requirements came thick and fast: “I think three escorts for me and two friends with ours next harbor. “He barked.
“I want blue eyes, blond hair, slim and stylish, nothing mess – we want the girlfriend experience.”
Without starting where to start one of the other girls who had previously made similar regulations, it led me through.
We found an escort agency – which seemed very well -known with the request – and the women each received £ 2000 a day.
The day they arrived, I met them on the coast to bring them to the luxurious yacht with four bedrooms.
They were amazingly beautiful and seemed so comfortable that I knew it wasn’t their first time.
Escorts was expected to have sex on board, but were also there to look decorative (posed by models)[/caption]
The men on board, often fed by cocaine, the crew members fed and accidentally touched their breasts (stock)[/caption]
They were not only expected to have sex on board, but they were also there to look decorative – the filthy rich men loved to show them when the boat was moored at different locations at night for dinner.
And this was not just a one off.
When that rental ended after a week, the men who hired it then made similar requests – sometimes women exchanged their pleasure daily every day.
Almost all men were very rich business people, none of them was immediately recognizable and a few DJs.
The jobs that the hired women had expected were horrible and I still got flashbacks to the babys scenario for adults. Unfortunately I was a witness.
Regardless of who they were, these men had no trouble having sex on deck, including group sex
Hunting crew member
The woman, a sex worker, did not shrink when she dutifully performed her task to exchange one diaper for the other.
Neither did another escort who had to chase one of the men around the boat with a whip.
These men had no morality.
Apart from hiring women, they would also have their own rules – influencers or models, dripping with diamonds and designer equipment.
Some of the more reserved types brought their wives or girlfriends, all ridiculously amazing.
Once during my stint on board we sailed from Marbella to Ibiza and the businessman who hired the yacht, took his wife in one way and exchanged her for his girlfriend on the return bone.
I was paranoid that I would confuse their names.
Sometimes they even brought both the woman and the girlfriend on board and I remember that the captain told a very handsome male crew member that it was great to sleep with the wife of the oligarch, but touching his girlfriend was forbidden.
The women just turned a blind eye, probably because they were so fond of the lifestyle to lose it.
Regardless of who they were, these men had no trouble having sex on deck, including group sex.
‘Humiliating’
Often fed by cocaine – they would take open drug For us – the men are fucking our breasts and soils ‘by accident’ and ‘accidentally’ too often.
To be honest – and wrongly – we tolerate it because the tips were so good.
We certainly also deserve our tips – the work was broken back – and we had to be up at 6 o’clock in the morning, well before the passengers, if they had planned an early breakfast.
First we had to clean all the decks and place the tables to perfection.
The breakfast would be full of beautifully prepared fruit dishes, all the pastries that you can imagine, as well as cold meat and cooked breakfast.
The options were endless and champagne was on tap.
One of my most humiliating moments was when a guest spewed out the food that he didn’t like and demanded that I put it up.
Every day was both mentally and physically tiring.
We would often work in the early hours before we collapse into our bunk beds, waiting for the morning to start again.
Being a hunting girl is a thankless task, and all the money in the world would not be enough to seduce me back for a different season
Hunting crew member
The jobs were also humiliating, these men are not ashamed.
Sex toys and used condoms were left on the bed, and crew girls as I were expected to clean the toys before placing them on the bedside table.
When I think, my stomach turns around and when I stopped revolting and came to think that what I did ‘was’ normal’, I knew my work on board was ready.
I have not returned since then and now I happily work back as a waitress while I save to go to university, no longer treated as a skivvy.
Being a hunting girl is a thankless task, and all the money in the world would not be enough to seduce me back for a different season.
From now on my feet stay firmly on dry land.
