I never realized kissing and having sex with a boyfriend could feel this good.

I used to work in entertainment, and now I’m a full-time kept woman. I’m a jaded, hollow, filthy woman nearing 30, with no future ahead of me. This is embarrassing to admit, but up until now, I’d only ever been in relationships with men where money was involved. It’s been that way ever since I gave my virginity to someone connected to a talent agency when I was 16.　 I’ve always thought of sex as something that exists in exchange for money. Being intimate with middle-aged and elderly men was nothing but painful. I would always hold my breath while kissing them, and penetration never felt good at all. I’d close my eyes, imagine my favorite celebrity, forcibly tighten my vagina, and think, “Hurry up and come, you fucking old man,” while going along with it. But my life is supported by these men, and because I always treat them with gratitude, every man I see praises me, saying, “You’re such a sweet girl who hasn’t become jaded at all.” Recently, though, I met a certain man and realized that sex filled with genuine emotion could feel this good. Of course, he’s married, and I receive financial support from him, so I know part of why I like him is tied up in that. But above all, we’re incredibly compatible physically. I’m still continuing my work as a kept woman, and sex (work) with other men is just as painful as ever. But simply thinking about him now lets me fool myself into feeling pleasure even during work with disgusting old men. Those clueless old men praise me, saying sex with me feels better than before. They make these transparently calculated compliments like, “I feel like you’ve become an even better woman lately. You’re really cute. You must be incredibly popular. If you were out on the street, men would definitely hit on you.” What I’m trying to ask is... Well, I suppose it’s this: Does the way a woman feels about a man change depending on how satisfying the sex is simply because she’s only a kept woman? If she were his true girlfriend or wife, she’d want to be with him even without sex, and just being together—without having sex—would make her love and cherish him more because of his inner qualities, wouldn’t it...? The only man I’m truly compatible with also compliments my figure and my face, but I can’t help thinking that my body and sex are the only things I have to offer. I feel depressed believing that I’ll always be the eternal second-place woman, a woman who lives in the shadows. Because I genuinely like him, I become depressed whenever his wife and children come to mind. I tell myself that he can play with me in this transactional relationship because he has a place to return to, and that I’m nothing more than a disposable sex-toy for satisfying his desires, with an expiration date. It’s destroying me mentally. (I know I have no right to feel this way.) I’ll be 30 soon. My value as a woman is about to disappear. But after doing this for more than a decade, my heart has become so worn down that I can’t find any hope in marriage. At the same time, I don’t have the confidence to live on my own from here on out when my body is the only thing I’m worth. I just want to die. Please give me a harsh wake-up call.