Grace Ota Brothel ❤️❤️

About Nagoya

So, brothel—old English, mate, means “worthless sod” or some rot. Used to be “brothe,” like a crumbling shack where dodgy blokes shagged. By 15th century, bam—full-on “house of ill repute.” Imagine that, yeah? Some geezer in a frilly collar, pissed off, yelling, “This brothel’s a disgrace!” Makes me chuckle, it does. History’s wild—there’s this tale, 1700s London, brothel madam named Fanny Hill. Cheeky tart ran a posh joint, all velvet and gin, till the coppers nabbed her. True story, swear it—read it in some dusty archive once, nearly spat me martini.

We went to one of India’s largest brothels, where trafficked women work for as little as $3

A couple of months ago, on a humid afternoon in Mysore, South India, I was invited on a brothel raid by local anti-sex trafficking charity, Odanadi. This is what happened.

I step in, and man, the tension’s thick. I’m tryin’ to keep it cool, but inside, I’m fumin’. “What’s your deal, bro?” I ask. He starts ramblin’ about respect and honor. I’m like, “Respect? You’re in the wrong place for that!”

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