The seedy underbelly of luxury yachts, where billionaires get escorts to whip them on deck and openly take cocaine
STANDING on the deck of a £500,000 extremely luxurious ‘floating palace’, I thought I was going to throw up.
Not because I was out at sea and couldn’t find my sea legs but because I was witnessing a fully grown man in his fifties sucking on a baby’s dummy.
Worse still, instead of normal underwear he was proudly wearing a nappy and the woman beside him had been tasked with changing it.
It’s a strange world when you’re seen as the lucky one because your job is simply to wash the dummies and feed the man his milk.
It was just one of many shocking sights I witnessed during the five or so months I worked onboard a luxury yacht as a stewardess last summer.
And one of the reasons why I’ll never go back, despite being paid an eye-watering fortune in tips, up to £7000 a week for each charter.
From liaisons with sex workers on deck to cocaine binges and used condoms left lying around, nothing was off limits.
It truly was an eyeopener and one I’m in no rush to repeat.
I was working in a low paid job as a waitress when a friend first introduced me to the scene in March last year.
She raved about the pay – the salary and tips combined were around £8000 for the season – and although she did warn me that it could be seedy onboard, nothing could’ve prepared me for the reality.
First, I underwent a week-long training course in Spain which involved learning fire drills, evacuations, water survival and first aid.
It cost around £2000, my mum covered the cost, and then I was ready for my baptism of fire, literally thrown in at the deep end.
I was already on board with three other female stewardesses when the owner, a 60-year-old oligarch, joined us.
The demands came thick and fast: “Find me three escorts for me and two friends at our next port.” he barked.
“I want blue eyes, blonde hair, slim and classy looking, nothing trashy – we want the girlfriend experience.”
With no clue where to start one of the other girls who had made similar arrangements before, guided me through it.
We found an escort agency – who seemed very familiar with the request – and the women were paid £2000 each, per day.
The day they arrived, I met them on shore to bring them onto the four-bedroomed luxurious yacht.
They were stunningly beautiful and seemed so comfortable I knew it wasn’t their first time.
Not only were they expected to have sex onboard but they were there to look decorative too – the filthy rich men loved to show them off when the boat moored in different locations for dinner at night.
And this wasn’t just a one off.
When that rental ended after a week, the men who hired it next made similar requests – sometimes swapping women daily for their pleasure.
Nearly all the men were very rich businessmen, none of them were instantly recognisable, and a couple of DJs.
The jobs the hired women were expected to do were horrific and I still get flashbacks to the adult baby scenario I was unfortunate enough to witness.
Regardless of who they were with, these men had no qualms about having sex on deck, including group sex
Yacht crew member
The woman, a sex worker, didn’t flinch as she dutifully performed her job of swapping one nappy for another.
Neither did another escort who had to chase one of the men round the boat with a whip.
These men had no morals.
Aside from hiring women they’d also arrange their own – influencers or models, dripping with diamonds and designer gear.
Some of the more reserved types brought along their wives or girlfriends, all ridiculously stunning.
Once during my stint onboard we sailed from Marbella to Ibiza and the businessman who had hired the yacht took his wife one way and swapped her for his girlfriend on the return leg.
I was paranoid that I’d get their names mixed up.
Sometimes they even brought both the wife and girlfriend on board and I recall the captain telling one very good-looking male crew member that it was fine to sleep with the oligarch’s wife, but touching his girlfriend was forbidden.
The wives just turned a blind eye, presumably because they loved the lifestyle so much to risk losing it.
Regardless of who they were with, these men had no qualms about having sex on deck, including group sex.
‘Humiliating’
Often fuelled by cocaine – they’d openly take drugs in front of us – the men would ogle the crew girls and ‘accidentally’ touch our breasts and bottoms far too often.
Truthfully – and wrongly – we put up with it, because the tips were so good.
We certainly earnt our tips too – the work was back breaking – and we had to be up at 6am, well before the passengers, if they’d planned an early breakfast.
First, we had to clean all the decks and lay the tables to perfection.
Breakfast would be full of exquisitely prepared fruit platters, all the pastries you can possibly imagine as well as cold meats and cooked breakfasts.
The options were endless and champagne was on tap.
One of my most humiliating moments was when a guest spat out the food he didn’t like and demanded I clean it up.
Each day was exhausting both mentally and physically.
We’d often be working into the early hours before collapsing into our bunk beds, waiting for the morning to start all over again.
Being a yacht girl is a thankless task, and all the money in the world wouldn’t be enough to entice me back for another season
Yacht crew member
The jobs were degrading too, these men had no shame.
Sex toys and used condoms were left on the bed, and crew girls like me were expected to clean the toys before putting them on the bedside table.
When I reflect, it turns my stomach, and when I stopped being revolted and came to think that what I was doing was ‘normal’, I knew my work on board was done.
I haven’t gone back since and now I’m happily back working as a waitress while I save up to go to university, no longer treated like a skivvy.
Being a yacht girl is a thankless task, and all the money in the world wouldn’t be enough to entice me back for another season.
My feet are staying firmly on dry land from now on.