Spanish Whore

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Spanish Whore
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30+ Bad Words in Spanish – wonderfully wicked November 10, 2017 September 18, 2022 Learn Spanish
Every country has its set of vulgar language phrases, and you will encounter them in daily life. The Spanish language has a rich vocabulary of cursing phrases and swear words, and incorporating them into your casual conversations with friends can make your chats more lively and creative.
In this article, we will share with you bad words in Spanish , mainly swear words and curses. However, we would wish to caution that if you are easily offended by vulgar terms or you are a minor; then you better stay away from this post. Some of the words here – in fact, most of them – can be offensive to some people. This whole article, starting from this point, has explicit language.
For those of you who are not easily offended by vulgar terms, keep reading to learn some Spanish swear words.
Before we narrow down to this list of curse words in Spanish language, here are a few reminders;
With that in mind, lets now get into the real business of the day;
If you ever wondered how to say “Fuck you” in Spanish, you’ve come to the right place. Here’s our list of the most common Spanish cuss words, swear words and rude phrases.
There you have them; more than 30 wicked bad words in Spanish. Ensure that you use them in a casual setting when hanging out with your close friends to avoid getting a backlash.
Do you think we have left out any other common Spanish cuss words used by Spaniards, Latin Americans or South Americans? Well, share them with us in the comment section and tell us what they mean.
A hydrant is a water point to supply water for fire fighting, street cleaning, or construction. Today we will talk about fire hydrant in Spanish translation.
Packing my suitcase always stresses me out when I go on holiday. There never seems to be enough room. So in this post we will talk about luggage in Spanish.
When I was a kid, fire trucks with their loud sirens always made an immense impression on me. So today’s topic is the translation for firetruck in Spanish.


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“My mother brought me my first client when I was 14. Since then, I’ve had an average of three to five men per night. I’m 25 now. I think I am probably the biggest whore in this club”, says Diana (her “professional” name), one of the 120 prostitutes who work at Vive, one of the best-known brothels in Madrid.
Vive is located in the Bravo Murillo district, next to Estrecho metro station. Every night it opens its doors to clients who, as Manuel, a regular for the past three years, puts it, are “just looking for some drinks and some fun if the night really warms up.” He adds: “I don’t sleep with the girls every night I come, only when I really feel like it. Most of the time, I just come for drinks with friends after work”. According to Manuel, and contrary to what most people believe about prostitution , “these girls are here voluntarily, no one forces them to do this, they enjoy it and they make a lot of money. They really give off a good vibe.”
Vive is so big that it is really hard to describe its exact dimensions. There are three main round bars to order drinks at, each at least 20 metres long, and a separate place for girls to strip and dance. Business is good: each girl has to pay €60 a night just to access the place; that means that when Vive opens its doors, there are already €7,200 in cash at the counter. On top, drinks, when with a “girl” are €40, €20 for the “girl”, €20 for Vive. Not a bad business at all, especially if you take into account that the “girls” have to pay the €60 every night just to make sure their space is reserved. So if one day they are sick, they still have to pay, as they also do if they have their period or if one day they don’t get a client. And if they dance, they have to pay €100 to Vive; it’s considered “marketing”. Clearly there is a big demand to have a space reserved in Vive (if a girl disappears for two days, she’s suspected of having a fixed client, so when they have their period, they still “choose” to work…). But it’s equally clear that this resembles exploitation.
But apart from the 100 metres of bar, under it there are 30 en suite rooms where the “services” are performed. The door that leads to the rooms opens and some prostitutes come out. “See those girls?” asks Manuel, “those are already used, I want the fresh ones.” But apparently, you can only get a “fresh girl” if you come at 5pm, when Vive opens its doors. At 11pm on a Tuesday in November, the place is booming. There are 120 “girls”, provocatively dressed, who in catwalk style come up to every man in the bar to say hi and introduce themselves. Most of them are from Colombia, Paraguay, Brazil and Romania. None are Spanish. Most of them have fake breasts and fake backsides. All have fathers, brothers, cousins, or boyfriends.
They charge €220 for their services, €200 for them, €20 for Vive. “Samantha”, a Romanian based in Reading, in the UK, says she comes to Vive every three or four months, just for a week or so, to make enough cash to have “a proper living”. “I have my normal life back in Reading. Obviously, nobody knows that I do this but the money is really good. Of course I do not like it, how could anyone? But I try to enjoy it as much as possible, otherwise I couldn’t put up with it.”
You might think it is frivolous of Samantha to sell her body for a more comfortable life. But Samantha left Romania escaping a husband who would rape her and beat her up every day and she found herself thinking one day: “if somebody is going to screw me again without my consent, at least I am going to make some money out of it.” For “Sabrina”, with four children back in Brazil, no job and, a father that abused her when she was a child, the option was clear: “I am sending back to Brazil more than €10,000 every month. I am almost done with paying for my nice house back there and I want to buy my children all the things I couldn’t have and give them a proper education that I couldn’t have. I think in two years I will be able to quit this and move back and have a normal life. It is just a job.”
While I am talking with the girls, Manuel has already had two drinks with Katia, a modestly dressed Romanian brunette. “See my tits; they are the only ones that are real in this club. I am a real woman, not a cheap shit like the Chileans or the Brazilians,” she tells him. Katia is getting nervous because she has already had two drinks with Manuel (€40 in one hour), but Manuel doesn’t seem ready to go to the rooms. She starts dancing, violently shaking her backside around Manuel. “Come on, let’s go, what are you waiting for!” But Manuel isn’t up for it. She leaves. Understandably, time is gold for her.
While I am shocked by the whole scene, Manuel looks at me and says: “I must admit, seen from the other side, this is pretty sordid.” I ask him: if you were a girl, would you choose that option? “No”. Deafening silence.
These girls who “voluntarily” sell their bodies at Vive every night seem to do so without anyone putting a gun to their head. Pablo, another regular of Vive (three times per month for the past three years), explains: “These girls are very proud of what they do. They have tricks to give you pleasure very fast, if they don’t like you, and tricks to make you talk so much that you will not want to have sex with them. They choose who they give themselves to.”
But sometimes it seems they also have to “choose” to take drugs if the client requests it. “When they want us to take drugs, there is no escape. They check that we sniff it but we know that there is more money to be made (by taking them),” says Diana, who points out that clients that get high are more likely to spend more.
Looking at the crowd I really wonder if they choose who they give themselves to. The only good-looking guy in Vive is Pablo, no wonder he thinks like that. But the amount of fat, greasy, unattractive looking men outnumbers him clearly (there are about 250 men in the club). How voluntary can prostitution be when you’ve been raped and beaten by your father or your husband? How voluntary can prostitution be when it’s the only choice you have to make a living? Just because it’s industrialised and there is no pimp, no beatings or mafia, is it voluntary? The excuses that men come up with to justify it are heard over and over in our country: that it is the oldest profession in the world; that men need more sex than women and that women don’t like sex that much; that these girls make a lot of money.
My conclusion is that the men in this establishment do not want to see either the prostitutes or themselves as human beings. If they did, they wouldn’t be using the services of women whose only option is, once all their dignity has been robbed, to make a living out of selling their bodies. In a recent survey, 39 percent of men admitted to having visited prostitutes. But judging by what I saw in Vive and the naturalness with which brothels seem to be regarded, I would say many, many more men than that pay for sex. They could be your father, brother, cousin, or boyfriend…
Good article. I saw that thing about 37% of Spanish men. To be honest, I wouldn't be surprised if it were a higher number. But at the same time, I genuinely don't think I have any friends or colleagues here who do use prostitutes. I mean, I'd certainly be surprised if I found out that any of them do.
What a pile of bs and trash, what men you expect to have the need of prostitutes? Very handsome men don’t need that.
I hate how this sounds so fake, prositutes don’t open themselves like that, they do other way, this is false. They do have harsh and tough conditions, many of them do it on their own free will though.
I live in Spain I don’t need them, but your claim all men here are chauvinist, nasty macho, fat and ugly sounds a pile of racist junk none in their sane mind will believe.
That’s a load of crap about the “poor women” that are out of work and down on their luck so and abused at home so they are “forced”, the poor things, into selling their bodies—BULLSHIT–There are plenty of men in that very seams situation who don’t have that option and somehow, they may live on the street, they have to get by…Women do it because it’s an easy fix to make quick cash and get by. No one puts a gun to their heads. I’m tired of the Johns being portrayed as so bad and the poor women are just victims…The cops like that scenario because it gives them job security and an easy shift…Fuck them…Why are the fish (prey) bad and the bait (whores) and fishermen (cops) good? Hypocrites…Those same cops are out their bangin’ those same prosties for free just so the cops won’t take them off the street…****ing Hypocrite cops…
Poor quality subjective paternalistic article. Nobody would work if we had a choice, you could take anybody’s job or career and portray them as victim ‘forced’ to work to feed their kids. These ladies have plenty of choice, good state benefits exist if they are too lazy to take a regular lower paid job like everyone else. Instead they do an unpleasant, but highly paid job, for a few years. Men do the same; bomb disposal experts, high rise window cleaners, security, and so do women in other careers. The users of prostitites are as much social casualties as the prostitites. And what about male prostitites being used by female clients, I didn’t see mention of that business? This article is patronising paternalistic middle class twaddle. Just because people make a choice beyond your understanding, that does not make it an invalid choice. I was a prostitite for five years. It paid my way through college and I enjoyed it. Yes the users were often physically unattractive, but physical attraction is over rated, they were nice people in restricted life circumstances. They had what I wanted (cash), I had what they wanted, and both parties walked away happier. So perhaps you should grow up, respect others autonomy, and stop preaching.
It seems that you have done your best to justify and excuse a bunch to greedy whores for being greedy whores. The real reason for the majority of these women is that they are too lazy to make an honest living on their feet so they choose a brainless immoral living on their backs. Good job white knighting for them.
really stupid article! of course there are other options! the fact that the big majority of the male half of mankind and most of the older females don’t have the option to work in a brothel and still live proves that point. and if there were really no other options then wouldn’t we have to be grateful for the existence of the brothels? wouldn’t having at least one option – horrible as it might be at times – be better than starving to death will your whole family? finally: what does the author of the article want? if she would like to see all the brothels closed then by that she admits there would be other jobs available. but those jobs are available even now when the brothels are not(!) closed. so why do the prostitutes not simply choose those jobs right now? the answer is easy: because they prefer to work in brothels – voluntarily! more money for less work, it’s just as easy as that!
From my point of view, girls working in a brothel are not forced, it’s a fully assumed choice for some of them. For others, it can be a choice they made to live more comfortably. But as long as there are no PIMPS or so, they are not in danger. And they are not forced to stay working in there, if they want to leave they’re free to at anytime. I only visit one brothel in Barcelona, it was called Apricots, and I talked a lot with one escort, she told me it was their choice, they were not forced. And it’s wayyy cleaner and more secure than street prostitutes, or prostitutes business owned by a PIMP or so.
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Want to know how to go whoring in Madrid?
This article is going to disappoint the hell out of people who find me on google, actually looking for prostitutes in Madrid.
This morning I was out early, on my way to the local Starbucks.
“But Daniel,” I can hear you saying, “Aren’t you way too legit for Starbucks? I figured, a guy like you…”
Well, yes, you’re right. And I don’t go very often. However, I’ve just spent the last 24 hours without running water at home.
You never think about how convenient running water is until you don’t have it. But that’s another story .
Suffice it to say that the necessity to be near a working bathroom at 8AM on a national holiday and in mid-summer positively propelled me to the nearest Starbucks as soon as I got up.
Anyway, Madrid is, as usual, a summer / early morning ghost town .
But as I’m walking down Calle Orense, near Plaza Castilla, a car stops and the guy honks his horn and gestures me over.
The guy seems a little weird, or maybe on drugs, but doesn’t everybody out at 8AM on a public holiday seem a little bit weird?
It’s always kind of like the zombie apocalypse early in the morning, with all kinds of drunk people and small time criminals shuffling around, going god knows where.
Anyway, he doesn’t look dangerous. So I go over and he says, in Spanish, “Hey, is there a club around here?”
“Yeah,” he smiles a huge toothy grin. “With girls!”
“Well, I think there’s one right up here. Just look for the blue neon lights, it’s on the right.”
I walked down the street to get my coffee and take care of my – ahem – basic necessities.
And he drove up to get his freak on… just another young gentleman, out after a long night of partying, and ready to build up the Spanish GDP , one sex act at a time.
Of course, getting a hooker is just another bodily function for a lot of guys around here. There are at least four large brothels in my unglamorous neighborhood – and probably more smaller ones I haven’t noticed.
Here in Madrid, people will protest against 24-hour supermarkets. But a brothel seems to bother almost no-one.
“Down with supermarkets! Nobody needs to buy yogurt at 3AM! But a G&T and a BJ is perfectly fine…” – Every Spanish leftist ever.
It reminds me of a conversation I had with a student, years ago.
I used to give classes to a lot of executives. Most of them were pretty cool guys, and anyway, I was getting paid to talk to people who wouldn’t have given me the time of day back on the ranch in Arizona.
One time I was with a guy in his late 30s.
Born into the upper middle class. A couple of kids, and a wife he met at university when they were both barely twenty. Typical Spanish family man, in other words.
One day he’s happier than usual, and tells me why:
“I’m going on holiday tomorrow. I’m going to play golf in Marbella with a couple of friends. Leaving my wife at home. Just me, my friends and some fulanas. How do you say fulanas in English? Bitches?”
“A bitch,” I explain, trying to maintain some professional composure, “is a woman who you find disagreeable. I believe that in this case, you are referring to prostitutes.”
“Yes, prostitutes. Putas . Bitches.”
“A better word might actually be hookers.”
I spend several minutes describing the nuanced relationship between bitches and hookers, somewhat shocked that we’re having this conversation at all.
Although it might be a generational thing.
Later in the day, I’m at my other job. I’m talking to a coworker, a guy in his 40s, about the whole thing.
“I guess it might be normal for Spanish guys to go whoring, but what’s shocking to me is that they talk about it! Like it’s any other hobby, or something mundane like going to the dentist.”
He grabs another employee, who’s walking by. They’re about the same age and have been friends for decades. Two big half-Spanish guys with beer guts.
“Hey, Pedro,
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