A pimp merchandizes the bodies of whores. Beatings and insults maintain the necessary inferiority complex that keeps her beholden to him. Lies and mindgames keep her in awe of him, and even more fearful of leaving him, because how will she survive these streets without him? Never mind that she actually feeds them both, the fact that he takes all her money and gives her a fraction of it leaves her thinking she needs him. The occasional drug fix instils dependency through a soul-destroying addiction which only the pimp can supply. At the end of her beauty and usefulness, when she is worn down by daily rough usage at the hands of the tricks whose money she takes and hands over to the pimp, and when the drugs have reduced her brains to porridge, she is discarded by the pimp if she is lucky enough not to have already died on the job or at his hands.
Capitalism pimps out the minds of people. We work to sustain an economic system which exists to exploit us. The best part of our labor and mental capacity is funnelled into narrow and repetitive routines which maximize investor profits. For all this sacrifice of our time, our productive lives, hemmed in by austere corporate policies the whole while, we earn salaries in exchange with which we may Go Out And Consume, sustaining the system, hoping against hope to eventually earn that deserved promotion that will perch us high in the stratosphere above the worries of the non-selfactualized masses who will stare wistfully up at us as they hang on our every word, giving us a heady rush of power. But most of us won't get quite that high up the pyramid. So we die on the job, or our productivity declines and we retire; meanwhile the machine on the intake end sucks in another fresh-faced starry-eyed aspirant of the verdant heights.
The pope pimps out souls. Making claim to the souls of men he boasts a monopoly of the keys to heaven and hell, thus all should be found in his good books or else eternal fiery tortures greedily await. Many unhappy with their lot in this life comply with his edicts and enrich his coffers for a stake in eternal felicitude insured by the old white man. Inevitably the pope's customers die, earning their chance to verify his claims to mastery over the spirit world, and to test just how far his dearly purchased Get Out Of Jail Free Card will go in those realms. Just too bad if no route be found by which to return to the land of the living and claim a refund from the self-appointed pimp of the underworld.