widowcentauri

Archive for April, 2013|Monthly archive page

DejaVu on Bourbon ~~ Tonight!

In bullshit, Pride, strip club, Widow Centauri on April 27, 2013 at 1:10 am

I’m n New Orleans. I went to Bourbon street on Tuesday after being seriously jerked around and stood up for a session. I stopped at Ricks only to be turned away at the door without even a look at my nakedness. I thought about heading to all the places I really wanted to work, but I just went to DejaVu and figured they would let me work. They did. I was exhausted. I had not slept the night before. I am out of money and I had no more time to waste. Of course, New Orleans is a very hard place to work as a dancer. The stages are made of granite and are murder on the knees. I’m neither tweeker thin nor tattooed, so I have that working against me here as well.

At the end of my night I had done one solitary lap dance and way too many stage sets. I was completely fucking exhausted. I came back to my luxury digs and took a fucking nap. I was nursing a migraine and decided that I would sleep until the sunshine went away. I didn’t even bother to count my pathetic stack of singles.

Everyone tells me how much they love my body. How the curves are the thing. I have not had sex in a year. I have not had sex on the regular in a number of years.

I’m beginning to think that the demise of my personal sexual bliss has a lot to fucking do with the fact that I have mixed business with pleasure for so very long.

I have danced two shifts while I have been here and am so broke that I have to tell my mother I’m a stripper. I know she knows. She has know about my involvement in the industry for some time, but tomorrow I’m gonna lay it on the line and come out. I imagine I will get drunk and cry.

I could use a little love from my fans and admirers right now. If you are in New Orleans, come in and say hello. I’ll be at DejaVu from about 10PM tonight until they close at 4AM. Then I’m going to enjoy myself. Hopefully I won’t have to dance another shift at this club before I split.

I am happy that my little post graduate nervous breakdown has landed me in NOLA for a time. TONIGHT IS THE TIME TO SEE ME. The rest of my trip is not likely going to involve much work. COME SEE ME ON BOURBON STREET TONIGHT.

At some point I will be in the window with a tacky neon pants suit and a gaudy blond wig. Bring Me Money!

My Road Trip To NOLA ~~ Thus Far.

In Adventure, deviance, dominatrix, fetish, fun, Golden Showers, pissing, Public, strip club, Tour, traveling, Widow Centauri on April 23, 2013 at 2:02 am

I split and drove. I just felt the burning need to run away from home. The road calls me like I am some sort of wandering vagabond. I have tried but I can’t shake it.

I stopped in some middle of nowhere Virginia town and danced in their titty bar. Everyone was very friendly, there was a jukebox, no deejay, the stage was a little small but it was nice to have a change of scenery. It was a juice bar so I assumed that everyone who was there was there to got dances, and I was right. I met a really sweet dancer who tried to convince me to bring her along to NOLA with me.

Then out of nowhere a blog reading fan walked in, spotted me in my blond wig and came to give me all his money, adoration, and submission. It was really cute the way he just sat there sliding me money. “Do you have to continue on to New Orleans?” he asked with a twangy Virgina drawl. “Yeah sugar I need to be there by Tuesday, but if you keep passing me money like this I will come back just to visit you” I told him.

When the end of the night came I told my new money boy to meet me at the gas station. When we finally were able to locate a truck stop that was open he filled my tank and I filled his. I took him around back to where the trucks were parked. “Get on your knees” I told him. He didn’t question my order he just dropped. I lifted my skirt and shot all the piss I had been holding onto all night into his mouth. I drenched him. I wanted to tease him, make it last as long as possible, but I had to piss so bad that I just shot it everywhere. He was soaked. Completely drenched. His hair and shirt, even his pants were soaked. He got it up the nose and down the throat. He got it in his ears.

“See you next time” I said as I walked away leaving him there on his knees in a truck parking area out behind some random truck stop. I hopped in my car and headed down the road.

By the time I got to Chattanooga I was exhausted. I got a room and took a nap. A reader called on niteflirt and it turned out that he was about an hour away. He wanted to book a four hour public humiliation session. “Alright but we do the whole thing my way” I told him. “Yes ma’am, of course” he sputtered. “Is there anything I can’t do to you, anywhere we can’t go, are you important around here, will people recognize you?” I asked. “No, I am no one special” he spat out.

I met him at the bar across the street from my hotel. I ordered a double shot of whisky and a bottle of water. I gave him the whisky and I drank the water. “Give me your keys, your phone, your wallet, and my money” I demanded in a slightly raised tone. He proceeded to fork over the things. A few people at the bar noticed. “Get up and spin around so I can take a look at you. Do a little dance for me” he did a pathetic little pirouette. After two more drinks we got in his car. I handcuffed him under his legs and drove to the three strip clubs in Chattanooga Tennessee.

Once I saw them I was kind of relieved that I didn’t have to dance in these clubs. They were all kind of small and dark. Touching was not allowed. But when we got to the Puss and Boots is seemed to be a little more lenient and a lot seedier. We sat down and immediately two dancers came over. I told them that this cow was my bitch. They had no idea how to respond. I opened his wallet and gave them both a $20, handed him a piece of plastic and told him to find the ATM machine. Get as much as you can. He came back with a measly $200. “I’m sorry that was all the machine would let me have” he mumbled.

What the hell is with ATM machines limiting your amount in strip clubs. That is such nonsense, and it is bad for business.

At the same time, almost in harmony, the two dancers who approached us, Cindy and Carly ( I think), asked us if we wanted a lap dance. “Yes” I said. They took us to this little ghetto chair set up and began dancing. “Is there a champagne room here?” I asked. “Yes, sort of” said the dancer. “If we went there would you piss all over my bitch?” “Oh, what?” She seemed totally confused. “Really, you want me to pee on him” “yeah,” I said “and your friend too” “I’ll have to ask her” she said. “Obviously, go talk about it and if you are game come tell us how much”

In a few minutes they returned and said that for an extra $200 each they would piss on my cow. “Do you take visa?” I asked digging through his wallet. “I’ll see if the bartender can run it for us”

In what seemed like way too long to process a credit card we were all in the ‘private, VIP room.’ “So how do you want us to do this?” Cindy asked. “Fat boy, lay on the floor” I told him. He looked concerned. The floor was clearly somewhat sticky. It was a run down little dive, clearly some extras had gone on at this club. “Take your shirt off unless you want to be wet” I told him. He looked at me and looked at the floor. “I would like to be wet ma’am” he asserted. “Suit yourself just get down on the ground.” He laid down and I had the two dancers stand over him, pull their panties aside and aim for his face.

“Oh I can’t” one of them giggled. “I can” said the other, letting a very timid stream come drip drip dripping out. It went right into his gaping mouth. The first one let the stream fly when she saw that. She sprayed his face, and then giggled a little more, turning away. After they emptied their bladders on this cow I decided I would too. I stood over him and drenched him. I got him soaking wet. These sweet strippers were new to this but I had to pee. My toilet boy guzzled and chugged, spattering on my piss as it just kept coming out of me.

“You said you wanted to be wet” I told him. “Can one of you go get some paper towels?”I asked. In moments there was a roll of paper town. “Mop up this mess, bitch” I told him. “Then shove the nasty wad of paper down your pants. Don’t miss any. I don’t want someone to come in here and slip because of you.”

Once he had the wad of totally discusting paper down his pants we thanked our pissing strippers with a big tip, went back to the stage and watched some dancers. “Do you think you can pole dance?” I asked him. “No, ma’am. I’m not a very good dancer.

We sat there in silence until his wallet was empty. We got back in his car, I handcuffed him again but this time he was soaked with piss and had a filthy wad in his pants. “Stroke your dick while I drive” I told him. “But I’m” he started to mutter. “Ah, ah, ah! Figure it out. I want you to have an orgasm before we get back to where we started.” He started poking at it, all hunched over. I turned the music up and told him to tell me when he was coming.

While John Denver sang out the bitch said “I’m coming, I’m coming” like he was running late for a train. I turned the music down and pulled over to watch. He jerked and contorted banging his head on the dash a few times. It was delightful.

Though I wasn’t sure that I was not going to make him get out and ask directions I managed to find my way back to the shitty hotel and the bar across the street. I uncuffed him and gave him his phone and wallet. “Your keys are in the ignition” I said as I walked off into the distance.

After a hot shower and another nap I noticed that an old client of mine emailed me about an overnight just south of Birmingham. I just beat him silly, had a glass of wine, and put him to bed so I could tell you about my adventures.

There were a couple of road side piss stops that did not involve anywhere near as much interaction. Just a couple stops at the gas station, use the human toilet boy bathroom, head on down the motorway. Sexy, quick, and dirty.

I should be in NOLA tomorrow afternoon. Meet me in the quarter for a drink.

Road Trip To NOLA

In Adventure, American Dominatrix, bathroom, deviance, FAQ, Golden Showers, Happy Hour, New England, pissing, Public, strip club, Tour, Touring, Widow Centauri on April 20, 2013 at 8:52 pm

I’m packing and driving to NOLA right now. I decided to drive. I need a good road trip. Going through DC, then through Tennessee and Alabama.

I am available for road side piss stops.

My plans so far:

Grotton CT (10 PM or so) — I’ll stop at the Gold club and if they let me stay and dance I will be there till they close at 5 am.

Washington DC four or five hours after I leave the gold club. I will update twitter.

I am only stopping in DC for a few hours.

Looks like it takes about four hours to get to Roanoke VA. I’m planning on stopping at the strip club in this town. There is only one. If they let me stay and dance I will be there Sunday night.

I’ll update on twitter when I leave Roanoke VA

Knoxville, TN four hours or so later.

depending on the strip club in Roanoke I may or may not dance in Knoxville.

Chattanooga

Birmingham Alabama

New Orleans sometime Tuesday night.

~~~

Gawd fuck hell I hope my car makes it, that I can dance in these strange towns, and that you are thirsty and want a road side piss stop!

I need a road trip, so I’m gonna finish up here and head out.

Text me to schedule road side piss stops. Be sure to tell me what major area you are in. If I am close I will call you right away. If I am a ways out still I will text you back or ring you at my earliest opportunity. My mobil number is 619.884.2376

Follow me on Twitter for the adventure.

I’ll turn niteflirt on as I am able.

Traveling Now

In Uncategorized on April 19, 2013 at 7:50 pm

I’m heading to Hartford CT to dance at Kahoots tonight, the 19th of April.  If All goes well I might stay there all weekend.  If it’s a bust I’ll head to the clubs further south in CT that are open till 5 AM.  If that is a bust I MIGHT drive to DC to see some friends and dance in a club that resembles a Chinese restaurant, the golden palace?  not sure of its name.  you can find it.  I’ll update here is I’m heading to DC.  It is not very likely but I really want to go.  

Tuesday night I will be in NOLA.  I need a ride from the airport.  Please only personal FRIENDS offer this ride.  If you are a customer, a client, a fan, I’m gonna just take a cab.  I don’t get in cars with strange men.  

i will be in NOLA through the first of May, if I’m having a really nice time I could extend my trip through the 8th.  

 

So, come see me and have some fun at Kahoots tonight.  

 

I’m in a very strange mood.  

Cadillac Lounge — I’m Out!

In Adventure, bullshit, Cadillac Lounge, cheap men, culture, drama, Massachusetts, New England, paying for it, perverts, politics, strip club, Tour, traveling, whores, Widow Centauri on April 18, 2013 at 3:21 pm

No More Cadillac Lounge

Last week when I went to the cadillac lounge I was asked to sign a form saying that prostitution would not be tolerated, that anyone caught engaging in such activities would be fired immediately. I asked the housemum if this was going to be enforced. She shrugged and told me that she can’t be everywhere.

I went to the Cadillac Lounge on Sunday. I really need to be working so I went it. I have had issues with sunday management before. I was assaulted by an employee on a sunday and no one followed up on the situation. This particular sunday I was working like a happy little stripper, wishing I could be at home visiting the family I had in town, not dancing naked for strange men who I have to tell not to bite, scratch, touch my face, or attempt to insert any fingers into my bodily orifices. They always laugh but I just look at them like they are bad children. “Don’t do that and we won’t have a problem” I tell them.

I take a guy into the champagne room. We are chatting. It is loud and I think he likes my blond wig more than my conversation. His english is broken and my spanish is bad. We are smiling and making eye contact and then he stands up and takes his pants down. Just pulls them right down. “You can’t take your pants off in here” I tell him. “What?” He says shocked. “No really, pull your pants up or the dance I over” and he insists that other girls let him get naked.

This dude is a short, middle aged, pudgy little dark skinned man. I don’t have any interest in looking at his dick as it peeks out from under his roll of belly fat. “Pull your pants up” I say loud enough for people to hear in other rooms. He gets huffy so I walk out into the lobby area and, lucky for me, the manager is sitting right there. “This guy took his pants off in there and is insisting that it is alright” I tell the short Italian manager. H puts his fingers in his hears and closes his eyes, shakes his head back and forth and sings la-la-la” Indicating that he wants nothing to do with this.

I head to the dressing room, then realize that this is no place to be. I head to the toilet to process what just happened. The girl in the stall next to me is shooting up. Another really young dancer comes in shivering. I know this shaking bird has a baby or two, but I didn’t realize that she was part of the bathroom needle party. I just sit there in the stall with doors that don’t lock, on a chair, next to the toilet, looking like I’m freaking out. I’m pretty sure management is gonna follow me into the ladies bathroom and demand that I refund the money to the dude with no pants. I’m sitting there thinking about my option, buying time to figure out what to do.

I like working at the Cadillac Lounge, sometimes. Actually I used to really like working there, but then things got really shitty. Management started giving me grief when the hoursmum isn’t around. The dancers who dominate the place offer hundred dollar blow jobs. I used to be able to sell a bottle of whisky and sit in VIP with a customer all night swapping stories and doing shots, making money. But they changed the rules. I don’t know if it was because of the time the biker refused to leave his bike after I sold him a bottle or if the liquor laws changed in the state while I was busy writing my thesis. I’m not sure. I only know that I can no longer hustle my ‘let’s get a bottle’ special. I like that sort of night. I’m bumbed that it is no longer an option.

So between the junkies sucking and fucking for peanuts and the fact that I have a person in my flat I would rather be spending time with, and the fact that I was gonna take the next few days off anyway and then I was also gonna take all my clothing and shoes home to wash — well I decided that if it came down to it I would walk out. Or at least I was thinking about it pretty hard.

I have been dancing at this particular titty bar for over a year now. I don’t generally last more than a few months before shit goes wrong. Things are getting out of hand at the Cadillac Lounge. Management has started fining dancers for showing up at 8 pm, not 7 pm. This was sprung on me Saturday night when there were plenty of dancers. “Oh yeah, you have to pay an extra $25 dollar fine for being late” “late?” I asked, looking at my watch. Yeah. Random fine. Due now. They have been doing this for all sorts of random things.

Two big signs in the dressing room read PROSTITUTION IS ILLEGAL but no one seems to care. It is just there to save the club from crashing and burning if the fed ever gave a fuck about the junkies sucking dick in this place, which I’m pretty sure isn’t gonna happen. The fed have greater business to attend to in the smallest and most mafia run state in the nation. This little whore house is just a front. For what sort of business I do not care to know. But I am certain that the titty bar is not doing a huge job bringing in upscale clients. It is not charging enough for a cover or for drinks. It seems to be the cheapest drink in town.

Great.

But back to the bathroom. I’m sitting there and the junkies are sharing a needle and in walks the big black bouncer. He hovers over me and tells me “you know some of the girls here so extras and the guy assumed that you would, what do you think the back rooms are for anyway?” I looked at him defending the actions of the pants dropper and began to run over the last couple of weeks that I have been back at the club. I was sitting there thinking about what to do while this massive man, who should have been on a basketball court, screamed at me that I needed to give the dude with no pants back his money, presumably to buy a belt.

It wasn’t even a lot of money. It was the principal of the thing. The fact that two days prior I was asked to sign a paper that said I would not be engaging in such activities, and now here the management won’t even back me up.

Yeah, I’m out.

I said fuck it. I packed my things into my pink sticker coated Brookstone suitcase. The other dancers in the dressing room looked at me and I said goodbye. The bouncer came in and told me to keep my mouth shut. Not to tell any of the girls what was happening. “I am saying goodbye to some of my coworkers” I told him. You really think you can keep me from telling them what the hell is up? Whatever dude. I’ll be out of here in a minute.

The manager came down to yell at me. I told him I was not going to argue about it. That the situation was rageingly hypocritical. “This is not a good idea” he told me “ you should just give him back his money. He is a friend of the owner.” Everyone pulls that ‘I’m friends with the owner’ shit. This guy was not a friend of the owner. This dude possibly was the owners gardner, but they were not friends. I have danced for the owner’s friends and they all kept their pants on. All of them.

This was bullshit.

So I’m going out tonight in search of a new club to dance in. Given that I am heading to NOLA next week I’m gonna hit some places that I don’t really want to dance. It would be super if a subbie wanted to take me on a little tour of the clubs. We could go a s customers and scope some places I really would not mind working. Or I’ll just go hit up a few places and make a little loop of clubs until tuesday when I fly away.

NYC Monday April 15th

In Adventure, deviance, dominatrix, fetish, Golden Showers, Happy Hour, kink, pissing, Public, Widow Centauri on April 14, 2013 at 8:13 pm

Heading to Cadillac Lounge in Providence RI right now. Then NYC tomorrow. I have very limited time in NYC for public golden showers ONLY.

Thirsty bitches should text me

619.884.2376

Lower east side mid-morning till about 3, maybe a little later. Midtown till 630 or so.

Someone To Kick In The Balls

In Adventure, American Dominatrix, Cadillac Lounge, deviance, dominatrix, New England, Public, whores, Widow Centauri on April 13, 2013 at 10:41 pm

Shortly after I tweeted that I wanted to kick someone in the balls all night, mr sore nuts came skipping into the building. I’m sure he had a time of finding of me. Luckily he knew to ask for The Dancer Friday, because otherwise he never would have found me in the packed club.

There were hundreds of people there. Two ballers sat in the VIP area looking rather dejected. A party bus rolled in with 40 people from the local sanitarium. College kids, local constructions workers, the slew of wanna be gang bangers, some bitchy non-stripper women, and the seventy or so dancers and employees that were constantly failing to give a shit about the crowd. They seemed a lost cause to so many of us.

A low profile tong rolled into the VIP area sipping drinks with no labels. Just random unidentified liquor, like it was prohibition. The spokesperson designated to speak to the dancers assured me that the men were all respectable Buddhists. I’m always on guard when someone tells me they are a Buddhist in a sex work situation. It’s almost as if telling a stripper you are Buddhist is code for elitist and unaware, though self-enlightened. One of them tried to finger me.

But then came johnie tough nuts. After the bouncer hunted me down and told me that the lone biker in the corner was looking for me, I headed over not sure if I should expect anything worth my effort of walking the ten steps to where he sat. I wore a hideous blond wig and a neon pant suit. I must have looked like a crack whore from the 1970s. I’m not sure he really thought it was me at first.

“I read your blog and your tweet” he said through his bushy mustache. Feeling me out, hoping that he didn’t get the wrong dancer. “So what can I do for you?” I inquired, “ball kicking, golden showers, face slapping, or something more timid, like a lapdance?” “I came hoping you were serious about the ball kicking” he spat out.

I smiled and leaned into his ear. “How much money do you have and how much pain can you take?” I asked. “Money is not an issue for me and I’m a pretty serious masochist” he said. Getting out his mobile phone he showed me pics of some swollen, bondage bound, pierced, weighted, and cut balls that he assured me belonged to him. I smiled and stood up took his hand and headed to the champagne room.

I explained to the room host that we might be making some painful and silly noises. She looked perplexed. “Tip her” I told the masochist. He put a $50 in her basket and we went to the room furthest in the back.

For the next two hours I kicked, punched, jabbed my heel into his sac. I watched him fall over in pain. I laughed. At some point the host asked if we were alright. “Yes, but if you could send in Jezebel when she is available, we would like to have her play too.” “Of course” said the host, and away she went.

When jezebel arrived we played tug of war with his balls. I used my garter and some rubber bands for some elaborate cock and ball bondage. We kicked and poked. We used body parts to hurt him and then when we were tired I got some props out of my locker. I happened to have a cb3000 in my locker and before he left I locked him in it and told him to return with a thousand dollars in 24 hours if he wanted me to unlock him. His swollen, bloody engorged sack didn’t want to fit in the chastity belt. But I got it in there.

Once he was locked up he started to panic and whimper about his wife. I just laughed. “See you in 24 hours” I said as I turned and left him there in the champagne room to deal with his little world.

I guess I should go to the Cadillac Lounge tonight.

I hope I see you there.

All or Nothing

In American Dominatrix, Cadillac Lounge, kink, New England, strip club, Widow Centauri on April 11, 2013 at 7:58 pm

I’m having an existential crisis. I’m done with school. I have not worked regularly in a rather long time. Writing a thesis 100 hours a week for months on end sapped my funds. I’m cash poor and feeling reckless. I have no idea what the next chapter of my life is going to be about.

My heart is crying out for something to inspire me. I just put every bit of energy into writing my thesis on gender variant neologisms. I need to make money, to have fun, to get some rest, to make a plan, to not let my hard work go to waste …

The list goes on an on.

I’m in a strange place emotionally right now. I don’t know if I am going to put more energy into touring and playing and shooting and being the fun person that I have always been and projected myself as, or if I am going to whole up and write. Just write. That is all I want to do.

But I am horny. I’m horny and I want to play with strangers. For fun and profit. I want to do dirty things with strangers in public for money. It burns inside of my core. I have stopped denying that it exists but I have not stopped trying to quash it.

While I was in the thesis writing phase someone called me on niteflirt. This person only called a few times but tried to convince me to meet and play for free. When I looked a little deeper at the situation I realized that I’m not looking for anything like a traditional relationship. That this person was trying to woo a sex worker and had failed to research me, likely they looked at my photos and thought that I looked like I wanted a man. This person had done this before with other professional dominatrices. The more I looked at the elements of the conversation the more I realized that my identity as a sex worker is tipped heavily towards the worker element. Sex work is my job. It is also how I like to have sex.

I identify as a sex worker.

And also as a writer.

Though I have had some of the most amazing sexual experiences I am not always sexually active. I had sex this week, penetrative, vaginal sex. The last time I had sex in that context it was 2011.

I need a sex partner so very badly. Someone who is as excited about my kinks as I am. Someone hot and adventurous. Someone not burdened by what the neighbors will think. Someone who really likes to pay for the sexy time I can manifest. Every time I have sought out what I need it has ended in a strange and rapid way.

So I just keep groping for passion in the night. Strangers make the best lovers. Hot, nasty, filthy, public, sex with strangers. I need this in my life. I am tired of trying to stop the urge — just writing while my libido burns me alive.

And I find myself at this crossroad. I keep wondering how I can have it all. Struggling to have it all leaves me on occasion with nothing.

###

I will be at the Cadillac Lounge Thursday – Sunday 11 April – 14 April. And likely again 18 April – 21 April. Come and Play!