widowcentauri

Archive for the ‘dominatrix’ Category

In The Mood

In Adventure, dating, deviance, dominatrix, fun on August 17, 2014 at 8:06 pm

A little update — just cause I have not been posting here much.

You may or may may not know that I had surgery a couple months back. I wish I had spent the healing time wisely: resting, doing PT, and writing. Sadly, I spent most of my time eating pork products and watching films.

I had ten dollars to my name when I went to have surgery. I have less now. Sometimes I’m upset about not having any money. This is the first summer in years that I really don’t give a fuck. It’s always slow in the summer and I can’t beat myself up for a situation that might only be slightly better numbers wise and even worse with stress.

I have however spent a lot of time second guessing myself. Because I’m done with school, and believe in my talents I assume I should be doing something that is not just socially acceptable but is actually something that everyone around me deems worthwhile. Though I love writing and I love sex work I have been harassed every day for since I began my career as an artist and pervert. I have started to actually believe that though I enjoy my work I should be doing something that other people would do. It’s silly and childish to give a fuck what my family thinks at this point. But I do, and I have, and unless I do some serious rearranging of my head I’m gonna keep feeling like I wasted the better part of 200 thousand dollars and more than a decade of my life going to school and learning to write.

It’s important to come to terms with who I am and what I like to do. But it’s also important to realize my skills and ability and my limitations. My major limitations, I’m not 20 and I’m not longer interested in amusing men for hours on end for pocket change. I do like to play but putting in all the hours for the few good sessions I get every once in a while – ones where people actually show up, where I make money and have a crazy good time — it’s hard for me to continue to justify the bullshit that goes into working as a dominatrix and even as a stripper for a lot longer. But it is equally as hard to find a new way for me to get all of the kinky smutty sexy things I get from sex work.

I’m in New Orleans and in the mood to play and have some sexy fun but I’m not sure how long my good mood is gonna last. If you want to play the bet way to make that happen is to call me on niteflirt and talk to me for a bit. I have always been hesitant to play with anyone who does not have references and I still am. I used to have a rule that I would not play with anyone under 30, but lately I seem to feel like a dirty old cougar. Niteflirt is a cheap and easy way for anyone new to my shenanigans to get to know me, see if we have similar interests, and book an appointment. If you can’t spend the few bucks to call me and talk for a few minutes I have very little faith that you will show for your appointment.

Now that I can walk again I’m in the mood to play. I want to go out and do smutty things in public places. I want to piss on boys in public bathrooms, I want to have my feet worshipped down by the river while drinking wine, I want to take a bitch shopping on a leash.

I hope I find a useful boy to amuse me. Lately all the bitches who come into my world disappear just as randomly. That has been happening for as long as I have been a pervert though. Usually it takes a lot of work to find one person who deserves my attention.

Contact me if you think you are a worthy bitch.

Fix That, Buy This — Gimme!

In dating, dominatrix, paying for it, Widow Centauri on August 2, 2014 at 2:16 am

I’m pissing in the bathtub for the rest of the night because my toilet is having a fit. It just keeps draining. I have jiggled the handle and gone into the tank, the toilet is just whining. I need this fixed asap.

Additionally:
My fridge is trying to die
I need hurricane supplies and information
I need cleaning supplies.
DESK — this is urgent. I need to build a desk and am willing to use recycled materials but we might need to scavenge for them, unless truck bitch wants to buy things for me.
Food — I really have none and would love to go on a grocery store shopping trip
The doorknobs on my back door. I don’t have keys to them and I would like to replace them.
I need beds — two queen sized beds. New and comfortable.
A clothing rack
A dresser or two
A full mirror
Kitchen things — I need a pot and maybe some other simple stuff that I should already have but don’t.
Ink for my printer, and nice paper
Simple medical supplies for my foot
Ghetto insulate the front of my house with rags and duct tape!
Change lightbulbs / get lamps
Lighting for backyard
Furniture for backyard
Photo Shoots
A good bike
Money to pay my bills
Sexy tight and shiny fetish clothing. A new rubber catsuit and a weekend in Barcelona would melt me.

I’m accepting gifts, donations, and elbow grease. 

Another Useless Bitch? — just call me on niteflirt

In bitch, bitchy, bullshit, dominatrix, drama on July 22, 2014 at 6:20 pm

I have been up all night. I have been looking for vanilla / straight jobs. I have been working on my resume and my niteflirt and clips4sale store. I have been doing that silly thing I do when I start to wonder how much longer I can take it in the smut business. Now that I am finally finished with school I am going to get a straight job. If only so I don’t feel like I am wasting my $170,000 education. I think I could have gone to the public library and found some smart people to talk to about philosophy on the internet. But I went to school so I could feel smart, so II could escape poverty, so I could have a good head on my shoulders and be well read. Now I’m gonna get a job, even if I don’t like it. Just so I can see what everyone else does with their days. So I can go to work and get a pay check and have a reasonable expectation that I will not be sexually harassed on a daily, and in fact hourly basis.

And today I thought I would open up my kind heart, I thought I would trust someone from the internet again. Even though this really never has worked for me. When I have good kinky relationships they develop organically. I have never met someone on the internet and had it ‘work out.’

But today is a special kind of hell. Last week I had foot surgery. So I’m hobbling around. I managed to get my foot into a boot so I could show this bitch what I wanted him to do in the back yard. We talked on fetlife and on the phone and he drove over an hour with some tools and a lawn mower. So I tell give him the tour and then he says ‘nah, I don’t think this is gonna work. It just does not feel right.’ And I’, standing there in the sunshine, my foot throbbing, wanting to punch him in the face because I’m not really sure I heard him right. Did he just tell me that after the several hours I have put into this little game to get my back yard mowed that he does not want to do it? Yeah, that is what he said. He needs to go, he is uncomfortable. I need my grass groomed, my toilet scrubbed, and some new locks installed on my doors. I ask him if I can borrow his lawn mower cause at this point I’m ready to say fuck the throbbing in my foot and just mow the lawn myself. He says it’s a job for a weed wacker, but he won’t let me borrow that either.

I ask him what the problem is. We talked about all of this on the phone. Is it because I’m bald? Am I not being mean enough to the dickbag? Did I say something that led him to believe that I’m not 28 like it says on my profile? Was it the drug story? He gives me the same tired line of “this just does not feel right” and hops in his truck and drives away.

Well I guess he does not get to stick around and find out how awesome I can make things feel. No, I shoved my swollen recently operated foot into a boot and he thinks he doesn’t feel right. WTF? I really need my yard dealt with, like you said you were gonna do, dickbag. I told you I was recovering from surgery — did his silly little bitch brain expect I was gonna be dressed in a latex cat suit?

I’m not sure because he would not even give me the respect of an actual answer. I would have rather heard something about how my lack of hair stressed him out, how he has a thing for girls in their 20s, maybe that my ass looks way bigger in real life. Or maybe he just wanted to get some of my time for free. Maybe he wanted to have an hour long conversation with me for free when I usually charge $2.99 a minute. Maybe he wanted to know where I live. Maybe he just wanted to meet me and never had any intention of being a good boy. That’s my theory. His fetlife profile assures the reader that he is well behaved and obedient and worth the time. He seemed like he had the potential to be a good slave. His fetlife profile also mentioned nothing about what he is interested in or what he needs in a dominatrix. It has enough information to say he wants to serve and that it is sooooo hard to find what he is looking for. Well your never gonna find the domme of your dreams if you run off like a scared little bitch!

I need a bitch with tools NOW. The last two boys who told me they were useful, handy, had tools and wanted to be dominated turned out to be chicken. I just watched a 50 year old man run away. Two days ago we worked out all the details on the phone — I spent way too much time telling him what I wanted done. I am not generally quite so welcoming to strangers but he seemed sincere.

I have been a professional dominatrix for over ten years. I just moved to new orleans and I actually need a bitch who can do some yard work, possesses an electric drill, can hang things, owns a ladder and isn’t afraid to get involved with a demanding woman who needs shit done.

right now, as in today, I need you to fix my dryer or hang a clothes line in my back yard.

and clean my bathroom.

today, or sometime really fucking soon I need my yard groomed.

It would be fucking wonderful if you were hot; but I don’t care if you are a nasty old pig as long as you can get this work done.

I’m sick of being stood up, snuck out on, lied to, and otherwise treated like a vanilla woman. I have a lot of kinky experience and if you like to be treated like a dog, told what to do, and rewarded or beaten with a stick depending on your level of competency send me an email.

put your phone number in the email.
include a photo if you are hot — if you are a fat pig just say so.
tell me how old you are and if you have any experience with a dominatrix.

This is a great opportunity to be a personal slave to a smoking hot dominatrix. If you have the funds and you don’t suck maybe I’ll let you take me to fetish con in August.

I’m hot as hell and in a bad mood. I need some shit done so get over here and do it bitch!

don’t be a chicken or a wanker — this is the kind of shit that makes dominatrixes become accountants and housewives. My tolerance for bullshit just dropped radically.

More Fun — and Toilet Paper.

In Adventure, bullshit, dominatrix, Golden Showers, Public on August 23, 2013 at 8:09 pm

So earlier in the week a wanker contacted me with a seemingly real proposition. We made a plan to meet up Thursday afternoon, but I was dealing with several other thursday appointments that I was trying to squeeze him in the middle of. No real shocker — wanker turned out to be a phony time wasting ‘I’m gonna fuck with this dominatrix when she is clearly having a hard time’ type. Whatever.

The magic that manifested itself because he flaked was worth dealing with the nonsense.

I met up with a sugar daddy from the horrendous website. This man was old and ugly, but he could keep up his end of the conversation. When I asked him what type of sex he liked to have he blushed like a school girl. After another glass of wine I took him to the bathroom and used him like the dirty bitch he wanted to be. I felt so lucky.

I bent him over the toilet and rammed his ass. It was a little dirty so when I was done fucking his rump I turned him around and used his face. I made him lick the shit off my cock. Then I fucked his mouth till he gagged. He was a fucking mess.

When my little dildo game was over I had to pee. He told me he had never consumed piss before, so I made him open wide and drink every drop. He slurped at it, wanting more. I took his shower virginity in a fancy ass Boston bathroom and then I put on my chucks and went to catch my train home.

I was glad the night was not a total wash. I’m not sure if I am gonna see this dude again though. He seemed a little freaked out that I was willing to move that fast. I think he was prepared for something a little more vanilla with a touch of kink — not the full fledged ‘fucking you in the bathroom and making you drink my piss’ experience that he will no doubt jerk off to for months and months and months.

I came home and looked at my finances. I hope I see this sugar daddy again, even if he seems to be a little more on the saccharine daddy side.

The good news is that I finally had a little fun. The bad news is that his accounts would not withdraw enough money for me to actually pay all my fucking bills.

I’m out of everything and trying to not feel sorry for myself. I am doing a lot of things that most people could not pull off, so I need to pat myself on the back. But I still need food. I’m about to run out of toilet paper again, my surplus of extensions on bills is exhausted, so I’m looking at the fact that I have to pay this huge bill about two months ago and if I don’t get it paid this week my whole world will implode. To say nothing of my rent. This bill trumps the rent.

I need to hire two seperate lawyers. One to sue my bitch neighbor for vandalizing my automobiles, and another because some wanker (possibly someone who is reading this) is potentially stealing my content and making a profit on it, claiming to have the rights to do so.

Oh, why?

My life needs more fun. More times like last night. Fewer bullshit encounters with trashy bitches and internet wankers and thieves.

I wish I could go to lawschool. Not a month goes by when I don’t wish I could pull off a law program. I constantly find myself needing more information abbot legal encounters. I just have shit for money to hire lawyers on top of everything else tight now.

I’m gonna try to not run out of food and toilet paper first. Well second, after I pay this impossible bill from hell.

It would be awesome to have a couple public sessions before I leave New England for good.

If we have had sexy times while I have been in the region, now would be a good time to contact me (by email) and come play. I’m feeling reckless and want to push some limits.

Also you will have to buy me toilet paper. Just saying.

Slightly Less Hostile

In Adventure, bitchy, dominatrix, New England, strip club on June 29, 2013 at 6:56 am

I am feeling slightly less hostile this week. I’m not sure why. I went to the Gold Club and stayed in a hotel for two nights. I worked three shifts in a row. First night was horrible. I was glad I thought to bring money for the room cause there was no one in the titty bar to hook me up with the massive pile of cash I was counting on. Night two went pretty much the same way until late in the evening a put together looking middle aged dude with a tie sat at my stage and told me he had come from a wake. I took him to the boom boom room and squashed him with my juicy ass. Then I tied him up in what was pretty pathetic stocking bondage. After his wallet was drained he handed me a slip of paper. I assumed it was his number but no, even better, it was the address of his hotel. Yeah, I’m on my way, sure, cause I just danced for ten hours in eight inch platforms I clearly want to keep the party going at this 3am hour. Thanks for the suggestion dude but I’m gonna go wash the hooker off my face.

Day three was a gem to remember. Some creeper tried to talk me into giving him half price dances and then during the first song he came in his pants. Lovely. As the night went on, and on, and on there was no one in this club. I began to think that mr sticky spot would be the highlight of the evening but then like a unexpected check in the mail in walked Santa Clause. I saw dollar signs and ran up to him throwing my arms around him. After some simple pleasantries santa took a crumpled dollar bill and jammed his hand down my panties with it. Woah there santa, this is not that kind of club. He proceeded to tell me about a club where he finger fucked a dancer then put his finger in some other dancers mouth. So I l told him about the time I saw a feature dancer shove a dildo in her ass on stage, remove it and shove it in a customers mouth. Yep, it was story time. Finally after Santa made several attempts at putting dollar bills into my cooter I hauled him into the lap dance room. About two minutes into the song he tried to bite my boob and that was about all I could take. I grabbed his balls and twisted like I was trying to get a lid off a jar. I leaned in and whispered into his ear “you have been very naughty santa. Would you like me to rip your balls off or would you like to hand me a hundred dollars for this dance?” he gasped and tried to squirm. “You have tried to shove your hands in my panties, suggested that I am underage, and made every possible attempt to make me uncomfortable and take advantage of me. Fuck you santa. You are the reason that strippers hate their jobs” Then I pulled as hard as I could and he started to panic. “Don’t do that, please let go” “Oh I will let go when you hand me a hundred dollars for dealing with your bullshit. And if you don’t I’m gonna take this evil germ covered shoe and jam the heel into your eye socket. Sound fun?” he put his hand into his pocket and handed me a crispy ben franklin. I grabbed my things and walked off. When I went to tip out the DJ I mentioned that I almost killed santa. He laughed and said “you could send that creeper down the river and no one would notice.”

I left slightly irked and without enough money. On my way home some california surfer dude tried to talk to me. I told him I didn’t want to have to talk to men ever agin. His response: wow, I like that, you’re keeping it real.

I like New England today. I can hate everyone and no one give a shit. Fuck Santa. Fuck Surfers. Fuck you.

I feel better.

CT, SoCal, NYC — NOW

In Adventure, Comedy, dominatrix, fetish, Golden Showers, Los Angeles, New England, pissing, Public, San Diego, strip club, traveling, Widow Centauri on May 24, 2013 at 9:18 am

I will be at the Gold Club in Groton CT most of the time until 3 June.

Los Angeles the evening of 3 June.

San Diego 5 June

NYC 6 June.

I will be performing at The Red Umbrella Diaries on 6 June at Happy Ending on the Lower East Side. Come and enjoy a night of story telling. It is free and starts at 7PM.

https://www.facebook.com/events/128092554056876/?ref=22

I hope to have some fun!

I Have Food, This is Good

In Adventure, American Dominatrix, bathroom, deviance, dominatrix, fun, Golden Showers, kink, New England, pissing, Public, Widow Centauri on May 7, 2013 at 4:19 pm

After reading my rant, sure as shit, some bitches came climbing out of the wood work all butt hurt saying “I’m a regular, no?” My response of ‘who is this?’ Didn’t exactly please them.

There is no fighting the fact that I am in a bad mood. I have all these big plans but every time I hear a big truck rumble to a stop I wonder if it is the power company, come to shut me down. Before I leave I’m gonna make sure there is a flashlight by all the entrances. Fuck on a stick.

But anyway

Someone called and said “I’m sorry you are in a bad mood Widow, can I take you shopping, or somehow make things better?” Of course I said yes. But I was still uncertain about who I was speaking to. He asked me where I was goign to be dancing. “I have no idea, some really well behaved subbie called me on niteflirt and totally derailed my plans to make it to a club at a decent hour. Why don’t we just meet at the supermarket, since I’m out of food.”

When we met up I knew who he was. He is a piss boy I have seen several times. As we wandered through the supermarket I threw things into the cart. When I found products that I thought would be particularly well suited for tormenting him with I would open them. “Pickled egg?” I asked coyly, as thought he had a choice. I shoved the whole jar of picked eggs down his throat and made him drink the brine. I smiled, then we moved on.

I put pretzels in his nose and marshmallows in his ears. I dressed him in a series of hideous grocery store rompers, sun hats, ugly shades, and threw a big ass beach umbrella in the cart. We made our way to the pathetic produce section. I spanked him with a leek and gagged him with an apple. Other shoppers were giggling, huffing, trying not to look, and being incredibly polite as people in New England are apt to be. One old lady looked at us with a big grin and said “you two are having more fun than anyone in this market. I want whatever you had, pour me one” and then turned and went back to her shopping seemingly quite content to have seen something amusing durring what was surely an otherwise mundane shopping experience.

When I was sure I had everything I needed I asked the person behind the deli where the bathroom was and we headed that way. After parking the cart by the bathroom door I pulled him into the multi-stall bathroom behind me. I could have gone into one of the stalls but I had to pee so badly by this point that I just hopped up on the counter, lifted my skirt and said “drink.”

He dropped to his knees and I heard them hit the tile. It sounded painful. His jaw dropped and I shot a little stream of piss right into his egg hole. “Swallow” I told him. Then he opened back up and I just let it all out. I pissed in his mouth. All over his face, into the bits of pretzel and marshmallow that were still stuck to his face.

Surprisingly he was able to drink most of it. He did get wet, but not nearly as wet as he would have if he had not been an expert piss chugger. There was a little puddle on the floor. “Lick that up” I said, as I grabbed a paper towel and dried myself off. After he was done licking the floor clean I jammed the paper towel in his mouth. “Wash your hands” I told him, “make bubbles.”

At this point I was just being a smart ass. But I was having a good time. After we are cleaned up we went to the register and he bought the strange assortment of things in this cart, including an empty jar that previously held pickled eggs. When the cashier looked at it I said “he got hungry.” The cashier looked at him, a bit wet, bits of food all over him, reeking of piss. The cashier didn’t say a word.

After loading the groceries into my car he said “ I hope I was able to cheer you up a little bit Widow.” And I sent him on his way.

I’m in a slightly better mood. I have an icebox full of food, so if the power company shuts me down while I’m out tonight I will have a massive mess to deal with. Hopefully that does not happen. Maybe you will come see me at whatever club I end up in. Watch for the tweet, then come and play.

A Rant

In American Dominatrix, bitch, bitchy, bullshit, dominatrix, drama, Golden Showers, Massachusetts, New England, pissing, politics, Public, whores, Widow Centauri on May 4, 2013 at 10:06 pm

I’m just gonna bitch about my life for a second and you, dear reader, will either read it, ignore it, label me an entitled little while girl and move on, or whatever the fuck you want. Who knows maybe it will be your favorite and you will print it out and send it to people as Christmas cards.

I don’t think that life is this hard for everyone. I go to a lot of effort to make sure that the people are around me don’t know how much pain I am in. I cry from the pain several times a week. After finishing that mammoth thesis I have a ll these big plans for it. But now that I have worked six, maybe ten days in the last six months I am not surprisingly out of cash. Oh poor fucking me.

And I don’t want any snarky BS about how if I would answer my phone, or somehow deal with people better. I do what I do in the way that I do it and you can love it or walk, bitch.

My legs hurt, my feet hurt, my life feels like a big sham. I should be so happy to have finished school. I assumed that I would just get right to work. But I am tired. Tired from lack of sleep, a strict lifestyle that ended in an epic party with two of my favorite people. I’m straight exhausted. And now I need to go find a new club in New England.

Oh fucking goodie. A New England club, that sounds super. There are few of them that are open later than one or two in the morning. If I’m gonna go to all the trouble to look like a hooker I want to work till the sun comes up, eat some eggs in a greasy spoon, and high tail it home with the rest of the night shifters.

One am? Please I’m not even getting warmed up by that time.

I have been in this business too long. The rest of the world is starting to emulate my underground seedy culture. I always liked that it was seedy and that it was dirty and that we were all getting away with something. Now smut is ubiquitous. Little 18 year old drugged up hoochies hope that they can be the next rap queen, while I just realize that this is how I pay my rent. Which has yet to be paid, or even generated.

I have been in this business a long time. I have no regulars who I would call regular. I have turned a couple of regulars into sometimes friends, check ups on facebook, a random hello if we bump into each other, but no, I have no regulars. After all this time I don’t have one person I can call and say ‘get your ass over here with a grand and cancel your plans for the next two days” Not one?

Is it because I am a bad business person? Is it because I would rather sit here in my filthy clothing (I have not done my laundry in eight months but that is a different tale of woe) and write about the dirty things I have done? Is it because I am horribly agoraphobic? There is really so little I want to go outside in the light of day for that I’m just not that into meeting you before, say, 10 PM. I could pull off 8, but not in the summer time.

I long for the darkness and snow to encroach upon us again so that I might have some legitimate weather gripe “oy, so much snow, its so fucking cold” yeah other people bitch with me when it is cold. But few want to bitch about the sunshine and warmth. Nope! Misery loves company and I’m wicked lonely.

I like holing up and writing. But it is not quick money. It is not the rent I need right now.

I will scrape together some level of enthusiasm to paint my face and drag my over fed ass into a strip club in the coming days. Though I have no idea which one. A Maine loop appeals to me, though if I get there and they say I’m too fat well I guess I just went all the way to Portland on the last benji I have sitting crumpled on my make shift desk.

At this juncture I would rather play than dance. Right now I want to take someone out and make silly games happen. I want to wear my clean and pressed suits, not my filthy bar scented stripper clothing. The dress that I found a cockroach sitting on in the last dressing room I was changing in. I am getting to a point where I am hating on dancing. I don’t mind the slut part, I mind the physical labor of being on a slippery stage with a dingy germ covered pole popping my ass for singles and the potential that someone will get a lap dance, a VIP, give me more than just that dirty single. Yeah the physical labor of dancing naked is horribly exhausting to me. But the rest of it, the skimpy clothing, the brief encounters with strangers for money in a semi public place — that still turns me on.

So I have to get my lazy bones up, rub some tiger balm on them, stretch, put on my blond wig and red lips and high tail it to a titty bar. First thing Monday morning.

Yeah, so I need to switch up my sleep cycle and deal with this nonsense.

Gawd isn’t their anyone in New England who wants to have fun, let me taunt them in public, maybe piss on them in a public bathroom or out in the park?

Where have the few regulars I have had over the years — what has become of them? Are they reading this? Do they want to play but think that someone will see them? Do they long for me to have a dungeon again, to come to their place, to play for free (cause they have no money and everyone in the fucking world is giving it way for free) — oh fuck if I know.

I’m just bitching to make myself feel better. Something about writing and bitching makes me feel a lot better.

I’m gonna write all night, I think. Maybe I’ll tell some stories that have not been told. Maybe I’ll post them, maybe I’ll work on the undone writing projects that I have waiting in the corner of my mess. Maybe I will do my laundry, take it outside, set it on fire and find someone to take me shopping.

So many maybes — the only thing I want to do it write.

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.

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.