truth Archives - HeartBrokenStilettos

We are more than ‘just’ strippers

I started the blog to tell my own little secrets and experiences about the stripper’s life, but I’m more and more determined and want to do something for the sex worker community.

I’m a stripper and a writer. I write books about my experiences as a dancer (good and bad, but totally honest) and try to fight against the social stigma that we have to wear. I already have one book I wrote about the average customers of the clubs because we are judged by society but no one talks about those who come to the clubs with their requests. The book I’m currently working on will be about what’s happening in the private, slut-shaming, sex, strippers’ relationships and so on and I’d like to use a few words, stories and opinion of other strippers too. If you’d like to share your opinion with me that could fit in the book, it would be very much appreciated. (with your stripper’s name, age, and country)

What would be your few words message to the ‘normal’ world about our life? If you could only get one point across to the world, what could you say?

We need to raise our voice and together we are louder.

Lately, I thought I should extend this blog with other dancers’ and sex workers’ experiences. I don’t want to make our work fancy and appealing to others to join but those that already work in this industry I wish to be more understood. When you watch some movies, we are displayed as alcoholic and druggies and girls with daddy issues, but our work, our life is more than that and there are girls who were able to stand up for themselves. I just want to show the community that we made our choices and have nothing to be ashamed of. I’d like to introduce girls, artists, businesswomen who grew from this industry and became beautiful, strong and independent spirits. My aim is to show the world that we are not only strippers but talented, kind-hearted, hard-working individuals. You can write your own introduction with photos and links you’d like to share or we can do that in the form of an interview.

Let me know if you’re interested or if you know someone who would be interested.

Email: heartbrokenstilettos@gmail.com

Thank you!

Lindsay

Bachelor parties

Other fun times are the bachelor parties: sometimes you have a feeling that the school bus arrived. Grown-up men in their thirties, forties but they behave like overexcited teenage boys who see tits first time in their lives. I still don’t find the answer why that is. Maybe the peer pressure. Sometimes they pay a show or a private dance for the bachelor, otherwise, they just ogle with their eyes.

Every Knight goes through a special training to be qualified. These are called Bachelor parties. This is the total humiliation of a man so that later on he could bear his woman’s whims and tantrums. In South Africa they are more like fancy dress parties, bachelors entered the club dressed like huge babies wearing nothing just a big textile nappy. Others were dressed like Pink Panthers because women like to take care of babies and kittens. I remember I saw one guy with his arm in a plaster and he held a nursing bottle with alcohol in it. So he had the drink but he couldn’t drink it, sometimes his friends were kind and gave him a sip from their own glass. It was teaching him that after the wedding he can drink only when his woman allows him to, or when his good friend organises a short escape from home away from his woman. In Germany a poor bachelor was standing on the street with a huge carton table with a hole, you know the one he could stick out his head from, and everybody on the street could throw something at him from a basket. I couldn’t identify the objects, they were maybe some paintballs. All managed by his friends. Such good friends, he has!

And if you have never seen a bachelor party, here I write down how it is. I’ve seen a lot in Germany when the friends of the bachelor request a special show for him. It is usually a two-song entertaining. It starts as a normal dance on stage, the girl dances sexy, teasing him. Often there is a chair on the stage so she can give him a short lap dance grinding on him. When he is already in the mood, she takes off his shirt. She also goes topless. She demands him to kneel down on the ground while she takes off his belt. She puts the belt on his neck, sits on his back and asks him to walk around. This is the point when his friends start to scream and whistle and also laugh at him. The training is started. She rides him. Often she holds a riding-crop, if not she uses her hand to slap his bum a few times encouraging him to follow her request. Dear married men who went through similar training, don’t forget that moment when your wife asks you to put that picture on the wall the fifth time! Then she lays him down on the stage while she goes above him. More tortures follow. She puts some ice cubes in her mouth and is teasing his body with the ice taking it in turns with her warm and soft lips. He literally gets hot and cold from her like he will get from his wife in marriage. When he starts to enjoy the moment, she suddenly puts more ice into his pants – another moment when his friends cheer. Then she continues the tortures with candles and pouring wax on his torso. In the end, because he was brave to endure these abuses, she rewards him with red lipstick marks on his body and with a pen she writes love messages on it. When she finally lets him stand up, his body is wet and covered with wax, lipstick and pen marks, but she has not finished yet. She asks him to stand up facing the pole and she ties him up. She dances a bit pushing her boobs to his back and she takes off his trousers. She beats him up a few times with the belt. You can hear his friends from the side saying “Ouch!” and at the very last moment she takes off his underwear. So our bachelor is standing on the stage tied up, naked.

Alternatively, I’ve seen shows when after the riding the dancer also kneeled down, she put whipped cream on her bum cheeks and asked the bachelor to lick it, but when he was close to her she always made a move ahead. Like when the cat is playing with the mouse. In another show the dancer was more brutal when the bachelor was standing on the stage only in his pants, she grabbed huge scissors and cropped his underwear on both sides making a G-string for him. Well, a man has to deal with more torture in his marriage if he didn’t choose the right one.

But if the man has his own strength of character and is able to hold his own also emotionally, it’s no way for him to be intimidated. Some bachelors doing his part of the show just laughing along together with his friends. Like a ‘Come what may’ attitude.

(From the book Bedtime Stories from Stripperland)

https://publioboox.com/en_gb/bedtime-stories-from-stripperland

Stripper with soul

Nobody warned me before that blogs are like tattoos.. if you have one, you always think about the second one. Or at least that is true in my case. (Am I graphoman?)

Right now spending some time home, I found my old poems and I decided to open another blog in Hungarian.

Although London gives me power and self-confidence, Hungary gives richness to my soul. And there is one layer of my heart that in English you will never be able to understand.

The translation is rough and it doesn’t do its justice. I think to translate a poem is the most difficult part of learning a language and I’m still not there yet. But here are some of my poems from a few years back:

I dreamt that you were

close to me, really close.

And when I wake up – maybe –

you are here next to me.

xxx

I’m an angel. I hug you with

my snow-white wings when you are cold.

You made them for me from fluffy clouds

so when you call me I’m ready to fly to you.

xxx

If I could transform into words

what I feel for you,

I’m afraid these feelings

would leave me forever.

xxx

I see you as an angel who broke his wings

and the memory of the pain

stops him from believing

that once he was able to fly.

What do you do in private?

“It’s called a private dance. So guess what? I’m dancing!”

“Ahh! Only dancing?”

I hate this question so much! My job is selling an erotic fantasy, nothing more, nothing less.

So here it is what I’m doing in private (dedicated to the one who wished to read more fantasies on my blog):

You pay for the dance at the bar. When the payment is gone through I hold your hand and take you to the VIP area. I smile because I’m happy to tease such a handsome man! I open the curtains and there is a cosy leather sofa, some candles and soft music playing in the background. Everything is set up for a seductive mood.

I seat you in the middle of the sofa and I sit on top of you. Let’s the game start! Keeping eye contact my hand goes down on your body until your trousers and I take off your belt. (Don’t be so happy, it’s just because not so comfy grinding on the metal buckle.) I ease off your tie and open the top buttons on your shirt. I touch your arms: “Oh, you’re so strong!” I know you need a little adulation and my words are music to your ears. I stand up keeping a bit of a distance so you can see me in the candlelight. I start to dance and slowly take off my dress. I let your eyes wondering on each part of my body. I follow your glare with my hand and softly caress my body and play with my hair. I come closer to you and I place one foot on the sofa on your side. My inner tight touch your face and you feel the softness of my skin on your cheek. You’re shy to touch me but I place your hands on my waist. “A soft touch is allowed” telling you playfully and I let you grab my bum. But I’m the boss so nothing can happen without my permission.

Then I sit down on your lap and I lean forward. I run the tip of my nose on your neck, I don’t kiss but let my lips gently touch your skin and move my hips on you. You close your eyes and enjoy the moment. But before you enjoy it too much and you start to moan, I stand up. (Remember, the private dance is not about you finishing off.)

A little dance against the wall keeping the distance, then I turn and sit on your lap showing my back to you and I continue the grinding. I start slowly then I do it faster. A little twerking on your penis for fun and you’re getting to be excited. Then I lean back, you can see my body over my shoulder. I pull down the straps of my bra and I ask you to open it on the back. You happily follow my request. I still hold my bra when I stand up and turn then suddenly I throw it to your face. Don’t be so smiley, you can’t keep it as a present!

I come closer to you and I press my boobies to your face imitating to give a kiss with them on your cheeks. I still press my naked breasts to your chest, I slide down the floor. Now I’m kneeling in front of you almost in the same position if I would give you a blowjob. Our eyes are engaged and I let your fantasy soar. “Do you like it?” I press my boobies against your penis and give a little massage with them until your breath starts to be heavy.

I stand up and slowly take off my panties. Again I keep distance and let your eyes wondering on my fully naked body but suddenly our song is finished. I blow a feathery kiss to your cheek and I say a “Thank you.”

(And usually, you would say: “I don’t want to finish, I pay one more!”)

Inside of the stripper’s house

Many of you are wondering how and where we live. I hope this little photo selection will satisfy your imagination. I’m a bit sad that I didn’t take photos of the most extreme places, but at that time I had no idea about this blog…

So here we are:

Sometimes I was accommodated in a hotel like this one. Perfect! We enjoyed the pool day and night!

In a few places, the view from the room is breathtaking…

Some club has the accommodation for the dancers in the middle of nowhere.

We feel lucky when there is a garden or at least a terrasse attached to the house…

..other places there is not even a proper window for the room.

It’s a hard battle to deal with these stairs carrying 20+kg luggage with no help.

Some accommodations come with rules (and you can make fun of the boss’s English)

And this is when there are no rules. But cockroaches and mice yes.

And now let’s see where we actually live!

Not in luxury apartments but not on matrasses on the ground as some might think.