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As a straight-A All American good girl, I never thought I would find myself in a strip bar in Las Vegas. But there I was, dressed in a virginal white dress that draped loosely over my curves, with matching black heels and a white clutch purse. My long, dark hair was styled in loose waves, and I wore just enough makeup to enhance my natural beauty.
I had come to Vegas with a group of friends, who had convinced me to let loose and have some fun. I was hesitant at first, but eventually I gave in. We arrived at the strip bar and I immediately felt out of place. The music was loud and the lights were flashing, and I could see the lust in the eyes of the men who were watching the dancers on stage.
At first, I was content to sit at the bar and watch the show, but before long, I was approached by a man who offered to buy me a drink. I usually don’t drink, but I was bored and wanted some attention, so I accepted. As the night went on, more and more men bought me drinks and I lit.
Eventually, the DJ spotted me dancing alone in my seat and approached me. He complimented my dance moves and told me to enter the amateur strip contest, saying my fresh Asian good girl look would hit different and I could win. I was hesitant at first, but the thrill of performing and the lure of the $500 cash prize was too tempting to resist.
I gave the DJ my real name and school to enter. He gave me Jasmine as my ‘stripper name’. I was so drunk that I forgot my stripper name. Sounding irritated, he called out my full Filipina name, Maria Theresa Delacruz, junior majoring in Religious Studies from Notre Dame. I panicked and hurriedly dove up the front of the stage to stop him from saying any more, inadvertently flashing my lacey panties to countless smartphones as I climbed over the rim.
The song started, and I began to dance, awkwardly at first, but soon I found my rhythm and got caught bursa escort up in the music, twirking in my dress for an entire song. I snapped out of my happy place when someone in the crowd yelled “Strip, bitch”, and the crowd screamed as a man reached out for the front of my dress. Afraid, I tried to pull myself away and all the buttons popped off the front of my dress, exposing my lacy white bra and matching panties. I could feel the eyes of the crowd on me, with a sea of smartphones pointed towards me. I decided to let go of my inhibitions and let the white dress fall on top of the black buttons, trying to soothe the crowd with my Wednesday dance moves.
The DJ, a sleazy-looking bro with greasy hair and a cheesy grin, introduced me as “Miss Good Girl Gone Bad, She So Horny, She Fuck You Long Time” and I could hear the cheers and roars from the crowd as I surfed on the massive wave of sexual energy. I felt so seen and so powerful. I went with the flow and continued to dance, removing my 32C bra and letting it drop to the floor, and then sliding out of my soaked panties. While I stripped, I could feel the rough bills being stuffed into my panties and fingers sliding into my wet pussy, and the electric feelings both excited and disturbed me.
When my last song came to an end, I reluctantly took my place next to two Latinx, two Blacks and one white redhead, wearing only my silver crucifix necklace that gleamed in the spotlight. Together we stood on display like nude mannequins at the back of the stage for what felt like another hour as the rest of the girls stripped and joined us. With maybe one exception of a squinting young Latinx newbie, all of my fellow contestants looked like regular local working girls with intricate tattoos, store bought tans and dark sunglasses. They flirted with men in the audience, undoubtedly to line up business for later in the altıparmak escort night. I was amazed that they could see anyone with the spotlights so bright, even with their sunglasses.
When the contest ended, the DJ turned the spotlight on each of us one by one, and the crowd cheered to vote. I was in the middle of the pack of all 11 contestants and the screams for me were the loudest. I smiled, raised my arms and did a deep bow with the cross of my necklace tapping the stage, followed by a curtsy as I blew kisses at the crowd that I could not see. I saw in video clips that I even crossed myself while kneeling, maybe as a sign of penance.
Soon after, the DJ announced that I had won the contest and would receive the cash prize. I was overwhelmed with excitement – I was used to being invisible to hot men, and now suddenly I was the hottest girl in Las Vegas. It felt awesome, even as the local girls glared and turned their backs, while the newbie smiled and winked at me.
But I was brought down to earth just a few minutes later. One of the local girls told me that I would have to pay the DJ to get my clothes back, giving up the money from the contest and 90% of my tips. I was shocked and outraged, and wasn’t sure I believed her until the other women backed her up telling me that it was the initiation fee for getting clients.
But I wasn’t like them. I was a smart, strong, confident and pure student from one of the top schools in America and I wasn’t looking for ‘clients’ like these fallen women were. Feeling myself, I pictured myself walking proudly naked, a modern day Lady Godiva, through the crowd to confront the DJ on his stage and putting him in his place.
But in reality, as I was stumbling drunkenly towards the DJ, security guards grabbed me and took all my tip money. I was devastated and humiliated as they bursa anal yapan escort grabbed me and pushed me naked into the cold wet Las Vegas night. They threw out a torn-up tattered too-short t-shirt that I had to pull out of a puddle and wring into the gutter while they took videos of my bent-over bare ass and pussy. I put on the shirt which literally covered nothing except my pride. Crying and wailing, I blindly ran drunk, cold and barefoot down the Las Vegas Strip not knowing the way to my hotel, doing my best to avoid all the men ready to pounce on my untouched pussy, while trying to hide my bouncing boobs from all the smartphones pointed at me by people too cruel to help.
When I dove into the Paris casino to plead for help, I was immediately pinned on the floor underneath the Eiffel Tower by a ton of security guards who dispensed with what was left of the shirt and my dignity. I pleaded with them for mercy and told them I was saving myself for marriage. In return, they dragged me by my feet to a back office where they all taught me the meaning of terms like bukkake and golden showers but mercifully they đid not take advantage of me. When they were done with me, the goddamn pieces of shit (excuse my french!) stuck one dollar bills on my cum soaked body then pissed on me again. They warned me if I called the police, they would arrest me as a whore and no one would be as ‘merciful’ when they locked me up. Then they threw me into the hotel trash crusher ‘for my protection’. They called my friends and warned them to get me.
Winning a strip contest in Las Vegas was not the empowering experience that I had imagined it would be. Instead, the experience was a lesson in price that you pay when you stop being a good girl. For everything bit of illicit sexual pleasure that I felt, I was rightfully punished 100x. I learned that sometimes, standing up for yourself is not enough, and that your biggest moments can be filled with deep shame. Even though I enjoyed letting my wild side out for some exciting moments. I am committed more than ever to living a sincerely devoted life devoid of wicked temptations,and helping those in need. I am never going to Las Vegas ever again.
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