2. THE DARK LORD

Chapter 2: The Dark lord

I didn't think much of it when I decided to storm Antonio's office. By my calculations, I should have finished paying my father's one million, five hundred dollars debt.

Fifteen valuable years of my life wasted, living in this dump, and five years dedicated to paying a debt that wasn't even my own.

I chuckled at that. I didn't know what I wanted to do when I gained my freedom. Maybe I'd get a job waitressing and then eventually save up to go to college.

I didn't even know what I wanted to major in; I just wanted to go to college.

Antonio wasn't a good man; there aren't good men in this line of work. He had saved me from my hell but dragged me into another one, and my biggest promise to myself was that one day I'd leave The Cellar Door alive.

I was brought here when I was ten, and I worked my ass off so one day I'd leave. I had danced here since I was seventeen and started serving drinks at fifteen; you could say my whole childhood was at The Cellar Door.

I always thought it would be funny if someone who frequents the club recognized me. They'd call me Luna, but I wouldn't respond; they'd wonder what Luna the bombshell was doing in a coffee shop, with her hair tied in a bun, covered in a hair net, and huge nerd glasses on.

I would introduce myself as Laura and tell him I didn't know any Luna. The man would apologize and still look at me with recognition, but he'd just look at it like one of those things that happen.

"How much?"

I said as I barged into Antonio's office.

The image of Rosita's legs spread on this table while he ate her out would forever be in my head, but sadly it's an image I was used to.

I had been unfortunate enough to catch those two in the act more often than I could count. The worst would be when I caught Rosita sucking Antonio's old wrinkled penis; the way he gagged her, all I could think of at that moment was his bald, big, fat head.

They'd never say they were dating, in a relationship, or even in a situation. They'd never add a label to whatever they were, but I knew Antonio fucked half of the strippers in his office.

Rosita was his favorite fuck. I prided myself as the only stripper he hadn't fucked yet; yes, he repeatedly made advances, but I couldn't see myself in Rosita's position with his bald head between my legs. I gagged at the thought of it.

"Good day to you, Luna," he said with a coy smile. "I am busy, as you can see, so next time you decide to rudely interrupt me, can you be so courteous as to knock?"

He finished, and I rolled my eyes.

Rosita gave me a soft glare; I knew it was her hiding her shame. I had warned her against fucking Antonio, and here she was getting head from him.

I didn't have time for his usual shenanigans; he should just quietly button up his trousers and tell Rosita to take a leave.

"Rosita, can you be a darling and excuse us for a minute or two?"

I said with a smiling face as I spoke softly to Rosita.

Then, turning my face to a frown, I faced Antonio. When Rosita left, I said what brought me here.

"It has been five years of me dancing my ass off. How much have I paid off? How much do I still owe you?"

I asked, but by my calculations, this was supposed to be my last week. I could already taste freedom. I heard the air smelled different on the other side.

"Let me see," He said, smiling—you know that kind of smile you make when you're about to screw someone over?

That was the kind of smile he had on. He then brought out a big brownbook, which I assumed was where he kept his records.

"Your initial debt is one million, five hundred dollars," He said, slurring his words, but that debt was never mine; I inherited it.

"And you've remitted a steady one thousand five hundred dollars on a five-day average for five years— that's one million eight hundred and twenty-seven thousand dollars," He continued. I smiled, knowing that I had paid my parents' debt and earned my freedom at last.

"But it seems that there is an oversight," His smile was huge, and my face fell into a frown. He really was about to screw me over.

"Interest." He simply stated, and my face fell into a frown. He really was about to screw me over.

"Your father and I agreed on a five percent compound interest rate," Antonio said.

My face contorted so hard you'd think I was about to explode. I wanted to tell him he didn't tell me shit about interest. I honestly thought it was quite funny that I had parents who continually destroyed my life even when they were long dead.

"So how much do I owe now, no more oversights?"

I stood up from my chair grating my teeth so hard you'll think I'll break my teeth, but I tried to appear calm, but if I were to be very honest, if I was with a knife, I would have stabbed this motherfucker dead, even though his guards would kill me, but at least I'd have freedom, even if it was in death.

Still thinking on the matter, I stood back up and began pacing.

"Calm down, baby girl. Breathe. Let's talk like civilized people; have a seat," Antonio said calmly, so I sat down.

"Don't fucking calm me down. How much do I owe?" I asked loudly.

"Plus interest, your debt is one million nine hundred and fifteen thousand dollars, approximately, I have been feeding you for the past fifteen years, so let's say two hundred dollars multiplied by three hundred and sixty-five days, multiplied by fifteen years," Antonio continued as he punched his calculator with a huge smile on his face, knowing he had dug me deep.

"That is then three million, ten thousand dollars. I also hired the best instructors for you—pole dancing instructors, flexibility instructions, and other expensive shit," he said.

"Expensive shit I didn't ask for," I said loudly.

"Expensive shit you still got, but since I'm good at being magnanimous, let's say that it cost about two hundred thousand dollars. Add that to the initial debt, so baby girl, your debt is three million, two hundred and ten thousand, minus interest."

The smile on his face simply stated that he had won. Maybe he won this round, Antonio, but the war was still coming.

"Now when you calculate that with the sum you remit yearly, adding the interest, you still owe one million, three hundred and eighty-five thousand dollars," he deadpanned. Right now, I was very close to breaking down in tears, but Antonio didn't deserve to see me cry.

"That is almost what I had started with," I frowned.

Antonio wanted to milk me dry before I left stripping, but I assured him I'd get my freedom whether he liked it or not.

"Anything else you want?" He asked, and I voiced out the word ‘no.’ I glared at Antonio so hard that if looks could kill, he would have been six feet under a long time ago.

What gave me hope was an ex-stripper named Barbie. When I first came here, she gained her freedom. The smile on the girls' faces when they congratulated her still warms my heart. Then, she approached me telling me how she came here with a debt of five million, and now she's free. If she can do it, surely I can.

"I can't believe it," I stammered, my mind racing. "I've been dancing night after night, giving my all to this club, and it still isn't enough?"

Antonio's face softened slightly, as if he were trying to show empathy. “I know it's tough, Luna, but you signed a contract. Until your debt is cleared, you're bound to work here."

I gritted my teeth, frustration and anger bubbling up inside me. I did sign the contract, but I never imagined it would be this difficult to break free. I had dreams of a better life, a life where I could be more than just a dancer in a dimly lit club.

"I won't give up," I declared, my voice firm. "I'll work even harder to pay off this debt, and then I'll finally be free."

Antonio chuckled, a smug look crossing his face.

"Good luck with that, Luna. You might be headstrong, but don't forget who you're dealing with."

I didn't need his condescending words. I've faced worse challenges in life, and I won't back down now. With newfound determination, I returned to the stage for another performance, dancing with even more intensity and passion.

Standing up to take my leave, I almost gave into temptation and flipped Antonio off, but I just shook it off as obstacles that I would overcome.

Within hours, the club would be filled with people who worshiped Luna. Luna was a confident dancer; she moved with precision. Luna didn't try hard to be loved; she craved attention from the crowd.

Tonight, I became Luna. Just as I thought I had endured enough of Antonio's bullshit for today, he decided to open his mouth to speak.

"We have important guests today at the V.I.P. Not just any guests; they requested for you. I want you to 'wow' them," he said. "I want you to go to Sophie and get extra dolled up."

V.I.P guests only mean one thing: larger tips, more money, and the faster I can pay my stupid debt.

Antonio knows I wouldn't reject it, and the smile on the fucker's face told me he was going to make more money than I could imagine.

* * *

I walked into the dressing room with a newfound conviction. Antonio thought he might have broken me, but little did he know that the fire that burns inside burns stronger now.

Sophie, our stylist, began to work on my hair.

It was a very tedious process—night after night, she curled and styled it, which wasn't easy because of how voluminous my hair is. But Sophie always said how much she loved working with me because she doesn't need to add hair extensions. But she just had to recomb and untangle.

After hair, she moved to makeup. The goal with stripper makeup is overemphasizing everything. I have green eyes, so they almost always use smokey eye makeup on me with a very long white wing liner.

My pouty lips are accentuated with scarlet red lipstick, and my jawline and cheekbones are accentuated with very nice, sharp contours.

The dress rack was then brought in. One thing about being Luna is that I got to choose what I wanted to wear first before any other person gets to pick, I was that important.

My eyes landed on a rhinestone-patterned dress. The dress was purely rhinestone, no fabric whatsoever. When I put it on, I could see the highlight of my nipples, and my entire stomach was exposed.

I wore white bikini pants underneath and nothing else. I paired it with glittery silver six-inch red bottom pumps. Looking at myself in the mirror, I was very beautiful. Pretty isn't the word; hot doesn't even do justice to how I looked. I looked goddess-worthy, and I knew it.

* * *

There were eight men in total in the lounge.

The Cellar Door was very exclusive, but the VIP area was even more so. I noticed the black-clothed man was still there, and that was more than enough inspiration to dance. He was my target tonight—I had to make him want me and not the two other girls I came with.

His presence commanded attention, and I couldn't help but be drawn to him.

His sharp jawline, piercing eyes, and an aura of power surrounding him made him stand out in the room. I overheard one of the men in the lounge whispering about him, calling him "the Dark lord."

I couldn't deny that the name suited him, given the air of mystery and authority he exuded.

As I walked past him, our eyes met briefly, and I felt a jolt of electricity run through me. But I quickly shook off the attraction, reminding myself that he was just another patron of the club, nothing more.

He didn't seem to share my sentiment, although I noticed him watching me as I moved through the crowd, and a slow smile played on his lips.

My instincts told me that he was used to getting whatever he wanted, but I wouldn't be another conquest for him.

Street by Doja Cat came on, and the lights went out for a moment, and you could only see the glow-in-the-dark makeup we used.

After a few minutes, the light came back on; it was just red, purple, and blue. There wasn't any pole, so my closest chance of getting the black-clothed man's attention was outdancing the other girls.

Dropping on my knees, I crawled up to him and did a whole pouty face, baby look. I searched for the look of want on his face, and when I finally got it, I aimed for my target.

My secret was mouthing the lyrics. I danced to my target, and I mouthed the words "I find it hard to find someone like you," which pushed him over the edge, and I saw the erection I was waiting for, and damn, was it huge, it put every other dick I had ever seen to shame.

I did the whole spider dance as I crawled to him, my gaze still focused on him. As I crawled to him, my gaze still focused on him, I walked towards him and sat on his lap.

I mouthed the words, "We play out our fantasies in real life, babe," and he reached out to touch my ass. I removed his hand immediately, reminding him about the no-touch rule. I set the pace, not him.

When the song finally ended, I came off of him, but I saw he wanted more when he placed me back on, with his erection poking me right there.

Standing up, I faced him and said, “You are not allowed to touch me, sir. We have girls for that."