Sneak Peek #5 "Dancing Into Deliverance; From Slut Bucks to Slaying Demons"

Warning: It starts getting dark and disturbing in this story. Do not read if easily offended!

Even though I had rule # 2, (Be fully aware that at least 99% of everything I heard in the club was most likely BS.) some of what the clients would say sank in and negated some of the lies I had grown up hearing.

My step-dad married my mom when I was three and he died when I was fourteen. During those eleven years, I got to hear over and over again, how ugly I was, how stupid I was, how no man would ever want me, no college would ever accept me, and how I would never amount to anything. The words I heard over and over again at the club were the opposite.

Here, I was told I was beautiful! I was certainly wanted, although not in the way I want to be wanted. I was told so many times that I belonged in “The Corporate World” instead of that club. Probably the most honest and meaningful reaction I would get was when I would sit and talk to guys and, after about 5 minutes of conversation, they would get a surprised look on their face and say something along the lines of, “You actually have a brain!”

It’s surprising to think working as that kind of dancer could bring healing, but God uses everything for good. Even when we screw up. I tried to repel the positive words through rule #2, but they managed to sink in and my confidence grew. I wasn’t ugly! I wasn’t stupid! I could be wanted! Maybe I could be someone! I began to realize the lies my step-dad had heaped on my little soul were really the awful things he felt about himself. Kids don’t understand projection and have no defense against it and I grew up defenseless in a lot of ways.

That was not my beer. I have never liked beer! ********

The job soon began to take its toll on me…

Apparently, I was more wanted than I wanted to be. The club had Entertainer of the Month competitions that led to Entertainer of the Year competitions. I had told our managers that I never wanted to be part of that process. There were usually seven or eight stages open at a time, but during these competitions, only the Main Stage was open.

I was fine being on a stage at the same time as other girls, but never wanted to be the only option up there…with all eyes on me. The guys would have to watch me whether I was who they wanted to see, or not. I’m not so stupid to think that guys don’t have types and I know for certain I am not everyone’s type. I never wanted the entire focus to be on me.

So, what did they do? They chose me as “Entertainer of the Week,” which forced me into the Entertainer of the Month competition. Ugh!

“Okay, fine!” I thought. “They will never pick me for this crap again.”

They allowed me to have another dancer as sort of a prop, so I asked Sonnet how she felt about getting up there with me for this ridiculousness. She agreed and we did absolutely zero planning or practicing. I had only an idea and she was game to go along with it.

I would dress as a Dominatrix, whip and all, and she would dress down as sort of a slave girl. That was our plan. That was it.

When it came time for us to perform, the DJ played Nine Inch Nails, “Head Like a Hole” and I fell into a pissed off trance of sorts. I don’t remember much. Sonnet played the innocent slave-girl wearing an ethereal plain, sheer, white tunic-like thing, while I played the evil dominatrix master wearing a black chauffer cap, a lacy, black mini-dress with black, thigh high stockings held together by chains running down the back.

I led Sonnet on stage with a leash tied around her neck. I paraded her around for all to see and lashed out at her with the whip I held in order to make sure she stayed in line and knew her place. After she had been sufficiently paraded and whipped, both Sonnet’s robe and my dress were removed, revealing for her, a plain, white thong, and for me, a black, strappy body harness.

As Nine Inch Nails bellowed, “Bow down before the one you serve.” Sonnet began to do as they said and bowed and danced before me as I sat in a chair on the stage. As she knelt, facing me, Trent Rezner proclaimed, “You’re going to get what you deserve.” I gave Sonnet “what she deserved” and dug my nails into her lower back, leaving scratch marks all the way up. Sonnet was a trooper and told me later she actually enjoyed it, but I felt like I had been possessed. Powerful, but possessed.

When the song was over, I was relieved to be done with it and the looks on the judges’ faces were priceless. I don’t remember all of what we did, but apparently, quite a bit of our act was “against the rules.” Our performance was “pretty hot,” according to several people and one of the judges let us know we had actually won the competition, but were disqualified due to all the rules we had broken. I don’t even know what rules those were. I was just glad that it was highly unlikely the club would ever put me in that position again.

During this whole performance, it felt like someone else, something else, something evil had taken over my body. I was in a trance. Seduction had entered the moment I stepped on that first stage for my audition, and quite often she would own my body. However, the stage name I had taken opened me up to more darkness than I could imagine. I had no idea what kind of fire I was playing with. Could “Akasha” have been the one who took over at this time?

I had taken on that stage name after reading Anne Rice’s “Queen of the Damned.” Yes, the identity I took on was that of the Queen of the Damned. As I write this, it confounds me the level of darkness I have been pulled out of. According to the book, she was the mother of all vampires. The short version of how she became a vampire is that a blood-thirsty demon took over her body.

Wikipedia explains the story line of the book like this:

“The mother of all vampires, Akasha, begins as a pre-Egyptian queen many thousands of years ago. During this time two powerful witches (twins Maharet and Mekare) live in the mountains close to Nineveh. The witches are able to communicate with invisible spirits and gain simple favors from them. During this period there is a bloodthirsty, invisible spirit known as Amel who continually asks the two witches if they need his assistance, although they prudently decline the offer. The witches' village is destroyed and they are incarcerated by the king and queen, who desire their knowledge. When the witches offend Akasha, the queen condemns the twins. Enkil, the king, then orders his chief steward (who is Khayman as a mortal man) to rape the twins in his stead, which would prove their lack of power, before the eyes of the court. Afterward the witches are cast out into the desert.

While making her way back home with a pregnant Maharet, Mekare curses the king and queen secretly with Amel. Eventually Amel inflicts such torment on Akasha and Enkil that they demand advice and help from the two witches.

Unhappy with the young king's policies, conspirators attempt to assassinate the royal couple in Khayman's house while they are attempting to exorcise Amel, who had also been tormenting Khayman. While the king and queen lie dying, the evil spirit, Amel, sees its chance to ensnare the soul of the dying queen and pulls it back into her body. The spirit combines itself with the flesh and blood of the queen, transforming her into a vampire. Akasha allows the king to drink her blood, which saves his life.”

Now, looking for more background information on that name, I found this:

From Britannica.com:

“Akashic record, in occultism, a compendium of pictorial records, or “memories,” of all events, actions, thoughts, and feelings that have occurred since the beginning of time. They are said to be imprinted on Akasha, the astral light, which is described by spiritualists as a fluid ether existing beyond the range of human senses. The Akashic records are reputedly accessible to certain select individuals—e.g., a spiritualist medium who conducts a séance. Akasha allegedly transmits the waves of human willpower, thought, feeling, and imagination and is a reservoir of occult power, an ocean of unconsciousness to which all are linked, making prophecy and clairvoyance possible.”

It's not surprising that under this name, I took on a dark, vampiresque, yet girl-next-door persona. It really wasn’t intentional. It just happened. I began wearing a silver belly chain, when I danced, that had a silver key hanging in the front. Repeatedly, patrons would ask, “Is that the key to your heart.” as though they were the first to ever think of that.

“What a stupid question! Do you really think I even have a heart, if I’m up here like this in front of strangers?” is what I would think.

“No…” I would whisper in their ear. “It’s the key to my coffin.” Then a slight nibble of their neck would have them soon lining up dollar bills or “slut bucks” in front of them. So stupid! So easy!

But, just what had I opened myself up to by taking on that name? Had I taken on feelings and memories that were not my own? Had I opened up a reservoir of occult power? I don’t know.

What I do know, is that at this time in my life, I began having dreams of going to hell. They were very, very vivid dreams and the hell I experienced was not what I had expected.

I was losing my soul.

If you would like to help publish my book, “Dancing into Deliverance; From Slut Bucks to Slaying Demons,” you can do that: