A thousand dreams, that would awake me...

Different colors, made of tears.

Jades Diary – Transcript 35

I don't know where to start with this, Sal. I've been home a while now, and I've had, like, four showers, but I'm still wondering what to say. I guess I'll just grab a coffee and start at the beginning.

First thing to say, Sal, is that I didn't find out anything useful, at least not this time. I hate to say it, but it looks like I'm in for the long haul. I'm going to have to get right in there, even if it breaks me.

I want you to know that if it does, I wouldn't blame you for that, Sal. It's my decision. I'd never hold it against you.

As for what happened... I turned up at the Vega household bang on time, and there they both were, Tori and her mom wearing matching corsets like the world's shortest, saddest chorus line. I nearly burst out laughing there and then, but you can imagine how that would gone down. So I sucked it in and stood there like a good little sub while Vega senior gave me the good news that, suprise, surprise, we were going to the Club. Then she launched into a whole piece about how important it all is, about the 'sisterhood', all these rich and powerful dommes that make the world go round - I'm guessing you've heard some version of this speech before, Sal, but it just went on and on, I bet the Illuminati didn't make this big a deal of it. Anyway, the upshot of all this is that it's vitally important that Tori becomes a member of this bunch of clowns, and that's pretty much down to me, and how my 'mistress' handles me. I need to be on-point, alert and focused.

So clearly the best way for them to help with that was to scream in my face for the next ten minutes. I'm not kidding, Sal, that's just what they did. First they bawled me out downstairs while Holly threatened to beat me if I screwed up, then I went upstairs to get changed and Tori came up to give me another earful. What is wrong with these people? The one thing they want me to do, the one thing they need me to do, they go out of their way to make as difficult as fucking possible. These people are idiots. And the galling thing is that I need it just as much as them.

To be fair to Tori (although I can't really see the point other than it gives me something to do), she's obvious terrified of the whole thing - this means a lot to her. So I stuck my game face on and said I wouldn't let her down. That seemed to do the trick, so we went downstairs and set off in the limo like we were on some wierd, fucked-up prom date, while Tori's mom droned on about what a great future we were going to have together and I felt like I was going to puke.

Am I padding this too much, Sal? I guess I just need to get it all out. When I write it up I'll cut the blah and focus on the facts. Anyway we got into the Club and it was pretty much what I expected - a room full of hatchet-faced rich bitches swanning around dressed like morons and a bunch of pretty girls tagging along dressed in pretty much nothing. Me included. I recognized a few of them - Holly was right, there are some serious people involved in this. The place itself was fairly nondescript, there was a bar, and a dancefoor, and a stage, and a whole lot of doors leading off to God knows where. I tried not think about that. Tori was fit to burst, I've never seen her so excited - it was almost cute, if I didn't know that it was at my expense. If I'm honest I was feeling a bit edgy about those doors.

Anyway, I kept looking for a chance to get away and do some digging, but Tori kept me on a pretty tight leash, leading me round, presenting me to the other dommes like we were at Crufts or something, while they all poked and prodded at me and asked me dumb questions about whether I liked it up the ass. One particularly venomous old bag got so graphic, I thought she was going to start drooling on me. I tell you, Sal, when this is over, Holly Vega's not the only one who's going to get a faceful of Jade West. Tori lapped it up, though - I guess this is what it's all about for her, so I did my best to look like I knew my place, even though my place ought to be in the basement of this club with a box of matches and a gas can. She got extra kudos because apparently I used to be her 'bully' – I don't mind saying I was a little bit hurt by that, Sal, I never thought of us like that. I mean, I know I nearly killed her once or twice, but I liked to think we had kind of a frenemies vibe going. There were a lot a questions that were obviously meant to unsettle me, or freak me out - some kind of super-domme in a corset that looked like it was under a hell of a strain just straight up rattled off my bank details and social security number like they were nothing, which would have impressed me if I didn't know that Holly Vega had been rooting through my bag, the nosy old bitch.

Anyway, I finally managed to get away to go to the bathroom, thought maybe I could strike up a conversation, pick up any rumors that were going round, when I got side-swiped by fate. I ran into Cat Valentine, of all people. Cat fucking Valentine. You remember her, Sal? The red-haired one, the only girl I ever knew who got stupider the longer she stayed in high school. She was there, all dressed up like Mistress Barbie, with that sour-faced muppet Hayley Ferguson in tow. God, I could have died. It only got worse when Tori came in looking for me – there must be a Maximum Peeing Time rule I didn't know about – and slapped my ass right in front them. There's humiliation, Sal, but this was embarrassing. Tori decided, in her infinite wisdom, that we should all sit down and talk about it, to clear the air, which was the last thing I wanted – I want the air to be as thick as horse shit so no one can see me in this ridiculous outfit - but we sat down in a little booth, and I said all the kind of simpering garbage that Tori likes to hear, and then Holly Vega came over and told us how proud she was that we were being so grown up about it all, and Tori totally thought she was the dog's dick for being so clever. Thankfully there wasn't much time for us to sit there basking in Holly Vega's munificent benevolence because a gong went off and hey-ho, it's Showtime!

I've got to admit, Sal, despite everything, I felt a bit of excitement coming on - I was finally going to get to do something instead of being dragged around like an idiot, and when it turned out we were in competition with Cat and some other pair of douchebags, it only fired me up. You know me, Sal, I like to win, and even if it turned out to be a competition to see who could have the most dildos rammed up their ass while whistling Dixie, then the Dixie Whistling Dildo Award was coming home with me.

So we all lined up in couples, domme at the front, sub at the back, and we began. And the task was... a bunch of questions. That's it. Like we're on a Goddamn game show. I half expected the curtain to go back and reveal a family car or a washing machine or something. Looks like tonight's just the meet and greet, 'getting to know you' stage. I should have been relieved, but I felt cheated somehow, now I'd wound myself up for it. Anyway the first questions go to the dommes, and they answer them with exactly the level of vibrancy and imagination I was expecting, i.e. none. I don't know why, but I found myself really willing Tori on when she came up, I know she's not the sharpest tool in the box but she's got a certain charm. Then it was our turn. The subs.

Jesus Christ, it was pathetic. Even for people whose job it was to be submissive, whose whole life revolved around appearing as abject and worthless as possible, the first two made me cringe. They shuffled around, muttering their way through the whole thing like 12-year-olds dragged in front of the class. I couldn't out-sub these two, Sal, not while still having a pulse, so I had to try a different tack - I was going to front it out. So I stood there and looked them right in the eye. I wanted them to know that, okay, I might be Tori's sub, but I certainly wasn't theirs.

It went okay, I guess, I gave as good as I got, fielded a few tricky ones, and then they said - you're a writer, tell us a story...

Forgive me, Sal, I couldn't help it – I brought you up. A submissive goes missing from the Diamond Club. Yeah, I went on and threw in some gore and stuff, made it sound like a story, but really I wanted to see if I got a reaction, see if anyone flinched. It was hard to say. A dumpy old broad at the back looked like she might have twitched, but that could have been wind. She didn't look like your type, Sal. I can't imagine you on your knees in front of that.

It all went a bit quiet after that, and I started to worry that I'd pushed it too far - been too, I don't know, uppity. No one likes an uppity sub (although it's fun to say, try it). I couldn't turn round and look at Tori so I just waited until she came to collect me. My heart dropped. She had a face like a bulldog chewing a wasp and I knew I'd screwed it. She led me off into one of little torture chambers on the side, and when I tried to apologize, she hit me. Twice.

It's these little moments I feel, Sal, that really make a relationship. These little, precious moments. And you can bet that I'm keeping a record of them. All of them.

It transpires that she's not beating me for fucking up, she's beating me for apologizing, for having the temerity to assume that because she looks like she's got a nettle up her ass, she's not happy about something. Apparently she was playing it cool. There's no wonder I didn't recognize it.

So it's all happy days - she thinks I did okay, yadda yadda, we're good. I think she dislocated my jaw, but we're good. Which is more than could be said for the other two, I heard. And that's through a soundproof wall.

Anyway, we must have caused a bit of a stir, because suddenly Holly Vega's all over us - she even looked at me as though I might, you know, at a push, not be the shit on her shoe. It's funny the things you take pride in, Sal, when your horizons are narrowed. I might not have wanted to be in their stupid club, but if I had to be, I was going to make damned sure that I was the best thing in it.

But then it was over. No chance to look around, we're back in the limo. I guess the best I can say is, I know where it is and I know who goes there - that's got to be worth something. This isn't the end, though, Sal. This is just the opening scene. I've a feeling that things are going to get a lot more down and dirty before I get where I need to be.

Back at the Vega's, I was expecting something pretty heavy, but it seemed I was going to get to spend an entire day without being violated by anything worse than a couple of gin and tonics - Tori was pretty bushed, what with having done practically nothing and all, so we just went to bed. And it was then, Sal, that it happened. She was snuggled up close to me, long brown hair trailed across my chest, making a kind of cute little snoring noise that she does when she's asleep, and...

I kissed her, Sal. Just like that. I know it sounds like nothing, compared to the crazy stuff she's made me do these past few months, but I did it and I didn't have to. I kissed her on the forehead, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

I must be going soft, Sal. There is something seriously wrong with me.

Anyway, in the morning we got up, had breakfast and went to the bathroom. She likes me to wash her, Sal, and if I'm honest I don't mind that, it's actually pretty hot. I could see myself doing it, slave or no slave, although it'd be nice if she returned the favor. And then she turned to me and...

...

I'm sorry, Sal. I've really gotta go take another shower.

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Author's note updated: this story was originally inspired by Quitting Time's The Real Me.