Chapter Two: The Screenwriters
Before they left to meet the screenwriter at the Texan, Sally and Valerie packed a bag with clothes more appropriate for submitting to their Master. Both were lost in their thoughts on the drive. Valerie was still frustrated by how easily Milton Freeman, the producer, managed to make her mad. It wasn't going to help her deal with a screenwriter who, in all likelihood, held the same common misconceptions about BDSM and the people who participated in it. Sally, in spite of her earlier reassurances to Valerie, was worried that this whole project could hurt the lifestyle she loved so much. It certainly could not portray the incredible variety of ways that D/s was expressed.
The Texan was a popular steakhouse whose ads boasted that authentic Texas longhorn beef, grilled in true Texan fashion would make it impossible to enjoy steak cooked anywhere else. While it didn't have that effect, it was very good steak. Milton was waiting for them in the outer lobby.
"Valerie! How good to see you. And you must be Sally. You both look lovely. I have the table already, a private dining room, actually. That way we can speak freely. I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of ordering for the two of you. I hope neither of you is a vegetarian."
Sally squeezed Valerie's hand, sensing her lover's anger rising to boiling in a flash. "Not at all Mr. Freeman. It was very kind of you to buy us lunch."
He led them to one of the Texan's private dining rooms. Inside was a couple. The man was decidedly effeminate. He wore a blue satin shirt and designer jeans. There was something odd about the shirt, but neither Sally nor Valerie could place it right away. There were rings on four of the fingers of his two hands, one of which was entangled in the fingers of the woman. He had earring studs in both ears and a matching stud in the left side of his nose.
She exuded sensuality. Her tan evenly covered the entire exposed portion of her body. She wore an emerald green dress without looking garish. The low cleavage of the dress promised that a lover would probably find no tan lines on her body. Her brown hair fell in long locks, reaching to the small of her back. Her jade and emerald earrings matched her dress. Valerie was certain that if she walked onto the floor of the Gotham Club, she would be the cause of several male bruises from a girlfriend's fist. Heads would turn, and likely, roll later.
"Valerie, Sally, let me introduce our screenwriter, Sampson."
Sally reach a hand out towards the gentleman. "It's nice to meet you Sampson."
Mr. Freeman coughed gently. "I'm sorry, I must not have been clear. Sampson is the screenwriting team, not anyone's name. Caroline and Thomas are a team and insist on being billed as a single writer. They are expert at translating vision into pictures."
Valerie looked the two over. "Yes, I'm sure they are. Tell me Sampson, how good are you at translating reality to the big screen?"
The lady, Caroline, looked amused. "Oh my. We're not doing reality. We're going to write better than reality. Reality is so boring." The word so was drawn out to take a full two seconds to finish.
Valerie and Sally had sat down by now. "I see," Sally started, "Just how do you intend to improve on Valerie's and my lives? I can assure you, the first month we knew each other was not boring."
Thomas twisted one of his rings as he responded to the question. "Oh, We don't mean that your lives are boring, just the way that people tell the story of their lives. We will be making the telling exciting. Surely you don't think Terms of Endearment was exciting because of the story? It was the way it was told that made it so wonderful."
At this time, waiters carried in their food. After everything was situated and the waiters gone again, Caroline picked up where Thomas had left off. "You see, any story can be made captivating by telling it the right way. Our gift is in finding that perfect way. What we would like is for you to tell us what happened. It was, what, a month of time from when you discovered Francine was a... dominant, is it... until she attacked you and left you for dead?"
Valerie carefully put her fork down. In measured tones, she corrected Caroline. "Francine did not attack me. She lost control in a consensual BDSM scene. I was there because I wanted to be there. In fact, I asked to submit to her, not the other way around."
Thomas looked excited. "Yes, that's what we need from you two. What really happened that night and what led up to it. We can't tell the story right until we know what the story is."
"So, you want to know, and tell, the truth?"
"Exactly. We want to tell
your
story. We also want to get some of the details of this BDSM thing right. I'm not really comfortable with the masochism thing, but if it's part of the story, I need to understand it." Thomas did look uncomfortable when he spoke.
Sally, speaking around a bite of baked potato, tried to explain something to the two writers. "One of the first things you have to understand is that BDSM, or D/s, is not just about pain and those who like it. I doubt many in the lifestyle truly enjoy the pain and some don't use pain in their play at all."
"But, isn't the desire for pain what led Valerie to seek Francine out?" The confusion on both their faces was apparent as Caroline asked her question.
"No it wasn't. I don't like pain. It sucks. But, I do enjoy submitting to the will of my Master and/or Mistress. I sought out Francine that night because I wanted to express how much I loved her and cared for her. I didn't even know she wanted to whip me until I got there."
"But, what else could she have done?"
"Oh my," laughed Sally. "Almost anything. Francine could have tortured Val with near climaxes for hours, forced her to have climaxes unendingly for hours, or even just tied her up tightly and left her to sit in bondage. Submission is about letting someone else have their way with you. It is not all about pain. You two need to visit Mephisto's, a lot."
Milton interrupted. "Valerie, Sally, why don't you tell the story in your own words? We can worry about the details of bondage and such later."
Valerie looked into the air for a moment, a dreamy expression on her face, as the months rolled back in her mind. "I suppose it started with the week from hell at Bradford and Gashune. I had just finished a particularly difficult assignment and was in need of some serious unwinding. For me, that frequently included some serious, down to earth, sex. I had gone out to the Gotham Club for just that reason. I was looking for a man to fuck. It was there that I met..."
For the next hour and a half, Valerie and Sally related the events of those 37 days that transformed Valerie from the straight vanilla person she used to be to the submissive bisexual lady she was now. When they reached the crisis with Francine, Sally was narrating.
"Surmi and I burst in to see Francine whipping Val with all her strength. Both had blood running down their backs and were crying."
Caroline interrupted. "Wait. They both had bloody backs?"
Valerie answered. "Yes. Francine had become so numb to the world, from what she's been able to share, that she sought out the dregs of our lifestyle, people who torture and maim for fun. She had reopened wounds that a man called Painmaster had given her the day before.."
Thomas continued seeking understanding. "I can understand why you would have been crying, but why was she?"
"She was demanding that I hate her, that I stop loving her. In her mind, love brought all the pain she had felt and she wanted to be free of it."
Sally picked up the narrative again. "Surmi stopped the beating and I took Val down. Francine had rushed past us and slit her wrists. We had to call 911 to save her life. That's when the real crisis started."
Milton gaped in astonishment. "The real crisis? I would have thought what happened to your back was the crisis."
Valerie smiled. "Don't get me wrong. The whipping was terrible. But it did not destroy the life I had. It was the publicity. To keep Francine out of jail, I admitted to the police that I had come there willingly to be whipped. It was leaked to the press and everything fell apart. I was fired, evicted, lost friends and was generally ostracized by nearly everyone. If not for the steadfast friends that did stay with me," Valerie squeezed Sally's hand as her eyes watered, "I would have never been able to carry on."
Thomas put his hand to his chin. "I think I see. The whipping left wounds that were merely physical. The prejudice that followed left the more lasting mental damage. Much the way we gays were treated in decades past."
Sally slammed her hand on the table. "Yes! Exactly! BDSM is in the same place homosexuality was 30 years ago. Being outed could destroy your life. Mind you, there were some bright spots in it all. The police, even though you could tell they did not approve of what we did, were professionals through and through. The paramedics that responded to Valerie being shot didn't bat an eye at Valerie's collar."
Caroline dropped her fork. "Shot? Valerie was shot?"
"Yes, though Harv was aiming at Francine."
"Harv, Francine's boy friend?"
"Former boyfriend, yes. Sally and I were picking up Francine from the hospital, her injuries were actually worse than mine, and he met us on the steps and tried to shoot Francine. I stepped in between them and his bullet hit my slave collar. For a moment, I thought I was dying."
"I think you lost me. Slave collar?"
Sally tried to explain. "Yes, you see, after the whipping and suicide attempt, Surmi called 911 and..."