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From the Sneaky vault: OUCH! Adventures In the BDSM Scene (VERY NSFW)

BY JAMES

MISTRESS ANNA and Chastised Loser have what an outsider might describe as a strange relationship.

That’s probably an understatement, actually: most upstanding, God-fearing, tax-paying citizens would consider it to be downright disturbing.

Chastised Loser (the name he’s chosen for himself) is in service to Mistress Anna. Which means he helps her with her chores, constructs her various torture devices, drives her to appointments and carries her bags. In short, he does what he’s told

And it’s something Chastised Loser thoroughly enjoys. In exchange for the service, Mistress Anna provides him with… well, I’m not sure to be honest, but Chastised Loser certainly gets something out of it. The smile on his face when Mistress Anna gives him a good spanking tells the story.

I’ve seen it happen, several times.

I MET MISTRESS ANNA and Chastised Loser on a Friday night at Anna’s dungeon in Darlinghurst (check out my session with Mistress Anna here). Anna would be taking me on a guided tour of the Sydney BDSM scene, and we thought it would make a good start to meet Chastised Loser, her “service sub”.

A service sub is, for want of a better description, a voluntary slave. Chastised Loser seems to like nothing more than to please Mistress Anna, and it’s not just sexually.

In fact, sex doesn’t seem to enter the equation. As far as my observations went, their relationship seemed to be more on the mother/son side of things. That’s if you can imagine a mother giving her son a good spanking on a pool table at a nightclub in front of a few hundred people all dressed in gimp outfits, leather chokers and various outfits Fred Nile would be absolutely horrified by.

But we’ll get to that in due course.

I had a good chat to Chastised Loser and Anna about what each gets out of the relationship.

“He really loves humiliation,” Anna said.

Chastised Loser just sat and grinned, clearly enjoying the scene.

“Right now he’s in chastity.”

Huh?

“Go on, show James.”

He stood up, pulled down his pants and revealed a strange metal contraption wrapped around his cock and balls, keeping them in place and preventing him from getting an erection.

“Does that hurt?” I wondered.

“Um, only when I get horny. It’s around the balls, so as soon I get hard, the cage yanks on my balls.”

Damn.

“The thing is,” Mistress Anna continued, “Chastised Loser really enjoys being in service to people. Just… helping out.”

I CAN’T BE SURE how healthy the relationship really is. Chastised Loser certainly seems to enjoy being in service to a dominatrix, but the strange thing to me was this: he’s a young guy, clearly socially awkward, with a bit of a stutter and he’s carrying a bit of weight. He probably has trouble forming your average boyfriend/girlfriend relationships.

That’s all good, I guess – I didn’t discover how to speak to women properly until very recently – but whether putting yourself in almost complete servitude to someone as dominating (and, let’s be honest, intimidating) as Mistress Anna is a healthy solution to that problem is a question I can’t really answer.

To an outsider the relationship seems completely one sided: Chastised Loser carries Anna’s bags and does the handiwork around the house – shit, he even constructed the metal beams and torture devices in her dungeon.

What he gets out of it is the servitude itself. It’s hard for someone who doesn’t have that strong desire to please a dominant woman to get their head around. Chastised Loser really does enjoy being in service to Anna. It’s as simple as that. What he gets out of it is the same thing I might get out of lying in bed with my girlfriend, talking shit and falling in love: happiness.

B15

AFTER AN HOUR talking to Anna and Chastised Loser, the guided tour of Sydney’s S&M scene began. Our first point of call was Hellfire, the monthly S&M social gathering at QBar on Oxford Street.

Maybe after several months exploring weird sex and “perversions” I’ve developed an inability to be shocked, but I found the scene at Hellfire to be… well, relatively normal. Sure, there were a whole lot of crazy leather outfits. Almost everyone there would have slipped relatively easily into the gimp scene from Pulp Fiction, but besides the getups the whole night was a gathering of rather friendly and open-minded people.

In one corner was a pool table that was used almost exclusively for “play”. Mistress Anna commanded Chastised Loser to take his pants off, get up on the table and undergo some rigorous spanking and whipping in front of the crowd. Some other areas were dedicated to rope play: The Japanese art of Kinbaku, which involves artistically and rather sensually tying up a partner in various configurations with a rope suspended from the ceiling.

It’s actually quite beautiful if done correctly: a sensual dance between a rope master and his or her partner (sometimes called a “Bunny”). Almost art, really.

Besides the outfits, the rope play and the occasional whipping and slapping, Hellfire is more of a social gathering than anything with too much “play”. It’s like any other Friday night gathering of like-minded people throughout the city, the only difference being that if your average citizen walked in their first impression would be they’ve entered one of the first layers of hell. Something straight out of 120 Days Of Sodom. But with plenty of beer and Aussie accents. And everybody’s really, really friendly.

I LEFT HELLFIRE after a few hours feeling somewhat underwhelmed by the amount of kink I’d seen. Not disappointed at all – it’s just that mainstream depictions tell you these people are freaks.

But they’re not. Besides their interest in leather and bondage, these are regular folk. And what is “regular folk” anyway? We’ve all got our perversions and kinks. How many stories come out every year about homophobic fundamentalist priests who eventually get found at meth-fuelled all male orgies? There’s a fair share.

The only difference is these people have the balls to own their “perversions”. To wear it on their sleeve, be proud of it and revel in having a community  in which people feel absolutely no shame at doing something the average citizen considers to be shameful. Well, fuck the average citizen.

B2

THE NEXT NIGHT MISTRESS ANNA and Chastised Loser took me to Uber, a private monthly event in Camperdown that is less social gathering and more “play”. It was time to see some more action. This time I would have to dress up too.

I wasn’t too keen on going the full leather gimp outfit so I decided on something more subtle: black jeans, big black Doc Martens, a leather choker with large metal spikes, a chain on my jeans and a shiny latex vest

I ended up being underdressed. I walked into Uber and was confronted by what you’d expect when you hear the words “BDSM party”. To the left was a bar, but the main room contained all sorts of contraptions straight out of a catholic priest’s nightmares (dreams). Upon entry to the main play area there was a sling hanging from the ceiling. Next to that was a small cage, about a metre-and-a-half cubed, big enough to fit two people… just.

Against the wall was a large cross, and already there was a couple making good use of it: a woman stripped down almost completely, being whipped and spanked and caressed by her dominant partner. Another corner was set up almost exclusively for rope play.

And then there was the medical room, set up like a doctors surgery. I walked in to find a couple engaging in some “needle play”.

A woman was lying on the hospital bed, thighs exposed, while her male partner was carefully, painstakingly inserting a series of small needles into her leg. It was strangely beautiful. The pins formed a line down her thigh, and when they were done the scarring looked quite graceful, really. There was an intimacy in the process that you’ll never get from plain old regular sex. Yeah, there’s a closeness in sex that you don’t get anywhere else, but what about letting somebody slowly and carefully insert fifty or so tiny needles into your thigh?

I walked back out and found Mistress Anna giving Chastised Loser a good ass-whipping. His smile spread across his cheeks – he was absolutely, thoroughly enjoying the experience.

And then I saw CR (that’s her alias for the purposes of this story). Tied up, bound, hanging from a rope attached to the ceiling, her body being contorted and her partner controlling her beautifully. The rope was tight, squeezing against her skin, but she seemed completely at ease and wonderfully in the moment. They say rope play is art: this certainly was. The movement, the give and take between the master and his “bunny”, was something most painters and artists aspire to: beauty.

After a while spent observing CR and her partner, I went out for a cigarette. CR joined me, and there was clearly some kind of connection that needed attending to. When I was watching her being tied up, she’d been staring at my boots. I was interested in trying to play a dominant role this time around. When I’d had a session with Mistress Anna I’d most certainly been the submissive one. She’d tied me up, kicked my ass, called me names, and I’d enjoyed part of it, but it wasn’t something I wanted to repeat.

CR and I went back into the play room and she almost immediately went towards the sling near the corner of one room. It was obvious what she wanted me to do – she was lying back on the sling, waiting for me to play some kind of dominant role.

I leant forward and kissed her but I wasn’t really able to put myself in the role I wanted to. I couldn’t bring myself to slap her, to tie her up, to put her on the cross. Maybe I just don’t have that in me.

I’m too much of a romantic, perhaps?

We moved into the cage in the middle of the room. There I found myself, amongst a whole group of BDSM enthusiasts, in a cage, hooking up with a random submissive, quite beautiful girl. But I still couldn’t bring myself to try on that dominant role…

CR and I kept going through most of the night – back to my place, eventually, where she revealed the sheer number of peircings on her body: 26 in all. It was lovely – but nothing too kinky at all – the night ending like all guys want a night to end: going home with a pretty girl.

I FINISHED my weekend immersed in the Sydney BDSM scene feeling a little underwhelmed. My experience with Mistress Anna a few months back had been interesting because I’d gotten an insight into something I’d never experienced before: the feeling of being sexually dominated.

I didn’t experience anything startlingly new this time around. The people were a very normal, nice bunch of folk who just happened to be wearing kinky clothes and giving each other the occasional slap in public.

Perhaps I’ve now become immune to being shocked. I go into these events expecting freaky experiences and perhaps to touch on something dangerous, but there wasn’t a sense of danger at all, either at Hellfire or at Uber. I had wanted to try on a dominant role – putting on the hat of a sadist – but it takes months, maybe even years, of getting to know and trust your partner before they’re going to let you play that role.

It’s a very vulnerable feeling, playing the submissive, and you’re not going to let any stranger play out their sick porno fantasies on you.

That’s when things might get a little creepy. What the hell was I planning on doing? Going up to a random stranger and asking if it was OK for me to slap them around for a while?

No. Doing that kind of thing in real life is dangerous. That’s why they call it “play” in the kink community, because if you’re only playing, you can keep it fun. True sadomasochism isn’t fun, and it isn’t consensual either. Perhaps that’s the reason I found the experience to be tamer than I expected.

But I think I’ll give CR a call.

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