Descending into the dungeon

At the Black Rose, leather-clad sadomasochists walk the tightrope between pleasure and pain.

By Virginia Vitzthum

Dec 14, 1999 | It was after midnight when I went down the steps into Saturday's dungeon party. The sticky wetness of the air hit my skin just as the dull din sharpened into screams, slaps and whip-cracks. Determined to observe the edgiest play, I made straight for the medical area, only glancing at the chained bodies starfished on the upright racks.

My suspicion that men use the scene to abuse women was abruptly flipped by the events unfolding on the gynecologist's table. I saw a man with a shaved head and beseeching eyes kneeling awkwardly, his hands secured behind his back. His mistress, also covered from head to toe in leather, applied a glass suction gun to his penis and his moans became howls. His mistress was grimly expressionless. She seemed very competent. I wondered if she was a medical professional and where she got all this strange glassware.

Another skilled top was across the room sewing shut the mouth of her slave, a thin, shirtless man in a lace skirt. He had fresh scabs scratched in a swirling design around his nipples; she was dressed like Stevie Nicks.

After about half an hour in the medical room, my urge to throw up passed, just as the witchy woman removed the thread from her partner's lips. As the blood dripped, he soaked it up with a white towel he held below his chin. His unsilencing seemed like my cue, and I sidled into a leather sling beside them and asked for an interview. She introduced herself as Lady Chandra, professional dominant, and him as Nicolas, her slave for the weekend. He's an insurance consultant, and they both have vanilla spouses who know about their play.

When I asked Nicolas why needles, Lady Chandra quickly answered, "He likes the endorphin rush."

Nicolas flexed the sensation back into his blood-flecked lips and added, "They're nature's pain-killers; long-distance runners are masochists, too."

I heard many variations on this over the weekend. A cute red-headed submissive dressed as a schoolgirl told me earnestly, "I can't run 20 miles, I can't lift 100 pounds, but I can take a lot of pain. People think a sub is weak, but it takes incredible strength and endurance."

I have to agree that marathoners, nipple piercers and even hazing frat boys and soldiers simply occupy a different spot on the same pain-as-pleasure continuum as Nicolas and all other the willing victims.

Next Page: Making love with pain

• View blog reactions