By Travis Cohen
By Travis Cohen
By Hannah Sentenac
By Hans Morgenstern
By Ciara LaVelle
By Ciara LaVelle
By Briana Saati
You're standing onstage, handcuffed to a post, wearing a blue g-string and black leather straps over your head and chest. ScaryMary stands over you, six feet tall in her platform shoes, with a thin, manly physique. "You obviously love pain," she tells you as she twists the clamps on your nipples. "As a novice, you will definitely reach 'subspace.'"
In a bondage chair next to you, a half-naked woman with jet-black hair and pale skin is tied up with rope. Her nipples are covered with electrical tape. A blonde in ponytails grinds against a nearby stripper pole. Two guitarists play Judas Priest-style riffs alongside a drum machine. Below, on the dance floor, a young dominatrix with light green hair is whipping a shirtless man's back; he is bent over the stage, wearing black vinyl pants. You can feel the tight fishnet stockings over your own hairy legs.
Welcome to White Room's weekly Wednesday-night fetish party (a.k.a. Mausoleum), where you, ScaryMary, and her band, Evol Petz, are the featured attraction.
Hot wax flows down your back and drips onto your thighs. Mary picks up a horsy-tail whip and lashes the pieces of dried wax from your flesh. She walks up close and digs her sharp nails into your buttocks. A black-clad goth crawls onto the stage. Mary grabs his hair and screams, "Lick my boots!" He gets down on his knees and does just that.
"Lick my boots!" happens to be the chorus of one of ScaryMary's songs. The South Florida-based performance artist says she has been a "lifestyle domme" for more than 10 years. "A dominatrix does not have sex with her clients," she instructs. "She trains them to be better lovers."
Mary struts back to you, the designated gimp. Her purple lips blow cigarette smoke into your face as you tilt your head back. Holding the cigarette over your open mouth, she extinguishes it on your tongue. You swallow the ashes as she flicks the butt into the audience.
She rotates your body on the post so that you face the crowd, and then appears wearing latex gloves, rolling a condom onto a large dildo. Your hands are tied behind your back, a ball gag shoved into your mouth. While a redheaded female slave rubs her hands up and down your thighs and strobe lights pulse over the floor, Mary starts poking you with those 10 inches of rubber. The ball gag in your mouth prevents protest. Endorphins pumping, you think to yourself, This must be 'subspace,' as you begin to notice the hot, stinging sensation around your crotch.
The next day, in a telephone interview, Mary tells you: "Our guitarist Nikaos had to eat me out for four hours, which was his initiation. That was how badly he wanted to be in my band."
Her voice becomes chillingly seductive. "Guys basically just want to get laid, and they forget about pleasing the woman. Women are usually let down, and that's where fetishes come in. If you spank a woman on her pussy, she is going to love it. Especially if her ass is in the air and you hit it right on the clitoris. That's why women are so attracted to me," she declares. "I can get them off better than any man, because I go way beyond that plain old fuck."
She asks if you have "enough balls" to experience what she calls "slut training." You say you enjoyed being the gimp so much you're cool with it. You make plans to meet Mary at her private fetish club later that night.
She greets you at the back entrance of her secret lair near Coral Gables wearing purple lingerie, fishnet stockings, and platform shoes. Her black, yellow, and pink hair is a mass of ponytails and long dreadlocks.
You follow her down a dark hallway, industrial music blaring, into the "Torture Chamber." Its walls are festooned with whips, chains, dildos, and other devices.
A woman in white lingerie and a nurse's hat walks into the room. "This is Narcissa," ScaryMary says, introducing her to you. "She is one of my female slaves." You lie back on one of the torture devices, and they strap down your hands and feet.
Mary wraps a dog collar around your neck and the duo tickles you from the bottoms of your feet to the top of your head. Your wrists and ankles tug at the straps as you squirm and giggle. The pair continues until you can barely breathe. "You liked that a little too much," Mary says as they stop.
Soon it's time for a costume change: black stockings, panties, and leather corset. An Ozzy Osborne-style wig is placed on your head. You are walked on your hands and knees into another room, where Mary picks up a metal prong and holds it against your genitals. You feel a jolt of electricity surge through your body, followed by the sting of a leather bullwhip as it snaps just beneath your crotch and inner thighs.
"So," asks Mary, as Narcissa unfastens the ball gag, "you'll be my stage submissive at our next show?"
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