Confidential, Saturday, May 2, 1998

It was Friday night, April 11th at 10 p.m. on 42nd Street between 6th Avenue and Broadway; scores of people were clocking out of Daily-Planet type buildings and clocking into XXX-rated booths. I witnessed the stampede while at a party across the street from the peep shows. I was glad to be in the enviable position of observer since the booths appeared to be full with long lines snaking out behind them. Even during the reign of Rudy G., the sex business shows no signs of waning. Thank heavens for small favors…

This wasn't just any party I was attending, either. It was the one and only SMack Party, an S&M lover's delight, coordinated by Father Sebastian who also publishes a fetish and vampire magazine, Sabretooth, which believes its "clients are the lifeblood of [its] business."

Father Vincent and Lady Sage, two other notables who sell their wares in Sabretooth, including such goodies as theatrical fangs and other dark aesthetics, had a booth set up at the party. Don't let all these celestial names fool ya, there were plenty of devil horns and very few halos floating around the spacious black loft.

Father Vincent and Lady Sage said that they consider themselves vampires and claim to have a fetish for vampire-oriented role play – the romance and spirit of it all, that is. I was disappointed to learn, however, that they do not drink or even drain blood. How do they manage to have any fun?

I headed over to the bar, which looked similar to a Kool-Aid stand. Julie, the bartender, not only served drinks, but changed outfits frequently throughout the night. At the moment, she was an adorable angel. After a quick Bloody Mary (ha ha), I decided to grab a few minutes with the band Flesh Fetish before they went onstage.

We chatted next to the satanic alter (which was surrounded by dysfunctional computer equipment for the cyber-sacrifice to be performed later in the night). Bassist Mark Dale said that the band performs "techno-electronics with a natural erotic process." "Thanks," I said, "we could use a little more of that around here." Originally from San Antonio, Texas, the band now makes its home in New York City. Elaine Benavides fronts the band while her brother, Jesse, composes the songs and plays percussion from within cages that he designed and constructed. (He also occasionally breathes fire, but don't we all from time to time.) Their show included a bevy of erotic dancers, an ingredient which the band believes to be key in expressing the music's sensuality.

Elaine and Jesse of Flesh Fetish

Gegko, the woman to be cyber-sacrificed later in the night, likened the upcoming event to the movie Demon Seed in which a possessed computer invades the body of a computer programmer (which, I imagine, happens quite often in corporate offices everywhere). Specialists eventually have to rip the curse out of her from inside her womb. What can I say to that other than live it up, honey. On Gegko's days off, she works in off-Broadway shows and exercises at the gym.

Toby, yet another talented performer this evening, owns an art gallery, paints, sculpts, and teaches gymnastics to kids. Quite the adroit fellow. With so many gifted people in attendance, it's a little intimidating. My talent is just being here.

Dakota with Sean of the Toilet Boys photo © Misa Martin

As the DJ played a tune called "I Wanna See Your Pussy, So Show It to Me" by the Lourds of Acid, I met Dillon and Dakota (a knock-out, isn't she?) who later in the evening performed their Fetish Fantasies to the sounds of Black Sabbath's "Paranoid." Dillon mentioned that after the performance, she was heading down to Don Hill's Squeezebox 4th anniversary party. I'm hoping to pop down there myself.

While I was witnessing Debbie, a modern dancer by day, hang from the ceiling by a bolted ladder, an environmentalist, who just got off work, said to me, "this party is just an outlet." Sure, Sigmund, I entirely agree.

Linda (a spectator), who works in the computer field by day and hangs out at New York City's Hellfire Club (28 Ninth Avenue at 14th Street) by night, mentioned that I was sitting on the "submissive couch." Whoops! As I quickly rose, I met another spectator, a singer/guitarist and newcomer to New York City, Preston, who was donning the Gothic look for the evening. Preston mentioned that he just completed a demo for his band Asphestas. He described their sound as "aggressive music for crazy people." I said, "We call that rock & roll around here."

Bumped into a woman named Eve who handed me an invitation to the Fang Club Gotham which occurs every Sunday night at Mother (14th Street and Washington Street) and is described as "a neutral ground for all vampyres." Eve introduced herself as "the first woman of prince royalty," but I have no idea what that means. We turned to the show appearing in front of us, two girls and a guy whipping, caressing and teasing each other. It's good to see kids havin' so much fun together...

Blaire, one of the few people in attendance who does this stuff by day, works in a dungeon called the Den of Deniquity. She said she enjoys her performances as a full-time dungeon girl. It sounded like a nice steady gig but I wondered if she could collect unemployment if the market ever got tight.

Another performer, who shall remain nameless, douched herself and then slicked back her hair with K.Y. Jelly. She claimed it works better than Dippity Do and gives a better shine. I suggested 3-in-1 oil for a really healthy glow.

Soon screams erupted, from where I don't know, but no one seemed to mind. Just your usual blood-curdling pangs of passion, I suppose. As I continued to peruse the place, I noticed a couple of nuns who appeared to be having a swell time, but not as much fun as a chain-bound woman clad in a black hood whose nipples were being caressed by a couple of admirers.

Well, that's it, folks. The next time I attend one of these events I think I'll bring duct tape because tearing that off of skin is enough of a sacrifice for me. If this leaves you men out there scratching your heads, just think cleavage, son – what us girls have to go through...

More S&M on NY Rock:

• Interview with Mistress Dakota: Some People Call Us Goddesses.
• Photo of Mistress Dakota (© Misa Martin) featured on our July '99 cover.
• Interview with Erotic S&M Photographer, Misa Martin.
• A Chat with Mistress Raven of Pandora's Box.
• The Erotica Expo at the Jacob Javits Center in NYC.
• Review of Fetishes, Nick Broomfield's documentary on Pandora's Box.
• Review of NYC's premiere S&M restaurant, La Maison de Sade.
• Photo of Mistress Katie featured on our December '98 cover.