The novice St. Petersburg journalist Milan Logunova accompanies the student Vera (the name changed) on the first BDSM VEDERTING in her life. The heroine of the report is attracted by pain, and she decides to experience herself and try to understand whether the BDSM culture can give answers to her questions and satisfy her desires. The red mistress and her personal monkey-photographer, the fetishist-abecusers and the forgotten stop words, leather, latex, blood, saliva, sperm and peace are on the verge of artistic conventionality and foul.
When acquaintances find out that I am a journalist who is engaged in freaks, they immediately ask to go with them to some kind of informal event, because one by one can be uneasy, and sometimes very scary. So it was with Vera, a twenty -five -year -old student who could not stop thinking about pain. Vera learned about the Loshhadka Prty party that she takes place in the St. Petersburg gay club every six months, and asked me to accompany her there. I agreed, because the world of sex touches is already seen by me for a long time not a small community of certain minorities, but a full-fledged modern subculture that can drag out almost everyone, regardless of its sexual orientation and intimate preferences. According to statistics published by Pornhub’s largest world porn resource, after the release of the film “Fifty Shades of Gray”, the number of BDSM-checks increased sharply, and the female part of the audience, in which this amount grew by 17% of men, most often searched for the keywords “Subordination”, “Proceeding” and “Anal Traffic”.
The announcement of "Loshadka Prty" sounded like this: "A party for the elect. The most shocking and scandalous, where a reckless liberated youth gather. ” Of course, Vera said "I want." In the group of parties VKontakte, everyone was looking for a company on Preset, so Vera entered us with her for a party with a transvestite Olga, and we went to her hotel. At the entrance we called Olga, but the male voice answered us: “Get up. You will be allowed in the lobby. ” “And who is it? We would have Olga, ”we hesitated. “No, there will be no Olya today. Oleg will be today. ” When we got up, we were really met by an adult man in his underpants. The number was empty, ten bottles of expensive drinking were attached on the table. Further, communication went easier.
Madam and her retinue
Nastenka came to the hotel - a woman with dark hair, in a leather skirt, a corset and a defiantly open neckline. By Nastenka you can’t say that she was once a man, and for her this is the most pleasant compliment. Nevertheless, we are in some confusion, because Oleg, who Olga, in the photographs of VKontakte also had a third size of the third size, and now we have the most ordinary man. I decide to ask directly: - Nastya, are you a transsexual? - Ka. - Transsexual? That is, you have already undergone all operations? Or do I misunderstand? - You know, when people say that they do not understand, they are very messy. Firstly, it is better to turn to a person respectfully-in the way in which he wants to be. But about the operations: it seems to me that I look like, and what's the difference that I have here? Excuse me, what do you have to fuck with me?
Slightly getting to me, Nastya still quite willingly begins to tell: -Actually, in Russia there are no big problems with oppression, as in the West. We do not care about people how you look and what you have, they are loaded with their problems. Of course, Milonov himself came to one of the past Pati, they say that minors made their way to the party, we must urgently save them. But all this is a showdown, and behind the camera even he is a perfect adequate, it seemed to me. The only thing to fight is worth fighting is with stereotypes and internal barriers, like a party.
As it turned out, Nastya is a lesbian, and the change of floor, in her opinion, does not begin with sex. Orientation and floor are not at all the most related things. - And what will happen at the party in general? - asks Vera Olga, who is now Oleg. - What will happen ... modern decadence. - And what is the program? - The program ... They dance a lot there, drink a lot, have a lot of sex. They find a lot of drugs. But the show is already rising to us! BDSM show-mistress and retinue.
A minute later, a very bright woman really entered the room, a little at the age, she had burgundy hair and a frank red Gothic dress. Next to her was a nun with cuts on clothes for a sticking chest. A man in a black leather mask and the same latex suit stood behind, we had a collar. He immediately squatted and unbuttoned the mistress of boots. The lady sat on the bed. - Slave, what are you standing? Look, what a sweet girl. Kiss her legs.
The man dutifully crawled to me and began to modestly and without stopping kissing the fingers of my legs. His body under the costume seemed very pumped up. Each movement gave the calm of a large businessman. - Are you a show? - I asked the Madame a question. - What other show? Am I a circus or what? - Crushing the face, she answered. “Will you not perform?” - No, I will not speak. They don’t pay money to me, and I came to get high, and not to arrange a circus. Actually, I love interactive.
The mistress constantly laughs, only sometimes he is distracted by a slave, hitting him with a whip. It is completely impossible to understand: they play this way, and for the public, or before my eyes the lessons of the finest psychology occur. “Hey slave, you don’t see, you are already tired of her.” Well, I got out. Lying - she grabs the slave by the head and turns her stomach up. - Just look, well, he has a riser! - enthusiasm Vera. - Everyone would like this. So you think about slavery yourself, ”Oleg replies.
The rest of the time before Pati, a latex man either played the role of the table, or sat on his knees, leaning his hands on his fists, looking like a guards to a parody. The mistress, by the way, has her own closed club, where such men and women will voluntarily ask. Parties are arranged there, where such shows take place in the first part, and the second is already a minimum of psychology and a maximum of primitive. They also say that a personal slave lives in a cage at home in a cage. This girl is studying at the university, in the morning she goes to study, putting on a belt of fidelity, although she is a virgin, and in the evening returns back to her Konura. No one forces anyone, of course, but it’s how to go to India: you can go a tourist, you can try something tasty there, but you can not return at all.
Corridors
As Oleg said, decadence is the art of decline and depression, the destruction of stereotypes and the first step towards bright modernism. The era of decadence can only be found inside yourself, and you can see outside - and you will see only sick ghouls.
Meanwhile, we were already in the club. While we tried to push inward, we were felt several times, and it was not at all to understand who did it. If you try to see something through the flashing lights, then from anywhere in the club you can notice that everyone crashed into vapors, triples, and fours. Photographers hunt in the hall, so the boys take the hands of the girls and go with them to the dark corridors, where the light is turned off. But still, one man in latex underpants, leaning on her knees under a lady, inadvertently noticed.
- What will you drink? - the guy asked me in the ear when his friend grabbed my elbow. They took me to the bar, and while the girl glanced at me, the guy handed the bartender a card, then, without looking, he scored a pin code. It is easy to imagine how many thousands can be burned here in one night and not notice. - Are you a couple? I asked the young lady. She was wearing a blue wig of Malvina and a short lace dress from a cartoon. - We are married. We arrived from Moscow. In general, Pati will come to our city in a couple of months, but I did not want to wait, ”Malvina answered me smiling. - And you are not jealous? - Of course, no. All my problems in life were due to the fact that in childhood no one taught me to masturbate. Marriage is help to each other. So let's go. You will then be terribly depressed if nothing happens in such a place, you know? A girl like you should not go wet.
We drank tequila in one gulp, and a couple, taking my hands tightly, led me into the corridors - narrow passages with zigzags on the other floor. I think that in the planning of the building, these convenient nooks were thought out initially. Even here, the groans drowned out psychedelic speeding rhythms - and so on all three floors with a bunch of private rooms. The boy had a flashlight, and he could not find a free corner - he was busy everywhere. Finally, I rested on some huge vase.
“Undress you, you are the first,” I whispered to them, but after a minute when they were distracted, she rushed into the light. It is impossible to say “no” in the club, moral attitudes do not allow. Because in a society where everything is on the contrary, it is ashamed and too rude.
Red room
The BDSM room is probably the only place where at least at first they do not have sex at all, and where the point of the highest safety is in this regard. In the room, sofas lined up in a semicircle, in the middle there is a couple of iron toys, and in the corner there is a shelf with gizmos, which, already half an hour after the start of the party, is better not to pick up. If behind the walls of the room everything that happens could be characterized as “fashion for shocking sex”, then there is a certain claim to “naturalness”.
While the red lady leads the leash of the slave, and a cute naked girl sits and laughs on him, a nun with open breasts sits on my sofa. Actually, she is the personal photographer of the lady. You might even think that a retinue is people with a set of services: a slave-style, slave kon, a slave photographer. However, this is not so, even to some extent, on the contrary. When the nun wrote the thesis, getting out of the journalism department, the lady allowed her to take a picture of her life, because "it is pleasant in itself." So the girl remained with her. Now the nun is earning that it sells photos and small stories to European publications. European, because Russian BDSM foreigners seem strange. According to the girl, our minorities are "too vulgar, but at the same time more sincere." - And how did you understand that you are the upper one?
- Madam can say in two seconds, for example. This is visible.
I turn around to the mistress, who is already sitting on a sofa and putting a metal collar on a slave. - Madam, tell me, please, what do you think, am I lower or upper? She looks at me thoughtfully for two seconds. - No, well, dear, well, the lower, of course. Honey, this is obvious, ”she answers me. “You see, says the nun.” “You are clearly even heavier with men.” And I practice BDSM with them, because they themselves want this by nature. - But what about love?
- Oh, I really love my boyfriend. I think that he is me. But when I am alone and I have a boy purely for sex, I do the same with him, and in any case, something is still not enough. In themselves. You know, now I want to get a girl. Even in Russian “lower” girls there is something that does not have “upper” men.
Horse for sex
The slogan at Loshadka Prty: "We are against drugs, but for sex." Sometimes, however, it seems that “e#is the horse” would suit more. When you stand in line to the toilet, then with an interval of five minutes you can hear the discontent of the public in the genre: "Go in the corridor to fuck, let me piss!". So on the sofa under the stairs, one beautiful lady with rabbit ears sighs, sitting on a wolf. Next to them is an elderly cleaning lady of Asian appearance. She has a bag of garbage in her hands, and calm and longing on her face. She, apparently, needs to get out: the party lasts from eleven in the evening to seven in the morning, and according to SanPin, she must make two or three bypasses during this time. It is better, of course, so that the cleaners are not noticed, but, apparently, there are no problems with this. There should be a place where they stop pointing a finger on the sore decadence, because here the supporters of this culture are simply the majority.
At about five in the morning, some guy got hooked on me and, interspersing the speech with a selected obscenity, said that he managed to finish ten times on the dance floor. Nevertheless, it seemed to him that all this was very boring and that "the horse died."
It was time for me to look for faith, and something suggested that she was somewhere near the red room. Passing through the chicken, I found a mistress, at that moment she could already be called just Alena. She sat on the chair in the corner, tired and dumbfounded. The slave tried to unfasten her boot. - Well, what are you doing there? Pull up and that's it. - Yes, I do ... Calm down, damn it, - I first heard him talk. “Yes, fucking ... Okay, sit down already,” Alena answered kindly.
Both of them doused later. The slave sat next to her on a chair, slightly hiding her back and leaning his elbows to her feet.
Once in childhood, parents touched Alena with a belt for the first time, and she promised with her character: she promised:
“Well, wait, grow up - and I will still have time to hit you yourself.”
BDSM for her - in no case revenge, rather the first manifestations of internal predisposition and even intuition. For example, she has a fourteen-year-old son, and I asked how she raises him if she breaks a man every week-how does this fit in her head? But, according to the hostess of the community, humiliation and dominance do not go against love and education. A woman is a mother, and a man is obliged to recognize in her the highest being, which eventually will still give more than he will. In the recognition of this, the inner rod of a man is manifested. No matter how controversial, such logic is, but if shocking sex becomes boring over time, then such a philosophy allows the mistress to enjoy life for a dozen years.
Fetishist-abuser
By six in the morning, it was already, as in a fairy tale about a sleeping beauty-stupid bodies were lying throughout the palace, which waited until someone wake them, and preferably in a clean palace. Meanwhile, Vera screamed, kneeling on the floor, while some very young BDSM-boy sat on a chair and beat her from behind with a whip. Blood began to pour from her, but the guy did not notice this. She yelled: “Raccoon!”, Then again: “Raccoon!” Once on the third boy stopped, suddenly remembering that the “raccoon” is a stop-word. Without saying anything, he went out. Vera bowed her face to her knees and froze.
Oleg later explained to me that most city BDSM-Fetishists are abusers, such people who stubbornly want to classify themselves to sex minorities or some other freaks. All they know are drawn from fan fictions and films. In short, they play all the ones that modern girls peck at. As a rule, the abucuseurs find a companion at parties and, at best, conditionally tie her mouth and arms to her, and then make a couple of strokes with a belt, hoping that this is enough, but sometimes it ends with tantrums, sometimes with small injuries, and sometimes just nothing.
Oleg goes to a more closed club: the session there costs from two thousand rubles at least, because this is special equipment, including with puncture devices, and soundproofing rooms, and a group of doctors. He is already more than thirty, and young ladies are something secondary for him. Oleg is secured, married and has children, but several times a month is dressed in a woman and in a rented apartment is satisfied with parties to which guests are invited to interests. Probably, if Oleg's family found out about his hobby, they would have regretted that he simply did not lead his mistress.
On the way to the metro, Vera was silent for a long time. We coated her back with iodine. The coat covered a crumpled costume, but disheveled hair and depressed expression on the face hinted at her recent adventures.
“You know,” Vera told me, “because now beautiful women can’t take a step away, I can’t even dance calmly.” And when you go to the subway, all men begin to look askance, because they feel when the girl had sex. Of course, what happened today is an experience ... But when you go and see your views like this, it seems that this is humiliation.
I turn around to the mistress, who is already sitting on a sofa and putting a metal collar on a slave.
Text Milan Logunov St. Petersburg 
Photos Galina Khalilova St. Petersburg 
