I am the newest barback at Bar Sinister.
Bar Sinister is a club-ish section of an LA bar called Boardner’s. Bar Sinister is an S&M (sadism and masochism)/dominatrix club where beautiful men and women go to willingly whip, spank, and fondle each other while wearing the latest fetish attire each and every Saturday evening.
First thing’s first, lets go over what exactly "S&M" is, courtesy of Psychology Wiki:
"The counterpart of sadism is masochism, the sexual pleasure or gratification of having pain or suffering inflicted upon the self, often consisting of sexual fantasies or urges for being beaten, humiliated, bound, tortured, or otherwise made to suffer, either as an enhancement to or a substitute for sexual pleasure. "
I truly had no idea what went on at this place until I stepped inside to work my first Saturday night. I was already nervous because I have never been a barback in my life, but when I saw what was going on, I literally almost turned around and left. It’s not that I am not a sexual person or whatever, but this sh*t is on a completely different level and part of a completely different universe. Let me explain.
I walk in, after having already worked four hours at my other job, so I am hopped up on performance enhancing drugs (coffee, Red Bull, and fried chicken) and I am absolutely ready to f*cking rip. Upon entry, I do a quick scan of the place, and it looks like the second circle of hell. There are, like, 100 foot ceilings, red strobe lights, and a DJ in a tower looking down on a bunch of Goth kids dancing like savages to trance music under upside down crosses.
However, this isn’t even the true S&M sh*t yet. They say, “Luke, you're setting up the bar in purgatory.” I’m like, “I don't wanna go to purgatory, I’m only 24, thank you very much.” But I proceed up the stairs, to purgatory, hoping the good Lord will just take my life at this point and allow me to skip purgatory. He did no such thing.
So I am now in purgatory, the S&M loft, and let me tell you, this little 900-square-foot lair is somewhere you do not want to go alone. They don’t even let you go up the stairs unless you’re wearing fetish attire, which is basically lingerie, dog collars, or if you’re a true sex slave, little pieces of duct tape over your nipples and underwear.
I am up in this loft for no more than 60 seconds when I encounter my first “S&M scene.” Anyone participating in one of these S&M scenes can never be interrupted, even if those participating are screaming/crying/pleading for their lives.
Side note: I don't understand how there isn't a waiver of some sort that you have to sign just to even walk up there. But I digress.
So this is what I see upon arrival in purgatory: one of the most gorgeous, blonde, well-endowed, absolutely savage women I’ve ever seen strapped to a giant, metal, industrial-sized cross of some sort with handcuffs, all connected to the ceiling, while her similarly endowed brunette girlfriend whips her, most definitely exceeding the boundary of pleasure, proceeding into the world of pain.
So, again, my first instinct is to turn and go back down the stairs to hide the piece of fresh lumber that is currently in my pants, but there were people walking up the narrow staircase, so I was in it to win it now.
The night goes on and things start to look up. Gorgeous, sexual women are infecting my pants with erections like swine flu in a day care. I probably set the record for most blood traveled to the male member in one evening.
Just when I was in de-rection mode, some of the naked women that dance throughout the main club come up to me and ask for drinks, and I have to try harder than I have ever tried before to keep eye contact. My eyes were like lasers into theirs. They probably thought I was on some of Hollywood’s finest blow. Couldn’t blink at all for fear of my eyes redirecting to their exposed boobs.
At one point, the previously mentioned blonde chick asked me if she could whip me. I said, “Hellllllll yesssssssss,” but my manager overheard, laughed, and told me that was a big no-no. I blamed it on it being my first day and not knowing the rules. However, that image is currently lodged in my spank bank.
So towards the end of the night, the place gets jammed and I’m on, like, my seventh Red Bull of the day. At one point, I vividly recall looking into the strobe lights, bass f*cking pumping, a chick tied up on the couch to my left, two chicks whipping each other to my right, and I honestly almost had a panic attack. I stood in the middle of this place, plugged my ears, and shut my eyes. I thought I was dying. I don’t know if it’s because I never drink Red Bull, let alone seven of them, but I legit almost dipped out, went to LAX, and flew home. Then I remembered that I am the most savage barbacking busbillionaire in all of LA. Like a godsend, the music stopped and the lights went on before I could fully decay and pass out. Closing time saved my life.
Hands down, that was the most f*cked up night of work I have ever had in my entire fucking life.
However, at 3:45 a.m., I clocked out, and the manager handed me $280 cash.
I am now the regular Saturday barback at the only S&M/dominatrix club in Los Angeles.
However odd these sexual fantasies appeared to me, Boardner’s is a place that people are drawn to because society has deemed their desires to be “abnormal.” After having honest and personal conversations with some of the club’s patrons, I did a complete mental 360. I understood what these people were doing there; it was simply an escape from a world that doesn't understand or allow their passions to be normal.
Honestly, I cant wait ‘til I have a night off so I can go get whipped and spanked by that blonde girl.