Saturday night, I was out with my friend WhoreBingo and some of her friends. I wasn't drinking because the previous evening I had nearly drank myself into a coma, resulting in me throwing up on my bed and having to throw out my bedsheets. The night was dragging by and I was ready to pack it in, when I got a call from a friend I'll call "Jerry."
Jerry, who was barely understandable as he was speaking Drunken Retard English, told me to come his place, that there were hot girls and a keg. I needed no other persuasion. We arrived at his apartment, a large 4 bedroom in Wrigleyville, and the fact that there was a nearly full keg was the only thing that prevented me from committing felony assault against him.
I struggled while writing this, trying to come up with a way to accurately describe the quality of the girls there. It truly was a menagerie of the abysmal. Every girl there, except for one, was in dire need of strychnine. Had I the proper materials in my possession, I would have set off a bomb in that apartment, as it would have made the world a better place. A brief rundown of the selection:
In one room, there were three girls, none over 19, all wearing what looked like Renaissance Fair costumes, dancing wildly to N'Sync. Each had at least one major deformity. One was so short and squat she looked like a bowling ball with a head. Another had her eyes on different sides of her face; she only needed to learn to move them independently to qualify as a chameleon. The other had the worst teeth I've ever seen. Anyone remember Snaggletooth, from the original Star Wars? This girl used the same orthodontist.
In another room were three blonde girls who, from 25 feet down the hallway, looked attractive. From 5 feet, they looked like used up strippers. One was so drunk she sounded like she was speaking in tongues. Talking to her was like trying to interview Keith Richards after a heroin bender. The cutest one was into me, but she was ten years past her prime, and I was far too sober to be her Passenger 57.
I also met a girl who was four months pregnant, a girl who had a scar on her face that made her look like Tony Montana, and another girl who had breast reduction surgery. It was like a Salvador Dali painting come to life. Really, it was that surreal. I've run out of adjectives.
I camped myself around the keg and started drinking. And drinking. After about an hour of aggressively attacking the beer, I turned around and saw a girl so ugly I jumped from fear. I almost asked her why she was wearing her Halloween costume a week early, until I realized that this was what she looked like, that she wasn't wearing a mask. Her comment on seeing me jump--LITERALLY JUMP--when she walked in the door, "Did I scare you? It's OK, I get that reaction a lot." Her face looked like it caught on fire and someone beat it out with a rake.
Later, I was talking to a guy who told me that he was her roommate. Then he uttered the words that would change the night,
Guy "Yeah, it's interesting living with her; she's a dominatrix."
Tucker "I'm sorry...what did you just say?"
Guy "She's a dominatrix. That's her job."
Tucker "No way. I have to talk to her. I have so many questions."
It took me a few more beers before I reached the point where I could stand to look at her. Once I got there, I searched her out, and spent the next fifteen minutes peppering her with questions. I learned several things:
1. She makes $200 an hour beating men up. She doesn't even have to take her clothes off.
2. Her client list includes (according to her) a MAJOR Chicago politician and a fairly well known actor. The Chicago politician enjoys having clothes pins stuck to his balls and the actor prefers slave/mistress roll-playing.
3. She got into the dominatrix business after making out with a woman was doing it professionally. This was while she was traveling around with her heroin-addicted boyfriend, who was a roadie for Skid Row.
4. She has 2 kids.
I called her out. I wanted to see her act, to watch someone get their ass kicked. She agreed to do it, but could find no one to volunteer to be her subject. Always willing to sacrifice my dignity for the sake of the story, and fortified by a gallon of free beer, I agreed to be dominated.
She calmly assembled about a dozen kitchen tools: a spatula, a wooden spoon, a carving knife, some grill tongs--basically anything long and hard. She then grabbed me by the hair and started abusively cursing me, calling me a piece of shit, telling me that she owns me; it was like a bad domestic violence scene from Cops. I started laughing hysterically. I was talking shit back to her in between bouts of laughter, telling her I'd beat her like Ike beat Tina, that I've had slight breezes hurt me more, stuff like that. Apparently, she didn't like my quips, because she took Saran Wrap and wrapped it around my mouth.
She then started taking off my clothes. This didn't bother me until she got down to my pants. I told her I didn't have any boxers on. This did not deter her, as she just stripped me down to my skin tight Patagonia capilene long underwear (it was cold out...fuck you). After tying me to a chair with Saran Wrap, and tying a bandana around my eyes, she went to work.
I'll be honest: The bitch beat the crap out of me. She made me bleed, and left welts on my ass and back. She was beating me like she was Furio and I owed money to Tony Soprano. She went to work on my ass with a spatula, wooden kitchen spoons, everything. She bit my nipples. She even tried to go at my nuts with some tongs. It was hilarious. And painful.
When she was finished with me, she persuaded another girl to get into the act. She tied her up the same way, stripped her down to her bra, and went at her. In the middle of this, one of the guys who lives at this apartment, but had been out all night, came home and walked in on this scene. We'll call him "Brian," and he described it in an email as such:
"I come into the apartment to find [Jerry] passed out face first on the computer desk and everyone else crowded into the area over by the kitchen table. I look over and there was a girl blind folded, shirt off, bending over a chair getting spanked in the ass with a wooden spoon by some girl in a red dress who is lifting it up to show everyone her shaved box. I WAS FUCKING SHOCKED."
If the night had ended there, it would still be legendary. But this is only the halfway point of the story. By the time the dominatrix was finished with the two of us, the sexual tension in the apartment was palpable. The place was delicately teetering on the precipice of slipping into a disgusting orgy. Then someone suggested that we all go into the sauna (this apartment is sweet. It has four bedrooms, two stories, two decks, a hot tub, and a sauna).
Honestly, it was like the beginning of one of those pornos where the director makes a thinly-veiled attempt at plot.
As we are prepared to get into the sauna, the dominatrix took Jerry, who had passed out on a desk about two hours prior, upstairs to his bedroom. The sauna is upstairs, so I headed up a few minutes later and hear some noises coming from Jerry's room. His room is built like a loft, and there is a space above his door that one can look in. I took a three foot speaker from the other room, climbed on top of it, and peered into his room.
My eyes met this scene: Jerry, shoes still on, jeans around his ankles, jackhammering the dominatrix like he was going to the electric chair the next day. Unable to contain myself, I started giggling like a school girl. Jerry looked up, sweat dripping off his face, saw me, and yelled,
"HEY! HEY!"
It was NOT a yell of surprise. It was a yell of, "Oh shit, my friend just saw me screwing a sea-donkey. What do I do now?"
This intensified my giggle fit so much I was propelled off the speaker and crashed into a table. I scurried up and ran into the sauna still giggling, to find five other people in there, all in towels. We were talking calmly, having a good time, until about 30 minutes later when the dominatrix walked in, completely naked except for her black knee-high leather boots. She took her naked body, completely shaved box and vagina full of Jerry semen, sat down on a Brian's lap, started playing with him, and tried to go down on him. It just went downhill from there.
The girl that I came with, WhoreBingo, made me leave the apartment with her very soon after. She was sober, and apparently has "morals," whatever those are.
The fallout from that party is still coming down. Jerry at first tried to deny that he slept with the dominatrix. Then he changed his story, and claimed he was raped. For the guy who walked in on the girl getting beat, Brian, this became a life changing experience. He described it as such:
"It affected me in ways that I never thought possible. Last night I got stoned and was going over the events in my head and I came to the conclusion that I need to get my act together quick. I guess that sometimes it takes a dominatrix in your living room to make you sit there and think "What the fuck am I doing with my life?""
Posted by at 11:44 PM