"A Clockwork Orgy" at Club X-it: The Whole Gang Gets Whipped

Not painful.
Not painful.
Photo by Chromedick

New Times Broward-Palm Beach Calendar Editor Mickie Centrone attends and details some of the finest -- and occasionally subpar -- events from a given week. On Saturday, she went to "A Clockwork Orgy" at Club X-it in Hollywood.

Another guy approaches me. He sits next to me on the couch and asks if he can massage my shoulders. Sure. That gentleman rubs my shoulders. He's kissing the back of my neck -- there is an explosion of stimulated nerve endings. What do I care if he starts making out with my ears now? The guy on the floor who is rubbing my right foot is masked.

I let the guy behind me, who has a tail, unbutton two buttons on my white, long-sleeved business shirt. He starts an orgasming rant in my ear. I am not particularly enthralled that a man is fake-orgasming in my ear. There is nothing sexual about the When Harry Met Sally diner scene popping into my head. I'm part of "A Clockwork Orgy," Electrolust's annual Stanley Kubrick tribute fetish party.

Earlier, in a swirl of neon-green swiveling circles

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and stars, my three friends and I shake it on the dance floor. The whole

club is the epitome of what is called dark and smoky. There are

attractive people here. A self-described "ninja" is Johnny Depp

good-looking -- where Captain Jack Sparrow meets the Libertine. Another

guy looks like he's just walked off Magellan's ship. Women are in raver

gear.

Josepher, head of Electrolust adult-party team, taps me on the shoulder. "She's shoving a

stick up his ass, and I told her she had to use a condom on it because

you don't want anyone to get hurt for real." He's talking about the

man with the kilt. A woman's hands and what resembled a clothespin... disappear under it. This is now the masked man perched on the ground in

front of me who is massaging my foot. He is making his way up my calf. His kilt has a matching

sash. I bend forward and say to him, "So I hear you have that thing up your ass."

I stunned him. "No," he said. Attached to a different place -- who knows when he asked

me? -- but now, I'm tugging on the string. He asks if I mind if he massages my

thigh. No. The guy behind me asks if he can make out

with me. I say, "No." He mentions something about my nipples. Definitely

not. "Do you like your hair pulled?" he asks me. Sure, go ahead. "Do you like to

be choked?" he asks. I tell him I honestly can't answer that -- I've

never been choked. I guess it's natural for us to both presume I will

try it.

"You

really are in control," says Leather Lee, "even though I may be the dom and the master and been doing this 25 years." He's about to whip me.

I'm in the backroom. It's a small square. Whips hang on the back wall.

Underneath, a table holds more of them. Here's a good place to learn

about the

whole dom/sub thing. This is how I got to be in this room in the first

place, before my pleasure fest on the couch with the two men started: a

Cleopatra experience. I'm bent over, my stomach lying on what I can best

call a masseuse's table. He starts out whipping the shoulder blades.

It gets the endorphins going. Then he goes down the spine. If it's too

much, I can just

raise my arm. Or use the safe words: yellow, slow down, caution.

I

get a "It was a pleasure to beat you" after he is done. So polite.

This is the best part of the Ren-Fest that they don't offer you. I

stopped the whip sesh early the first time, needing time to absorb what I

just did.

Then everyone I came with got whipped. I went again. The next time, Lee

started where we left off. He lifted the back of my shirt, unsnapped my

bra, and then my tutu went flying up. He asked how I enjoyed it. Not

that any answer to him was necessary

because, after my remarks, he said he already knew the answer, being able

to read my back and so forth. "Her potential is amazing!" he shouts

with a smile. "I said amazing!" Now, if only all teachers were this encouraging, I might have

never quit track.

"Pull me along, will ya?" asks a black

speedo-clad, older gentleman whom I've kept my eye on the whole night.

His nutsack cubby -- his sausage casing -- comes with a string attached to the fabric in the front.

"Blindfold me, make me think whatever

you want to." His arms are tied behind his back. When no one is pulling

him, he returns to the bar. He hangs his head really low, parallel to

his shoulders, like he's repenting. Or waiting for someone to charge him

up, take him for a walk. Beige duct tape's

wrapped around his eyes and

ears, also covering some of his white hair, unless he's walking himself. I saw a cherubic girl in a red

corset pull him along. A guy carried him. His ass got smacked.

I

had no interest, but I duct-taped him. Where do I put the duct tape? He

tells me to leave it on the bar. I start pulling him along, and, after a

few yards, I realize he

walks really, really slowly. Too slowly. Especially when the rhythm of

this night matches the stomping of the men who wear bomb gear and giant,

buckled

boots on the dance floor, moving to hard-hitting, bass-thumping techno. I turn around, and Slug is running into a pole. Sigh. It

didn't dawn on me I

would have to guide him. Pulling

an old guy on a string is boring. I hand

him off, placing the sturdy string in another man's hands. Regarding my dismay,

someone says:

"He wasn't a good dog."

I get home, there are two bite marks, one on the front of both

shoulders, where the flesh is in the middle of the shoulder. Thanks to the blessed stranger who brought

up the notion of me getting whipped in the first place. His encouraging words were: "I instigate so

you could accept the scenario you were writing about... and you can't

ever say you didn't enjoy it."

"I said, 'You want me to spit in your face.' He said, 'Yes.' So I spit in his face five times. I let it dribble down his face. Then he licked it like he was parched and hadn't had a drink in awhile. He also thrust his pelvis in an erotically slow manner."
"I said, 'You want me to spit in your face.' He said, 'Yes.' So I spit in his face five times. I let it dribble down his face. Then he licked it like he was parched and hadn't had a drink in awhile. He also thrust his pelvis in an erotically slow manner."
Photo by Chromedick
Did Chad like getting whipped? "With the right person, in the right mood, it'll increase sexual potency."
Did Chad like getting whipped? "With the right person, in the right mood, it'll increase sexual potency."
Photo by Chromedick
One of my companions for the evening, Robbie Brantley, frontman of KARRAS, tonight was shirtless with the words "BORN TO KILL" markered across his chest and torso. He quipped: "You mean I could've worn flip-flops to this?!" when seeing the kilt-wearing man's shoes.
One of my companions for the evening, Robbie Brantley, frontman of KARRAS, tonight was shirtless with the words "BORN TO KILL" markered across his chest and torso. He quipped: "You mean I could've worn flip-flops to this?!" when seeing the kilt-wearing man's shoes.
Photo by Chromedick
After getting whipped, Leather Lee was talking about my next step: "Then you become a freebird, then a pervert, but I gotta go whip your friend first."
After getting whipped, Leather Lee was talking about my next step: "Then you become a freebird, then a pervert, but I gotta go whip your friend first."
Photo by Mickie Centrone
Leather Lee kept hitting the bull's-eye with "a single tail" whip. Some girls made him stop midstriking to pass through. What???? This isn't like interrupting a photo in process. But Lee was unfazed. He continued whipping with extraordinary accuracy. Lee says he can also whip a cigarette out of a gentleman's mouth.
Leather Lee kept hitting the bull's-eye with "a single tail" whip. Some girls made him stop midstriking to pass through. What???? This isn't like interrupting a photo in process. But Lee was unfazed. He continued whipping with extraordinary accuracy. Lee says he can also whip a cigarette out of a gentleman's mouth.
Photo by Mickie Centrone
I reflected about how whipping wasn't painful. That's pretty common sense. Josepher says: "If you break your toys, you can't play with them."
I reflected about how whipping wasn't painful. That's pretty common sense. Josepher says: "If you break your toys, you can't play with them."
Photo by Chromedick
Party on. Next Electrolust event at Club X-it is the "Latex Lube Party" on March 5.
Party on. Next Electrolust event at Club X-it is the "Latex Lube Party" on March 5.
Photo by the Instigator

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