You might think it will be a cold day in hell when you see someone tied up and being slapped repeatedly and think, “that is beautiful”—and until recently I would have agreed with you.
Somehow I found myself at a BDSM dungeon the other week (long story), and I was literally watching a woman hitting another woman who was tied up with ropes. I was struck (pun intended) by the beauty of consent—not so much the carnal human sado-masochism stuff, but the idea that two people could collectively decide what their limits were and based on those limits devise a safe, comfortable, consensual way to enjoy an activity in which they were both interested.
I said earlier that my being at a BDSM dungeon was a long story, but I lied. It’s actually really short. I had heard there were a couple of BDSM dungeons in Tulsa, and I thought “hmm, I could write about this.” I asked The Collegian if I could write about it, assuming they would say no and I would move on with my life, but actually they said yes. They called my bluff and I ended up at a dungeon. Sometimes life just happens, you know?
I am not about BDSM, so a lot of the stuff that was happening just seemed overwhelmingly silly to me. However, I am about consent and I think it is really damn beautiful that a group of people get together to do something that looks just like assault, but that is consensual and loving and really healthy for everyone involved. It is amazing to me that these folks get together with the intention of hurting each other—but that that hurt is based on increasing the other person’s pleasure.
Actually getting to a dungeon is sort of a challenge. I went with a friend (you know you have good friends when they are willing to go to a literal dungeon with you), and we had to be vetted by the owner of the establishment prior to attending a party.
We met up with the dungeon owner at a Starbucks, talked a little bit about our interest in the dungeon and then we were told we were welcome to attend a party that very night.
I honestly did not expect that we would get through the interview and be allowed to attend the party. I told the dungeon owner about my interest in exploring consent as a writer for The Collegian, and she was wholly on board.
Unsurprisingly, I was incredibly ill-prepared to go to a dungeon. Like, what do you wear to a dungeon? I generally describe my wardrobe as dyke-y preschool teacher, so I was pretty clearly unprepared. I ended up wearing a sweatshirt and jeans and my chucks. My friend wore tight leather pants. She had a better grasp on the situation than I did, although I will say that my outfit of choice did not make me feel out of place.
The adventure got off to a poor start when it took us an hour to find the place. I also realized in the car on the way there that I was not sure whether BDSM was even legal. After some quick iPhone googling, we determined that it did not seem to be super legal, but also maybe it was? The laws were very unclear. The general impression we got was that if a cop sees someone assaulting another person, whether or not it is consensual, he or she has to look into it and treat it like it is nonconsensual.
Getting into the dungeon cost 20 dollars and a snack. We picked up cheetos on the way there. We also had to sign and initial a bunch of documents and provide photo ID.
We got a tour of the dungeon. I will say, as dungeons go, it was very dungeon-like. When I say “the dungeon” I mean the whole shebang—store, two actual dungeons, a common area, front room, office space.
The very first stop on the tour was the store, which was definitely a good clue that I was in over my head. Collars, and floggers, and knives, oh no.
The “small” dungeon was full of beds and miscellaneous accoutrements (effectively various ways to restrain people). It was very dark (as was the large dungeon), and there was some intense music playing. There was an area within it that was walled off—it was like a very small room, which contained a couple of plastic chairs, for easy clean up. This room was entirely for medical play and/or bodily fluids.
The large dungeon had St. Andrew’s crosses and fire extinguishers and a swinging bed and a chain hanging from the ceiling in order to suspend people. It will soon have an electric chair – it just is not fully constructed yet.
There were a couple of noteworthy things we saw on our tour. Each dungeon had a station full of “safe” things such as lube and condoms. The large dungeon also had a room for people to change clothes in. We were informed that a number of transgender people come to the dungeon and that that room is informally their hangout place. A lot of them are unable to be “out” outside of the dungeon, so the dungeon, in spite of its overall darkness and tone of terror, can be their only “safe” place.
After the tour we went over the rules. They were primarily focused on safety and consent—so if you engage in fire play (exactly what it sounds like), make sure you have a fire extinguisher and bucket of water on hand. If you engage in bloodplay (also exactly what it sounds like), make sure you put a tarp down. Use a condom, and so on.
At this point the night really got going as people moved into the dungeon-areas to start “playing.”
I think that by far the most important part of this situation was that I hated it. It was basically a night of me watching things happen that did not in any way make me feel sexual. Not at all. However—I was there the whole time of my own free will, I was able to leave whenever I wanted, I did not experience any pressure to participate and I never felt unsafe.
I also want to clarify that although I have been fairly adamant that I was not interested in the things that were happening, some people are and that is okay. I do not judge other people for their (consensual) sexual preferences, and I think that it is really wonderful that these kink communities exist and provide a space for folks to explore and discover what they do and do not like. I am not into BDSM, but other people are, and I think that is great.
My goal in going to the dungeon was to see firsthand how beautiful consensual sexual relationships can be, and it did not disappoint. I will probably never go back. I did not like most of what I saw. It was not for me. However, I loved the idea of consenting adults engaging in play that was safe and agreed upon. Everyone was happy with what was going on, there was no force or coercion and there were numerous safeguards in place to keep it that way.
