Review of Sanctum Masquerade party:
“Clear recent photos must be provided. One must be a full length photo. If approved, you will be contacted with instructions…”
Was I joining an exclusive dating site? Applying to become a porn star? No, it was the super mysterious, ultra fancy party called Sanctum. Which in some ways meant it was a “yes” to those first two questions.
Gentlemen must wear tuxedos. NOT merely a suit and tie, the instructions were quick to note. Adding, with a measure of disdain, that if you didn’t know the difference then you could refer to a helpful web link, the subtext being that if you didn’t know the difference then you probably weren’t the kind of person that should be attending.
Ladies shall be in suitable evening attire or simply lingerie. Hmmm, sounds kind of tame compared to some of the fet events but that’s ok, horses for courses.
And then of course, were the masks. Everyone must wear a mask to gain admittance. And presumably then keep it on if they didn’t meet the party’s minimum acceptable beautifulness standard.
Jasmine^, my date, had been before so knew what to expect. She seemed very vague on details whenever I had asked questions. So she was either valiantly maintaining “fight club” levels of mysteriousness, or got too drunk to remember. After a suitable period of donning our respective outfits and beautifying ourselves, she looked stunning and alluring. I looked like every other man-penguin. We masked up. Now we were ready for some eyes-wide-shut-style craziness. Hopefully minus the murdering.
A black mercedes rolled up outside my house to collect us. OK, so yes it was an uber. But it was an uber lux goddamit. We can’t be arriving at this fancy mansion in no dusty prius. After making our way deep into the hollywood hills, we arrived at the secret location. A location so secret, that the uber app became confused and overwhelmed, and almost forgot to charge surge pricing. Almost.
At the entrance to a large and luxurious mansion, we were greeted by a tuxedoed doorman who clearly excelled at his profession – exuding both welcoming formality, and staunch intimidation – simultaneously. He squinted at me suspiciously as he triple checked our invitation, names, the guest list, and our adherence to the dress code. “Fidelio?” I offered up helpfully. “Very funny sir. Welcome to Sanctum”, and he stood aside gesturing through the doorway.
We descended the outdoor stairway and into a world of intoxicating beauty and intoxicating… champagne. Passing by the pool, we arrived at the main door to the house and were greeted by a lady of stunning beauty wearing a metal mask and nothing else. Or at least I assumed that she was stunningly beautiful under the mask. The perfect body certainly implied so. She took each of our hands in hers and bowed a greeting, before pressing her (metal) lips to Jasmine’s. “Welcome to Sanctum”.
Gorgeous masked people milled around, dressed to the nines. We mingled, chatted. Met the host of the party and his wife – both suitably beautiful as expected. On the way to the bar we discovered a dance pole with a miniature pony statue kind of built into the base. Definitely an exotic twist on the classic “straight up and down” stripper pole. I wondered how dancers would do trying to navigate the pony while dancing. As I handed $100 across the bar to pay for a couple of drinks (!!!), I detected a foreign accent to my right. Jasmine and I exchanged glances and walked over to talk to chat to the owner of said english accent – a lovely looking lady from London. Before too long, we were all getting along famously and it seemed that the menage a trois stars were moving into alignment.
Excited to see what else the party had in store, we set off to explore the rest of the house. Red mood lighting and sultry tunes created a sex-charged air of excitement as we made our way through corridors and stairs. Downstairs, a petting zoo! Or to be more specific, three naked porn stars (two female, one male) wearing animal masks – pig, puppy and kitty respectively – lying on a bed. For an appropriate exchange of tokens, one could apparently interact with them on various levels. Presumably the scintillating conversation was free. Looking a little bored, Jasmine produced a pouch and took out a pair of Ben Wa balls, which briefly glinted in the light before quickly disappearing under her dress. Eyebrows raised, I shrugged.
In the next room, a bed, and a line for the bathroom. Apparently even the 1% have to suffer the inhumanity of queuing for the toilet from time to time. Never one to waste an opportunity, I entertained the waiting crowd by bending Jasmine over the bed and administering a swift spanking. The waiting crowd approved, and we made some new friends. Half of them proceeded to invite themselves over to my house for late night skinny dipping. Who were these people?? I hadn’t even bought them a drink yet!
Back upstairs, the party continued around the pool. Jasmine and our English friend tottered tipsily in their heels. Visions of them tumbling into the pool or worse, I ushered them back into the house. Inside, two girls were taking turns spanking each other. In a manner of speaking, anyway. The technique was questionable… they could clearly benefit from a lesson from Orpheus Black in the fine art of erotic spanking. Or at least a BDSM 101 class. Further along, someone had produced a flogger and proceeded to flail it wildly around the ass-area of a gorgeous lady. Dear God, I thought to myself. Be careful, you could hurt someone with that. And not in a good way. As tails wrapped and licked at at kidneys and tail bones, I sighed and reminded myself that I was a guest. Where was ChoirBoySadist when you needed him.
As I parted with another $100 for a couple more drinks, I noticed a beautiful woman making use of the pole. And finally my question was answered about the strange pony statue built into the bottom of the pole. She avoided it completely – never even touched the ground during her performance. An impressive display of upper body strength to contort herself horizontal out from the pole and twist into a variety of non-pony-touching poses. She was truly talented, even if it did seem a little bit much like hard work to be sexually gratifying.
The evening breezed by and champagne flowed. Evidently, Jasmine had forgotten to eat dinner and before too much longer, the bubbles were getting the better of her and it was time for us to leave. We made our way toward the exit, dodging rogue riding crops and stray floggers. I paused briefly as we stumbled across a shibari scene in progress! And he even seemed to know what he was doing… clean rope lines, safety knot… Master K would be be pleased.
The party definitely seemed to be shifting gear as guests slowly paired off (or trio’d or quadded off) into nooks and crannies and intimacy ensued. Making our way outside, there was a giant splash as two merrymakers took their intimacy to the pool. Jasmine continued to lose the battle against the champagne, and stumbled groggily up the stairs towards the gate. Realizing there’s no need to impress a date who isn’t going to remember the last half hour, I dialed the Uber app down to regular level, and smiled as our prius-chariot came to collect us.
^Jasmine is not her real name. It is in fact Doris+.
+Also not in fact her real name.
Beautiful people, both attendees and paid performers. Horrendously over-priced drinks. Scandalous hedonism (by vanilla party standards) – various states of undress, dancing on poles, porn stars putting on a show. Some limited kinky stuff – spanking & flogging – with face-palm inducing level of skill. Lots of people up (or is that down) for swinging, threesomes and other such depraved acts, which proceeded to unfold in various parts of the house, with apparently greater skill than the floggings. Might go again for the eye candy and narcissistic thrill of hanging with the 1%. But not as fun as a good play party at Threshold or Sanctuary…