It’s not every day that you get to be an extra in a porn shoot. At the Armory, that’s called Thursday night.
It’s 6:30 p.m., and I’m on the Upper Floor after signing a release, getting my ID scanned, and taking a photo with my ID posed next to my cheek. I’m here for Public Disgrace, a Kink.com site focused on kinky public sex. I’ve been told James Deen is in the building, and I’m eager to meet the poster cock for lady porn.
Of course, I first take advantage of the open bar in the corner of the parlor. Drink in hand, I’m surveying the set: the Edwardian-style room, the naked lady statues, the door slightly ajar that reveals the adjacent dining room…I spot James in this makeshift green room, and in my excitement I spill my gin and tonic on the rug. After later witnessing just how many times Princess Donna is able to make her subs squirt, though, I will decide that a little bit of alcohol and fizzy water will do the rug some good.
A good sized crowd fills the room. Some of the audience are well-known figures in the local BDSM scene. Many are first-timers. Somehow, they all got their names on this elusive (and exclusive) guest list.
Around 7:30, director Princess Donna comes in and explains the lay of the land. In this shoot, Princess Donna is celebrating a belated birthday with the submissive Remy as her plaything. She checks her clipboard. Here are Remy’s limits. No face slapping or spitting. No pussy slapping. Light on the nipple play. As for the other subs in the shoot, you can do anything you want, as long as you ask them first.
Public Disgrace actually allows and encourages the audience to get involved in the scenes: to shout out suggestions, to verbally humiliate the subs, and to take pictures and videos of the whole spectacle.
At some of these shoots, in fact, the audience can even play with and fuck the models on camera. After getting tested beforehand at an industry-approved clinic and signing a waiver, you get free rein to swap fluids with the models. And the model? Kink.com will pay her $100 for each blowjob she performs and $200 for a dick in any other hole.
This is not one of those shoots. This party has class.
Act I. Princess Donna unwraps her present. With James Deen by her side, Princess Donna tells the crowd that Remy and the rest of the submissives will entertain her for a change. Three men in hoods and harnesses enter the room, along with two other collared women. Commence the blowjobs. Louder. Princess Donna wants to hear them gag on those cocks.
Princess Donna now has the female subs line up in what I fear will become a Human Centipede reenactment. Instead, the male subs step in between the girls to form a line of doggy style sexing as Princess Donna flogs each model. And…scene.
The talent leaves for the green room while the crew sets up for the next act. The line for the bar is halfway around the room, so I stuff my face with hors d’oeuvres while I wait for the action to restart.
But I’m not the only one stuffing my face. One woman is kneeling in between a man’s legs near the fireplace. Another man is going down on his date dangerously close to my coat. When in Rome…you fuck in San Francisco’s porn palace.
I plop down on a sofa and begin small talk with a Burner. In between showing me pictures of an art project and a girl he once dated (?), he interrupts himself.
“Is that a tranny in the corner?” he asks me.
Sigh. And that’s how, in explaining the preferred nomenclature of trans people, I miss out on Act II.
I realize that a PD shoot is more than watching how the sausage gets made. What with the angles the roving camera people get and the magic of post production, the porn will look a lot better on the website than it does in the hodge-podge of sexual musical chairs. No, being part of the audience at this shoot is all about, well, the audience.
What brings these people here? The open space to play with each other? The chance to fuck a porn star? The thrill of the voyeur? Whatever their kinks, they are surprisingly not creepy. Instead, they are sociable, friendly, and open-minded.
After sneaking peeks at Act III (in which the three girls are tied to a table as the men shuffle around for spare holes), I grow tired. When you’re spectating a several person orgy, there’s only so many combinations of holes and dicks until you eventually get bored with watching attractive strangers fuck.
I lean against a stripper pole, balancing on one stiletto as I take my weight off the other one.
“You did a good job,” a man in a suit and tie says to me. I turn around, look at him quizzically. “You were out there, weren’t you?” he asks.
I shake my head “no.” Somewhere in the midst of Act II, the audience slipped into cruise control. Those who didn’t come partnered are now seeking them out. While I appreciate his compliment, I also know when I am being flattered.
Our conversation peters out, and the audience cheers as one of the male subs cums.
For Act IV, Princess Donna breaks out the Sybians. Two of the girls are strapped to the machines, forced to ride out their orgasms. The other girl is suspended upside down, her breasts in bondage and a Hitachi wand tied to her crotch. The Sybian motors roar through this climax (and those of the models).
CEO Peter Acworth pops in and out of the room. I’m not sure if he’s drawn in by the action or if he’s merely freshening his cocktail glass. Every time I move to talk to him, he’s already gone.
The crowd sings “Happy Birthday” once again, this time while Princess Donna is on her knees. She’s sucking off James Deen, and the audience’s song provides a countdown for his, er, gift to the birthday girl.
The party, for lack of better words, is now coming to close. The audience has dissipated to a small number of die-hard voyeurs.
I am commanded to stay for cake. Utensils and plates come forth. Princess Donna blows out her candles and smears the cake all over her subs’ faces and tits. One woman, who’s far too drunk and slurs through her words, jumps into the fray and joins Princess Donna in licking the cake off the models. The utensils and plates go back.
The shoot wraps around 11. The cast and crew lead a round of applause as Princess Donna thanks her subs.
James Deen walks toward the green room to fetch his robe. A fan stops him short, praising his performance tonight. The fan sticks out his hand. Without missing a beat, James offers up his elbow. We actually all know where that hand has been.
Image from Tawny S.
The Sexual Manifesto is Christine Borden’s column on sex in the city, sex and culture, and, well, sex. Got a tip for Christine (and it’s not in your pants)? Email her at christine@sfappeal.com.
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