Spank you very much, continued

by Michelle Chihara

The closure of the Attleboro site -- a sort of function hall for the BDSM crowd -- is a real loss for the community. It also might be a safety concern, especially for those without a healthy social circle like Sorcery's. Scenes like the one in Attleboro create networks of contact and support. Here people organize mentor systems, matching newbies to assigned teachers for six-month acclimation periods. They provide neutral places for people who have met on the Internet to meet in person for the first time. And, yes, they offer impromptu lessons in proper bull-whip technique.

In fact, Attleboro's was not the first club or private party, after the Thunderhead raid, to have been shut down. In Everett, a private club called Restraints operated for almost four years. "The mayor wrote the newspaper that he was going to get rid of this club," says Bill Mahoney, the business's former owner. (Most people familiar with Restraints chalk up its closing to particularly vicious infighting and constant harassment from the police.)

The Attleboro venue was Restraints's successor. "When I was closing, two friends of mine asked if I had any objection to them opening something up in Attleboro," Mahoney says. "I think the more things we have in the scene that are aboveboard, and doing things right, the better for the scene. I sold them all the equipment that I had, about $1000 worth."

For now, that's all gone. But far from ripping out the heart of the local BDSM scene, the raid at Attleboro has galvanized the community. "It's like the gay community," says Jim, a participant in the BDSM world (where he met his fiancée) since 1992. "This is nothing different. This is what we've always gone through when the police have decided to harass us. So now the het community within this can get a taste of what happened before Stonewall. This is what happened to people in gay bars."

Indeed, bondage types have turned to the gay and lesbian community for support. (They've largely received it.) Like Jim, they see themselves facing many of the same challenges from society. They want to love whomever -- and however -- they choose, without going to court for it.

In Attleboro, the defendants are facing charges that cut to the core question of whether sadomasochist practices should be allowed at all. Massachusetts, like many other states, still has archaic sex laws against unconventional sexual practices, like using dildos and engaging in sodomy -- even for consenting adults acting behind closed doors. The next court date is scheduled for November 6, but even then, nothing is likely to be resolved. The legal battle could continue.

But whether the case drags on or the district attorney eventually drops it, the headlines have already raised the question of what people should be allowed to do behind closed doors. And losing their community center has given the BDSM folks a rallying point.

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The death in Quincy is trickier for the community to deal with.

"The Lauren M. situation is so deeply disturbing because it doesn't have anything to do with BDSM," says John Warren, the founder of the Boston Dungeon Society, an educational organization that hosts informal socials and classes for the community. "It ceased to be a BDSM situation when he died. And then it was just a death. And the death was handled . . . badly."

The world of professional dominatrixes stands apart, somewhat, from the communitarian side of the BDSM scene; many in the community rush to distance themselves from those who ply their sexuality as a lucrative trade. Although some dominatrixes do have strong ties to the community, some, like Lauren M., are lone operators.

They also serve a more isolated clientele. David, a married Boston-area tech professional, says he visits a professional dominatrix frequently, and without his wife's knowledge.

"There's guilt with it," he says. "It's a conscious decision not to pursue something in your own relationship and find it elsewhere. It's a violation of the vows, the commitment, everything else. Which is why the pro scene is nice . . . it's a clear-cut relationship. You pay for the service." David likes the anonymity. He says he would like to tell his wife about his fantasies but feels certain that her reaction would be "quite negative."

Those who sympathize with Lauren M. -- whom the daily press has identified as Barbara Asher -- think she just panicked when a client suddenly died, and that she disposed of the body illegally for fear of being exposed (and condemned) as a professional dominatrix. If Lauren M. had been less isolated from the rest of the BDSM world, some say, she might have realized that she had support and come forward right away.

But where some view the timing of the Lauren M. situation in Quincy as unfortunate, others see in it a silver lining. "I think her incident happened a week before Paddleboro," says Danny, a fetish-wear vendor and long-time follower of the scene. "If she had done the right thing and called the paramedics, we gotta wonder if we would have gotten the support that we got from the vanilla community for Paddleboro. This terrible thing happening with a professional dominatrix would have been too fresh in people's minds.

"As it is, I think she benefited from the positive press that came out before her story broke. What she did was terrible. But there hasn't been as much really negative coverage as I would have expected there to be. It's like people have seen the scene and the community, and that there's pretty universal condemnation of this one person and what she did."

So "Paddleboro" may be a blessing in disguise for the BDSM world -- though the defendants in the case would probably disagree. It has publicized their struggle and given the community a political rallying point -- even if, for now, BDSM is a club without a clubhouse.

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Michelle Chihara can be reached at letters[a]phx.com.