Last month, I wrote a feature for this magazine about the synergy generated by the combined resources of what could be described broadly as the BDSM community. Although much of the information already was at my fingertips, the story required a measure of research. And, any kind of research invariably throws up all kinds of collateral information that's irrelevant but often fascinating and even surprising. In this instance, my peripheral surprise was at how the sex-toy industry not only appeared to be booming, but it had a total and natural affinity with the anonymity of the Internet while determinedly advancing into the Web-affiliate business.
There was a time when, except for maybe a reliable strap-on and a pair of handcuffs, sex toys were something of a joke, the stuff of bachelor parties and wedding showers, cheap novelty items—made of cheap rubber, colored plastic, and maybe the odd feather. They quickly were lost, broken, or of such limited appeal that nobody bothered to replace the batteries. Every now and again, a Bible-belt housewife in Texas or Oklahoma would host a dildo-and-vibrator party for her friends, swapping out the Tupperware or cosmetics, and find herself busted under some local ordinance. She would become a somewhat embarrassed, two-day item on cable news shows displaying a definite edge of absurdity. Did anyone ever take an inflatable plastic love-doll seriously—except maybe Dennis Hopper's character in the movie The River's Edge?
Therefore, when I logged on to a website that offered to ship me (for somewhere in the vicinity of $3,000) a large, walnut-and-steel, customized bed complete with swing, sling, and multiple restraints and suspension points—but one that still would fold down into a handsome piece of furniture that would more than fool the visiting vanilla—I realized I badly needed to revise my thinking.
The merchandise at sites like eXtreme Restraints, Stockroom, or any of the many others that seem to be springing up everywhere hardly, by any stretch of the imagination, could be described as toys. This stuff was equipment—some of it was actual machinery—and much of it required an extremely serious budget if one's taste ran to the "full-body, latex straitjacket," the "de luxe puppy cage," the "power-box fucking machine," or the "stockade with optional fucking rod." I began to grasp that the folks who live in the fully outfitted pony-girl world are similar to golfers and tennis buffs and may well be laying out a hefty chuck of disposable income for their recreational accessories. I think I even sensed a whiff of the kind of 9-iron and deluxe racket snobbery that besets the dedicated golfer or tennis player. Only, in this context, it meant gold-plated nipple clamps and a jeweled butt plug.
As I wandered in retail cyberspace, clicking from department to department, I once again marveled at the sheer diversity of human sexual ingenuity (mercifully, I encountered nothing non-human), especially when I found myself on the pages featuring remote-controlled vibrators, low-voltage e-stim machines, and the $400 Phallix Double Penetration Raygun. The limitless variety and devices now available for men and women to use on themselves or each other truly verges on science fiction. But, it's the 21st century. Did anyone imagine our sensuality and sensitivity would remain stagnant?
In the pages of AVN Online and elsewhere, I have written a lot about visual and audio entertainment—what could be called the software of pornography —but lately, by some kind of synchronicity, I seem to be noticing the inroads being made by hardware and costume. A dildo being run by what appears to be a heavy-duty power tool may not be everyone's idea of fun, but enough people like it to make it viable, and this alone set me wondering if this may be a truly important movement in the market.
Still, at the same time, I also wonder at what type of social event is one expected to wear a jeweled butt-plug.
Mick Farren blogs at Doc40.blogspot.com
