Length 01:52:34 Date: February 17, 2018
Blessed by the horned, horny spirit of Pan (speak of the devil), this Lupercalia whips all the tension of 2018 into a great, mind-blowing, heart-shaped butt-spanking, orgiastic healing with the power to take us into a more inclusive, bonoboesque, peace-through-pleasure-making future.
Magically, we transform my cave-like Womb Room into the womb-like Cave of the Lupercal, and we welcome the wolves, bonobo sapiens, friends and strangers, lovers and sinners, whippers and snappers, floggers and floggees.
As is my Lupercalian tradition, I channel the spirit of Pan, Greco-Roman God of the Wild, the horned, horny old goat that the early Catholic Church cleverly renamed “Satan,” a central character in its relentless crusade to repress, control, damage and destroy all that is wild within us. After the Church destroyed the ancient Lupercalia by criminalizing its celebration, the people of Rome resented the loss of their late winter festival. Ahead of their time, perhaps setting the blueprint for the alt-facts movement, the savvy Church resurrected the symbols of Lupercalia, but sanitized and desexualized the great February festival, christening the newly appropriate festivities “The Feast of Saint Valentine.”
For centuries, the primeval and inclusive Lupercal has been lost to most of Western culture and, in its stead, we have been handed this exclusive, artificially sweetened call-to-consume (cards, jewels, expensive dinners, etc.) called Valentine’s Day.
However, in the last decade or so, Lupercalia has been making a comeback and there are various kinds of Lupercalian celebrations popping up all over the world, one of which the Captain and I attended in Berkeley, Ca. But I don’t think I’m hyperbolizing when I say there’s no Lupercalia like a Bonoboville Lupercalia, a wildly evocative feast for all the senses, including your sense of history.
Thus I, your humble High Priestess of Pan, attempt to tell the Lupercalia story (which is part mythology and part history, as all the best stories are), with the theatrical assistance of Bonoboville’s tremendously talented, totally unrehearsed and unscripted Commedia Erotica Players.
Lupercalian Passion Play
I begin with the Lupercal’s title role, the “Luper,” the great wolf-whore goddess, reprised by super sapiosexual, 2017 SUZY-award-winning “Well-Rounded Kinkster,” Rhiannon Aarons. She looks regally wolfish in a gleaming silver wolf mask and a fun fake fur that wraps seductively around those magnanimous mammaries that suckle the founders of Rome.
Wolves are almost as close to dogs as humans are to bonobos, and it’s also the Chinese New Year of the Dog, so it seems particularly auspicious that besides Rhiannon as the Luper, we have a couple of other wolf spirits in the Cave; the adorable Bratty Wolfie, who plays the Luper’s pup, and Ikkor the Wolf who plays himself, howling out the hiphop theme of Bonoboville.
PHOTOS: JUX LII
Besides meaning “wolf,” the Latin “luper” or “lupa” also means prostitute. In a way, though the Luper’s role is to nurse our heroes to manhood, the tale reminds us of the basic, ancient understanding of the healing and nurturing powers of the “sacred” prostitute. This is something we in Bonoboville can really get behind, and not just for doggie-style. Let’s decriminalize and destigmatize prostitution and all forms of sex work among consenting adults. It’s the Bonobo Way.
Many others have played the twin boys before, but Danièle and the Chef truly inhabit and command the roles of these superhero sons of Mars, the God of War, who are said to have created the city that ruled, and in some sense still rules, Western civilization.
Their mother is Queen Rhea Silvia of Alba Longa, played for Lupercalia 2018 by the regal Mistress Elle Zelena, a gorgeous, statuesque blonde from Australia who has made LA her home. Alas, not long after she gives birth to the twins, their mean old Great Uncle Amulius, reprised once again with nasty gusto by Capt’n Max (who was, in real life, born in Rome), tosses them, naked and trembling, into the Tiber River.
Erotic and very comical scenes of interracial gender-fluid twins and a wolf pup suckling the Great Wolf MiLF’s teats ensue.
Having grown strong and fearless on wild wolf milk, the twins leave the cave, and eventually kill their Great Uncle Amulius (Max does his death scene from the bar). Then they go forth to found the city of their dreams, together.
But they argue over a fence, or you could call it a wall. Then, as now, such man-made barriers to movement can be huge sources of contention. So, as Romulus is doggedly building his wall—a “Beee-yoo-ti-full wall,” as Humpty Trumpty might say, sitting on this Great Wall before the inevitable Fall—Remus jeers at its construction and even jumps over it, just to show how silly the great wall is.
Then, in a fit of humiliated sibling rivalry reminiscent of the Judeo-Christian Bible’s Cain killing Abel, Romulus murders Remus; hotheaded fratricide being a recurring theme among both pagans and monotheists. Danièle, a highly accomplished thespian, and the Chef, who knows how to stir up excitement, really “kill” this scene.
The consummate politician, Romulus professes to be filled with “regret” upon “accidentally” killing his beloved brother, but he says nothing about gun control–I mean, he wastes no time in founding the city of both of their dreams, and naming it after himself, of course. Otherwise, all roads (or at least some) would lead to Reme.
But wait—there’s a sequel. Remus may be dead, yet his spirit lives on in sort of a college fraternity, the Luperci Fabii, as does that of Romulus in the Luperci Quintilii. As time passes, these two “fraternities,” populated by young, nearly naked, Roman “frat boys,” meet at the Ides of February every year within that dark, womb-like cave of the Lupercal where the She-Wolf/Whore (Luper/Lupa) once suckled and loved their twin great-great-grandfathers.
In the ancient cave, the naked young frat bros and their priestly leaders sacrificed a goat, honoring Pan. Here in the Womb Room Cave of the Modern Lupercal, our “sacrificial” goat is played by singer Elena Rayn, who happens to be wearing a lovely fake fur jacket that makes her appear somewhat goatish. Rather than actually killing our sacrificial goat, we give her a spanking. Later, the goat gets even by spanking Phoenix with a Jux Leather slapper.
After the sacrifice, the Lupercii would mark each other’s foreheads with the red blood of the sacred beast.
Here in the Womb Room, I use red lipstick instead of goat’s blood, drawing hearts, crosses, a penis (on Romulus/Be*Live), an X and a V (on the resurrected Remus/Daniele), etc. on foreheads uplifted to Olympus. Upon being marked, the original Lupercalians laughed ritualistically. We laugh spontaneously. I mean, at this point, the whole scene is pretty hilarious.
Meanwhile back in the old cave, the Lupercii would eat goat meat and drink wine (we observe this probable historic factoid later in the show with Bonoboville Communion). As some Lupercii got religiously plastered, others remained sober enough to cut strips from the goatskin, making loincloths and leather whips they called “februa” (and yes class, that’s where we get the word “February”). Our februa are multi-colored strips of Jux Leather provided by Jux Lii.
Thus equipped and very drunk, the Lupercii of yore would sprint out of their womb-like cave, laughing and howling like wolves. They’d race through the hills and towns, wielding their goatskin februa, as they gaily whacked and stroked the hands and willing behinds of women, also drunk, looking for luck, love and perhaps a baby, as well as some of the luck-seeking and/or fun-loving men in the populace.
We reenact this event the Romans called “The Running of the Lupercii” with great panache. The big difference between us and them (besides not having the streets of Rome to run through) is in gender dynamics. Whereas historically, all of the Lupercii were young noble men, our Lupercii are mostly ladies of various ages.
One of those ladies is Mistress Jennifer, a pro-Domme from Houston with a penchant for flogging. We’re especially excited to meet Ms. Jennifer in-person since we have gotten to know her this past year over the phone and online as one of the most popular therapists with the Dr. Susan Block Institute.
Mistress Jennifer demonstrates her flogging skills on Jacob the Chimesmaker, who’s doing penance for something awful he did; we can only imagine what (and purposely don’t ask).
Meanwhile Mistress Elle Zelena flogs and spanks Bratty Wulfie, and everybody in the Womb Room, drunk on history and collective mythology, starts to get into the Lupercalian spirit. As the februa fly, I spy Christine Dupree in the crowd and invite her on stage to mark a lipstick heart on her forehead and give her a spanking for being late. Might as well throw a “naughty girl” spanking into the Lupercalian pandemonium.
Putin on a Ritz with Stormy Danièle
We whip right along through the break and then come back to find we’re in some convergence of Fellini’s Satyricon and a G20 Summit.
Among the femdoms, singers and kinksters gathered around my broadcast bed continuing the Lupercalian festivities is Russian President Vladimir Putin sitting—very bromantically, to say the least—in Donald Trump’s lap.
I must say, Putin steals the show. So I steal his cover-up, revealing the startling truth: Vladimir Putin is a black woman, a very beautiful, stark naked, black woman.
Actually, the truth is more complicated, and so is Putin’s sexuality and racial composition, not to mention his character. Quite a charming fellow, really—at least he is here during his brief visit to Bonoboville, which doesn’t in any way excuse his great evils, one of which is being the richest human on the planet, mostly through extremely ill-gotten gains.
In case you haven’t figured it out, our Putin is played (with a flawless Russian accent and superb comic timing) by that same fine actress who made Remus come alive and then drop dead at the hands of his brother: Danièle Watts really deserves a Golden Globe for tour de force, but alas, that kind of awards show never honors truly revolutionary work. Well, I smell a SUZY award…
Trump is played by “tiny” Tim Sewall. He gets it pretty easy this show, just a little flogging, and mostly just sits with Putin in his lap, the two of them nuzzling bromantically.Then there’s our tRUMP doll which we gag and spank repeatedly. If the voodoo is ever going to work, Lupercalia might be a good time for it.
Coincidentally, I first learned about Lupercalia in 2006, the same year that Trump asked Stormy Daniels to spank him with a Forbes Magazine for his own private Lupercalia. In light of the ongoing revelations, I intermittently call Ms. Watts “Stormy Danièle” on this show. She certainly is a tempest of many talents on display at Lupercalia.
Musical Lupercalian Bacchanalia
And on we go from a mythological Lupercalia to a musical Lupercalia. Singer/guitarist Daniel Flohr strips down off-camera and wearing nothing but his acoustic guitar, makes his Bonoboville debut singing a cover of “I’m Writing a Novel” by Father John Misty.
This is a risky move for any guy, but the gamble pays off for Daniel as the Womb Room goes wild for his “novel.”
Not to be outdone, Elena Rayn takes us higher.
With Be*Live’s eager assistance, she strips down right in front of us to sing “Body Parts” as the Womb Room pulsates in Lupercalian bliss, dancing, romancing, flogging and blogging (well, taking pictures) all together, in collective ecstasy, as her nightingale voice guides us through her erotic musical fantasy land.
Eager Elena even invites the femdoms and guy doms to spank, flog and hit her with februa as she sings naked and free.
Our sacrificial goat, she suffers for our sins, takes a stinging and keeps on singing. Whatta rock star!
Like a wild wolf pack, Lupercalia 2018 starts to take on a life of its own, and we almost miss Bonoboville Communion. Considering how much drinking those Lupercii do, that would be a shame.
But never fear, Bonobo Putin is here to graciously offer one incongruously tanned, mocha moob to Bratty Wolfie as an altar before we show the unnervingly sweet dictator how we do waterboarding, bonobo-style with a shot of Agwa de Bolivia Coca Leaf Liqueur.
It’s all very absurd and totally surreal… like the news these days.
Then the Wolf of Bonoboville claims his Cave.
Ikkor the Wolf takes the Womb Room stage and howls “She Bad,” while the Lupercii “move that thang, shake that thang,” and Stormy Danièle twerks up a storm in the Putin mask and nothing else.
We go way into overtime, Bonoboville is lupey for Lupercalia. Just before the end of the live broadcast, Capt’n Max brings out a mock-up of our new print publication, Dr. Suzy’s Speakeasy Magazine (designed by our bartender Clemmy Cockatoo), and the Womb Room goes even wilder.
The first issue is “Splosh ‘n’ Art,” and features none other than Danièle Watts and Chef Be*Live.
The whippings, floggings and spankings continue with some heart-shaped asses glowing as red as a Valentine.
Bratty Wolfie shows she can really take continuous wallops to the rear. What a star Lupercalian!
Then there’s our favorite mother of five with an ass like a gymnast. Sleek and sexy Brigitte, brings that hot ass up to my bed for an over-the-knee spanking. And another red-hot Lupercalian set of buns gets beaten.
Then, after a few more rounds of lust and friendship (Hermann the Hash restauranteur returns) and many more spankings of heart-shaped asses… so do the Captain and I.
Happiest of Happy Lupercalias! Let your Inner Wolf howl through the next 10 months of 2018….
Thanks to Our Volunteers: Videographers- Kris. A, TS Bozeman; Photographers – El Dee, Hugo Flores, Jux Lii, Slick RIsk; On-Campus Bonobos – Abe Perez, Camille Rosebud, Mita Altair, Harry Sapien, Gideon Grayson, MarsFX, Clemmy Cockatoo, Ana & Miguel.
© Feb. 18, ,2018. Susan Block, Ph.D., a.k.a. “Dr. Suzy,” is a world renowned LA sex therapist, author of The Bonobo Way: The Evolution of Peace through Pleasure and horny housewife, occasionally seen on HBO and other channels. For speaking engagements, call 310-568-0066.
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