As the efficacy of nonconsensual torture is debated around the world, consensual torture found a home right here at Block Studios, a.k.a. “Dr. Suzy’s Speakeasy,” last Saturday night, in the name of “safe, sane,” but intensely passionate BDSM. Shock & Awe filled the gallery, the studios, the Womb Room and even some of the rest rooms, but it didn’t come from a bomb, exploding in death and destruction. It came from a few whips, some rope and a violet wand, climaxing in communal joy, emotional release and deep multiple orgasms.

Words can’t convey the kinky camaraderie and ineffable ecstasy of the evening. Photos do it some justice, as you can see by clicking on some of the amazing images of pain, pleasure and rapture to the right of this bloggamy. But you can only view the really hot XXX-rated photos when you join.

So I’ll try to put together a few inadequate words to describe how the Speakeasy was transformed into a underground palace worthy of the Marquis de Sade and Leopold Von Sacher-Masoch combined with a strong streak of Anne Rice, as the Broken Door LA and dozens of striking Mistresses, commanding Masters and sexy sensual slaves gathered together within our burgundy velvet walls to tie up, spank, flog, whip, smother, strip, shock, paddle, diddle and make each other cum in the most elegant, intimate B&D Gala I imagine that LA has ever known.

It was a gathering of the LA Bondage Tribes. They came together to make sex magic, using similar techniques as the torture masters at Abu Ghraib, Guantanamo and Twin Towers Jail, but with a critical twist of love and respect. Funny how the same gesture that denigrates can also celebrate, depending on the context and the attitude.

Guests arrived at the Speakeasy in clusters of two to six. Each Master and Mistress had their own slaves with whom they played and performed, stripping, whipping, torturing, tickling and tying them up in knots worthy of a merchant seaman. Some of the photos from the evening, especially the hotter ones, make it look like a wild thrashing orgy, but it was actually very organized and hierarchical.

At the Gala, Masters, Mistresses, Sirs and Goddesses were treated like divine royalty, beloved camp counselors or revered martial arts masters. Even among the submissives, there were alpha and beta slaves, apprentices and “pets.” No one could touch a slave without the express permission of his or her master or mistress. With such dangerous games being played, everything must be “safe, sane and consensual.” Slaves must be subservient. Masters and Mistresses must be educated and skilled in the dark arts so that accidents will be minimal to non-existent.

All of this restraint provided a safe place for deep feelings to be expressed freely throughout the evening in almost every corner of the Speakeasy. Some of the Doms and Dommes really worked up a sweat, while many of the slaves moved as if in a trance, often with looks of extreme bliss on their faces. The cognoscenti call this “subspace,” a state in which the intense experiences of both pain and pleasure trigger a sympathetic nervous system response, causing a release of epinephrine and a rush of endorphins. This is also known as the “fight-or-flight” reaction that occurs when someone is hurt or threatened, producing a morphine-like effect in the victim or slave.

Interestingly, there were no “bad” slaves at the Speakeasy last Saturday. Though punishments abounded – from hard slaps to snaketail whippings to electro-shock treatments – all of the submissives handpicked to participate in the Bondage Gala were obedient and disciplined as well-trained circus animals.

And there was a definite Big Top atmosphere to the Gala, with the colorful shiny attire and elaborate tattoos, the breathtaking performances that defied expectations of what the human body can handle, the use of whips reminiscent of animal training, the rough play, the humiliating humor, the harsh but loving way the directors (Doms) disciplined and coached the often childlike performers (subs).

The prominent and exclusive guest list was a Who’s Who of BD/SM/Ds in LA, topped off by the mysterious Master D, director of the Broken Door, accompanied by his bubbly, schoolgirl-attired slave Bunny, his partner the girlishly sadistic Mistress Ice, and his favorite violet wand for electrical play. Master D’s other partner, known as “The Professor” (an actual professor of sociology and criminology at Northridge University) brought along a trinity of beautiful submissives. Always center-stage was his alpha slave, the ultra-sexy RubberNecro who had already shared her masochistic charms with us at our Eros Day X Orgy for Obama. Next was his second submissive, the graceful and helpful Dana Lee. And finally, his “pet,” a slinky green-haired Goth girl named Lauren. The Professor put them all through their paces with his riding crop, vibrators and electrode power box, climaxing in a “four-way forced orgasm” with the exquisite RubberNecro surrendering magnificently at the orgasmic center. At another point, he attached electrodes to RubberNecro’s right breast and left inner thigh as the two other slave girls held her tenderly but firmly. It looked like the Professor was giving her an electrocardiogram, but instead of diagnosing her heart condition, he was stimulating orgasmic seizures. Shock & Awe, with no casualities.

The flamboyantly tattooed and androgynously attired Sir Nik wowed the crowd with his expert, seemingly maniacal flogging and snaketail whipping of his lovely slavegirl Sula, an ethereal porcelain doll of a woman who, with the incredible grace and poise of an aristocrat under barbarian attack, withstood Nik’s myriad physical tortures and indignations like a martyred saint. Sula arrived at the Speakeasy with an exquisitely pincurled bob, long strand of pearls and 1930’s-style dress, looking like she’d just stepped off the streets of Weimar-era Berlin. She soon removed all of her clothes and underwear except for a black garter belt, off-white lace-topped stockings and a pair of shiny navy pumps, ascending the imposing red and black Gothic Cross for a dramatic whipping by the wild-eyed, Crowley-esque Sir Nik.

Later, Sula joined another cluster of slaves under the guidance of the dazzling Goddess Soma who disciplined, nurtured and fussed like a mean mother hen over a tiny gymnast named Imp and a naked girl named Boi who resembled a young Liza Minnelli. The next night at the Bondage Ball, Sula and Boi got “married” in a wild Goth ceremony, so at the Gala they were excited as a real bride and groom-to-be, hugging, kissing and fondling each other as their Owners supervised indulgently and then caned them soundly on their bare bottoms.

And there were more! We’d last seen Mistress Nicolette, her partner Prince Scott and the amazingly boobalicious Giggles at our Eros Day X Orgy for Obama, so it was great to have them back at the Speakeasy with a few new slaves, friends and lovers, including statuesque Domme dress designer Milana. There were also several male slaves here with their Mistresses, but the female submissives were the brightest stars of the evening. One slavegirl, aptly named Goldy, with her mop of yellow ringlets, big smile and pacific blue eyes, knelt at the feet of her Master, an average-looking guy, aptly named Win. Goldy, wearing nothing but a teeny black g-string, hung around Win’s legs like a loyal dog for much of the evening, sometimes licking his heavy boots or lying pinned under them as another woman went down on her and a man in a kilt took her from behind.

At the start of the evening, as an icebreaker, I asked sexy Melo girl Alex how she felt about bondage and she enthusiastically replied that she’d like to give it a try. A serious young man called Padawan volunteered to tie her wrists and ankles to the bondage chair using the Japanese rope art of Shibari. Later in the evening, Padawan tied up a pixyish redhead named Sarah who, whipped, clawed or caressed, always maintained an expression of blissful ecstasy.

Some of the Speakeasy’s favorite porn stars also participated in the Bondage Gala. The fabulous Regan Reese, who played Queen Esther in our Porn ‘n’ Purim Bacchanal , brought a cluster of friends herself, and allowed her ample boobs and nipples to be shocked by Master D’s violet wand. April Flores, a.k.a. Fatty D, laced her voluptuousness up in a full-length, bright red corset with nothing underneath. Dahlia, a new telephone sex therapist with the Dr. Susan Block Institute, got so excited by all the BD/SM/Ds that she spontaneously gave one of our tech guys a public blowjob! One of our favorite MILFs Natasha Skinski came as Mistress Omega, all decked out in black leather and wielding floggers, but it wasn’t long before I had her topless, delectably svelte body bent over my knee for a sound spanking (photos of all this XXX-rated stuff are in the Private Area).

Spanking may have been the height of my own sadomasochistic expression that night, but all of those hormones and endorphins stimulated some pretty deep orgasms in bed with the hubby later on. After all of that, don’t ask me how I managed to drag myself out of the Speakeasy the next day to attend the actual Bondage Ball, also sponsored by our friends at Broken Door Fetish. But with the military theme, I just had to dress up in desert camouflage, torn in strategically sexy places, and go as a Guantanamo Bay Detention Camp Interrogator.

The Ball was fun, and the Broken Door’s stage performances were quite impressive. Felicia looked cute all tied up and suspended from a rack like a human hanging plant. I enjoyed interrogating her, as well as lounging around the VIP area with the Mistresses, using strange men as footstools and ashtrays. But of course, there were more restrictions (i.e., no nudity) at the Henry Fonda Theater, and nowhere near the intimacy of the Speakeasy.

Indeed, our Bondage Gala was an unforgettable scene that could have emerged from the fervent mind of the Marquis de Sade, but unlike De Sade’s cold sinister settings, it was tucked into the warmth and relative safety of the Speakeasy. Cries of agony and grimaces of pain pierced the night, as in those despicable nonconsensual torture chambers, but the cries were joined by squeals of delight and sighs of bliss, the likes of which you’d never hear in a real prison…or even in most bedrooms.

That’s enough words for now. Time to immerse yourself in the incredibly HOT PHOTOS . Warning: Some are shocking. All are awesome.