All photographs taken by Ethan Cook at EMCook Photography

 

Throughout my time at the Kink Sinners Ball Fetish Party at Denver’s Reelworks on Friday the 13th, I kept hearing the voice of promoter AJ Ritual saying, “Everyone in Denver has a fetish.” As the crowd grew to completely fill two of the three bar/dance areas, along with a good chunk of the largest dance floor being occupied during its peak as well, it seemed that Ritual was far more accurate than I initially gave him credit for.

And with this many people signed up to explore the multitude of physical sensations a person can experience, variety was the name of the game.

During the course of the party, any and every fetish that could be put on display was. There were over a dozen different vendors selling adult-themed paraphernalia, various interactive attractions placed throughout the building that allowed people to expose themselves to a myriad of sensory pleasures, and a slate of scantily-clad bondage performers that kept the eye candy to a maximum.

Yet, even though every type of fetish was celebrated, they were all celebrated responsibly.

In every area where a presentation would occur, some form of written information was readily available to explain the rules of the event. Everyone understood that whatever play you were into, it had to be both sober and mild. Also, no shaming of any kind—whatever you were into, so long as everyone was an educated, willing participant, you knew that you were in a safe zone built on a foundation of acceptance and consent.

In fact, both concepts were such cornerstones to everything that was happening at the ball that the master of ceremonies (Rufio) reiterated their importance during his opening of the party.

Now that we’re all on the same page, as someone who believes the best way to remove temptation is by leading right into it, I bring you the Sinners Ball.

 

Saints Bar—

 

With a near-naked woman being hung mid-air by a series of ropes strategically attached to various parts of her body in a cocoon being the first thing that hit my vision when I entered the Saints Bar, I knew I was in the right place.

I also knew I was in for the time of my life.

Not only were the aesthetics in each room incredibly well thought-out, but the entire atmosphere felt like everyone involved with the production was having a complete blast.

From a blue and white color scheme to all the DJs in the area wearing tight ‘n’ tiny white bottoms and angel wings strapped in such a way to expose their chest, it was most definitely a Heavenly celebration of the flesh.

In the center of the room, against the back wall, was a giant screen emblazoned with an ad for kinkdenver.com floating on a background filled with cloudy skies. This made for an amazing backdrop later in the evening when dancers would perform in front of it. In the center of the room were two small square stands that each had a single angel gogo dancer who would change out periodically.

The division between the main entrance and the stage had been converted from its usual duties as a VIP seating area to a bondage station that allowed people to come forth and indulge in the feelings that can only come from complete submission.

In the entire hall, there was only one element that bent the theme slightly askew (in the best way possible)—a large mannequin display near a back exit in which an angel bore wings that were rainbow-colored. Not only did I love what the color play added to the angel context, but I would also come to realize that this angel served two important purposes.

He was not only the guardian of equal rights, but he was also the guardian of the Beetlejuice Bar.

 

Beetlejuice Bar—

 

Normally adorned with a jungle motif, the smallest of the three rooms had been converted to being a shrine to the ghost with the most.

A giant inflatable sandworm held its post next to a corner that had been sectioned off to include Beetlejuice’s headstone, a few cardboard cutouts with other grave markers, and a large Beetlejuice Beetlejuice marquee that was illuminated by light bulbs surrounding the frame.

As I entered the club floor, I immediately stopped and stood still while my ears perked up at the music that was coming over the loudspeakers: edgy hip hop. This was followed by Britney Spears and then Ciara.

This musical selection made absolutely no sense to me as I can guarantee you that Beetlejuice himself probably wouldn’t listen to anything outside of GG Allin. Not only that, but the music in this bar was also somewhat different than what was being presented on the other two dance floors.

Both the Saints and the Sinners sections played familiar songs by familiar artists. Tracks like “Tom’s Diner,” “Personal Jesus,” and other cuts from Ciara filled the air, but every single one of them was a club remix that blended seamlessly. In the Beetlejuice Bar, everything that was played came directly from the radio edit with little flow.

The other difference I found came in the lack of a sexual element found in the smallest space. Sure, one of the bartenders was wearing a shirt that said “Whose Jizz Is This?” But that was about as sexual as things got. In reality, this area came off as being a respite; it was like smoking a cigarette after the other two clubs were done with you.

 

Sinners Bar—

 

It has to be said that the Sinners Bar proves that, when it comes to the matters of sex, bigger can oftentimes be better. And thankfully, the Devil was given the biggest stage of them all.

By utilizing the massive floor plan effectively, there were vendors and exhibits aplenty. From sex toy/clothing companies like the Underground Fashion Order (UFO) and Adam & Eve to kink-based companies like The Sindicate (who allowed people a latex/compression experience), no stone was left unturned when it came to the different methods of play people could engage in.

There were also areas where attendees could get steamy photos taken, or, for those who needed a rest, certain corners of the club were sectioned off as quiet areas with seating and a calming vibe.

One of my favorite areas in the Sinners lounge was what I called “sensory row.”

Directly in front of the stairs leading to the VIP balcony were a series of tables that offered a number of professionally run sensory experiences people could immerse themselves in. Fire play, fire cupping, electricity play, and wax play were just some of the choices. Rounding out the area was a different kind of sensory opportunity; puppy playtime.

I have to admit, though I saw every kind of outfit (or lack thereof) imaginable at every turn, the largest group present at the fetish party were the furries. Bondage furries to punk rock furries to cyber doggo-furries with silicone tails programmed to wag at certain intervals, every color of the furry rainbow was accounted for.

Knowing this, it should come as no surprise that rolling around with a bunch of puppies and giant teddy bears was a big hit.

What made this area even more surreal came from the eerie red glow that shone through the naked women’s silhouettes spelling out the word “LUST” that was the cover to the DJ’s turntable which was on the main stage directly across the sensory row. The light encompassed everyone in the playtime corral, adding a somewhat sinister edge to an otherwise lighthearted event.

Though the Sinners bar filled my brain with thoughts saturated in the most carnal of intentions, I have to admit that it was also the place that caused me to have the most profound realization of the evening.

And it’s all thanks to the flogging crosses.

At one point during the night, I noticed that a small crowd had gathered around a separate section dedicated to sensory experiences predicated on the pain/pleasure dichotomy. This area held a small captive cage and a couple of flogging crosses accessorized with various whips and paddles.

When I got closer, I saw a woman bent over with her back spasming—only stopping periodically to arch in pleasure. Because the paddle was being used by a professional, he was able to utilize his skills to eventually bring her to orgasm.

When this happened, I realized that Ritual’s quote from before was strangely prophetic.

Because the entire atmosphere was thick with the pheromones tied to the human sex experience, every single person who crossed through the door was at least engaging in the fetish of voyeurism (no matter how removed they might claim to be).

So, though I know it’s foolish to assume that everyone in Denver has a fetish, I know for a fact that literally everyone who was at Reelworks in Denver last Friday the 13th most definitely does … no matter what they’d like you to believe at the office on Monday.