A few people out there noticed the irony in Kink.com offering discounted Armory tours on International Women's Day because, you know, nothing says “yay women!” like a romantic stroll for two around a BDSM sex dungeon.  However, having never been to The Armory or watched their flicks, I could only really guess as to what went on there.  Lucky for me and my feminist feathers that need ruffling, Salon's Tracy Clark-Flory spent last Friday watching Kink's live porno wrestling event, Ultimate Surrender [NSFW]:

Once a month, fans gather for Ultimate Surrender at the [Kink.com] porn palace and watch women tussle in the nude with the ultimate aim of “sexual humiliation.” (There's another series with just men called Naked Kombat.) This is not jello wrestling: Fingers are stuck in orifices, breasts are groped, faces are sat on and cheeks are licked — all for “style points.” The final round culminates with rough group sex — although it is tame compared to the “device bondage” and “slave training” that Kink.com is known for. The wrestling venue looks like a normal gymnasium — padded floor, bleachers, a scoreboard — save for the elevated platform for a cameraman and a large flat-screen TV showing what the Web audience is seeing as the event streams live. The bleachers are packed and fans are sitting on the floor around the ring, taking up every available space.

The crowd is scattered with faces I recognize from the neighborhood — the white-blond hipster girl from my local gourmet pizzeria — and mixed groups of 20- and 30-somethings sipping tall cans of PBR in paper bags. Not to sound like a prude but: These are clean, attractive, normal-looking people! One woman is wearing a sheer black shirt under which her nipples are plainly visible, but she seems more out of place than I do in my jeans, T-shirt and sneakers. There are two refs: one fully clothed, mic'd up and controlling the scoreboard; the other a porn star wearing booty shorts and breasts bursting out of her striped top. The four wrestlers come out wearing string bikinis and black sneakers. They start with an arm wrestling match: Two girls get down on their hands and knees, backs arched, butts wagging in air. There is a scattering of cheers and claps as they clash, but for the most part, the audience is sedate. People are chatting to their friends, taking swigs of beer, laughing at the absurdity of the scene.

While the scene Tracy sets up sounds like a laughable “Oh, Mission kids…” scenario, it's anything but.  Clothing is torn off with teeth.  Wrestlers grapple each other, hopping to leverage a good position; not for a pin, but to gain points through finger-banging and grabbing breasts.  “Two fingers in the pussy!,” the ref yells while tapping on an iPhone to track the score.  When someone orgasms, victory music is played (hopefully not Duran Duran's Hungry Like The Wolf) and the competitors leave the ring.

The Salon piece heavily pushes the tone that Ultimate Surrender is an ugly, violent, unfeminine display.  Having never seen it for myself, I'll leave the judgment up to Tracy, but it sure does sound like a classy occasion.

[Salon]