These are pictures taken at adult film sets at the San Francisco Armory. The San Francisco Armory lies In San Francisco’s Mission district. The SF Armory is a massive building taking up almost an entire city block. It is a historic 200,000 square foot reproduction of a Moorish castle that now serves as headquarters to Kink company. There is a forbiddingly high, incongruous, block-sized Scottish castle. It used to be a city armory back in the day, but has been abandoned and disused from the 1950s. Abandoned, that is, until recently. In an effort to raise money, the city decided to look for potential buyers to purchase the abandoned armory building. However, they wanted to find a buyer who would preserve as much of the building’s historic appearance as possible. The winning bidder was a company that, unlike the other bidders, was happy to get a set of dingy, mostly windowless spaces with heavy iron doors, boilers, and lots of attachment points on the wall and ceiling.
The building has been out of official use as an armory since 1978, and has since been acquired by a BDSM porn production Kink company. Started in 1997 by bondage enthusiast and entrepreneur Peter Acworth, Kink company produces pornographic fetish-related films focused mainly on BDSM. Specifically, this company made BDSM porn, and an old castle suited them perfectly. There were some protests from local residents who felt that the company would bring an unsavory character to the neighborhood (a neighborhood, that’s rife with drug dealing and other street crime), but the city government went ahead with their bid.
A British motor racing boss Robin Mortimer has died allegedly after taking part in an intense femdom session at a villa near Brecht, Belgium. Mortimer is believed to have collapsed in the shower after a meeting with two dominatrixes in a dungeon. Such deaths are very rare in the BDSM world and most people (without serious underlying health problems) remain at more risk of death just getting out of a bath in their own homes. Despite it a 46-year-old dominatrix known as Mistress Lucrezia and her assistant Mistress Juno, 37, have been arrested. They are suspected of assault and battery leading to death, without intent to kill.
Robin Peter Mortimer, 58, from Coventry, Warwickshire, was founder of RPM Motorsport, a British touring car team, and leaves behind wife Bridget and motor racing driver son Alex. Robin Mortimer is the son of grand prix driver Charles Mortimer. He had made many motorcycle Grand Prix appearances in a 35-year career as a rider before switching to sports car racing in 1989. His son Alex, a BT British Championship winner, hopes to compete in the International GT Open taking place at Belgium’s Spa-Francorchamps. It was no surprise that Robin Mortimer’s wife was unaware of his passion for BDSM, as few men have the courage to reveal their fantasies with their wives or girlfriends.
The place looks to be over a century old, shrouded in a cluster of large oak trees. Threatening dark clouds and thunder signal that another rainstorm is going to hit, so you quickly make your way up the long gravel road to the front porch. A knock on the door reveals that there is no one home. The windows are boarded up; the roof and sides of the house are riddled with neglect.
Rain begins to fall. You circle around to the back and find the entrance to a cellar. A rush of warm air strikes your face as you pull the storm doors open and quickly descend the stairs. Squinting in the darkness, you fumble with your pockets for the matches. You almost jump as a large rat scurries across the floor and disappears into another room. Outside, the heavy rain is pounding the earth, but you feel little comfort in your refuge.
Using one match, you slowly venture forth to the opposite end of the room to try the light switch. Nothing. There is a small white candle sitting on a dusty shelf, so you light it. The cellar looks to be completely empty. You wander through, what seems like an endless maze of rooms, when something catches your eye. Carved into the very foundation is a doorway that doesn’t seem to fit with the rest of the house. You approach it, holding the candle in front of you, and peer into the small passage. There is a steep, narrow stairway that spirals downward and out of sight. The ancient stone masonry gives you the impression that this was here long before the house was even built. Throwing caution to the wind, you decide to investigate and slowly descend the stairs.
Raven opened her eyes as the pain ripped through her body. It was dim and cool where she was and smelled a bit moldy as if she was underground. Her eyes strained to adjust to the limited light. Her head was throbbing and she could feel a welt on the back of her head near her neck. She tried desperately to remember something, anything. The last thing she could remember was laughing and talking to the charming gentleman at the bar. She excused herself to go to the bathroom….then just darkness. She tried to reach her hand up to her pounding temple but as she did so she realized she couldn’t move her hands. They were tied securely behind her back. For a moment she panicked, then calmed as she understood she needed a clear mind to figure out what was going on. By now her eyes had become adjusted and she was able to make out some shapes in the room. Becoming more aware of her body, she now knew that not only her hands were tied, but also her ankles. The same length of rope was tying all parts of her body. There was a loop around her neck that ran down her back and wrapped around her hands, from there the rope went around her waist and then down her legs to wrap around her ankles. If she tried to move one part of her body, another would feel the pain of her efforts. She was laying on her side and most of her skin was exposed. Apparently her captor had decided to leave her bra and underwear on, the rest of her clothes were gone.