IN PRAISE OF PERVERT MEDIA
Matteo Pini @matteo.p.i.n.i
Throat slime, vomit, piss, snot, tears, sweat: These are just some of the bodily fluids invovled in the kink pornography channel Pervert Media.
For a while now, the channel has become a source of fascination for me, epitomised by the autacity of its motto: “You know why you’re here.”
What I find energising about Pervert Media is its ability to weather its contradictions. A lot of gay kink porn is excessively stage managed to apear sleazy, whilst the sex contain within is weirdly anodyne: think the chemsex cosplay of Sketchy sex or the absurd, wish-fulfillment scenarios of My Dirtiest Fantasy.
Pervert Media flips this agreement on its head: the channel’s videos are extreme to the point of provoking outright disgust, whilst also maintaining a homely, playful quality.
Expertly shot and lit in an airy Berlin apartment, the vibe is playful, even homey, and certainly one closer to my real-world experiences of kink than whatever Treasure Island Media is offering.
Mutuality and non-verbal communication, so essential to good kink play, remain central to Pervert Media’s dynamic. The channel’s host, Sir Joshua, cuts a gentle teddybear-like figure, who lovingly calls his subs “good faggot” as he slides a second fist into their holes.
His cock is seldom visibile, instead replicated by an array of dildos, reinforcing a shift in forcus from personal anatomy to the artistry of domination and submission.
In contrast, though his subs run the gamut from established porn actors to complete unknowns, their faces are often covered, identities anonymised. Emphasising skill and submission over conventional physical allure, the move doesn’t depersonailse them as much as it refocuses our attention onto the interplay between their bodies, their skills and their endurance.
Take one scene, in which an extremely hairy Armenian performer is made to drink Sir Joshua’s piss, has his throat fucked by a dildo, until he vomits it up, and then is made to drink the piss-stomach juice mixture once again.
The noises he makes, somewhere between moans of pleasure and death rattle, make a pleasing contrast to the video’s aesthetic gentleness.
Beyond the visual pleasure familiar to most kink goers - that of the body and mind being pushed to constitutive limits - there is a celebratory, almost ritualistic energy to the display, a sense that new interpersonal territories are being carved out in real time.
Anti-porn theory activists have critiqued how the money shot, an attempt to “fix” the exact moment of the sexual act’s involuntary spasm, stages male power at the expense of anyone else’s pleasure. Yet in many of Pervert Media’s videos, cum so essential to most forms of porn, displaced with throat slim, piss, vomit. And plenty of it.
Mostly clear in colour and without evident chunks of food, the vomit is stripped of any implications of food poisoning or disordered eating.
Instead it becomes pure abundance, sharing the viscosity of cum while exceeding its generosity. By the end of the scene, the model’s chest hair is matted with a combination of phlegm and vomit and Sir Joshua’s piss, a glorious blurring of inside and outside, of self and other.
In deprioritising ejaculation as the moment of climax, we are allowed to see a corporeal and communicative mode of pornography.
Certain bodily fluids, however, never materialise. Despite the perceived bodily violence often at play - face slapping, throat fucking, cock and ball torture - blood never makes an appearance. Neither does shit, perhaps the most contested bodily fluid in all of kink practice.
Yet Sir Joshua’s fondness for fucking his subs wiht a dildo then shoving said “soiled” dildo down their throats certainly floats the taboo of scatalogical crossover, going to the limits of transgression without fully embracing them.
Pervert Media strikes me as both a continuation of the bodily-based performance art of figures like G.G. Allin, as well as having an almost pop quality. I mean pop both in the sense of pop art, taking something transgressive and repackaging it with a playful, mass consumer aesthetic, and pop as in popular.
While not camp as such, it shares camp’s frivolity about the serious, transforming the most provoactive acts into something cheekily exciting. I find a certain thrill in how it pulls kink practicies out of the dungeon and into the light, letting it revel in its own sticky, sloppy excesses.
It transforms a well-fucked throat into spectacle, brushing past the point of parody, and in turn creating something people actively crave.
You know why you’re here.