Category Archives: ART


Sasha started working for us on a Monday morning and Her desk was opposite mine. She was beautiful in a mysterious way and there was definitely something dangerous lurking behind Her smile. Then we shook hands and I literally fell in love with Her in a matter of seconds. It felt like being pushed off a cliff, it really did. I think She knew, there and then, what a weakling I was and how easy it would be to make me dance to Her tune. She didn’t hesitate and within hours She had me on a short leash. She knew exactly what to say to push my buttons and it was impossible to refuse Her anything. If I tried She would pout and make me feel guilty. I worked late to finish Her work, lied for Her, bought Her clothes and paid Her rent. I even fumbled with Her assessments so She would get a raise.
Sometimes She humiliated me, be it in a playful way, in front of our colleagues. Asking me if I would do anything for Her. Telling them I was such an obedient boy.
She quit Her job within a year. I felt gutted, but luckily it didn’t mean the end of our friendship. At least that’s what I thought. But on Her last day of work She looked at me with cold eyes and said: Before you ask, I’m not interested in keeping in touch with you. You are boring. 
All this happened many years ago, but I still remember the smell of Her perfume, still hear the echoes of Her voice. In case you’re wondering if you ever met a Femme Fatale; trust me, you would know. Because you’ll never forget.


Loved it the first time I ate it, She smiled, it was delicious.
We’d been talking about holidays, movies, shopping, cooking and everything else under the sun. Just a perfectly relaxed afternoon with a lovely Madame. Not a cloud in the sky, not a worry in the world. Butterflies were dancing in the air, birds were singing.
If I fuck you with a strap-on, do you fantasise about a man?
Holy Moses, where did that come from? I had to pull myself together and said: Well Madame, i-
A simple yes or no will do! I didn’t ask for a fucking saga, did I?
Dark clouds rolled in with tremendous force. From a lazy Sunday afternoon to an all-hands-on-deck emergency in three seconds flat. How about that!
No Madame, I said meekly.
Are you trying to piss Me off, slave? No, to what?? The first or the second question? Her voice raged and thundered and there was lightning in Her eyes. The storm was about to devour me.
First or second question?? I was lost and had no idea what She was talking about.
They’d warned me about Her mood swings, but I’d laughed it away. But me, myself and my ass were about to find out that the rumours were true. Painfully true.


Once upon a time the sun was shining in Chicago and he was sitting in a bar, drinking alone. Then Lady Death walked in and stared him right in the eye. He became as pale as death (how appropriate), because She was a merciless Enslaver of Men. She looked a bit startled though, but before She could say anything, he took a sprint and jumped straight through the window.
You’re not going to get me, Bitch, he screamed hysterically.
He drove full throttle to JFK airport in New York and flew to Paris. He stopped shaving, pulled out his front teeth, bought glasses, a different outfit and a Fiat 500L (1969). He drove from Paris to Austria, Slovenia, Croatia, Serbia, Macedonia, Bulgaria, Turkey, Syria and finally to the city of Samarra in Iraq. Turned out his car wasn’t fit for long-distance driving (better said: his car wasn’t fit for driving), so it took him nine days to cover the distance. But he made it, he cheated death and the eternal chains of servitude. He checked into a small hotel and went outside to find something to eat. He walked through a maze of old narrow streets, stairs and alleys, turned a corner and bumped into…Lady Death.
WHAT! he screamed. Are you serious! How is this possible, I escaped you in Chicago!
There you are, My new slave to be, Lady Death smiled. I was so surprised to see you in Chicago, I couldn’t believe My eyes! For I knew we had an appointment here today, in Samarra.


I’m a huge fan of the sleazy, adventurous, slightly erotic, pulp magazines of the 1950’s, 60’s and 70’s. Especially the ones with strong, powerful and deadly Women on the cover. Some of these covers are genuine pieces of art, as far as I’m concerned. The stories inside range from Female Islands and Tribes, to Harem’s, Bordello’s, Femme Fatale’s and Madame’s, to Pirates, Man-Killers, Sex-Slaves and Nazi. Lots and lots of Nazi’s. The titles of these stories can be mouthwatering:

  • He Was Hostage Of The Orient’s Fabulous Female Brigade
  • Tortured Slave Of The Whip Goddesses
  • Trapped By The Slave Trading Nymphos Of The Nile
  • I Ran the Torture Gauntlet Of Those Blood-Crazed Amazons
  • The Berlin Nudes And Their Studio Of Torture
  • The Wild Raid Of The Lace Panty Commandos
  • Captive Of The All-Girl Ching Dao Jewel Ring
  • The Nazi She-Devil Who Killed For Kicks
  • Attacked By The Girl Pirates Of The Yangtze
  • The Teenage Nazi She-Wolves Of Berlin

She promised a paradise of love and freedom in the sun, but now we were Her slaves with our lives at stake …. That’s enough for the Nobel Prize in Literature if you ask me. Amazing covers, catchy titles and tag-lines allow us to escape the doubts, difficulties, hazards and impossibilities of finding a real & right Mistress in the 21st century. They inspire us to dream and fantasise of undiscovered islands, jungles and worlds where real Women rule.


They came from a planet called ▽Ẫℏ¶Ŧµ◎Ⱶƃ℥☋Ǜ (aka planet T) and we were to them what bugs are to us. When they spoke about their planet, we could actually see what they meant, because their words came with images! So cool! The universe is teeming with life, Empress ℔ (aka Empress Hytymadongi) explained. All planets are Female-ruled, because no civilisation in its right mind puts men in charge. Unless you like catastrophes. Young and virile men are kept in Reproduction Colonies; the rest is put to work. As nature intended. 
They left in the early afternoon, because they wanted to be home before diner. Our planet is roughly 4 light years away from here, the Empress explained, so it’s just around the corner, really. And yet it would take you people 137 thousand years to get there. Haha, you are so unbearably primitive. It takes us approximately four hours, depending on the space wind. After they’d gone, our President was quick to explain: Women on our planet achieved so much, he said, thanks to men! We gave them the vote, we allowed them to study, we granted them jobs. Women are like children: they look up to us, imitate us, worship us. That’s how it’s always been, that’s how it’s always going to be. Everyone cheered, even some Women. Our president is, after all, such a wise man. And so we remain the laughing stock of the universe for many, many centuries to come.


He left to explore the hidden inlets and forests of one of the many islands in the South China Sea. After weeks and weeks he stumbled over an old colonial hotel, called Crossroads. The young Lady behind the hotel desk was very friendly and offered him a drink on the house. There were three young Women sitting in the bar, drinking and chatting. They asked him about his work, where he came from, his marital status and how he came to find the hotel. He was flattered by all the attention and told them he’d gone off the beaten track. I’ll need you to guide me out of here, because I have no idea how I got here, he laughed. Famous last words, because seconds later a trap door opened and he fell into a cage. He was chained and deported to a faraway land where Women are in charge. Some say he’s now the house slave of a gorgeous Female slave owner, others say he’s whipped, kicked and slapped from dusk till dawn by unbearably beautiful Shanghaiers. It’s even suggested he’s a sex slave at the Queen’s harem. So please come forward if know where we can find this hotel, because I’m dying to know and ready to go!


Sadly enough I can’t make a print of the fantasies and memories inside my head. But if it were technically possible, then my printed longings and desires would be frighteningly similar to Nanshakh’s artwork. When I was a kid I used to fantasise about Female warriors, Femdom continents and Femdom planets & galaxies. When I grew older I learned that Female Dominance (and male slavery) is less fanciful and imaginative and far more basic. Because there’s a big difference between a) being captured by the Amazons, spending years in the galleys and being sold on a slave market, and b) serving a professional Mistress for two hours in Her SM-room on Kings Road, London. Nanshakh’s exquisite work shows us the distant lands where all men are slaves. They are used and abused, traded and sold like pigs in the market. Wonderful places where no one gives a shit about his needs, his wishes and his limits. A world where male ego doesn’t even exist. And I for one thank God and Nanshakh for that.