DeMasK's sexuality rages all over the Wasteland stage!

“an artistic written impression”

One day in early September, the fetish World's Royal Rene that of Wasteland legend, dropped by the DeMasK Amsterdam store, inviting Louva & Anton to put on a fetish fashion show at his upcoming November event.
When a meeting of fetish minds sparks, fetish flames are sure to follow.
As after all, great friends do great things together.

The DeMasK Duo was so up for this, as the newly rejuvenated label has now the Gods on it's side and the wind in it's sails in making mighty moves right across the latex & leather cubed chessboard.
Immediately a plan was put into action to produce and unleash a sexually scandalous show of style, worthy of their revered International brand.

The show seed was immediately planted in a shiny soil of 100% pure fertilized kink and grew faster than bamboo in bondage it did!

Right away, Louva got her ultra-stylish-creative Parisian designing juices a flowing and within no time, an array of stunning outfits began to take shape on paper.
Painting in their chosen colours of the latex brought these shapes to life, the moment of their wrapping around the models/performers was the granting of their kinky souls.
With Anton the cool-calm-collected operator, keeping a steady hand & eye on overall developments, drawing on his past experiences with the massive DeMasK parties of EuroPerve fame, ensuring no unwanted surprises would take hold.
Throwing into the mix, their recently appointed assistant, the London fetish-fotographer Luke Lenz, DeMask sure had all bases covered.
Dutch, French & English is a truly potent pedigree of kink, a formidable fetish cocktail to serve up a show.

In the 10 weeks between the initial taking the lid of Louva's creative pen, to the applause for the show almost taking the club's roof off, a truly mammoth effect went into producing this superb show.
DeMasK's Amsterdam HQ, became an ever increasing hub of activity, a kinky beehive with outfits/models/props buzzing in, out and all around the place.
The more intense and frenetic the demands became, the more the showteam raised their game to match.

The whole operation being orchestrated from their red and black, basement brain bunker, in the heart of the Almighty Amsterdam, drawing inspiration from not only being surrounded by the unmistakeable sights & sounds of latex but with the air so appropriately filled, with the awesome aroma of 'freshly baked' latex garments delivered straight in hot, from DeMask's production oven.

Behind the scenes and around the clock a whirlwind of creativity was being whipped up & harnessed for that action packed 12 mins where the club would rock in admiration.
While the show team got to work, so did the calendar, in devouring the days & feasting on the weeks, time just flew by but so equally did the team with their rippling latex wings.
The enthusiasm & excitement for the show knew no bounds, with standard shifts of 12+ hours, leaving the creative cave to find an empty quiet late night street, becoming the nightly norm.
So acute, so powerful was the bunker's brainstorming, it at times gave Amsterdam it's very own mini-climate, affecting the proceedings at Schiphol and significant enough to be mentioned on the daily national weather forecast.

Assembling a line-up of many of Europe's most beautiful and talented models & performers, to then choreograph them all into one seamless performance, takes some doing.
Out went the questions, in came the answers.
As with all those involved in the cult movie 'True Romance', you so wanted this DeMasK show on your CV.

Like the elusive pot of gold at the end of every rainbow, you'll never find a perfect backstage but to Wasteland's credit, this was as close you'll ever get to one.
With DeMasK's meticulous planning in place to neutralise any overlooked issues and with much thanks to the ensemble of international talent from Holland, Belgium, France and England, a relaxed friendly atmosphere held strong, with not a single diva or ego in sight, instead a focussed calm remained right to the moment of 'We're on!'

Suddenly, the club's music switched to a different beat, lights shone to a different place.

A sure sign that the stage was about to rage!

The wanton atmosphere flipped like a liquid latex pancake in it's BDSM pan, from entertaining themselves to being entertained by others.

Where before eyes shone in every direction, now all eyes were shining toward the stage.

Whilst the Dutch legions made varying short treks, the travelling International hordes had journeyed far and wide to Wasteland, to see this DeMasK show. The rumours had spread with great haste, racing around the BDSM globe by mouth, by drums, by smoke from the fetish World's tallest mountain peaks, that this show was special.

Thousands descended to an arena by the sea,

Bodies arriving by numbers of infinity.

Assembled tightly packed, bursting to capacity.

What they were to witness being so worthy of the fee.

The expectations was rising by the minute.

They came to be entertained and enthralled by the show.

They had seen much and would only accept much more!

This was no longer a club, it was now a Colosseum!

This was no longer 2011, it was now 80 AD!

The demanding audience would take no prisoners, accept no second best for with the Wasteland tribe, high standards have long been set.

The DeMasK's kinky warriors feared not this challenge, as Empress Louva had put them through a rigourous runway regime, sharpening their struts, putting power into their prancing.

Those spectators would soon be on the edge of their seat,

Showering applause whilst rising to their feet,

They'd be entertained in a way like never seen before,

They'd be left craving, begging, pleading for more.

Meanwhile, backstage the excitement was bubbling, bubbling like a soup of latex in a Witch's cauldron. Breasts and chests expanding and contracting, struggling to keep pace with their adrenaline driven lungs.

The green 'GO' light was on everyone's radar, in everyone's sights.

The bulb limbering up like the clouds before the thunder, pretending to kiss but only to miss, flicker-flirting weakly like an old empty lighthouse, whose seas have long since departed it's rocky feet, limbering up to but not quite beaming that all important signal, not yet, not just yet.

Everyone wanted it and wanted it now.

Sure there were some nerves straying in and out of minds like hotel guests using the revolving lobby door, as there always is with people. They have invented machines that fuck but may they never send machines down the catwalk.

Keep Terminators trapped in televisions, confined to DVD Dungeons.

Backstage was now one big jet at the edge of the runway, revving at full throttle, wheels inching forward, for split seconds at a time overpowering their mighty brakes, straining at it's metal leash that tethered it too the terminal, awaiting that signal from control tower Louva, to roar off down the tarmac!

This was the very moment we had all being waiting for, the

10 weeks was now 10 seconds and rapidly descending down to zero like a free falling Moon that's had it's suspension ropes cut.

The 'q' to go, we were about to know!

Up wound the thick, dense, heavy rubber Portcullis, taking all the strength of 6 menacing brutes in studded leather, to heave on those clunking rusty chains.

Silence suddenly gripped the arena like an aggressive corset around a willing waist.

Out marched the 'Mighty Mistress Madieanne' with her 'body in a bag', precisely positioned under the pulley by 'Erik the Brave', a wondering warrior, who fears neither man or beast.

That defenceless captive was worked over like never before, overwhelmed by all which 'MMM' threw upon him.

The slippery shiny sexy Sphinx, 'Sofia Valentine', whose precious piercing eyes would melt even water, bringing her red hot seXXX to the baying crowds, was next to take the lead with her sub in a DeMasK all encased latex playsuit, sexually pleasing her, thus the cheering crowd. Her black lashes intermittedly parting to reveal laser ice blues to blinding effect.

The music was playing it's part to perfection.

It's dirty lyrics and raw savage beat building up a carnal latex lust when like a bat out of hell, a church classic of a Hymn, blasted out of the speakers as abruptly and rudely as a Demon taking over a body.

After only just about escaping from the far-to-busy backstage confession box, then picking the locks of the Pearly Gates, out 'Sunday Strolled' the Nympho Nun, complete with a Black Shiny DeMasK Bible.

“Oh No!” The arena sighed.

“Here comes a Bible-Basher to smother the sex, to throw Holy water on the coming campfire.” a solitary defeatist voice exclaimed.

But not this Nun, for this nun had long been DeRobed and DeMasked.

DeRobed out of her cotton costume and DeMasKed into a life of latex & leather, sent forth to feed the fucking and stoke up the sex!

The bible was released from her grasp, plunged, one bounce then still, left spreadeagled as if sunbathing on a yacht.

Her religious shield was down but her two spears of faith came up.

2 big blaspheming weaponised dildos were gripped in her hands.

Within seconds, wrists leaping to each other like 2 magnets in love, a swift pivot of hands and the unmistakable iconic religious shape was made.

Then cunningly collaborating with the 4^th spotlight on the right, to cast a sinister shadow on the stage floor and with it for the very first time, casting a doubt in the audience's mind.

Old habits die hard it seems, nuns do what nuns do.

Give them two straight objects and they will always form a cross, then treat the nearest person as a vampire.

If you ever have one over for dinner, best only serve soup and ice cream, using just a single spoon.

And don't for one moment think you can trust a Monk either.

They're even worse!

Given half a chance they'd cross you without a second thought.

Long ago they forfeited the right to wear trousers and shirts as it's far too easy for them to swiftly strip and make a cross.

Why those clothes practically form the shape on hangers all by themselves.

That's the real reason they are given a brown square sack to wear.

Try making a cross out of that!

A barrage of boos began to build-up, attempting to shame her out of her misguided mindset.

The heated hostility was the trigger for the bait-and-switch.

The crowd had fallen for it, they had bitten alright.

Antagonising the spectators, like the theatrical baddie at a wrestling match, the converted one was so enjoying her Angel/Devil dual nationality.

A twinkle in her eye blow her cover, betraying her true intent.

Wings became horns, legs provocatively parting to flash some flesh.

Now falling for temptation like a shadow falling for a cleavage.

As she strode toward Sofia, brilliant white latex stockings alternatively burst thru the split in her black dress as if bolts of lighting in a dark midnight sky.

Black-white-black-white, was the military marching sight.

This nun was sure going to play and there be no ghost of guilt to stop her.

As she drew closer the cross was uncrossed and the toys readied themselves to do what they do best.

The two became 3 as it was always meant to be.

The Nun got Nympho'd!

Saba 'Sexty Nine' came next, in more ways than one, for the spotlight. Complete with her smouldering 'come to bed eyes' but this time her bed came to you.

Being wheeled out while her Parisian Pink Pearl was being polished & shined by the wriggling tongue of her sub ensnared beneath in the newly designed DeMasK 'FaceSittingPants', like a fly in a Wicked Widow Spider's webbed knickers. Her immaculate Chanel eyebrows arcing skyward on every lashing of the eagerly trapped tongue.

Lashes that hit like a 3metre Mermaid's rubber tail spanking a rock to get her dream Sailor's attention.

The stage was now an utterly lawless, moraless scene straight from the Temple of a kinky Caligula and oh how the heaving, hedonistic crowd loved it!

There be no south pointing thumbs tonight!

The fucking, sucking & spanking echoing from the stage, moans & groans etched on the performers faces, all whipping up the lustful screaming, stimulated crowd.

The visuals was a scorching sight, setting retinas ablaze, memories being branded onto brains as if they were smoking rumps of cattle.

As the aroused audience lapped up the show, the minutes passed swiftly.

Sex speeds up time, it always does, what was supposed to be a quick daring lustful fuck down a dark alley, ends up seeing off two sunsets.

1 min of foreplay is 1 hour in traffic, 1 min of sex is 1 hour in a supermarket.

With the second hand becoming just a rotating blur, a collective thought of “Where would it go from here, to where could it possibly go from here?” slowly started radiating around the crowd's Psyche.

DeMasK knew and the crowd would soon know too.

This was a kinky battle that DeMask had prepared well & trained hard for, it was in the shape of it's life.

DeMasK were to deploy their full fetish arsenal to win this battle, winning over all these kinky minds.

Like a general summonsing her cavalry, Louva let loose the next attack wave on the five fetish senses of the audience, the most gorgeous gladiators of them all, the Galloping Gazelles.

10 pairs of luscious long legs were unleashed out onto the demanding crowd.

Out they stormed!

One by one, striding onto the catwalk that had now become so sexualised, it was just one long salivating throbbing tongue of a runway.

Striding at speed and much grace, the many metres of catwalk were just 'eaten up' like the theme of many a dirty thought aimed their way!

Calves a flexing, thighs a tauting, hips a swaying.

Delicious Dutch girls, Belgium's Best and the sexual Tigress from England, all fuelling the now frenzied crowd's lust to combustion point.

This wasn't just sex on legs, this was an orgy of 20 sex on legs!

Models showing off a stunning array of outfits, with elegance & style in abundance.

Latex was at it's best, tight, shiny and flowing.

With colours of red, gold, purple, green and of course, special homage paid to the historically prominent colour of fetish, black.

Torpedo tits, super sleeves, transparent tease, plunging necklines and backlines, they were all there making up the stylish spectacle.

After the last model left the stage, the crowd gave up guessing what they would be hit with next, as being delirious with entertainment was no steady state of mind to start waging bets.

A manic track took over the speakers like the lunatics taking over the asylum, giving a ever-so-subtle clue in what was to follow.

But what was this? They thought all the models had departed but out came another leggy beauty. A Girl of much Grace, the Delightful Dutch Dame!

In full 'Naughty Nurse' mode, striding out onto the stage barely covered with a sexy latex nurse costume, 'DDD' pulling her two hooded nutcases behind her, her 2 maniacs securely strapped into their matching white latex strait-jackets. Out onto the runway they were led, pushed & pulled, flayed & played, like a Captain Cat with her 2 little POW mice trapped in a strippers floored fishnets.

The contrasting themes of the catwalk models being followed by a Nurse and her 2 crackpots tested the sanity of the senses, as in all great suspense thrillers, you couldn't predict what would happen next, to get a head of this show's plot was just impossible.

By now the audience was swaying and a reeling, relishing to what was to follow.

A strategic few seconds pause was carefully planned for the crowd to catch their breath, as it would be needed for what was to follow.

The suspense, the anticipation was so thick it was if the air had turned to gel.

All who stood there, knew something magnificent was about to happen but none could have guessed.

The fittingly beautiful soundtrack of 'To be in Love' blasted out from the speakers, setting up the emergence of the showpiece outfit, the breathtakingly beautiful bridal gown, worn of course, by the one and only, Holland's Finest, Ancilla Tilia.

A truly magnificent creation, a latex wedding gown like none other!

Silver corset blending into a long dress, blessed with baby pink piping, set of with little delicate black latex flowers, a striking 3 tiered inflatable head-dress, mesmerising massive torpedo tits, open fingered long ladylike gloves, complete with a 4metre long flowing pink latex train, held by 2 obedient subs which gently wafted as she strode.

A wonderful creation from a wonderfully creative mind which brought a smile to everyone's face, it had beauty, had style, a fairy-tale charm, with a futuristic Sci-fi sex appeal.

Ancilla sashayed down the aisle like a reincarnated latex-clad Marilyn Monroe.

Pausing, teasing, playing, arms raising to whip up the crowd to a frenzied fan level.

Like a retro movie Queen in her element, soaking up the love, milking every last drop of applause that was raining down on on her.

This was the 'Beautiful Bride' by name and sure was by 'Beautiful Bride' by nature.

All Maldives honeymoon suites were mentally booked there & then!

The crowd were by now, almost exhausted in giving their all, were fast approaching empty but instinctively they knew to hold something back in reserve, an air pocket of emotions that hide just below the red line on the fuel gauge, is all they had left, this would then given up to muster one huge last love.

And of course that honour was to be bestowed upon the Owners, the designers of DeMasK, the DeMasK Duo themselves, Anton & Louva.

As the bride left the catwalk, 3 steps up onto the main stage, she paused, pivoted 180 degrees to again face the love, readied to be flanked by DeMasK. With Anton and Louva hooking ams on either side of their bride, they steadied themselves for what was to be the most emotional & touching moment of the whole show, then in perfect unison, lead back out the entire crew onto the runway to receive rapturous, raucous applause!

A Fantastic Finale it was.

Like the famous scene from 'Spartacus', after seeing this show, we all took one step forward and said 'I am DeMasK'!

Those 12 glorious, notorious minutes of the show, are now infamously known as the 'DeMask's Dirty Dozen' and are cemented deep into the 'Fetish Hall of Fame'.

DeMasK sure is back and what an awesome way to announce it!

There's always a ripple of relief once a show has passed of perfectly, then the smiles could beam and minds could reflect on what they just had been part of.
The feel good factor will long resonate and vibrate into many a person's career of whom ever were connected to this show.

When the owners, models & performers so deservedly took their bows, it was for all involved, whether front or backstage, an uplifting, emotional moment indeed.

The finale being the moment the mission was accomplished, that moment even the linear straight DeMasK logo momentarily morphed into a big, curved proud smile.

Since August, those close to the label already knew about the 'New DeMasK', at the show so did a few thousand more and when the video of the show hits the airwaves, tens of thousands will also bear witness to the past, present and future of fetish!

What was witnessed in that stirring show, was like any random cross-section sample segment of a rainbow, with all it's pastel shades represented, all aspects of DeMask's DNA had a presence, the love & lust of heavy rubber, stylish & outrageous designs of beautiful colours, all drenched and dripping in sexual decadence.

There's Decadence and then there's Delicious DeMasK Decadence!

The 'New' DeMasK put on a fetish fashion & performance show that will forever be part of Wasteland folklore, DeMasK put out and the wickedly wild Wasteland kinksters sure put back with their roars & whistles of approval.
If you didn't get to see the show, worry not as more sinful shows will be coming & coming!
Until then, a professional video will be screened on DeMasK.com to keep the memories simmering.

There's no doubt a 2nd coming of the fetish scene is now building an unstoppable force of momentum here in Amsterdam, with DeMask once again through it's designs and it's famous fetish feasts called EuroPerve, blazing the trail to lead the kinksters to where we want to be, surrounded with similar minds dressed in latex and leather, with chains, buckles & studs adding the shiny decorations to our 'all year around' kinky black Xmas tree.

But wait, something once again stirs deep down in DeMasK's creative-cave, there's no resting on the past, the label goes onwards and upwards like a latex stocking gliding up a lovely lady's lubed leg, with the next show already being pieced together, one link of kink at a time.
Next spring the whole kinky chain will be revealed to our fabulous fetish friends!

Amsterdam is about to shake & stir the Fetish World once again!

The Roll Call of all those who helped make it Happen:

Owners & Designers: Louva & Anton Koot.

Assistant: Luke Lenz.

Models: Ancilla Tilia, Moness, Wendy, Kay Morgan, Lara Aimee, Amesbury Rose, Daphne, Petra, Erica, Yeal.

Performers: Mistress Madieanne, Sofia Valentine, Dutch Dame, Saba Shootthegirl, Suzn, Erik PeculiarDesires,

Johan, Bert, Hans, Henny, Anthony.

Hair & Make-up artist: Head: Eva van der Horst., Frey Sani, Sigrid de Groot. General Assistant: Alma Sanders.

Backstage Assistants: Alex, Hans and Karin West, Rosa.

VideoTeam: Ingo & Doro.

Photographers: Luke Lenz, Erik PeculiarDesires.

Written by Luke Lenz.