The Tantrix Premium Massage is our high-end service, favoured by our most sophisticated clients and more advanced practitioners of erotic massage services. It can include multiple Add-Ons like Aqua, Prostate massage and Foot-Fetish.

It starts with silence—the kind that isn’t empty but thick, like the air before a fistfight or a fuck. The client, dressed like a man who’s spent too long pretending to be in charge, crosses the threshold. We don’t greet him; we observe.

He needs to forget the name on his office door, the weight of his watch, the absurd tyranny of choice. At Tantric Affairs, the dominatrix massage isn’t some leather-clad pantomime for tourists—it’s a ritual, older than their spreadsheets and deeper than their shame. We strip them down not just to skin but to psyche, peeling back layers like meat from the bone. There are mantras whispered like threats, candlelight flickering like the shadows on Plato’s cave, and tools—oh, yes, tools—that sing the gospel of Foucault’s Discipline and Punish through skin. Power isn’t exchanged; it’s incinerated and rebuilt in our hands.

We choreograph the suffering. But this isn’t sadism from a costume shop. It’s the kind of lesson de Sade penned while shackled in a Bastille cell: pain and pleasure, domination and surrender, aren’t opposites—they’re lovers in disguise. There’s a rhythm, tantric in origin, where breath becomes tether, and climax—when it arrives—isn’t release but revelation. We’ve read the texts (The 120 Days of Sodom, The Birth of the Clinic, even Crash if we’re in the mood), but our real literacy is tactile, measured in the arch of the spine and the tremor behind clenched teeth. In a world addicted to freedom, we sell obedience—ritualized, consensual, sacred. You don’t leave a session at Tantric Affairs feeling “better”; you leave demolished, rewritten, holy.

Bibliographic nods:

• Foucault, Michel. Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison. Vintage Books, 1995.
• de Sade, Marquis. The 120 Days of Sodom and Other Writings. Grove Press, 1966.
• Ballard, J.G. Crash. Jonathan Cape, 1973.