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Where were you when the lights went out? Here in Los Angeles, we experienced a massive power outage yesterday, knocking out my electricity and even my cell phone for many hours (I've never, ever seen the message Network Failure before). It's quite depressing to not know what is going on, or when it will return to normal. I did have some lovely scented candles in my office, so at the very least things smelled nice... and I tried to do some paperwork by candlelight. Not very effective, I'm afraid. Something that is effective by candlelight however is S&M. We naturally gravitate toward the dark when exploring the world of BDSM, and candlelight is purrticularly mood-inducing. I had one very memorable session while working at one of the commercial dungeons here in Los Angeles... I was in a large, private dungeon room with a client who had been writing to me for some time. His fantasies were of intense rope bondage, sensory manipulation, and mindfuck. Right up my alley, I knew the 2 hours scheduled would fly by. First he was laying down on the bondage table, and I was encircling him in a web of rope. The lights were low, the music dark and moody. I had just finished his torso and was standing over him on top of the table, preparing my next proclamation... And the lights went out. There was a loud sound, as though someone had dropped something very heavy. The electricity was out allright, so I tried to keep my slave calm and stepped out of the now totally dark room. The other ladies of the House were standing around, also wondering what had happened. There was only one other session going on at the time - a harsh schoolmistress and tardy student scenario - and they had stepped outside to see what was going on. We could not reach the power company, and our location meant that it was not easy to see if the power outage was limited to our building or to the entire area. I thought for a moment - this can either be very bad or very good. I grabbed some candles from my locker and returned to the room. Slowly I lit all of the candles I had, placing them around the room. Speaking in hushed tones, I asked my slave if he was ready to continue. Transfixed by the candles flickering he mumbled "Yes", so I continued building my web around him. A short aside here is this -- have you ever tried to do intricate rope bondage in almost complete darkness? You think that's difficult, the real treat is untying the slave, but I get ahead of myself... Now fully entangled in rope, he was powerless to move from his prone position on the bondage table. And now his sense of sight was mostly gone, limited to shadows and faint light flickering in mirrors. There was no music now, my words were the soundtrack. I continued to manipulate his mind with low-spoken thoughts of inescapable bondage, and his body with the tips of my fingernails which cut like knives into his warm, sensitive skin. With no air circulating through the dungeon, the air was moist, heavy, and filled with anticipation. As he remained in this state I began to untie him. Clumsily indeed, as I could barely see my fingers untying the knots and unravelling the balanced ropes. When he was free I asked him to roll slowly toward me, I had been thinking of what would be the ultimate use of this unfortunate power situation for some time... I carried him as he slumped over toward the center of the room. There was a suspension swing, which I guided his legs into. After I strapped him in, I brought the candles over to form a circle around him on the floor, and I looked deeply into his eyes and stepped away. My hands on the winch that would slowly raise him from the ground in a sitting position, he let out a yelp at it's first grinding sounds and realized that he would soon be airborne. Only a few fee off the ground but it was enough - he would truly fly today. One by one I walked around the circle and blew out each candle. Starting on his right, going clockwise around his suspended body, until I reached the final one right in front of him. I picked up the candle, stared deep into his eyes again, and blew it out. Total, utter darkness. He began to sob quietly, and I pushed him from behind. He was swinging now, completely unattached to the earth, literally flying mentally and physically. I walked back into the far corner of the room and slumped into the corner. I have no idea of how long I waited there, entirely mentally spent. When I finally was able to stand, I slowly made my way back toward the center of the room until my hands touched the hard leather of the swing. My slave was completely asleep. Like a baby. Almost snoring, in fact. So I stepped back to the dungeon door and opened it, letting in one ray of light. Yes the power was still out, I was informed, and when was I going to finish my session? Soon, I said, I just have to bring him back to earth. I stepped back inside and reached for the winch. At its first jerk, he awoke, and slowly came to a complete stop laying on the ground. I unbuckled the swing and lit a candle. He sat up slowly and shook himself. I reached out to give him a hug - he had just returned from a spectacular journey - and instructed him to take as much time as he needed to get dressed and step outside. He did so rather quickly, and as he left he could barely speak (English was not his first language, but this had more to do with the sensory manipulation than not knowing the words). What was originally scheduled for 2 hours had gone on for almost 4. And yes, I did see him again many times, but the power always stayed on... Katja Minx www.katja-minx.com Current Mood:  thoughtful
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Yet another BDSM use for a non-BDSM implement... (from http://sadomasokitten.blogspot.com) I bought my first cupping set from a run-down store in Chinatown because I'd seen it used at a party at the Hellfire Club in NYC (I was in NYC at the time) and thought it was really cool... Up until that point I'd always used clothespins and string to create that kind of suction on slaves' nipples and genitalia, but this opened up many new evil possiblities... Cupping sets (and fire cupping bowls where the heat of the flame causes the suction) are inexpensive, look impressive, and actually therapeutic - it's a form of acupressure that's normally used on points on the back to decrease stress (okay, so I'd be using it to increase your stress, but that's just me...) The sensation is of warmth and of constriction - and useful on most areas of the body, from the nipples (probably the most popular) to the genitals, or if you really want to be wicked, the inner thighs. A slow release of the cup by lightly twisting back and forth allows the blood to move again freely and adds an additional wave of warmth over the slave. There is a warning to go along with cupping, however, no matter where it is used on the body - it will leave marks. Remember hickies? There was always one slutty girl in high school who's neck would be covered with 'em - large, bluish or reddish marks that look like bruises. Cupping will leave similar marks, especially when done for longish periods of time. Keep this in mind if a Mistress pulls out a set and starts pumping away on the trigger... that would be tough to explain away... Katja Minx www.katja-minx.com Current Mood:  mellow
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My very favorite fragrance, the one I dare to wear only in the evenings and while in session because of it's potency... there is something very dark and mysterious about it, from it's deep purple color to the heaviness of the glass bottle... The name of course is what initially appealed to me - I remember when it first came out, it was a sensation, who would name their women's perfume Poison? Names have always been sweet or sexy, but the word poison does not really fit either of those categories. From the first time I rubbed the glass stopper on my wrist I was hooked. The smell is like absolutely nothing else, it is a scent that people can pick out immediately - most people know that I'm wearing Poison or are intrigued enough to ask what my scent is. I am far less interested in the new lighter versions (they don't pack the same sensory punch), and only buy the largest bottles I can get my hands on (when you have a signature fragrance, you wear it often). Scent is one of the senses that remains with us the longest, one that creates a deep impression. It's said that the smell of black licorice and apple pie, oddly enough, are two of the most aphrodesical scents... depends on who you ask, of course. I'm not much of a flowery scented kind of girl (in fact my other favorite fragrance - this one for daytime - is Thierry Mugler's Angel, which has a sharp note of chocolate that makes it difficult for women without strong purrsonalities to wear), and find that this dark oriental suits me purrfectly. When you're tightly bound in full leather, strapped inside a tight bodybag on the floor, snugly hooded and blindfolded, there are fewer senses that you can trust. Sight is out of the question, hearing is muffled at best, touch is exquisitely gone... but smell, the scent of the Mistress is still there, and it's heightened as your other senses are dulled. You may not be able to hear, see, or sense where I am in the room, but you will know it when your nostrils are filled with the scent of Poison, that I am close by (and generally holding something to torture you with, my dear). Poison is something that's forbidden, something that you know is bad for you, something that you're not supposed to touch. That's me in a nutshell. Katja Minx www.katja-minx.com Current Mood:  moody
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Did you miss me? I've been posting most days for awhile now, and sometimes it gets a bit lonely here in cyberspace. Unlike most blogs that I see out there, I really think that mine is quite action-packed, full of information, not to mention some saucy pictures thrown in for good measure. So as I was busy with my real life adventures (escorting several of my best UK webmasters around town, working my expense account into overdrive, and trying to keep us all from making trouble) I thought very specifically that it might be time to take a little time out from posting. Just a few days to see if anyone missed me... Blogs are funny things - well, actually I felt this way as well when I first created my website and with all subsequent major overhauls of it - a lot of work goes into creating it and the presentation of such, and once it's been "born" I want the world to notice me! (Insert me jumping up and down like a spoiled 3 year old here - of course that would be a spoiled 3 year old in high heels but that's just me). But there is so much for the world to look at these days, that getting noticed is tougher and tougher and can definitely dampen ones spirit to putting a lot of effort into creating something great. Purrhaps this grey cloud will pass soon and I'll be back to my merry, evil self. Shopping usually does it - snaps me out of a pessimistic mood - but I wasn't able to find anything that would completely fulfill me this weekend so hopefully by tomorrow I'll snap out of it. Katja Minx www.katja-minx.com Current Mood: cranky
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A slave telephones me and asks if I do dildo play, anal play, ass play, etc... If that's all they're into, I'll generally decline as that was always my red flag... Any sort of penetration can be considered prostitution. Depending on the laws where you live there are variances of course, but basically if there is something inside of you, I'm breaking the law. Even if my intention is purely evil and torturous (with no pleasure involved at all), in the eyes of the law I am penetrating you with the purrpose of pleasure - prostitution. Yes I have been visited by our boys in blue many times over my career. There have always been all sorts of lies purrpetuated by the professional Dominance community as to what a cop can and cannot do once inside your chambers. My advice to anyone is to listen to your gut - if you think he's a cop, he probably is, and is it really worth that extra couple of hundred bucks to get busted and have all of your equipment confiscated? Basically anal play is something that I would only indulge in with clients that I knew - someone who had seen me before or been given a purrsonal recommendation for. Not that this is foolproof, but since I've never been busted for prostitution, my record must be pretty good in this arena. I have on many occasions popped new anal slave cherries, violated slaves assholes until they were red and bloody, and fisted slaves well past my wristbone. I enjoy it because I enjoy being in the power position, and it's easy to create the scenario in my head of where I want the slave to be during the violation. Enemas - absolutely necessary. If you haven't taken one (and believe me, I'll know), you will be given one. Not handed a puny little squeeze bottle and sent off to the bathroom, you'll be laid down on your side and take a whole bag before you begin the waddle of shame to the bathroom trying desperately to hold in the contents (and hold it in you will - under peril of extreme degredation). Now that you're nice and clean, we begin by placing you into position. This varies wildly depending both on my mood and on the available surfaces. Lets just say - because of the benefit of the scene photos here (on http://sadomasokitten.blogspot.com) - that you're bent over a bondage horse, legs spread wide. I cannot express the importance of lubricant here. The choice of lube is up to me (depending on how sadistic I'm feeling...), and it's time to rubber up with two pair of gloves, which saves time once I remove the first pair. See how kind I am, making sure you get even more time to be ass fucked? Even for fistees, there will always be some exploratory warmup. Starting with my well-lubed rubber fingers, I first insert one, then two, then three, then I generally tuck in the thumb and go right for the knuckles... if you can take it, that is. I'll turn my hand fully around to explore and to spread the lube. If you're a good boy I might even indulge in some prostate massage, but you've got to be a really good boy for that. Once the opening has been prepared, it's time for the toys. Whether they're strapped on or handheld, they're coming at ya so you'd better not tense up. Squealing, of course, is encouraged. I'll start with my smaller dildos and work my way up to my larger ones - larger in both length and width of course - and the intensity increases as we go along. I'll push you to that point when the pain becomes intense and you think you can't take even one more thrust of my giant rubber cock, but then you do because I've told you that you will, that you have no choice but to be my bitch and take whatever I give you... Your purrsonal cleanup, however, is up to you. For that you will absolutely do the waddle of shame to begin the lube removal process in the bathroom... both from yourself and from my dildos. What a good little slut you are. Katja Minx www.katja-minx.com Current Mood:  predatory
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So many people ask me what the allure is of being beaten? Endorphins, my friend. Whether they are brought on by the physical pain actually inflicted or drawn out by deep memories buried deep in the subconscious, it's all about our brains' processing of endorphins. Hormones, hormones, hormones. Now having an autoimmune disease as I do (Hashimoto's Thyroiditis) I know a lot about hormones. Which may explain why I've always been incredibly intuitive about a slave's needs for ever-more pain. Sometimes I think the picture given may have been that I was a heartless bitch, but in fact I really understand how endorphins work and how they can raise your BDSM game ever higher. Not just to please your Mistress, but to really get to the precipice and then let yoursefl fly. The slave pictured above arrived at the dungeon just looking for the hardest pain he could find. Nothing more esoteric, simply raw unending pain. After being strung up with his arms in tightly pulled bondage, his ankles were hitched to the legs of the bondage table. He was hooded in a double layered hood of supple black leather for both of our purposes - for me so that I would cease to see him as a suffering being, and for him to block out all unnecessary stimuli. And the hood was effective on both points. I began by laying out all of my harshest implements, and formulated my plan in my head. It is not always beneficial to start with the "softest" pieces and work your way up to the most "extreme", especially when dealing with a pain pig or heavy masochist of any stripe. While a warmup of sorts is necessary, it is easy to lose them psychologically if you start out too easily or lightly - they drop from their expectation of heavy pain very quickly as many have experienced this at the hands of lesser experienced Mistresses. So with a heavy wooden paddle I delivered the first heavy blow. It was enough to elicit a sharp cry from my slave, and a shaking of the table. I have to make him want it, I have to make him beg for it, this is what I feel at moments like this, I've given him a taste of the sweet nectar of sensation and if he truly wants and can take more, he must react. He must sweat, his muscles must shake, I must be completely convinced that I am engaging his brain so that endorphins will be released. Another heavy blow after a few moments have passed, and I can see the wave of pain that is slowly washing over him, the glow of his ass being bright red and the heat that begins to rise all over his body. My hand comes closer to his skin and moves within inches all over to test the heat. Not too much time shall pass before the next blow, and then the next, more quickly now with less recovery time between direct hits, the wood meeting his skin with sharp slaps over and over again. Then as my arm tires from the heavy blows, I reach for my leather strap. An implement that I know will break skin, and that I know exactly how hard I must hit to do so. While I know the limits of safety when dealing with blood and bodily fluids, I am quite keen to push that envelope and drawing blood does not make me squeamish in the slightest. The strap comes down hard on his bright red ass in the sweet spot - the space where the skin is brightest and the pain is the most intense even still - and the first droplets of blood appear. Both my and my slaves' pulse are racing now, I can feel the moisture on my forehead with my effort and on his body from his ordeal. I mention that blood has now been drawn and will continue and he breathes heavily, almost exhausted as the leather meets his skin over and over again, harder and faster building to a crescendo where pleasure and pain have truly mingled and are now completely indistinguishable, where he can feel literally every single cell in his body, his brain is on fire, and he is sobbing uncontrollably, not because of the pain nor because he wants it to stop, but because he is being fully and overwhelmingly released - he has walked up to the edge of himself and has jumped off and is flying.... After such a flight, a soft landing is necessary, and the warmth of my hands on his boiling hot ass slowly bring him down to earth. His arms and legs are released and he falls like a ragdoll onto the bondage table, panting and entirely spent. For over an hour he lays there, deep inside his hood and his head, until he is ready to rise and slowly merge back into the world. The hood is removed and he dresses silently. He doesn't look back as he leaves my parlour, as expected. Katja Minx www.katja-minx.com Current Mood: contemplative
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Have I mentioned my day job before? I can't remember and I'm a bit too lazy to go looking through my archives... By day I'm a high-powered executive in the porn industry. I oversee a large staff of worker bees who create and maintain several large, well-known products on the adult internet. While I never thought I would wind up in a "desk job" ever again (after spending the last 15 years pretty much exclusively as a professional Domina) this one was a bit too sweet not to bite. I am so well-versed in the adult industry, it would be a shame to waste all of my experience. And imagine, I didn't even have to invent anything on my resume to cover the years where there are gaping holes... Interviewer: Um, ok, so your resume is a little bare... what have you been doing for the last 15 years? KM: I was basically self-employed. Interviewer: Ok... doing what? KM: Providing artistic services. Interviewer: Ah, so you were an artist? What kind of art did you make? KM: Well, not exactly an artist. More of a purrformer. Interviewer: Oh, like on videos or something? Were you in anything I would have seen? KM: I did do some videos, but (thinking fast here) they're all out of print, weird artsy small things you never would have seen. Interviewer: Ok, but what jobs did you have? Is there anyone I can contact for a reference? KM: Hm. (contacting past slaves for references might be amusing for me, but it's definitely going to work against me in getting this -or any - job). Interviewer: How about any skills that you have? KM: (thinking again, probably not a good idea to mention the bondage skills, the humiliation skills would probably be out of bounds, the cbt skills might be just too much) Well, I can type really fast and I make websites. Interviewer: Great, what websites have you worked on? Ok you get the point, I'm pretty much screwed here. Being a control freak helps me out a lot here at my current job as well - though I'm sure my staff might whimper and disagree at times. I'm actually pretty much exactly the way that I was when whipping was my main profession - easygoing until something goes wrong and then I get pissed. I even keep my little 4 foot Morgan snake whip in my top desk drawer to keep everyone in line... it's effective and fun! Katja Minx www.katja-minx.com Current Mood:  creative
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