New Year, New Torments…

How many of you have broken your resolutions already? Or as Morgana, the spirited little daughter of one of my submissives calls them – “revolutions”. I didn’t make any. What’s to improve, really? But I did write some for Paulo, Marcus and some other of my regulars. I’ll share some of them with you at some point. Some were for their benefit, and others were simply to amuse me. Marcus almost doesn’t want to speak to me after the Christmas present I hand delivered to his house (the cast of Paulo’s cock). Talk about ungrateful! Still, with the tools I’ve acquired over Christmas, I now have new ways of making him talk. Namely, next Thursday, when I see him again.

I spent a lot of time over the holidays working with my tarot cards – drawing inspiration from the archetypal images of the hero’s journey of the Major Arcana, which when you come to think about it is perhaps not unlike your own journey. You come to me a fool (I don’t judge you for it too much) and leave on the precipice of a new world. I’m almost excited for you, but then I remember the tasks ahead… hoho.

One of my followers the other day asked why I worked with the tarot. Obviously those of you who’ve read my tasks understand they are more than just a divination tool for me – they inspire me to write new and better tasks each month. In addition, I spent time going over what worked and didn’t last year, and conjuring some new torments for you to enjoy. Or not. You will do them all the same of course, because that is your role in this little game of ours. I wind you up and you perform, like a little wind-up monkey. And if you don’t perform well – then even a wind up monkey can be spanked. The only pity is many of you enjoy it far too much.

I also took time to go through my wardrobe. Some things fit, others have lost their luster – as with certain behaviors and working relationships. Perhaps it’s growing up in England – that sense of thrift and a desire not to be wasteful. I don’t like endings – if bridges burn, the matches generally are not in my hands.

So if things come to a close, I like to make it a point to remember the best of them, rather than the worst. I encourage those I work with to do the same. Sometimes our contract ends – I have to let a submissive go, or they (after petitioning and placating me) are permitted to leave of their own accord. It’s sad – perhaps more tragic for them than I – but what can one do? We grow, we change. What worked yesterday may not work today.

Personally, I don’t like the idea of New Year’s resolutions as being prohibitive – this always tends to tip the see-saw in the wrong direction eventually. Unless you are resolved to be more obedient and pleasing to Mistress – then, I approve. In all other matters – I believe that a little of what you fancy does you good – though under my heel, you’ll need permission first, which I may or may not give. Either way, you’ll be content with the structure and boundaries I give you because I am saving you from the very worst aspects of yourself. In return, you give yourself to me, utterly. It’s hardly a fair exchange, as you have little of satisfaction to give – except amusement.

I really am too good to you, aren’t I?

Your Mistress


Healthy competition.

In the Chariot tarot card, a black horse and a white horse sit ahead of a chariot in which a figure sits, a magician’s wand (rather than a whip) in his hand, directing to opposites towards a common goal. These opposites could refer to many things: head versus heart, discipline versus passion, or – in this case – Paulo versus Marcus.

Marcus had come in to see Paulo kneeling on the floor naked in the middle of the room.

“So glad you could join us, Marcus.”

“But you said 11, Mistress.”

“I did.”

“So why’s he here?”

Marcus’ face curled in consternation at the Latino kneeling patiently, looking straight ahead. I pointed to the spot beside Paulo.



“Kneel beside him.”

“But I…”


Marcus stroppily complied, like a petulant toddler. He took off his clothes and dropped them to the floor in a huff. Startled by the metal button of Marcus’ jean jacket hitting the skirting board, Paulo looked up curiously – causing Marcus to stop, sock in hand.

Continue reading “Healthy competition.”

No such thing as a free lunch this yule.

Before Christmas, of course, is Yule. Winter Solstice, the longest night, the gateway between dwindling sun and the onward rush of Spring – and I was spending it with Ember (my best friend, and High Priestess), high up on the hill, above the glitter of suburban sprawl around the inlet below. It was quiet above the city: a solitary candle flickering in the lamp a small ways from our blanket and only the remorseful howl of a winter breeze over the inlet to join in in the pause between our conversation.

I have mixed feelings about winter.

I have mixed feelings about Winter. In some sense, the snow and rough branches add some excitement to play, and there is something magical about chasing a red cheeked, panting submissive through the snow covered trees with a bullwhip. But, I’ve never been a fan of the cold, and it’s done a number on my car too. One of the windscreen wipers fell off the other day. I managed to employ one of my submissives to lean out of the passenger window to wipe the screen during a rain shower (better employment of his over-eager wrist, I told him – Jeremy had not been adhering to my “no touch” rule), but you can understand it’s not a long term solution. I’m afraid I drive my car like I drive my submissives – possibly far more cruelly – thus I need to take it into a mechanic before it falls apart completely. The bill will probably be extensive, but procrastinating will only make it worse and the shift is grinding in a most disconcerting way. It wont be the first tranny I’ve broken. But usually they pay me for the privilege!

According to Ember, Saturn was moving into Capricorn, and this was pretty exciting for her. She got telling me the story of Saturnalia – a festival back in the days of the Romans. There was feasting and debauchery during this festival (for free folk and slave alike) – as one might expect from the Romans. But additionally,  a common man was nominated to be crowned “king” and could live in luxury for a period of time, before being – unfortunately for him – ceremonially sacrificed to appease Saturn. No such thing as a free lunch, folks.

“I’m surprised none of the common folk ordered a chariot, with six of the fastest horses in the kingdom, blades on the wheels and an army to protect them from being a human sacrifice.” I mused. “That’s what I would have done. See ya later, Saturn sucker!”

“They were men, after all. Duty over deviousness.”

We laughed. The candle flickered. Ember poured me another glass of blackberry cider and we toasted each other and the longest night of the year.

The subject got to sex toys – because – of course it did. She was raving about Bad Dragon – a brand I’d heard in passing before. She pulled up the website on her phone and showed me my new obsession – the Fusion Lil’ Squirts range was. If you haven’t visited Bad Dragon, you should. The site is a fantasy-sex hybrid masterpiece – kind of like if Tolkein had done product design with a dominatrix. The Fusion Lil’ Squirts have a tube through which “ejaculate” (lube) can be sprayed out of the end of a dildo. It’s on my list of things to acquire now. Ember said she’d probably get one for the new year too. I’m sure we’ll talk about our experiences with that in the coming weeks.

You can find a link to the product here:

Is your Christmas performance ‘electrifying’?


Shelley is Morgana’s mother. Wife of David. She’s somewhat aware that David and I have some kind of working relationship, but as I understand from David, she doesn’t know all of it. I understand that discretion is the better part of valour, and for what it’s worth, I care about her a great deal, so sometimes we’ll get together and I’ll get the down and dirty on how he’s been “performing”. It really disappoints me when I hear he hasn’t been applying what he’s learned. I believe sometimes he’s just a lazy student. Still, I can always find new ways to motivate.

“It’s… he’s been busy at work lately. So…” she wiped the cappuccino froth from her lip. We stood beside the entrance to Santa’s grotto – little Morgana sitting with the other youngsters in “elf training school” – a holding tank for children run by a disgruntled looking teen in questionable elf ears.

“I’m not sure why you’re making excuses for him. You have a job too.”

“Well, yes. But… I don’t know. Maybe it’s me. I read this article that not all women can orgasm through penetrative sex. Maybe it’s a post-childbirth thing or…I don’t know. We’ve been married a long time. There’s not much electricity. You know?”

That gave me an idea…

“Or maybe he just needs to try harder. Does he cum?”

Some suburban trophy wife shot us a filthy look over her shoulder. I scoffed. Shelley giggled.

“Yes of course… but I mean, men can’t help it, right?” she whispered.

“I think you should instill a rule. He doesn’t come until you do. He wore that cage for a while…”

“He complained about it. I didn’t have the heart to put him back in it.”

“Of course he did. You should though.”

At this point, our conversation was interrupted by a piercing scream. Little Morgana had vaulted over the fence of elf-school and was running towards us, arms outstretched. Shelley caught her in her arms.

“Whatever is the matter?”

“He’s scary!”

He – being Santa. From behind us, in the make-shift nursery, the familiar robed figure of Mall Santa towered next to teen elf. While the other kids cheered and looked on in admiration, poor Morgana was beside herself with fear and sadness, burying deep into her mother’s bosom for comfort. It was an odd reaction for five, but Morgana isn’t the usual child. And Suburban Mall Santa’s tend on the more sinister side (think Billy Bob Thornton from Bad Santa).

“You don’t have to see him, if you don’t want to, darling.” Shelley cooed, stroking her hair. “But there’s nothing to be scared of. And besides, don’t you want to ask him for something for Christmas?”

Morgana shook her head vigorously into her mother’s wet bosom. Around us, Mariah Carey played tinnily through the Mall speaker as the grim procession of Christmas shoppers passed in all directions around us.

Morgana’s such a smart girl. I learnt far later in life than her to run from gluttonous men with overfilled sacks that sneak into your bedroom at night. As for being good all year – well. Where’s the fun in that? We retreated from the grotto and its sickly popcorn scent to grab dinner. I had some ideas for my next session with David too. No electricity, hmm? I had a feeling I could fix that.

I hope you have a wonderful Christmas and holiday season. My Premium Members are so very supportive, and while I know I am too generous to them, I still feel this time of year demands a degree of gratitude to them, so for them I have the very best of Christmas wishes.

Mistress Katia Thornwood.

I have been travelling again, by the way. I will soon be uploading a new travelogue to the website. It will be The Japan Travelogue, however to read it you will need to be registered on the site. This is free, and just allows me to keep an eye on you – something I feel you appreciate. So, register on the site today, and you’ll be informed when I publish The Japan Travelogue.

I’ve been rolling around in bed moaning all night!

I’ve been rolling around in bed moaning all night and not for the best reason you might expect. I’m sick again. Luckily it’s a relatively quiet time for me, yet it seems like the latter part of 2017 has seen me laid out on my back more often than a White House intern. Unlike her though, I’m not paid for it. So I’m eating a clove of garlic an hour and trying to rest this off. It’s inconvenient, but what can you do? Ms. Lisowski – my landlady upstairs – also slipped an invite under the door for a Christmas sherry this morning, which I plan to partake in as soon as I can get my ailing body going again.

I’ve been spending recuperation time working on my Christmas gift list. Some gifts still need to be purchased, but I thought I’d share with you my progress so far, just in case you’re needing some inspiration.


For Milton, the dog: A Hot Doll (the blow up doll for dogs)
$200 from Given Milton’s propensity for indulging his bestial lust on anything in range (like some men I’ve known), I figured I would push the boat out and send one of these puppies to Mother’s. Yes, yes, I know it’s expensive, but the thought of Mother’s reaction to this when she has the neighbors round is priceless. Besides, Bertie’s ankles could probably do with a break from Milton’s teeth. I’m charitable. Sometimes you’ve got to accept an old dog is an old dog, and allow it its nature. And Milton should enjoy it too.

Mother: Sherry. Mother doesn’t really want anything else from me. Except prodigy. And she’s out of luck on that score this year, at least.

Bertie: Brass balls keyring. $7.99 You can get it here.
As Mother has his, I felt I’d be charitable and give him a pair.

Paulo: Male tears mug $9.27 – Get it here.
As my dear poet’s girlfriend is keeping him gainfully occupied right now, I will give him this to collect any spare tears until he comes over again.

Marcus: A cast of Paulo’s cock. Paulo did an art exhibition on sexuality a while back and gave me this bright red plaster mache cast of his member. No idea why he thought it would interest me. In the spirit of re-gifting, I’ll be delivering this to Marcus the next time I see him, so he can relive the humiliation of his lesson on The Chariot every time he sees it.

Ember: “Bend over oil” and a black male candle. This potent voodoo formula and its candle counterpart allows for magical manipulation of the less intelligent sex, when words fall on deaf ears. I do hope she has fun with it. I also got her a shock probe for when magic comes slow.

Morgana: “Hey Little Ant” by Phillip Hoose. A story about why we do not tread on ants. It’s six months til summer and hopefully I can spare another ant genocide by her patent heels. Also a new Ken doll, as the head came off of hers a while back, and it’s hard to secure binds around just a stump. I mean, I do it a lot, but for a five year old, without that kind of manual dexterity…

And of course, I always have a few Amazon Gift Cards available, just in case I forget anyone. You’ll hear from me soon.

Until the next time.

Mistress Katia Thornwood.

My Christmas List.

For Bertie –
These may come in useful for Bertie, as Mother has his. Perhaps just a poignant reminder.

For Paulo: His tears are my best cleansing lotion. As my dear poet’s girlfriend is keeping him gainfully occupied right now, I will give him this to collect any spare tears until he comes over again.

And I always go into Christmas prepared with a few Amazon Gift Cards, just in case I forget someone who proves themselves worthy of a gift. That way I never appear to have forgotten anyone.


Friends that braid together, stay together.

My best friend relaxed into my hands as I guided the red rope past the softness of her breasts and under the knot of her biceps. Ember had agreed to help me practice Shibari a while back. She knelt in front of me now on the couch. Usually, she was such a formidable woman, but it seemed that even she was susceptible to being disarmed by the sensation of jute rope being coiled tightly around her body.

Time and again, I tied the knots and untied them. Trying each time to get a tighter, smoother and more aesthetic form. With each time, my best friend got a little more relaxed. She fell limply from one side to the other as I wove the rope around her, falling about heavily in my arms like an old Victorian Doll. I steadied her by the lace of her corset, running my hand up her back to sweep her hair up from behind her neck and brush it to one side. 

“One more time, maybe. Doesn’t seem tight enough, still. Doing alright, Ember?”

My best friend’s eyes were rolling back into her head. 

“Yeah… I feel… I feel…. yeah…”

I chuckled to myself that Ember, knowledgeable High Priestess and writer, was having so much trouble formulating words. She was sliding off into reverie, which I took as the unspoken compliment it was. I still had an issue with the knots however. They looked lumpy. Exciteable. I undid them and did them again, until I was satisfied.

However, for all the imperfection in the binds, Ember certainly looked as though she was enjoying herself. I sat behind her, curling my legs around her thighs for support, allowing her to fall back against my shoulder.

It’s funny what we notice when we are close and tuned in with another. Without any intimate parts being touched, the sensation of rope alone, of being held and confined in another’s power – or wielding that power in every knot and tug of the rope – is electric. The world becomes smaller, sounds louder, scents sharper. While the one I tie is enjoying their own escape from the burden of their autonomy, I am savoring the taste of minuscule delights, bought into sharper focus. The smell of their breath, the way their rib cage, on inhale and exhale, pushes them closer to, then away from my own. The smell of their hair, the intricate matte of lines around the eyes and a wonder to what stories bought each of them to being.

It’s the little things…

Your Mistress,

Katia 🙂



The Magician

I do so love the Magician tarot card – the power of creativity, channeled by the will, to manifest into the physical the concepts of the mind. A card of great creativity, inspiring vision and focus into stagnant situations. Also sometimes signifying sleight of hand and deceit. Not always such a bad thing. Just what Jennifer needed – in fact – given her dour expression on walking in. Pulling this card, I explained to her, meant that we were going to have a little magic wand time with Hitachi mark 2. She smiled when I said that, silly little thing.

Jennifer started with me last month. Initially, she came to me to widen her horizons sexually after a particularly acrimonious divorce. I think she picked me for my tough love – her friends had consoled her for months, but it wasn’t working. You know me, I’m hardly a shoulder to cry on (unless I have my finger on the button of the mechanical dildo and it’s your first rodeo). What I do have, however, is some experience in offsetting emotional turmoil with the skilled application of some pleasant sexual torment.

Even though Hitachi one died last year, I still like to use it. When a submissive is blindfolded, they can’t tell which Hitachi I’m using until it is switched on. I had secured the dead one to Jennifer with red rope.  Making her beg for its application. Her thighs shaking excitedly around the wand that would give her no magic; her pelvis undulating in apprehension of the sound of the redundant switch.

Continue reading “The Magician”

“I’ll do my best…”

Lately I’ve heard this a lot from new submissives under my care. This is probably the phrase that irritates me most, aside from “I would do anything”, when clearly, you would not. I will forgive a new slave such ingratitude, but if you continue like this, I will not look upon it as kindly.

I am a Mistress, not a scout leader or your Mother. You should know that if you come to me with this lukewarm placation, there will be consequences. And you will not like them.

Your only response to me should be “Yes Mistress.”

In the words of Yoda. ‘Do or do not, there is no try’. I think perhaps he met a Mistress before his escapades with the Jedi. For no wiser words were ever spoken.

I’m never going to give you an A for effort. Perhaps a D, and I get to choose it, but don’t expect the same half-arsed methods that work with others will work with me.

If you are too much of a coward to adhere to the simple words I expect you to obey, you will talk to me. You will make some kind of tribute and then you will do a penalty of my choosing. Don’t worry, I have a lot of them. And perhaps, if you irk me enough, I will write something for you that will pull at the things that most revolt or frighten you. For I have a great deal of time and creativity towards things that interest me – and a malfunctioning project always manages to catch my attention quickly.

Know this: I am not a hobby to be sidelined. Once you sign up with me, it’s because my words made a connection with you, and like the roses of a thorn, these insights are barbed. Far easier to go in than to pull out. You will find, in trying to release yourself from them, that they may do more damage. Your commitment with me is solemn and binding. The only person who can release you from it is I, and I don’t want to let you go. Not yet. 

Perhaps you have a way with words. It is quite possible you could convince me, yet you will have to talk to me first. I promise you I won’t make it easy. Your poor planning should not become my problem. So consider this carefully before calling on me. You’ll find goddesses, once petitioned and agreeing to work with you, don’t take kindly to being forgotten. It wont take you too long to find out how….

Your Mistress,

Katia 🙂