Posted by sadomasokitten on January 12, 2010
Available evenings and occasional weekends…
Posted by sadomasokitten on January 12, 2010
Available evenings and occasional weekends…
Posted by sadomasokitten on December 25, 2008
RIP Eartha – Prrrrrr…
Posted by sadomasokitten on December 11, 2008
Thanks for everything…
Posted by sadomasokitten on November 27, 2008
Things look a little different around here? Yes, I have redecorated. Mostly because technology has marched vastly forward since the last time I was regularly writing this blog, and in order to keep up with the times, I had to update.
So far I’m rather pleased – while it’s not as dark and lovely as my last outing, it is much easier to read.
I am embarking on a brand new effort that I’ve been threatening for some time – to write about my 13 years of experience as a professional Domina, tell some semi-embarrassing stories, purrhaps offer some insight into the world of fetishes, BDSM, and oh, humanity. Since I have not been able to commit pen to paper as I thought I would, and since I spend an inordinate amount of time attached to this laptop, purrhaps this is the best way to go about it. To at least get things started off, later to be fleshed out (after I’m done flaying the flesh here for the world to see) in book form.
No promises, no guarantees, no regrets.
Posted by sadomasokitten on August 26, 2008
Yes it has been SOME time since last I wrote. Other areas of life have intervened and kept me from something that I truly enjoy… but I have indeed been writing. I hope to publish a memoir at some point, complete with stories of sessions and supplicants from near and far (identities altered to protect the guilty).
Today I received a fantastic package – unexpected packages are the BEST – with a Black Adder DVD set inside. Something that I’d wanted for the longest time. Something that someone chose to purchase for me from my Amazon.com wishlist.
Oh to the kindness of strangers… Thank You
Posted by sadomasokitten on June 23, 2008
Do you currently or are you interested in shooting exquisite rope bondage? Maybe just a little bit, Bettie Page-style, for something retro or burlesque? Or do you work in the hardcore S&M genre and want to see someone in real pain with marks that last?
I am Katja Minx, professional Dominatrix, BDSM photographer, and fetish model, and I am seeking photographers and videographers wanting to take their shoots to the next level – they just need the right bondage artist to make their vision happen. Hire a professional Dominatrix who REALLY knows her way around ropes! I am brand spanking new to the Portland Oregon area, and while I am not taking on purrsonal clientele at this time, I just love to tie people up…
I have lots of rope and lots of experience – bondage is my passion. Rope of any style or color can be procured with a little notice for your special needs.
See some of my work here: http://www.katja-minx.com/Mistress.html
I work with male, female, and transgendered models. I have experience in the BDSM world, the straight porn world, and the alternative porn world (I dare you to try to shock me). Everything from mild to wild – my only restrictions are absolutely no bestiality, no crush of any kind, and obviously no minors. I also have a large cache of S&M equipment that may be available for rental (no clothing or shoes) when I’m working with professionals.
Let me know what you have in mind, I work with many budgets. Travel possible for larger projects. I’m a no-drama professional.
Just say no to sloppy rope bondage! Drop me an email: email@example.com
Posted by sadomasokitten on January 25, 2007
An exciting question posited on this very blog some time ago…
This installment I’m certain shall not fail to satisfy, much as a large block of dark Belgian chocolate melts on the tongue and quiets both stomach and mind.
When we last left our heroine, the ever-practical Katja Minx, we were in a bit of a pickle caused by an oaf at the helm of a studio that we had been hoping to rent. More talent was coming and as the day turned into night it became imperative to have a Plan B: Make it up to us with a freebie day to use the studio. I’m sure the oaf had a new asshole ripped for him by his employer, but this was really the only way to make things right.
So we had several days to think, plot, and plan our final two scenes – to be completed on one day of filming. Always difficult when you’re trying to get something special out of one major talent (Buck Angel) but he’s a trooper. Basically we came up with the idea that if anyone shows up, we fuck ‘em (it was a looooong week) since we knew little to nothing about the performance track record of either guy who we’d scheduled.
Our first guy arrived in an odd manner for Los Angeles – on time. Another first for us – he’s Mexican. Buck had communicated briefly with him before the shoot and we knew that verbal communication might be a bit difficult. I don’t speak Spanish at all (despite living in Los Angeles where I really have absolutely no excuse for not knowing more than the words for food and how to count to ten) and even though Buck recently moved down to Mexico his Spanish is still a bit limited.
Certain words they just don’t teach you in the Berlitz books.
He was young, good looking, and well hung. Ready to speak the language of love (or more pointedly, lust). He was able to quickly get an erection with a little bit of Buck’s eager cocksucking. So far, so good. He and Buck move from position to position on a grubby black leather couch (hello 80s!) and all the while our latin lover is deep throating Buck. And when I say deep throating I really mean deep: at several times during the action, Buck had to push him away so that he could vomit spit. One of the times when not having any time for breakfast was a really, really good idea (see kids, you don’t really have to eat breakfast if you don’t want to).
Honestly as much as I’ve personally gagged many many past clients to the point of puking with my biggest dildos, I’d never seen such copious amounts of liquid spew from someone’s mouth during cocksucking. It wasn’t just forming a pool at his feet, it was a lake. And of course I managed to capture all of the magic moments on film – I’m good at things like that. I don’t naturally flinch or turn away just when things are getting nasty, I usually focus more intently on the subject (which makes me a pretty darned good pornographer).
As much as we tried to change up the action from deep throating to maybe some fucking, our hot tamale wasn’t having any of it. He was a machine! I could only sit back and laugh at Buck’s predicament – the show much go on – and he had to take even more throat fucking just so we could get the guy to cum and the scene to end. Since I spoke no Spanish I couldn’t communicate with the guy at all, and since Buck’s mouth was otherwise engaged, on and on and on he pounded. Finally he was ready to cum and managed a perfect pop shot on spit-covered Buck’s chest. Success!
Our next performer arrived – also on time – and I was beginning to question myself… everyone in LA is late, all the time, without exception. Usually to the point that I get a call on my cell phone when I am at the decided upon destination at the decided upon time and they’re just leaving their place, there might be some traffic, and do I want a coffee or something because they’re going to stop off on their way over?
So… another first (two in one day!) our next guy was an Asian boy. He’d done some porn before but seemed really young and inexperienced. No matter, he was ready to go. He had some Viagra (which seemed odd for someone so young to want, need, or use) and took one just before we were going to start.
The scene itself – pretty straightforward fucking scene. I was trying to get as many different angles as I could in a room that I’ve shot now waaaay too many times, with decor that could at best be described as cheap. For the kid, things seemed to be humming along just fine, he was able to maintain his erection and get through a fucking scene with Buck (which has tested the virility of many men – it’s amazing how many of them freak out and cannot cum because their minds are so blown at Buck’s body in person – hey, there was no false advertising he’s the Man With a Pussy). Pussy sucking – done. Fuck scene – done. Pop shot – done.
Sometimes we like to do a little interview at the end of a scene, especially with new performers. Just ask them a few questions on how it was, what it felt like to fuck Buck, etc. So the boy stands up next to Buck and I start taping. Buck is standing next to him, turns to him, and says, “So, how did it feel to fuck someone like me?” and the guy slowly lost consciousness, bent his knees, and fell to the ground. Passed out cold. In absolute slow motion. As if ON FUCKING CUE. Except that he really did pass out (again you’ll be happy to note, I kept on filming).
For anyone concerned, he was OK. I’m pretty sure the combination of filming, being nervous, not eating much before he arrived, and popping a Viagra caused his blood pressure to drop while he was on the bed, then he came, and then he stood up too quickly. Was it scary? Yeah a bit, but I’ve had many scarier moments in session over the years where a client didn’t disclose a medical condition or any prior pharmaceuticals they had ingested. Luckily he didn’t hit anything on his way down so there was no physical trauma there either. Ultimately, he had some cookies, rested for awhile and was fine.
To quote: “Just another purrfect day… I love LA” (tongue firmly planted so far in cheek that teeth are slowly grinding through it)…
Posted by sadomasokitten on January 7, 2007
For The Fantasy, read this first: http://www.sadomasokitten.com/blog/?p=669
Now onto the bitter Reality, that evil pill that scrapes all the way down your mental esophagus, alternately choking and releasing your breath in gasps and spurts.
The day started off promisingly, with fair weather and easy directions to the shooting site – a basement apartment (or “mother in law” if you will) soon to be renovated but still in it’s long-term, dark and grungy panelling state. I arrived first with all of my gear in tow, doing a preliminary sweep-up and an obligatory new-IKEA-sheet-covering of the twin sized bed sitting demurely in the corner, hoping NOT to be used if any way, shape, or form today (yes I’m sure that IKEA will be thrilled to know that they are used for this purpose but hey, you can’t beat three bucks for a brand new bedsheet in an array of solid colors to match the many dingy backgrounds that are de rigeur on porn shoots – and for that same three dollars I have absolutely no qualms about cleaning up the entire area with that sheet and then throwing it triumphantly into the garbage can at the end of the shoot).
Just the basics today – we are planning to shoot several scenes with Buck and an FTM boy that we’ve worked with before, and from what I understand this boy may also be bringing by several friends to also perform. Well, okay. The more the merrier (ok, I’m laughing as I write this), the more performers you have then the better chance of shooting something terrific, right?
Buck shows up on time, and fully loaded down with gear. He has his entire studio on his back, including cameras, tapes, a full lighting system, and of course the requisite snacks. The bags of dildos, condoms, and other assorted toys are opened and examined.
We get our first inkling of worry when the appointed time for our first talent to arrive comes and goes. But this is Los Angeles – everyone has a cell phone, right? – so we attempt to call. The call goes through… to his voicemail. Okay, apparently he’s a bit shy about answering every call that comes in so he prefers to let it go to voicemail and will then return it. All-righty. So while we’re waiting for him to get back to us we decide not to waste our valuable time in the studio and begin shooting some solo stuff of Buck. His blue underwear get mighty dusty rolling around on that floor and near that fireplace, but he’s a trooper. We actually shoot two complete galleries before the cell phone rings.
Yes, it’s our talent. No he’s not here. Supposedly he’s on his way. But he’s lost. Yes he printed out directions. Yes he’s too stupid to read them (I added this one for flavor). He’s gone way too far down Sunset and is now probably deep in the heart of East LA. His buddy is driving, and we give him directions over the phone (it’s literally one street off of Sunset, not difficult at all to find like so many addresses are here in LA) so we’re eagerly awaiting their arrival. It shouldn’t be long now…
We dig into the snacks. Arrange the dildos, condoms, and lube. Pace nervously. Bitch about past business partners and current so-called friends.
Almost an hour (yes you read that right, an HOUR) after the first phone call we hear a ruckus out front. Now the talent has been instructed that because this shoot will be taking place in a private residence that we have to be QUIET – low-key and not make a lot of fuss about our being there. Arrive with your bags, park your car, and quietly make your way to the back of the house. Well I can hear (and smell) them coming up the hill, way before they’re at the house. Because I’m the only one fully clothed, it’s my job to run outside to try to corral these beasts before they ruin things before they even get started. They’re easy to spot – our FTM boy has a hairdo of alternately bleached sections and black ones, and is in full goth-boy regalia. His buddy has baby blue hair (calling it hair is giving it too much credit – it’s basically strands of blue spiderweb hanging off of his head) and a black trenchcoat. As they exit their car (which barely made it up the hill) they announce loudly that they almost ran out of gas coming up the hill and so it will be great to get paid for fucking today so they can put some gas in the car…
My better nature kicks in and rather than kicking them I implore them to keep quite so we don’t upset the delicate natures of the neighbors. They grunt their understanding, continue to talk loudly, and I corral them into the studio.
Since we haven’t all met before this is where things kind of stop dead – everyone feels the need to chat a bit about themselves, the industry, what pisses them off, who they’ve worked with and can’t stand… it’s fine and all but eats up at least an hour of going back and forth before we even begin to talk about the scenes we hope to shoot today (and the snacks are wearing perilously thin).
The blue-haired “friend” has supposedly done porn before – both starring and directing/shooting – and then treats me to his treatise on “real” punk rock porn and how no one has done this before… I cannot keep from rolling my eyes almost to the back of my head but he doesn’t notice because he’s so busy trying to impress everyone and dropping names. It’s very hard to concentrate because he’s just really completely dirty – as in unclean, unwashed, and kind of stinky – and he’s got the worst teeth I’ve ever seen. Not just a little un-perfect, these were shooting in all directions and bright yellow with brown edgings (trust me, I look so you don’t have to).
As an aside – It’s really funny to watch people pull out their own rope, begin to tie it into a hangman’s noose, and slowly slip it over their own heads just before jumping into the abyss of ignorance…
So after regaling us with his tales of his incredible film career I do the unthinkable and pop his balloon – I ask for his ID. As many of you know, it’s an absolute necessity in this world of 2257 laws to have a valid ID with you when you show up to shoot porn. There is no one (at least in the USA) who will shoot with you without this valuable piece of plastic. It would be a huge waste of time – and completely unusable. The photographer or videographer could not use, nor sell the images without your ID. No performer would even think about showing up without theirs. Well, Mr. Professional announces that “oh my god man, I totally lost my ID – it was stolen with a bunch of my other stuff”… he said more, but after that line all I could hear was “blah blah blah” (you know, like what dogs hear when humans talk to them – or like the adults in the Charlie Brown cartoons). Basically it came down to me saying a version of this: WE CAN’T USE YOU YOU IDIOT AND IF YOU WERE A PROFESSIONAL YOU’D KNOW THAT. Insert smiley face here.
So blue-boy had to sit in the corner for the duration of the day’s shoot because he had no other way home… luckily once he was busted he was relatively quiet which helped things at least for awhile. Now back to our regularly scheduled program…
Time to start shooting with our FTM boy. Now we’ve worked with him before so no pleasantries are really necessary and Buck’s scenes are straightforward: Just get to the fucking. So we shoot one scene with Buck and the boy on the bed. I’m yawning as we’re shooting because it’s soooooooo boring – you see, porn performers really have to turn up the excitement level (whether it’s real or not – but generally it’s all fake anyway) so that it comes through on film. Lots of positions, some great facial expressions, hell even some movement would be good. But this boy – even though he is physically attractive and has the added bonus of being an FTM – is just boring to watch. He has presented himself to us as a hardcore top but he becomes a limp noodle when he’s around Buck in a scene. So it’s really tough to get a good performance out of him – and a lot of extra work for both Buck and myself.
Too much time is spent on comparing dildos and various types of lube. Everyone seems to not only have a preference but also something that they’re either wildly allergic to or that has given them some really nasty rash in the past. The advantages of one type of condom versus another. And is anything really ribbed for anyone’s pleasure?
As we’re about to begin round 2 of this “grumble in my jungle” Blue-boy announces that he’s going to call the third person – a girl – who has been invited to today’s bacchanal. Noticing the time she was supposed to be here about an hour ago – of course. He reaches her and she too is lost (when I got home that evening I did a check on Mapquest to see if it was at fault for leading so many of our circus folk astray but for once it was accurate) but supposedly will be here – magically! – soon. Ok, time to film a bit more.
It is almost physically painful to watch porn being shot when the performers are so obviously not into each other, when you can see them counting their day’s pay in pennies in their heads as they’re fucking. No amount of cheering them on or making suggestions can make that time go any faster for me as the videographer, and no one has yet invented the camera angle that can make this shit look good. But on we press for we are determined to shoot as much as possible in the hopes of cobbling it together into something saleable… and then it’s too much. I pull the plug under the guise of “not using up all of the energy” before our next performer arrives. Whew! I can walk outside for a few moments and remind myself why I never finished college…
And then she arrives. With a bang and a growl. I can hear her dragging her bag of crap all the way to the back of the house as it bangs loudly against the metal fence, every single bar on the way down. I look over and greet her with a simple, “Hi, I’m Katja” and she barks at me “Uh, hi” in a voice that I will kindly describe as gutteral.
Hm, can this day get much worse? First everyone is late, then they show up and one guy doesn’t have ID, then the performances are a bit limp… but no, purrhaps this girl showing up will change things, turn the tide, make the day into a great day in porn…
(choking up a hairball here)
She stomps into the studio area, drops her stuff and immediately begins complaining. Buck and I look around because there is something a little off about her, but neither one of us are completely sure of what it is. There is also something odd about the interpersonal relationships going on in the room now, which we are also not privy to. Technically it’s no matter, we’re here to shoot porn, and can we get onto it please it’s been a long day and did I mention that the snacks are now gone?
The girl mentions that she’s paranoid about her lipstick not smearing, that she’s very sensitive about her skin appearing perfect. Um, ok. She’s also in a sort of goth-girl uniform: heavy platform boots, striped stockings, black satin corsolette & panties, and black stretchy dress. Powdered white face, black hair, red lipstick. If you’ve seen any gothy girl you’ll know what I’m talking about, but as I said earlier, there was definitely something a little “off” about her. I notice that her ass is covered in pimples.
We get her ID (Aha! She’s actually brought hers) and she makes funny faces as we take pictures of it. We have to explain to her that this is a necessary thing and I ask if she’s done porn before – ahem, no, this would be her first official porn film but she’s done “lots of stuff” before. O-kay… We talk about what will happen today, explain what sex acts we’re expecting her to perform, and she agrees.
The girl and the FTM boy obviously have something going on together more than just friends that invite each other to screw on camera. So I suggest they start the scene together, on the bed, he undressing her and then moving on to the fucking. Buck can join in later. So they start out with some kissing and odd touching (it’s like watching junior high schoolers “make out” under the bleachers) and he removes her clothing – except for the corsolette, which she insists on wearing. No one is playing anything close to the camera, so I try to make up for the complete absence of sexuality by moving the camera around a lot and focusing on genitals. But she insists on not moving at all, at laying literally as stiff as a board, and whenever she is touching in any sort of a sexual manner she would GRIMACE. Yes, not just look like “Oh my god your cock is sooooo big, I can barely take all of that in my tiny little pussy”, but grimace like she’d been force-fed lemons for days. And make little unpleasant noises. And turn her head away from the camera. Honestly it looked like she was being completely coerced into doing something that she really really really didn’t want to do, and I expressed my concern. They talked and said that everything was ok, so we continued.
This went on for about fifteen minutes when I just couldn’t watch anymore. I began to unnaturally focus the camera on her pimple-covered ass just for my own amusement. I started making faces at Buck who walked into the scene with a big dildo. He pushed off the boy, told him to sit on her face, and started to fuck her hard with the dildo. Ok, now things were finally getting interesting! There was some action – although she seemed really unhappy to have the boy’s pussy in her face she wasn’t resisting, in fact she definitely seemed to start to like it. When Buck was calling her a slut, spanking her on the ass, and fucking her with the dildo all of a sudden life wasn’t so bad. It was like she had gone into a dream-state.
But then as with all good dreams, you have to wake up. That position had gone on long enough and Buck decided to change things up – he handed the dildo to the boy to let him do the fucking and moved over to sit on the girls face. All of a sudden we weren’t in Kansas anymore…
She started to cry. Everything stopped. We all asked what was wrong. She didn’t want to tell us. The boy seemed to know what was wrong but wouldn’t tell us. He kept trying to convince her to continue. But then she said, “Ok, when I said yes this wasn’t what I signed on for”. Huh? We had fully explained to her what would be happening today, and she had said ok, and that she fully understood. Now the drama would truly begin: she started to heave and sob and left to go to the bathroom. The boy followed closely behind, apologizing to us. We waited (what else could we do?) and heard them yelling at each other, she accusing him of not telling her what would be involved, him trying to get her to shut up. This goes on for some time… Buck gets dressed and we start packing up because it’s pretty obvious that we’re not filming any more porn today. The room is thick with discomfort.
When they emerge, the boy is apologetic to the point of being pathetic. She’s just all bitchy and demanding her money. He insists that he should forfeit his day’s pay for all of the trouble “he” has caused. She insists that she should get paid NOW because she’s leaving. Um, ok. Buck remains professional and simply pays everyone what he promised, leaving them to divide up their booty however they please. I have already thrown their stuff into their bags because I just want them to leave, which they do rather quickly. There is no goodbye, no after-porno drink, no promises of future work. This is just really b-a-d, and Buck and I have no idea why.
But we were about to find out.
Exhausted, we head out to dinner. Both of us cannot fully understand or explain what has happened today. But we know that something just wasn’t right. We get a phone call – it’s from the boy.
Not to careful readers: This is the point where if you weren’t sitting down with a bottle of headache pills within easy reach you might want to do so because this is the big wrap-up.
After more profuse apologies, we finally get the full story: They are now at the hospital, more specifically the emergency room, where they had to go immediately after the shoot. The girl may be having a miscarriage – she was PREGNANT. The FTM boy used to be romantically involved with the girl who was also on her way to becoming an FTM but stopped (I know, exactly how and why do you stop a process like this??? When you decide to change from female to male??? But at least it explains her voice – still very, very male) so that she could HAVE A BABY. But now they’re not romantically involved anymore, just friends. And no one could actually completely say that she really was pregnant.
Ok, now there are so many things wrong with this that you would easily be expected to have your head spinning like a globe right now. She never disclosed to us that she was pregnant (or even thought she might be pregnant) and it’s unclear if the boy knew beforehand. She was obviously still full of hormones and most likely really, really confused about her sexual and gender identity. And now she’s at the emergency room – because of what, the dildo fucking? The anxiety at having made a porno? The realization that she might be having a baby or not having a baby?
Sheesh, I thought I had problems. These are the kind of things that basically I really, really don’t want to get involved with. Takes all of the fun out of shooting porn. I automatically assume that there is some greater reason that any actor or actress is here before me, wanting to fuck on film. But it’s not really my business, nor ultimately do I much care. I just need to know if everyone is going to be safe before we proceed, and care that they are safe when they leave.
There is not enough chocolate in the world to wash the bad taste out of my mouth that day. Such irresponsibility, such craziness. What a downer it was. Usually after a shoot we laugh about all of the nutty stuff that happened (and most things are pretty nutty, to be sure) but no laughing this time.
Ah Reality, what a harsh Mistress you truly are…
Posted by sadomasokitten on December 19, 2006
When last we saw our heroine, Katja Minx, she was embroiled in a bit of a pickle… left hanging in a way that she really doesn’t enjoy, she had to reschedule 3 Buck Angel porno shoots in a single bound – 3 bangs in 2 days – and was a bit cranky.
Luckily a hero entered the picture – a good friend of hers who just happens to own one of the oldest continually-operating movie studios in all of Los Angeles – and he offered her the use of the studio to make her “funny movies”. Hoorah! All was saved!
Or was it…
I will confess to a pesky curiosity that can be at times, well, obnoxious. Today’s shoot would be groundbreaking, exploring brand new, never shod upon sexual territory – Buck Angel, the female to male transsexual (the Man with a Pussy as it were) would be fucking Autumn, a post-op male to female transsexual.
A mercifully brief aside here – after meeting and knowing many transsexuals I’ve developed a deep compassion for them as I could never truly in my heart understand how terrible it must be to be born the wrong gender, or with the wrong equipment. The surgery required to make all of the changes either necessary or desired are brutal, expensive, and do not always produce the desired results. I have purrsonally seen more of the male to female gender reassignment and it’s usually not pretty. Neither for that matter is the floppy sausage that passes for female to male gender reassignment much of the time. No orgasm and a floppy sausage? Doesn’t sound like much of a meal to me.
Back onto the yellow brick road… while I was busily setting up the set, pulling out the necessary sex toys and yes finding the remaining chocolate, our talent arrived. Rather than wasting time chit chatting, I thought that bringing her back to the dressing room and choosing outfits might be a better way for me to quickly see the new plumbing – and then hopefully, quench my curiosity so that I might be able to focus back on the lighting.
Luckily she wasn’t shy and quickly an outfit was chosen of tight corset, suspenders and stockings. Then it was time for her to change. Yes, so that I might accurately report all that I see I sat down squarely on the floor ready to help with the adjustment and attachment of the garter belt to the stocking top so that I might get a better look.
And you know, apparently there are some much better doctors out there than there have been in the past (ok, just from my limited viewings but as I think I see more than the general public you’ll just have to go with me on this). Her pussy had a shape and folds just like the standard female equipment and I was surprised to learn that she could still experience pleasure as well as orgasm. I asked her about toys – was it possible for her to use something, and just exactly how large are we talking here? We purrused the table full of dildos and her eyes lit up at the Manrammer.
I had brought the Manrammer for explicitly this purpose hoping that she could take it. This was considered the “medium” size but purrhaps medium on the planet Jupiter can have a different connotation than here on earth for one might say that this was sized for purrhaps a medium-sized elephant vagina, all black with a nice handle for, well, ramming.
She picked it up enthusiastically, lubed it up, and slid it in. No problemo amigo! So we all ambled over to the table set up to look kind of industrial and dirty, and Buck and Autumn got right to fucking. As I’m standing behind the camera hoping that I’ve remembered to turn the sound on (don’t ask) they quickly move from chatty interview to rough manhandling and manramming, until much orgasming is had by all. I come in close to catch some shots from below of the manrammer doing it’s dirty work and then it’s eventual removal and pop as it slides out of its cozy cave. Our girl is still kind of worked up so I continue to film when all of a sudden I notice that it’s kind of raining – hey can you make it rain in here? – but the rain is coming from just above. Who knew that she could squirt? Who asked? And hey, you’re still filming right? Didya get it? Are there droplets all over the lens?
Well – not me, not me again, yup camera is still on, oh yeah I got it all right, and uh-huh, I’m not cleaning that.
And this is what is considered a successful day.
Basking in the afterglow (well we all had our own glow) I remembered that there were still two more scenes to try to schedule (two guys that we had never worked with before) so that I could not relax just yet. We bid farewell to my friend, thanking him profusely for the opportunity to use his studio space, only to throw ourselves into the abyss of uncertainty of where we would film next. We must film, but where? And how? And would there be any other challenges that we would have to meet, head on, clothes off, tackle out?
If it were anyone else in the world, you might have reason to wonder. But it’s me, so be sure that the fun continues…
Posted by sadomasokitten on December 15, 2006
I’m continually on my toes while running with scissors through the world of porn filmmaking. As you know I’ve been makin’ a livin’ doing camera work (both photographic as well as videographic) for my dear friend Buck Angel. Did I mention that he’s been nominated as Transexual Performer of the Year by AVN? Or that Buck Angel Entertainment has been nominated as Up and Coming Studio by XBiz? Or that one of the scenes that I shot has been nominated for Best Outrageous Sex Scene by AVN?
I haven’t? Wow, that’s uncharacteristically humble of me.
So in order to feed the monster we must produce a very large amount of footage to be cut part and parcel into smaller bits that may have a similar theme running through them and packaged in a way that will make your heart and your naughty bits tremble. This means filming with a LOT of different talent (yes it’s time to take your medicine, grab a comfy chair and hold onto your hats).
The back story for those who don’t have any idea of what I’m talking about is this: Buck is a female-to-male transexual. He was born a woman and has transformed himself into a man. But he still has his female genitalia, fully-functioning and slightly enlarged from all of the hormones. He’s a big heavily muscled guy with lots of tattoos and facial hair – if you didn’t know his “secret” you’d never guess. He’s out to change the world of porn and if you’re looking for something a little different (that’s still sexy) you should definitely check out his DVDs.
So… porn filming. My rants on this have become somewhat legendary and for a good reason. Other than trying to film complex BDSM scenes, or film with (god forbid) another Domina, filming “straight” porn (I use the word straight literally for lack of a better word because the hour is late and my brain is fizzing) can be quite challenging. Throw in some time restraints, some communication issues, and some Viagra, and kids we’ve got a party on our hands.
This past week did not disappoint – it hit all of the major areas squarely in the bullseye and then pulled a few punches to the package.
Firstly, there is nothing like a speeding ticket to get your 8 hour filming day off to a great start. Thank you LAPD for keeping the streets safe (hey at least we were driving the right way on the road unlike some of your celebubots) and being concerned about my gas mileage.
Next it’s always a crucial thing to make sure that the studio that you will be using (or hotel room or vacant lot or ok wherever you plan to film and burrow) has been properly reserved. I felt that speaking with the manager of the studio the day before would be sufficient. Getting that human touch, the calm voice on the other end of the line reassuring you that yes, you have indeed reserved the entire studio for the entire day, and will you look at that it’s for tomorrow just as you thought it was and boy I can’t wait to meet you – ending with a flourish of “See you tomorrow!” makes a girl feel all warm and fuzzy – one less major thing to worry about.
Yes I know what you’re thinking here – how bad could it be? Why is she complaining? Surely things will go smoothly and a large, heaving orgasm will be had by all?
Ok sure. If that’s what you need to think then I tell you what. Stop reading now. End this fairy tale on a high note. Have a sugary snack and call me in the morning.
For the rest of you who realize that my life has been all about starring in my very own Grimm’s Fairy Tale, take a load off and sit yourself down a spell. Now this won’t hurt a bit…
I arrive a bit early – as is my preference – with a large amount of crap in tow. I have backdrops, my tackle box filled with tools, several bags full of sex toys that I’ve purrsonally chosen, gloves and cleaners, CDs, and the ever-important candy and diet Coke. Of course there is no parking available close to the studio door, so I drive around the block a few times until I find a spot conveniently located between the crunchy girl with the matted hair who is obviously living out of her burgundy colored van (clues – she had boxes and boxes of pieces of clothing both inside the van and outside which she was picking through and then using to tie up pieces of her matted hair into an even less-appealing version of the rats-nest she already had going, and at one point she was actually doing a version of the whore bath while sitting on the open side door of the van) and the asshole who had parked about 3 feet away from the building forcing me to back in and out, in and out about 5 zillion times until I could squeeze my car into the parking spot.
But drag my stuff down to the studio door I did, even arriving a bit earlier than I had planned, ready to get everything set up before Buck and the talent arrived, maybe have a few Hershey’s Kisses (yes I’m sure they’re thrilled to be mentioned here but all I can say is that the dark chocolate ones and the caramel filled ones are divine) and mark my own can of Diet Coke before the circus came to town.
So I’m standing in front of the door, stuff in tow, and I ring the bell. Hm. No answer. That’s odd. Must fuss with my pocketbook (If you said that Katja is from NYC based on her use of the word pocketbook you’d win a prize!) to find my cell phone to check the time. Well ok, I’m a few minutes early. Maybe the studio manager is caught in traffic. Maybe he’s been pulled over by the LAPD. But wait… what if he’s actually in the studio sleeping or something? Why not call (I thought to myself out loud) and dialed the number. Yes that sinking feeling sweeps over you when you hear the answering machine in both your ear and in your other ear. Then you hear your voice as you’re leaving a message on said machine, with only a locked door in between you. Ok, I guess that theory might have been wrong, why not relax a bit – remember you’re early – of course they’ll be here. We reserved the studio yesterday, by phone, purrsonally, with all of the assurances that all would be ok.
Ten o’clock comes. Then ten thirty. I’m not terribly eager to call Buck to tell him that the studio is still not open, and I’m still thinking that purrhaps it’s a simple case of Los Angeles traffic (because of course it couldn’t be my fault). Ten forty five Buck arrives, wondering why I’m standing in the street with bags full of sex toys and candy (you add your own wisecrack here, go ahead I dare you). I tell him that the studio is locked, and the manager is nowhere to be found. We both leave mildly nasty messages on the machine and hunker down.
It is too late to cancel the first talent that is scheduled – she is supposed to be here at 11 am. And she is driving in from Orange County. And we cannot reach her by cell phone. And the maze of streets that comprise the Artists District of downtown LA are freakishly difficult to navigate for someone who doesn’t know where they’re going.
And the damn studio is still not open, nor any manager sightings.
The talent arrives, and joins our little merry band. We all are channeling our inner Bitch Queens, for it is difficult to think of anything else other than our predicament. What will we do? Can we film somewhere else on such short notice? Just how do you sneak several trannys and a cart full of lighting equipment (and of course all of that candy) into a nice hotel?
Our minds are racing and our stomachs are grumbling. We actually wait there until 12-fucking-thirty before we decide to at least go get something to eat. Of course that means driving away (I’m afraid that burgundy van girl will annex my car as a porch or a lavatory soon) and dragging all of my crap back to my car. But what else could we do? So rather than trying to find 3 all-new parking spots in downtown LA on a weekday during lunch hour we drove out to Silverlake and the Good Microbrew on Sunset. At least the food is good, we can sit and bitch.
After sitting and bitching for a good hour, we try the studio on Buck’s cell phone. Surprise surprise, the manager is there (ahem, why didn’t he call us?) and is extremely apologetic. Freaking out might be a little closer to the exact emotion, but you get the idea. It’s the end of our meal and our morning talent has to drive back to Orange County but we might still be able to salvage our evening talent (who we were not able to reach by phone all day and were very nervous that he was going to show up despite our repeated messages that the stupid studio was locked and we had given up to present offerings to the goddesses of sandwiches). So we drive back to the studio.
Yes he’s freaking out, yes he’s kind of scared, yes he has a novel excuse for “forgetting” our booking – he was supposed to quit that day. Sure Sherlock, do what you need to do but you could have given us a call…. Luckily Buck was in a slightly more social mood than I was so he chatted with the guy as I set up the studio for our shoot. Much chocolate was quickly consumed. Music was blasted, lights and backdrops hung from the chimney with care, you get the idea.
And then – after all that drama – the talent arrives along with the videographer (this scene will be specially shot on an incredibly cool camera that shoots video that looks like film – for the special upcoming Buck Back Mountain release), everybody gets naked, Buck gets fucked so hard he’s kind of laughing and crying at the same time, the money shot is captured, and we’re all happy campers. Doin’ our happy camper porno dance. Simple.
But before we can really breathe properly again we realize that we’re going to have to reschedule all of the other talent we had planned on using that day for the next 2 days as they are Buck’s last days in town. How will we do it? Will we be risk-takers and try to use the same studio again? Will we opt for the unexciting yet oddly comforting rental of a crappy hotel room? And most importantly, WILL THE CHOCOLATE LAST?
Tune in again – a different Cat time, but this very Cat channel, for the answer…