MY

DOMAIN

The spiritflesh contains possibilities of surrender.

I hold the camera.

You lie exposed for your dear Master.

To be captured is to be Divine.

Lost in memory, but forever recorded.

This is My digital Gallery—where you can become a part of My Archive. 

The dim light of the room clings to My black PVC outfit, an almost second skin. I feel the cool, familiar weight of My cane in My hand, and extension of My will. Before Me, he waits—My submissive for the day, bound in coils of vivid red rope atop of
NYC Dominatrix Saturn dressed in black latex outfit with stockings and a blazer, holding a handgun, standing over a prone, shirtless man on the ground in a black-and-white photo.
The air is still and silent, save for the soft creak of latex as he shifts beneath the glass. My male submissive—My beautiful, devoted creation—lies perfectly arranged under the cool, clear tabletop. He has become the very foundation, a living sculpt
The room held its breath, a golden pool of sunlight spilling across the walls. They were a still life of tangled limbs and quiet sighs, a private dance etched in the warm, worn wood. The whisper of my silk dress and the soft fall of my footsteps were
My gaze rests upon him, My male-bodied submissive, poised in an expressive dance against the grain of a weathered wooden door. I have bound him in intricate rope, each line a sentence of My will against his skin. He is sheathed in the black stockings
NYC and SF Dominatrix Saturn's Black and white photo of a tattooed, shirtless, bald man sitting on a curved surface with his head resting in his hand and his eyes closed.
My world is dipped in blue. First comes the bite of the rope—a familiar, smooth claim against their skin. Then, the ghost of the gauze, a mere blanket against their skin. I placed a ball, firm and cool, beneath their knees...and the body had no choic
The world outside his basement window had vanished, swallowed by a silent, swirling white. But in our circle of hot, brilliant light, we were warm. Mistress Undine and I, reunited. The West and East Coasts had converged here, in the Midwest, and the
I preside from above, the cool weight of My camera is a extension of My eye. My gaze doesn't settle on the woman herself, but on her reflection—capturing this scene not as it is, but as I command it to be seen. Below Me, Catdelalune lies where I plac
a person in a black shirt, khaki shorts, and white knee-high socks practicing rock climbing on an indoor climbing wall with harness and safety ropes
The sounds of the party are a distant symphony of hedonism—laughter echoes, punctuated by the sharp, authoritative report of the whip. It is Domina Rei's tea party in San Francisco, a night of sacred surrender for a chosen few. This is a familiar roo

✤

Embedding photography into My practice with a blend of ritual and art, the camera becomes an altar or tool of transformation. Being captured is not just about being seen—it’s about being sanctified. I enjoy curating bodies and moments into relics of devotion.

✤

A wooden chair draped with a gray cloth and a pile of red rope placed on the seat.

“What a true pleasure to become the object of Mistress Saturn’s lens. Shooting with Saturn is intimate, sensual, and erotic. The photos of our sessions are treasured mementos of being caught in Her web. ”

-garden bitch

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Be a part of My World.

Yes, Mistress Saturn.