Surges of Love Amidst Brutality

Where I am at these days…

I updated my Fetlife profile yesterday with some new photos (@CreatureCrea if you’re interested). A couple of them are a bit on the brutal side, depicting around 90 needles as my tools of torture in a CBT scene. As scary as that looks though, the session itself was nothing but loving and kind. Brimming with surges of love and an exchange of exciting and sexy energy between my submissive masochist and his Sadistic and caring Dominants (two of us were emptying the boxes of needles that day). Honestly, the scene felt romantic and it was full of smiles mixed into moans. Pain/pleasure is a real thing, and the edges some people can get carried to are incredible. I feel lucky to work with bodies in this way.

What does it mean to take this amount of “torture” and enjoy it? Well, it’s not for everybody, that’s for sure, but I think it’s part of an internal conversation about desire which extends beyond the bounds of what we’re taught is “normal”. What do you want to do? What do you want to have done to you? What can you survive? What experiences are you curious to try? People tear their bodies apart mountain climbing, and we call it a sport, with admiration in our minds for those who persevere beyond. I think the mind and body of the BDSM masochist are wired similarly.

Reading about the brains and the visceral experiences extreme sport athletes share, I find myself nodding emphatically more frequently than not. Having been on the business end of a whip for hours on end (or any number of other intensely painful situations), there’s a certain place I get to where processing and taking the pain I’m receiving becomes a pleasure and an excitement I want to continue with. Focus, and an alignment of my body and mind takes over. The pleasure aspect to it is aided by a heightened awareness of my body. It feels a lot like “new relationship energy” to me. If I’m playing with someone who is mindful of pacing and physical cues, what we accomplish in scene can extend on and on and on, building and ebbing and building over and over again.

It isn’t just the activity though that makes this possible. It is the person on each end of the exchange, and the energy we’re willing to receive and let go of and send into one another in support of our sport. If I push a needle into someone with a specific intent, it feels remarkably different than if I push it into someone without, carelessly, or with a completely different intent in mind. If my submissive receives my needling and tenses up, or instead is breathing through it, or has the mindset of “being good” for me, or is resistant, we will both feel those effects. Energetic vampires exist and are horrible to scene with — but I’m a connection slut, so in general someone sucking all the energy out of the room and out of me without returning it for the benefit of my continued interest in play is my nightmare idea of a partner.

I’ve been lucky to find scene partner after scene partner, on this ride through BDSM, to be beautiful people who I feel lucky to jab/kick/pinch/hit and make howl. Perverted? Absolutely. Rewarding? Unendingly yes! Fulfilling and sustainable? Check! When BDSM play feels like love, paired with a giving partner, I never want to stop making my submissive feel as they’ve fantasized about wanting to feel. It works for us both.

Play On My Friends,
~ Creature

Please support my work on Patreon. For one time donations click here: Support the Artist 
~Thank you.

Talking with Strangers

I played outside with friends and siblings throughout childhood and early adulthood and still prefer a lake or forest to my computer (though you wouldn’t know it, as I’m glued to this contraption most of the time). The number one rule we got taught was not to talk to strangers. Back then talking to strangers happened face to face, and that stranger could snatch you away, drug you, lure you into a van with candy, or somehow deceive you like the Devil into unholy marriage…

Concerning talking with strangers: Things. Have. Changed.

I have a profile on half a dozen dating or socializing websites these days. They’re all slightly different, and I use each of them for different purposes. Considering my proclivities outlined in this here blog, understand that I don’t always lead whips and needle points out… I consider who my audience is when I write a profile. I consider the type of people who are also attracted to that website, and what my agenda is for each particular space. I think about who on each site I might be compatible with, versus whose agenda or advances I want kept far far away… Is the site “friend” friendly, or am I in violation of expectations if I’m not looking for FWB, NSA, LTRs, anonymous sex, etc.? Is the site kink friendly? How many intolerantly religious or conservative people will hit on me, ignoring the fact that I mentioned my queer, kinky, fluid, non-binary trans, non-monogamous, liberal and socialist as fuck, neo drag and burlesque performing, sex-positive, anti-misogynistic, anti-racist, egalitarian stuff right up front? Is the demographic tweaked older or younger? Is the demographic tweaked along gendered assumptions concerning power dynamics or traditional roles? Do I think any of the people I meet on the site will become close friends, potential dates, research buddies, clients, the list goes on…

I am a character actor. My job in this lifetime has been to watch people and listen to people and figure out what makes them tick. I also am a person (read: creature). An autonomous individual carrying around my own feelings and fears and blind spots and questions and beliefs. But mostly I’m a person who wants to meet you like I climb a tree. I want to see you from across a field and be interested in your form and movements. I want that momentarily piqued interest to slowly become the desire to get closer and investigate. I want approaching you to be anything but disappointing — please don’t be rotten or surrounded by poison ivy… I want to put my hands on you, gingerly at first, and then full palm contact, sliding my arm around a branch, little by little giving you some of my weight. If it feels good and I can figure out how to do it, I want to crawl up your trunk, unpuzzling ways to get higher as we play this game of understanding our bodies together for the first time. When I’ve gotten to a place that feels good I want stillness and fresh air — to lie across your boughs perfectly balanced, only a little afraid that I’ll drop. The climb down will be thoughtful and new too. I won’t always be able to see where I’m going, but our solidly built connection heading up will help. And then a hug and a sigh — until next time I’m around, Tree, it was beautiful being with you.

It’s unfortunate that most people I meet online do not climb trees with any regularity.

There is instead, with these safe-to-talk-to-’cause-online strangers, a blundering certainty that I am existent only to be placed like a bow upon a bough. It is assumed I will stay put until faded, worn, and falling apart, until I am taken down. It seems believed, in these many circles, that tree creatures are to be cut apart or molded into a shape that fits the suburban street they are growing on — even though Tree was a seedling before most houses in this neighborhood came around. I don’t want your candy, your silver tongue’d promises, your vitriol for saying no, Troll. I want respect and solidity. Solidarity.

Every now and then with some sweet strangers I get to be Tree, feeling their creature climbing feelings, and bearing the weight of attention. I get to hold them in a naturally balanced and open place for just a moment before they get down. These are good message days…

How to talk to a stranger whose sense of touch is the plastic smoothness of a keyboard, not the rough and tumble ever changing texture of our barks? You cannot cut and paste the experience of a hiking trip or nighttime skinnydip. When we meet we have not seen it all, we have seen nothing! I like to be a creature meeting Tree, find me in a field or forest playing.

Play On My Friends,
~ Karin

If you like my blog, please check out my Patreon Page and support me. For one time donations click here: Support the Artist

~Thank you.

Sexual Economics

Criminalization of sex work isn’t hurting cis white non-disabled heterosexual men…

Lately I’ve had a lot of conversations about money with friends who work in the sex industry. Things aren’t good right now. The longtime marketplace for sex workers to meet clients, Backpage, shut its adult ad section down in January. Many workers are struggling with less money or are unable to find new clients, and I’ve even heard of people asking for discounts during this time of hardship, rather than offering to pay extra in solidarity… That’s pretty fucked up.

Let’s get this clear, sex workers losing a major advertisement and referral location isn’t hurting cis white non-disabled heterosexual men. It isn’t hurting people who already have a lot of disposable income. It isn’t hurting the people who pay for sexual services. It is hurting women, people of color, and LGBTQ people. It is hurting people with less choices for employment in our society, and people who choose sex work because they find it empowering to do so.

I doubt this situation is hurting sex traffickers that much, which was the reason cited for pressure on Backpage to shut its adult section down in the first place. It is harder for the FBI and other law officers to find traffickers now that everyone’s been pushed to find alternative spaces or gone further underground.

At the same time Backpage was shutting down, Fetlife was under attack by credit card companies. Fetlife owner John Baku ended up deleting a lot of content on Fetlife unannounced. He eventually decided to move forward, restoring some pages and re-upholding Fetlife’s mission — but without the support of credit card processors. A lot of individuals and communities within the worldwide kinky network lost photos, videos, entire groups disappeared, and structures of support that have been in place since the site’s inception were vaporized…

I don’t want to write this blog today. I don’t want to write this blog today because I’m having money problems myself (which is exactly why I’m thinking about this). I don’t want to write this blog because I’ve always wanted to get into Pro-Domme work and other various forms of sex work, and every time I have a hard time financially I think about starting on that road. I don’t want to write this blog about money and sex because money is depressing, and living a sexy life isn’t. Sexuality isn’t inherently depressing; playfulness, flirtation, intrigue, seduction, trying new things, being in the moment — all these things aren’t depressing and boring.

Money is depressing and boring.

Judgement about what consenting adults do with their time together is wrong.

People who refuse to embrace the differences they have with others, who opt instead to take choices away from people who aren’t like them are wrong — and I don’t know a better application of the word evil.

What if I sent you a photo of my body that you liked? Would you pay me for it?

What if I’m interested in a particular sex act that you’d like to engage with me in, and I was willing to do it for a fee? Would that hurt anyone?

What if it took me a lot of time and money to learn how to do that activity safely for your benefit? Is it my job to work toward your happiness without compensation?

What if I really want you to lick my boot and crawl around on the floor like a pig and as a reward I let you masturbate in front of me and pay me tribute for your appreciation? Should someone go to jail for that? [Bonus on this one: If so, whom?]

What if we meet up and you pay for my dinner and after dinner we have sex and after sex you buy me something expensive I’ve been desiring? Who the fuck doesn’t engage in that type of situation at some point in their life?

Does it matter if we’re married?

I’m not talking about coercion, underage sex, or the tangential extremes people constantly throw in the way of honest conversation about how sex and money are consensually related. I’m talking about the economy of sexual expression and desire, which our civilization refuses to legislate in a way that protects sex workers and minorities or contributes to the safety of our society’s collective sexual health. Women, people of color, LGBTQ people, people with less choices for employment in our society, and people who choose sex work for themselves because they find it empowering lose out every time. Our society as a whole loses out when we punish people for engaging in the sex of their choosing. I’ll point out that it’s not the ad execs using women’s bodies to sell cars and diamonds struggling to make ends meet, yet I know a lot of models and actors who get mistreated at work, and don’t eat much because of payscale… Do you think it’s a coincidence that white cis herosexual non-disabled men aren’t the ones making bank in the sex trade industry? They’re making bank in every other one, including jobs which use someone else’s sex to sell.

I don’t.

Repression is oppression.

The way our country legislates and criminalizes the sex industry highlights that.

Play On My Friends,
~ Karin

If you like my blog, please check out my Patreon Page and support me. For one time donations click here: Support the Artist

~Thank you.

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