Our Bodies are Amazing

Whip marks

Our bodies are amazing. It’s simply true. Our skin is this incredible material which holds our innards in despite gravity, tearing, impact, burns, and broken bones inside its casing. Pain is this amazing tool that our bodies offer us in conversation. It proves a malleable experience which we can turn up or turn off the noise of depending on our emotional fortitude, our expectations, and our perception of our safety in that given moment. BDSM plays with these things, allowing us to find newer and newer spectrums of control through sheer force of will, and with the survival intelligence we are gifted from experience. Trust is built through trial and error, and over time our lines in the sand about what we believe we can tolerate moves further and further into the wild. Humans were built for adventure, for physical fortitude, and for intellectual and emotional growth. We get bigger from trying new things and from digestible challenge.


I am grateful that I’ve found these communities of people who are as interested in what their bodies are capable of, what their hearts are capable of, what their creative intellects and wills are able to accomplish, as I am. I am proud of what my body has shown me it’s happy (and sometimes unhappy but able) to take. New experience after new experience has taught me more about myself than comfort ever could over the years. I am repeatedly astonished when my desires shift from fear and rejection of an idea, to intrigue, to want, and oftentimes to ease.

There was a moment in time (just a moment) when I considered being punched and “rough body play” to be an awful idea, I thought “who does that?!?!”… The very next day I was punched in a scene and as I felt the deep reverberations echo through my torso, sending pleasure to parts of my body I hadn’t felt come alive for a very long time, I knew this was one of my favorite things. I was angry that being born female had taken these feelings away from me for so long. Getting beat in scene was a reclaiming of my own skin and bones, an emotionally powerful and moving new understanding that I was capable of so much more than I had known.


Another awe was found hanging 20 feet above a crowd of hundreds with only 2 hooks pierced through my shoulder skin holding me up. I felt my skeleton and organs trying to escape the meatsack I am alongside gravity. Epidermis, I kiss your virtues. Pain is a mindgame where fact and fear wrestle it out over intense sensation, and the journey is a classroom of information recalibrating one’s reactions for many future moments to come.

If you want it to.

The offer is open to everyone.

Dare to walk on fire with someone who knows how, and you’ll learn.

Recently I found myself with fistfulls of needles, pricking, suturing, and tying flesh in formations I hadn’t ever done before. It was beautiful. A love of blood satisfied for the evening, and my sadistic pleasure centers served well. Balls tied to the ceiling and pulled on with weights, labia and nipples sutured and strung up as well, two human animals who love one another and who offered me their flesh I tied together, then needled ribcage to ribcage, and corseted together with string on the bed which was our playground… The chemicals of connection, a practice of breathing, the fuel of trust and desire, and an electrifying sensation from every spark of energy in the room passed back and forth between us all as minutes turned to hours. From this I was high and happy and grateful.

Never cease to be amazed.

Play On My Friends,
~ Creature

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

Fins, Feet, and Wings

Where the hook went in. Blade Right.

There is despair in not being enough. To being unformed or imperfect is fearsome, and it never goes away (though I know the shameful secret is that we all feel this way).

What is the thing I can do which gives me control for a moment?

I am writing now in service to my wild heart — impulses to destroy everything in my path, to sob a trillion tears, to wrestle ’till my death — these feelings overtaken by a simple movement of my fingers on this sticky imperfect plastic keyboard. I am writing from my center to you, who I imagine is also searching… It is the simplest thing I know how to do, so typing is the thing I choose.

I should go out and find a flower. Take a moment and fill my lungs with its perfume. Become the plant, and feed her with my exhale too. Symbiotically balancing, creating calm, and now.

Watch the baby of any creature discover a new thing — the way they react in fear or surprise, smile with trust, calm from food, or just simply take it in all around… At one time every one of us was so small and empty.

I am a mer-creature hooked from the primordial ocean, a rocky shore off of the frigid coast of Maine. I was caught some few decades ago and reeled in. Taken from my home and wiped clean. I learned to play all the games people play, but I long impossibly for the home I’ve forgotten. My bones howl and I can not quiet them, only wait their sounding out. I bloodlust the feeling of frigid ice water cutting the pain in my chest, slowly overtaking through pins and needles until a slightly warm sense of coming hypothermia creeps in, and then nothing… Salt and waves more real than a cradle, is what I crave.

Stories make us who we are.

Who am I? Who do I get to be? If I fail, will I be cast away? Foam on the sea? Doomed to wander, searching endlessly for those who, also erased, somehow recognize me — or is it finding the impossibles who will simply let me be that is my saving strategy? I may not fit any mold, but I hold my pieces together as best I can. Stitched up with fishing line, clear as the water and strong tether against my earthly weight…

Hung on hooks I know who I am.

A meatsack.

Bones and muscles and guts heavy from gravity, trapped inside a stretching skin stubborn enough to hold it all in. I was that mer-creature who traded my tail for legs. Bloody shoes. Due to desire. And today I ask for the pain of wings.

After soaring what next will I withstand, trading comfort for endorphins and sharp unease, all because I wish to truly be?

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.

My Needles are in!!! My Needles are in!!!


I have a performance coming up this weekend which demanded I learn some new tricks and order supplies. I was so excited when my needles came in this morning that I set up a quick rehearsal/research trial immediately! I’ve been on the “learning how to pierce myself” warpath for the past couple weeks, reading and watching everything I can find, and meditating on all those times I’ve been someone else’s pincushion. The self-piercing phenomenon turned out to be a necessary road as I haven’t found a needle top in the area to learn from — but then again, I’m really glad to have a new skill, and as a pretty thorough researcher I have a lot of confidence in my comprehension. I also really enjoyed my results! So, for the bold peepers out there, here’s a quick pictorial share of my rehearsal process today. Enjoy… 

Prepping for my first pricks…


Three needles in: 18g x 1 1/2″ length, 23g x 1 1/2″ length, and a tiny little 27g x 1/2″ upright stab!




Then I buried the tips of the larger needles, and decided to play with the 27g lacing under and over…


All’s well, and out they come… I did purposefully scrape a little on the way out to see how it would be… (Ouch! And mmm)…


And, as an added bonus, here’s a pic from yesterday’s rehearsal for a birthday party event I volunteered to be the candles at… It’s a good week to be alive and feeling things! Make a wish…



To Breath and Being,
~ Karin

If you like my blog, please check out my Patreon Page and consider supporting me, or just click here: Support the Artist

~Thank you.

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