Actor Turned Director

Some of the tools I teach with…

I’ve been thinking about my fantasies a lot lately. I think I need to get a little black (and crimson?) book to write them down in… Fantasies are a beautiful stepping stone to scenario, and scenario is a gorgeous stop on the path to planning and play. I am thinking about fantasies because I want to play…

Who’s down for being mummified? Interrogated? Pierced, poked, slapped, hot waxed, led on a leash, stepped on, or wants my flesh therapeutically under their fingers? Anyone for being an ashtray? Pet? Gender bent? How about a power exchange role play? There are so many games which have been played on me that I am excited to flip the script about and Top or Dominate. My brain won’t stop ticking — it’s really quite amusing.

But what, Monsignor Karin?! Aren’t you a sub my boy? Yes! Well, I have been consistently for a number of years now… I’ve seeked out experiences and play from so many places, done extensive research on kinky things, taught classes and demo’d for workshops, helped partners, and I’ve been lucky (and occasionally unlucky) enough to play with a wide range of people doing inventive, nasty things to delight me. I think I’m ready to find some of my own playthings… Teaching has always brought me close to Dominance, I suppose. That role, Teacher, has kept me firmly in a place of Top with regularity for a few years. “Dominating” during class though is something I have divorced myself from the pleasure of… Recently I’ve had multiple experiences where the scales got tipped somehow. I found myself not just demonstrating “how to” but finding blurred lines and exciting new territory as the experience deepened (consensually) into scening and switch. Like my experiences moving from being an actor to Directing — I find incredible strength and pleasure from being able to communicate with my actors. I salivate while drawing out what is the best of theirs and pushing them to go a little further still, to find excellence before the end. I find I am empathic, understanding the feelings my own actor self might be experiencing in their process, riding the energy of the room as we unfold and find our scene. I leave excited about the connection and the work, happy to have helped… but more.

Something has opened in my heart recently. A desire to serve by lead. A readiness and a feeling of safety I haven’t felt before. An ease with my own self-worth, I think. It’s been this toy, tossed in the room, which I’ve been contemplating for awhile from the corner. I finally batted it about a bit… and then… then… well then, I got excited. Now I want to pounce some more.

It’s interesting that though I’ve considered (and loved) myself submissive, I’ve been intentionally building knowledge, opinions, experiences, connections, researching, teaching classes, and now finally a desire to move from sub, to sub who teaches, to sub who teaches and demos, to freshly blooming Dominant.

Does this mean I don’t want you to beat me up if we’ve got a good thing going?! HELL NO!!! Even therapists have therapists, teachers have teachers, and my sadistic ass didn’t get less masochistic… I don’t know that I’ll ever not want to be handled by a talented, loving, sadistic, hot-as-fuck D-type too… Even if the both of us, for a moment, maybe turn on you…

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.

Capacity for Pleasure

My morning thoughts today: Sooo tired, bone achingly so, but happy and calm. My skin feels less and less like my own as I grow older, even as my body’s shape and weight fluctuations, firmness, and space-taking strength becomes more comfortable. It’s taken me decades to look in a mirror and not see an enemy staring back…

I love the struggle of my day: a head that wants, and a spirit who sits still to listen for what the self is actually saying. My brain is too tired to write for the lack of sleep I am currently enduring, and my body wants all of the things, experiences and connections, too quickly for digestion. I volley back and forth in my head about fantasies I am too afraid to ask for in person, yet I turn around and enact these very things in a room full of strangers who come by at the agreed upon time, sit and wait to see and hear what I’ve been keeping so quiet and protected…

I am my own safety, infrequently lent to singles except in moments of inspiration or the random rare chemical desire… Oh, to fall into a of cozy and careful touch, as I do those painful and challenging tests of my endurance. I might fall pieces to pieces for a sweet kindness on my skin, a spirit bigger than my own carving out time for my release. It is easier, my feral self says, to fight, bite, trust in pressure against my body than succumb to the potential trap of a caress.

My ex would throw their back out every time they got a massage. I feel that instability in my heart. To love the everything which I am made of, embodied in you and you and you is righteous and divine! To spend an elongated moment focused specifically on my pleasure for pleasure’s sake is galling, insipid, a fear with teeth and walls, a shadow I cannot find the end of. I know these things are one and the same, a microcosm and a macrocosm spiraling in and out, the never-changing parts of what makes life for the living… Still though, I find pleasure terrifying. I find it insurmountable, untrustable, a thing I want to rage at, an end. Losing myself in something I won’t need to heal from? I think implosion might be self love. I’m not so afraid of death being pain, I am afeared that unfolding into pleasure might take me first.

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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