A gentle note before you read: What follows speaks of losing safety and learning to reclaim it. If any part of your own story echoes here, please move slowly, breathe often, and know that you are not alone. These words were written from healing, not from hurt, to remind you that the body remembers how to come home.
From the Farm to the Flame
Hello, I’m Kylie Kerr, the heart and pulse behind the story of Worship Me.
I grew up on a small farm - a world of wide-open skies, sacred rhythm, and soil that spoke in seasons. The earth taught me early how to listen: to silence, to cycles, to the quiet language of life itself.
But before I understood the worth of my own body, it was taken from me. A choice stolen without consent left me carrying the quiet ache that so many women know - the feeling of being touched but unseen, claimed but not cared for.
For years, I mistook that violation as proof that I was broken, damaged, unworthy of love. I became what psychology calls hyper-independent: the protector, the performer, the one who never needed help. Trauma had rewired my nervous system to equate control with safety and distance with dignity. I mistook numbness for strength, self-sacrifice for love, and constant doing for healing. So I wore resilience like armour - strong on the outside, but disconnected from myself on the inside - until I realised that strength without softness isn’t wholeness.
That awakening changed everything. Healing taught me this: what was taken from my body never touched my worth. No act can erase the sacred within us - it can only bury it beneath the noise of shame. And every woman, no matter her story, carries the power to remember, to rise, and to reclaim. She does not heal by forgetting what happened; she heals by remembering who she is. Because the body is not the wound - it is the altar where her wholeness waits to be witnessed again.
Through heartbreaks and healings, through motherhood, loneliness, and rediscovery, I began to remember a truth deeper than pain: My body was never the wound. It was the altar. And every woman deserves to know that her worth was never lost - only waiting to be reclaimed. She does not need to be fixed; she needs to remember and reclaim the sacred worth that was always hers.
I created this movement for the women who forgot their fire, and for the men who are ready to learn that reverence is the highest form of desire.
- Because intimacy is not about taking. It’s about tending.
- It’s not conquest. It’s communion.
- And love, when met with presence, becomes worship.
Our luxury, food-grade Body Play Oils are crafted as invitations to slow down, to savour, to turn every touch into prayer. Each drop is a reminder that pleasure is not shameful - it’s holy.
Today, I walk beside my beloved husband, Todd - a man who meets me in devotion, not domination, and whose reverence helped bring this vision to life. Together, we embody what we learn and create, living proof that worship is love’s highest expression. After all, someone has to test every drop - and we take our duties very seriously.
From our sacred table to yours, I invite you to return to what was never truly lost - to the kind of connection that heals, the kind of touch that honours, and the kind of love that remembers itself.