Sure, sex sells, but what does it cost?

It’s not every day I get coffee with a retired dominatrix.  

She isn’t just any dominatrix, she’s a student at the University of Stirling where the Student’s Union passed a motion back in February to “support student sex workers”.  

What does this look like? I don’t really think the Union knows seeing as they’ve not done very much about it since the motion was passed.  

My interviewee suggests we meet at a Greek café. Traditional music breaks through the silence of the near-empty space as I sit down and order a latte. The coffee machine hums as she messages asking if I can come to her friend’s flat instead.  

I get my coffee to go.  

She apologizes for the change of plans as she lets me in. She thinks it might be better to meet somewhere where she can speak freely. 

I reassure her that it’s not an issue at all and that I’m just glad to be talking to her: a face to the motion.  

This is not my first time meeting a sex worker.   

The Red Light District

My friends were determined to show me a “good time” for my twenty-first birthday whilst we were in Amsterdam.  

Neon lights buzzed and danced along the canal, whilst scantily clad women watched from their windows.  

I asked my friend, a local, why they weren’t naked and she told me that they only stripped down if you paid for it.  

Two euros can’t get you much in the tourist trap that is Amsterdam; it can get you a peepshow.  

Like the wardrobe in Narnia, our booth was inconspicuous from the outside, however once inside, it was anything but.  

Light through a window revealed a woman, underwear sliding down her thighs.   

There she was, laid bare, and for this moment, for this monetary exchange, she held all the power as I struggled to meet her eyes.   

Was she powerful? I don’t know.   

The Question of Power

Those who claim to know the answer fall into two main categories: sex work as oppressive and sex work as an act of liberation. 

In an article for Springer Link, Victoria Bateman explains that radical feminism views sex work as actively contributing to women’s oppression. They see it as not only commodifying those engaging, but generally encouraging men to view women as sexual objects. Radical feminism, thus, calls for the complete abolition of sex work through the Nordic model which makes selling sex legal but the purchasing illegal.  

Bateman counters the radical feminist argument by looking towards different sex-worker-led organisations that campaign for a complete decriminalisation approach (like the one seen in Amsterdam) to make practices safe and monitored. She argues that sex work means different things to different people and that its liberating or oppressive role cannot be cleanly defined.  

Today, I am interested to know what it feels like to sell sex, especially in Stirling, which no one could mistake for Amsterdam.   

Sex Work in Scotland

Technically sex work is legal in Scotland. However, there are a lot of grey areas as to the soliciting of services or what counts as brothel-keeping.  

The Union’s motion notes: “If five students are living together in a flat and one or more are sex workers and their flatmates are aware of this, by law, they are ‘brothel keeping’ and committing an offence by assisting their flatmate to do sex work.”  

Besides this legality issue, the University has its own specifications as to what is and isn’t allowed.  

A spokesperson for the University told me, in no uncertain terms, that: “Our occupancy agreements prohibit businesses to be run from University-managed accommodation. In situations where we become aware of a business being run from University-managed accommodation, we address each instance on a case-by-case basis.”  

Sex businesses are still businesses, no matter how potentially liberating they may be.   

So, unlike the women of the red-light district who sell sex out in the open, my interviewee’s gig had to exist under the radar.  

Behind Closed Doors

We’re sat on the floor with the heater going as she organizes a pile of clothes. Plushies are sat in a neat row on the bed and fairy lights twinkle. It reminds me of my own room.  

There’s condensation on the windows, we are tucked away from the world outside as I begin my interview.  

The question I’ve been wondering about escapes point-blank, I ask her how she got into being a dominatrix.  

Her mouth turns up slightly at the corners as she describes a couple of bondage-related movies and an internet rabbit hole that first piqued her interest.  

She doesn’t waver as she confesses what drew her in most: an outlet where she could feel in control.  

She’s still smiling, but her eyes are distant as she describes the abusive relationships she found herself in as a teenager and how she struggled to find a sense of self out with these relationships.

“I didn’t have a way of understanding that, aside from that identity of being a girlfriend or a wife or a daughter or a sister or a friend you have your individualized self too.

“In every single one of my relationships, I was always reminded that I was nothing, that I wasn’t important, that I was just like everyone else, that I’m replaceable,” she said.

Her eyes find mine again as she explains, “It’s not that I just wanted to be a woman wearing black latex or leather, whipping men. I wanted to be able to see myself as powerful… To claim a power over someone that trusts me enough to give me their consent and who sees me as important.”  

She explains that the men who paid for her services, paid for the idea of her as a powerful luxury. To be a luxury when she felt unimportant – that’s something. 

I wonder if through the act of “faking it” she ultimately did start to feel powerful?   

Kink as Income

Once she started university kink really became her income.  

She tells me, slightly exasperated, about the part-time jobs she’d apply to. “I would hand my CV in, and I would email, and I would call, and I would get nothing.”  

This was despite having work experience.  

She started online, promoting her explicit content on OnlyFans and other websites through X, formerly known as Twitter, and soon enough gained a following.  

Through this following she built up a paying subscriber base and real-life clientele with whom she’d meet at sex dungeons.  

Picture Fifty Shades of Grey’s red room, lots of leather and toys not intended for children, but run by dominatrixes. 

She talks me through the specifics of arranging these meetups.  

There was a £30 fee to get in touch with her to ensure that the gentleman wasn’t wasting her time, forms filled out beforehand detailing interests and hard nos, and then the tantalizing moment his fantasy became a reality.  

For the entire experience the client would pay upwards of £300; enough to cover rent.  

I’m surprised when she tells me that she never had sex with her clients, I feel rather naïve.  

Foot massages as sex

Not unkindly, she explains, “It’s a mental game. It’s the way that you communicate in the environment and the energy that’s going around.

“I could literally be reading a book and getting my feet massaged by a man. He could be anybody, but he is my client and that is a session.”  

It’s an exchange of sexual power where she is the one in control, she is the powerful woman whose attention they’ve paid for.  

She sits in front of me, face bare, in her pajamas and it sticks out to me that these men pay for a version of herself that she wishes to be.  

Outside these sessions it’s anyone’s guess who comes out on top, who holds the power?  

Power outside the dungeon

She explains how work isn’t always just the work. “There’s been times where I went to Wetherspoons, and a client would send me a drink. You have to be able to understand that that’s going to be your life now, no matter how small your account is, people will know you.”  

She’s silent for a moment before admitting that, “It’s easier to find dangerous men in sex work because you’re not protected.”   

The folding of clothes has paused.  

Former VP of Communities, Jess Reid, put through the Union’s motion to, in her own words “…ensure support for a community who are continually and systematically discriminated against”.  

She notes how the Eviction Ban, which delays evictions, does not include those charged with brothel-keeping.  

I wonder how much the Union can really do.  

Reid goes on to say: “The student movement has always been ahead in ensuring progress and change in our country, I believe that we should continue that by ensuring support for the rights of sex workers.”  

Is it enough?

What does my interviewee think about the Union’s support?   

Unlike the ladies in the windows who have strict rules and security if anything goes wrong, she is adamant that she only had herself and one or two trusted friends.  

Her eyebrows knit together as she tells me that it would be great for the Union to run campaigns supporting student sex workers, but really, she thinks what needs changed is the University’s existing support services.  

“The only thing that would help me feel more supported in doing sex work would be if the school was just better in women’s well being sexually.” 

A spokesperson from the University tells me that there are a variety of counselling services available for those suffering abuse and that they “recognise that the cost-of-living crisis is putting financial pressure on everyone in society, including students.”  

There’s something we haven’t discussed yet, it fizzes in the air like a can of soda before the tab pops off: why did she quit?  

“The End”

She’s adamant that I include in my article that she was lucky; nothing terrible ever happened to her while she practiced sex work.   

There is no dire ending to her time as a dominatrix. No terrible happening to teach her a holier-than-thou lesson.  

Rather, she tells me, she was becoming worried that the University would catch on and that her living situation would be compromised.  

She gave herself two weeks and deleted all her platforms.  

A sense of loss colours her words as she tells me about the community of dominatrixes that she is no longer part of.   

She sold sex and gained confidence, gained a community. 

“It did make me feel empowered, you know at the end of the day, I was a young girl coming out of being abused. My power was taken from me before I even knew I was capable of holding it. Those wiser, older dominatrixes taught me every day, personally or generally, that I should not accept that.

“My clients, although I never got that personal with them, showed me I’m someone to listen to, that I do have authority…even though it is not the most safe profession, it still gives you a sense of nobility that you can apply that to your vanilla (everyday) life. I think being a dominatrix specifically gives you that.” 

Before me she is unabashed; her eyes rarely failing to meet my own. 

I ask her how she’s been getting on since quitting and her answer is one of uncertainty. The rent’s been paid, but groceries have been hard to come by. 

Current VP of Communities, Zoë Crosher, says the motion will be picked up again in January. That doesn’t matter now though, at least not for my interviewee. 

University Full Statement

A spokesperson for the University of Stirling said: “We recognise that the cost-of-living crisis is putting financial pressure on everyone in society, including students. 

“The University offers an extensive range of support services to all our students in all circumstances; prioritising support rather than punitive measures. Any student in financial difficulty can apply for discretionary and assistance funds through the University. 

“The University and our Students’ Union work closely with external partners to support any member of our community who has experienced, or is experiencing, sexual or gender-based violence, aggression or coercion in any form. Our robust support systems – led by our specially-trained Sexual Violence and Misconduct Liaison Officers – ensure that all students, in any circumstance, receive comprehensive and personalised support in a protected and confidential space. 

“Our support structures have recently been further enhanced through improvements to our report and support model, and to our first responder training amongst staff across the University. 

“Any student in need of support of any kind should contact the University’s Student Support Services in the first instance, or our wellbeing partners Spectrum.Life, whose service is available 24 hours a day, seven days a week.” 

LINKS TO RESOURCES

• The University’s Student Support Services can be contacted via live chat, by phoning 01786 466022, by visiting in person at the Student Services Hub in Campus Central, or by emailing ask@stir.ac.uk. 

• Spectrum.Life is available 24 hours a day, seven days a week by calling 0800 031 8227 (freephone UK) or 00353 1 518 0277 (international). Alternatively, students can arrange a call back via WhatsApp by texting ‘Hi’ to 07418 360780; or by signing up to Spectrum.Life and arranging a call through their live chat (organisation code: Stirling). 

Featured Image Credit: Екатерина Мясоед via Pexels