sex workers

Pay For Your Porn, Please!

Kate Sloan
Me on a shoot day in 2016

One of the many ways I’ve seen porn performers get insulted and degraded online is by dudes (yes, it is almost always dudes) yelling, “Why would I pay for your OnlyFans (or whatever) when I can get any porn I want for free?!”

Besides being super mean-spirited and unnecessary (not to mention reeking of whorephobia), this argument – if one can even call it that – is based on a fundamental misunderstanding of how the porn industry works, and how art in general gets made. And yes, I would consider porn to be an art form!

See, as the world is learning in real-time right now from the Writers Guild of America strike, the art you love doesn’t just magically appear out of thin air – actual people make it (I’m not talking about AI art here, because it kinda sucks, both morally and artistically), and those people deserve to be paid fairly for their time, work, and expertise. This is true whether the art in question is something we generally understand to be expensive, like an oil painting, or something we generally understand to be cheap or free, like online porn.

As with any kind of art, if we want porn to keep being made, we need to ensure that its creators are able to sustain themselves financially so they can continue making it. I’m no porn-industry expert, but it seems to me that the emphasis has shifted massively from big porn studios to smaller creators and collectives over the last decade or so, and I imagine a lot of that has to do with how often people torrent porn, stream it on sites that have pirated it, and so on. Big studio productions are expensive to make, and can’t be continually cranked out if no one is paying for them. I love indie porn stars as much as the next hyper-online gal, but I can’t deny that I also sometimes appreciate the spectacle of a huge-scale porn production like Pirates (2005), which supposedly had a $1 million budget (!!), or Alice in Wonderland (1976), which had a budget of $500,000 (about $2.5 million in today’s money if we account for inflation!).

That’s not to say it’s impossible to watch free porn in an ethical way. Creators on YouTube and PornHub alike, for instance, can make ad revenue from people who watch their videos, at no additional cost to viewers. Many independent creators offer some free content as part of their overall marketing strategy, though of course the hope is that a substantial portion of their free viewers will become paid viewers over time.

It’s also definitely possible to pay for your porn even if you’re on a budget. Sites like Clips4Sale and ManyVids are chock full of videos priced at $5 or less, which you can then watch and re-watch to your heart’s content. Many performers offer sales to mark certain holidays or just when they need to drum up some extra cash, so follow your faves on social media if you want to be informed when/if that happens. You can even click here for a Naughty America discount. There is a TON of cheap porn out there, and every time you buy someone’s porn, or subscribe to their OnlyFans feed or similar, you’re helping them out and letting them know with your dollars that you want them to keep making wank material for you to enjoy.

I’m happy to pay for romance novels, because they make me giggle and blush; thriller movies, because they make me gasp and scream; and action video games, because they make my heart speed up and engage my brain. The other reason I’m happy to pay for these things (when I have the cash to do so) is that I want them to keep being made. By that token, it makes complete sense that I’d also want to pay for my porn – because it entertains me, inspires me, teaches me new things about my sexuality, and (of course) turns me on and gets me off. I hope you’ll pay for your porn too, at least some of the time, because a future without porn (or with porn created by soulless AIs) sounds pretty fuckin’ bleak, if you ask me.

 

This post contains a sponsored link. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.

5 Sexual Fantasies I Have About Sex Work

Kate Sloan

1. As a special gift – perhaps for a birthday or an anniversary – my partner hires an escort who is trained in the fine art of cunnilingus. While I lay there blindfolded, my partner gives explicit verbal instructions to our guest for the evening, first on how to tease and arouse me, and later on how to lick and suck my clit until I’m an incoherent wet mess.

Later that night, after our new friend has left, we lie in bed together eating ice cream and debriefing. I feel safe, supported, and loved.

 

2. I’m at an upscale lingerie store, staring longingly at a deep red lacy bra and its matching panties and garter belt. The price tags, when I glance at them, set off a spike of adrenaline in my body due to their sheer lunacy: $440 for the bra, $250 for the panties. I don’t even want to look at the price of the garter belt.

“Excuse me, miss,” says a random man I hadn’t noticed skulking in the stockings section. He’s tall and handsome in a nondescript way, like a detective in a film noir. “If you don’t mind me saying so, those would look wonderful on you, and it would be my honor to pay for them.” He holds out a credit card, golden and heavy, nodding toward the cash register, where the bored-looking sales clerk seems to already know this man’s M.O.

I smile coolly, take the card and the garments to the front, and tell the clerk, “These are on him.” My smirk makes him visibly tremble as he signs the sales receipt.

 

3. I submit an application to join a house of elite London escorts and subsequently find myself invited in for an interview. As it turns out, the “interview” is really a rigorous test of sexual technique, aimed at ascertaining my skill level so as to figure out how to price my services, or indeed, whether to hire me at all.

The house has invited some beloved regulars to be our test subjects for the day. Surrounded by other brothel hopefuls, I suck cock after cock, showing off my blowjob skills, possibly my greatest asset in this hiring process. After a particularly satisfying orgasm, one of the men says to the madam of the house, “You should hire this one – her tongue is magic,” and I glow with pleasure at the vaguely dehumanizing praise.

 

4. A client flies me out to his city for a long weekend date. As I climb out of the Uber he sent to the airport and begin dragging my suitcase up the steps to the fancy hotel where we’ll be staying, I get a text from him. Sorry, darling – something came up at work. Can we raincheck until next month? Make yourself comfortable and get whatever you’d like from room service, on me.

I smile serenely in the elevator, let myself into the clean white room with a shiny keycard, and collapse happily on the enormous bed. Later, I take a sex toy or two into the massive bathtub that overlooks the city, and get myself off decadently like no client ever could.

 

5. I catch the attention of an influential congressperson so as to pitch them on the importance of rights and protections for sex workers, they subsequently make an impassioned speech on the house floor, and every politician in attendance wipes tears from their eyes as they vote to repeal SESTA/FOSTA and decriminalize sex work permanently at the federal level.

Okay, that one isn’t so much a sexual fantasy… but it’s definitely something I ponder ardently from time to time.

Write to your local politicians and make it clear to them that you care about sex workers’ rights. Sign petitions, donate to SWOP Behind Bars and Red Light Legal, and advocate for people to respect and decriminalize sex work. People in that industry may be hot as hell, but they’re also human, and they’ve suffered more than their fare share of discrimination and stigmatization. It has to stop.

 

This post was sponsored. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.

Book Review: Brothel’s Kitchen

Kate Sloan

Sex work is such a normalized field in my sex-positive, feminist communities that sometimes I sort of forget just how stigmatized it is in the world at large – even among people who claim to be “liberal” and “progressive.”

Narratives persist about how all sex work is nonconsensual and exploitative, despite sex workers screaming on social media for years that they’ve chosen their career path and don’t want or need to be “rescued.” Many people still use phrases like “selling your body” to talk about what is actually just the sale of your time and your body-based services, just like what happens in many other fields like massage, modeling, and professional sports. Far too many well-intentioned people try to argue that sex work is bad because it’s “disempowering,” as if the slog of earning a living is held to the same standard of “empowerment” in any other field. It’s perplexing and enraging – especially since so many of these folks think they’re being helpful by parroting their bullshit opinions that are (you guessed it) actively disempowering to sex workers.

I think a lot of this misinformation has to do with sex work’s representation (or lack thereof) in mainstream media, from the evening news to procedural dramas to blockbuster movies. For decades, if not longer, it’s been framed over and over as something one would only do under the direst of financial circumstances, or to get access to drugs, or to quench a psychological craving based in “daddy issues” or other trauma. While obviously there is poverty, addiction, and trauma in the sex work community (just as those things exist in pretty much every other community too), these narratives usually leave out the ways in which sex work can be incredibly positive and enriching for workers and their clients. And hey, newsflash: a job doesn’t have to be 100% peachy all the time to be a valid job worthy of respect and protections. We live under capitalism! Work sucks! Let people choose work that they like to do and feel able to do, since we all have to work anyway!

All this to say, I think positive portrayals of sex work are invaluable in shifting public perception of this misunderstood field. So I was pleased to be asked to review Phillipa Zosime’s new memoir, Brothel’s Kitchen: Flavours of Women.

The book follows Phillipa’s induction into the sex work industry in Austria. It opens with a series of scenes set at a massive orgy held by one of the brothels she works for, at which she’s expected to fuck and fellate clients for 7 hours (with breaks to shower, hydrate, eat, and rest). After she enjoys herself and gets paid, there’s a classic “You’re probably wondering how I ended up in this situation…” flashback and we turn back time to when she first entered the sex work world. Once an archaeology student and political intern, she decided instead to follow her fascination with sex and start having it professionally.

One very interesting aspect of this book to me is the details about Austria’s legal and regulated sex work industry. Regular STI tests are required, workers are considered self-employed contractors for the brothels they frequent, and meticulous paperwork is kept to make sure everything is legit. Many sex workers I know in Canada and the U.S. advocate for decriminalization rather than legalization/regulation, since (among other reasons) legislative bodies don’t tend to know very much about what sex workers and their clients actually need and want – but nonetheless, it was intriguing to hear about how brothels are apparently run over in Austria. The book goes into detail about how profits are split up between workers, madams, and house owners, as well as how much they pay in taxes and what kind of legal due diligence they’re expected to keep up with on a regular basis. These procedural minutiae ought to captivate anyone who’s curious about sex work law around the world.

Another fascinating detail from Philippa’s story is that she had only had one sexual partner before becoming a sex worker. It hadn’t been the most satisfying relationship, and she ended up having her first-ever orgasm with a client at the brothel (which became a point of pride for him and a running joke between them!). This was the point in the book when I started to get excited: it’s a really uncommonly positive depiction of what a career in sex work can be like. If there were more stories like this out there – stories that showcase the good, the bad, the ugly and the beautiful parts of sex work – I think far fewer people would hold shitty misconceptions about the industry.

Yes, there are scary and sad parts of Phillipa’s story. Her friend dies; clients blow up in anger on occasion; women get into snippy arguments; someone’s money gets stolen from her safety deposit box at the brothel. But all of these details just felt really real to me. Writing a fully rosy sex work memoir would, I imagine, be just as absurd as making any other career sound 100% fun 100% of the time. Life has its ups and downs, and so do our jobs, no matter what field we work in.

In addition to heartwarming sex-work friendships and heart-pounding sex-work problems, this book also contains quite a few funny stories that had me literally LOLing. There’s one in particular about one girl accidentally spitting cum onto another girl’s face that I don’t think I will ever be able to forget…

I gotta say, I liked Brothel’s Kitchen even more than I was expecting to. It’s charming, and cute, and fast-paced, and full of strange and illuminating details. There’s a disclaimer at the beginning that explains that “the events and conversations in this book have been set down to the best of the author’s ability,” and that “the author’s recollection of the past occurrences may deviate from those of others,” but there are so many parts of this book that seem like you couldn’t possibly have made them up. That realness is the heart and soul of Phillipa’s writing, and it makes this one hell of a page-turner.

 

Thanks so much to Phillipa Zosime for providing this book for me to review! This post was sponsored, which means that I was paid to write a fair and honest review of the book I was provided with. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.

5 Ways to Unlearn the Anti-Black Whorearchy

Kate Sloan
Remarkable photo by Scarlet Harlot

Racism and sex worker rights are two issues at the forefront of my mind these days, as my social media feeds overflow with white supremacist police violence, loss of income for many due to COVID-19, and the continuing fallout of the whorephobic SESTA/FOSTA laws that make life more difficult for people whose lives were already pretty damn hard.

Recently I listened to a lecture Tina Horn posted to her Why Are People Into That? podcast feed on the topic of the whorearchy – which I knew existed, but hadn’t thought about in much detail before. For those who don’t know, the whorearchy is the abhorrent sociocultural system of biases by which sex workers can be ranked into a hierarchy and then judged based on their place in it. “Trashier,” “sluttier,” more dangerous and/or more stigmatized forms of sex workers tend to end up near the bottom – strippers and street-based escorts come to mind – while those seen as “classier” or less directly/physically involved with their clients tend to be ranked near the top – think webcam performers, sugar babies, and phone sex operators.

While obviously this paradigm is classist, slut-shaming, and whorephobic, it can often be overlooked that it’s also racist, and specifically anti-Black. Clients and fellow sex workers alike can have both overt and covert racist views that affect how Black sex workers are perceived and treated, and what price they can command. As a white person who only dabbles in sex work here and there, I’m going to pull from writing I’ve read from Black women and sex workers, including Daniella Barreto, Jasmine Sankofa, Terri-Jean Bedford, and more, to recommend some ways you can work to unlearn and oppose the anti-Black whorearchy you’ve likely internalized.

Learn about the labor involved in different kinds of sex work.

There seems to be a common sentiment among those who harbor unexamined whorephobia that certain types of sex work are “easy.” This is why, for example, sometimes privileged women will joke that they’ll “just get a sugar daddy” or make an OnlyFans account when they have a few extra bills to pay, as if these roles are easy ones to slip into and start making money from.

In reality, just about every sex worker out there – from a camgirl in her Toronto basement to a stripper in a sticky-floored New York club to the finest luxury escort London has to offer – puts in waaay more work than you probably think. Marketing, grooming, skill-building, fitness maintenance, client relations… These things take a hell of a lot of effort and time. Researching what’s actually involved in the different kinds of sex work – especially the kinds you view, consciously or less so, as “trashy” or “low-class” – will avail you of those misconceptions pretty quick. (Make sure you’re reading accounts written by actual sex workers!)

Shift your language.

I’ve stopped using the word “whore” the way I used to – as synonymous with “slut” – because I’ve learned from sex worker activists that it’s a term used historically to slander and stigmatize sex workers, and thus only they can choose to reclaim it for themselves. Similarly, “ho”/”hoe” is a derivative form of this word which comes from African-American Vernacular English (AAVE) and thus isn’t for white people’s use. (This is just my understanding; those in the know can feel free to correct me on this if I’m wrong.)

There are lots of unsavory slang terms for various types of sex workers, and many of them have a racist tinge (to say the least). If you’re not sure of the best terminology for a particular type of work or worker, look to the writings of the people doing that work and see which terms they prefer and why. Then, commit to shifting the language you use when you talk about these issues.

Write to your political leaders about SESTA/FOSTA.

The laws known as SESTA/FOSTA were ostensibly created to prevent sexual trafficking – but in practice, they’ve mostly just deepened the existing issue of sex workers being unable to safely advertise and conduct their work, online or off. As with pretty much any issue involving legal repercussions or financial disempowerment, this has hit Black sex workers particularly hard, since (as the news lately has loudly echoed for us) the law enforcement system is hugely racist, and Black folks are likelier than white folks to struggle with economic lack and uncertainty.

For this reason, as Amnesty International USA has argued, sex work decriminalization is a racial justice issue, among other things. Write to your political leaders to demand they work to repeal SESTA/FOSTA – or whatever other anti-sex work laws exist where you live. Many people’s lives and livelihoods depend on it.

Call out whorephobic comments when you hear them.

When I was a kid, there was a strip club in my neighborhood, so we drove by it fairly often. My parents were fortunately chill about it, but I often saw people laughing, pointing, and staring at the signage when they walked by, as if the very idea of a stripper was something to be mocked and belittled. People make whorephobic comments all the time, in a wide variety of ways – many of which are subtly or not-so-subtly racist – and a small thing you can do to fight against sex work stigma is to push back when you hear those comments being made.

While some prefer a more direct or aggressive approach, I usually like to respond to these comments calmly, with facts. When someone pityingly or disgustedly describes sex work as “selling [one’s] body,” for example, I like to point out that tons of other workers – including athletes, massage therapists, dancers, and actors – also make money from the ways they use their bodies. Sometimes the simplest rebuttals and reframes can help someone look at sex work in a new light.

Follow more Black sex workers on social media.

The fastest way to comprehend a group of people you don’t know enough about, in my experience, is to surround yourself with those people and listen to them. Even if you don’t think the anti-Black whorearchy informs your perspective, it probably does – and you can shift its insidious influence over time by just spending more time reading the thoughts, opinions, and work of Black sex workers.

I need to do better at this, myself – most of the sex workers I follow are white, so I know I’m only getting a limited view of the industry and the problems within it. The @BlackSexWorkers account is no longer active, but its Following and Followers lists look like a good place to start. Feel free to recommend folks to follow in the comments if there are any Black sex workers you find delightful/enriching to follow!

 

This post was sponsored. As always, all writing and opinions are my own. I donated $50.00 USD/$70.00 CAD of my sponsorship fee for this post to the Black Sex Worker Collective; feel free to match me if you have the means!

8 Pieces of Useful Wisdom From Sex Workers

Kate Sloan

Each time I’ve dabbled in forms of sex work, like putting on cam shows and selling my used underwear, one of the best things about these endeavors has been connecting with other people doing similar work. I can’t think of a group more passionate, open-hearted, and resourceful than sex workers. They provide crucial services to people who need and want them, despite frequently encountering crushing stigma and legal roadblocks like SESTA/FOSTA. (See the last point on this list for more on that.)

So I’m delighted that I’ve partnered with Escorts & Babes – Sydney Escorts to put together this list of some of the major lessons I’ve learned from genius sex workers in my social spheres. Anyone who says you don’t need skills or smarts to do sex work is fooling themselves.

Trust is hot. Sex and kink, in my experience, just seem to get better and hotter the more trust there is between the participants. I imagine it must be hard to establish this trust as quickly and thoroughly as you would need to in a sex work context, which makes it all the more impressive that so many service providers do it on a regular basis. Their work invites me to look at my own sex life and ask: Where could I be more trusting, and how might that improve my experiences? And, inversely, where am I being too trusting, and how can I solve that?

Dirty talk is magic. After all the many, many hours I’ve spent having phone sex and being erotically hypnotized, I’ve come to think of dirty talk (and related sexual oration) as a form of literal magic: like casting a spell in the Hogwarts universe, you say some kind of incantation and it has real, observable effects in the body and brain of the person you’re talking to. Sex workers tend to wield this power better than anyone I know; it’s often a sharpened and well-loved tool in their toolbox, and part and parcel of what keeps their clients coming back. Hearing these stories makes me want to step up my own dirty-talk skills!

Disabled people can be (and often are) sexual too! I can’t believe there are still so many people who don’t understand this, but there you go… While it sucks that our ableist world too often tries to paint disabled people as unsexy and unsexual, I know some who’ve sought sex workers’ services and found them immensely healing and helpful. Obviously it sucks that this route is financially inaccessible for many, and that ableism continues to exist, but I’m glad some disabled folks have the option to pursue sexual touch on their own terms by hiring a sex worker. (Did you know there’s even been a recent push in Australia to get sexual services for disabled folks covered by national disability insurance? I hope the Aussie government comes around on this eventually; it could be a big life-changer for many disabled folks, as well as Australian sex workers, like those at Escorts & Babes – www.escortsandbabes.com.au.)

When it comes to kink, more communication is better. I admire the thorough negotiations many sex workers (especially pro dommes) insist on doing before sessions, and I think every sexually active person could benefit from adopting similar practices in their own sex lives. No partner can give you the mind-blowing sex you’ve been dreaming of if they don’t know what gets you hot. Share your likes and your limits – it can only make things better!

Kink can be startlingly intimate. Granted, just like vanilla sex, kink can feel awkwardly distanced, deliciously connective, or anywhere in between. But I find that intimacy and kink tend to go hand-in-hand moreso for me, and I can access depths of connection through kink that I didn’t even know existed back when I thought I was vanilla. I’ve heard from sex worker friends and acquaintances, over and over, that a large part of what their clients are seeking isn’t just sexual gratification but some sense of emotional communion with another human being. That’s what kink feels like to me, when it’s at its best.

Asking for consent isn’t hard. It’s sex workers’ job to ensure their clients have a good time, so of course they would tend to prioritize consent highly in their transactions. We all should take a leaf out of their book, and weave consent check-ins into the tapestry of our sexual encounters. This doesn’t have to be as unsexy as some people insist – as Lo points out here, there are tons of super hot turns of phrase you can use to make sure your paramour is into what’s happening and wants it to continue. You truly have no excuse.

Knowing what you want is half the battle. This is a major lesson I’ve taken from kink and repeatedly applied to my own life: you can’t progress toward the objects of your desires until you’ve identified what those desires are. Sounds simple, but it’s often deceptively difficult to figure out what your heart is actually calling out for. This type of soul-searching is worth doing, and is one of the initial steps on the path to enduring happiness.

SESTA/FOSTA is killing people and must be stopped. This is the most important item on this list, so listen up. If you don’t know, SESTA/FOSTA are “anti-trafficking bills,” signed into law in early 2018, that have actually taken aim at sex workers by raiding and shutting down escort listing sites (yes, this is why Craigslist’s personal ads got slashed) and getting tons of adult content banned from various platforms. It will come for us all eventually – and has already started to – but it mainly impacts sex workers, especially those who live and/or work in the USA. You can help by raising awareness about these laws in your networks, donating to sex work advocacy organizations like Red Light Legal and SWOP Behind Bars, contacting your political reps to demand they take action, and supporting sex workers directly by hiring them, buying their content, and giving them money.

 

What wisdom have you picked up from sex workers in all their industrious brilliance?

 

This post was sponsored by the folks at Escorts & Babes – Sunshine Coast Escorts. As always, all writing and opinions (except, of course, in quoted tweets) are my own.