5 Myths About Sex Work

Kate Sloan

It’s disheartening that sex work is still so stigmatized in 2018, even after the groundbreaking work of so many sex workers’ rights advocates throughout history. Whorephobic language is commonplace in our media and even our everyday conversations. Stigma against sex workers literally endangers their livelihood and their lives. This has to stop!

I’m not a sex worker (more on that later in the post), but my friends and internet acquaintances in the industry seem to encounter a lot of the same frustrations over and over again. I’ve quoted some of them here, since they would know better than I would, obviously! Here are some common myths about sex work that really need to be busted…

Sex workers are “selling their bodies.”

I mean, in a sense, we’re all “selling our bodies” – or at least renting them out – because our bodies are involved in the labor we do. Coal miners, retail workers, teachers, lawyers, doctors… All of these people use their bodies to do their work. I’m using mine right now, typing this! Sexual labor is labor; there is no moral law that somehow makes sex work worse than any other kind of work.

Sex work is inherently demeaning.

Someone like Marx might argue that all work is inherently demeaning, since you’re exchanging your labor for the human-invented construct that is money… In any case, people who choose sex work often have excellent (and even empowering) reasons for doing so, not that their reasoning is anyone else’s business anyway! If you don’t think working construction or retail (for example) are demeaning, then it doesn’t make any sense to think that about sex work, either. There’s no reason a brothel would necessarily be a worse workplace than, say, McDonald’s or the Gap. And if you do think those other kinds of work are demeaning, maybe your problem is with work in general, in which case you should go lobby for better employment rights and/or basic income instead of yelling at sex workers!

“Cleos on Nile in Brisbane, the capitol of Queensland, is very pro-sex workers’ rights. They provide everything for the ladies to work independently within the venue. The women work for themselves (no pimping) and can refuse service to any client they like. The venue provides everything for the service providers to work in comfort, from cable TV and internet to food and private smoking areas. Condoms, etc. are also provided free of charge, as only safe sex practices are permitted for everyone’s safety. The brothel is owned by an ex-worker who worked for herself for 25 years before saving enough to buy what has become the most successful brothel in the state.” –Lynette Black, owner of Cleos On Nile

Sex work is easy money.

Hahaha, no. I’ve barely dipped my toe into sex work and even I know this one is bullshit. As with any kind of work that relies on building a clientele, maintaining a career in sex work can take a lot of time and energy. Whether you’re crafting and posting ads for your services, filming and editing content for a clip store, promoting the hell out of yourself on social media, or perhaps all three and more, there’s no doubt that sex work is an effortful enterprise. That effort deserves to be recognized and acknowledged!

There’s only one way to do it.

A lot of different activities can be classified as sex work, not just full-service work like what goes on at Brisbane brothels. Cam performers, dominatrixes, phone sex operators, strippers, and porn performers are just a few examples of different types of sex workers. The World Health Organization defines sex work as “the provision of sexual services for money or goods,” which, of course, covers a broad range of transactions. While I have done certain forms of sex work – camming, selling nudes, selling panties, paid sexting and phone sex, and being a sugar baby – I don’t typically call myself a sex worker because I don’t experience sex work-related stigma or oppression to the same degree as many people who do this work on a more full-time basis and/or for survival. All this to say: sex work takes many forms and all of them come with their own challenges.

All sex workers have STIs.

Oh my god, so much to unpack here. So, first of all, having an STI isn’t something we should stigmatize. Many, many, many people have STIs, and many of those people prioritize disclosure, treatment/management, and transmission prevention. But on top of that, remember: sex workers’ sexual health is their livelihood, so of course they take it seriously, and some research has even found sex workers have lower STI rates than the general population (makes sense, if you ask me!). This is particularly true in places where sex work is decriminalized or legalized (just ask escorts in Brisbane) – demonstrating that making something illegal and/or difficult to do just makes it more difficult to do safely and healthily.

What myths about sex work do you wish would just go away?

 

Heads up: this post was sponsored; however, as always, I support and agree with all of the sentiments therein!

Whoops, I Love You

Kate Sloan

I find excuses, at improv practice, to tell the cute boy that I love him.

It’s not entirely on purpose but not entirely an accident, either. One approach to improv is walking on stage and knowing, immediately, who you are to each other – in spirit, in feeling, if not in detail. So when I walk on, and look at this floppy-haired blue-eyed sharp-tongued goofy-grinned boy, the overwhelming feeling that flows into focus is love.

(Okay, maybe not love, but something like it. We’ll get to that later.)

I’m his wife in too many scenes, his girlfriend, or the moony admirer with whom he becomes entangled over the course of a longform set. I don’t know if he notices, but other people do. “I think you should try pursuing more non-romantic storylines,” my coach offers offhandedly at the end of practice one day. I blush, because I know what he means, I know why he’s saying this, and I know I probably won’t take this note. Improv is a wildly careening ship and my love is a tumultuous river pouring downstream toward disaster. Anchors aweigh.

“I love you,” I shriek in improv scene after improv scene, terrified the cute boy knows I mean it.

“I love you” is weighty, a Big Deal, perhaps too much so. But any time I find myself wanting to believe it can be casual, it just means I’m flooded with love and embarrassed about it.

My shame about my lack of chill is sometimes so intense that I could probably talk myself into thinking “Will you marry me?” and “We should be buried side-by-side” are breezy things to say.

But who decided love was embarrassing? Who, like John Lennon, argued we’ve got to hide our love away?

These fears all stem from the root fear of reciprocation or lack thereof. When you Say The Thing, you’ll find out pretty quickly whether the person you’re addressing Feels The Thing too or very much doesn’t. We all want to live in the will-they-won’t-they illusion a little longer, suspending judgment about Schrodinger‘s love, because “I’m not sure if they…” is uplifting, while “They definitely don’t…” is soul-crushing. So even when love seems likely, we still hedge our bets, guard our cards, crunch the numbers before we make our move.

The dreaded “I love you” is a big deal because it signals the end of one chapter and the start of another. The end of plausible deniability and the start of a reckoning. Whether it goes poorly or beautifully, you’ll learn even more than you thought you would.

Polyamory perk: being comforted by one partner about another.

Or maybe the person you’re crying about isn’t even a partner of yours. Maybe they’re just a crush you somehow let fester into love. Maybe your Actual Boyfriend knows what the deal is, and likes you anyway. Maybe your Actual Boyfriend is therefore a goddamn saint, but still not the person you’re devastatingly in love with.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Actual Boyfriend assures me, late one summer night, as I cry in my bed over a man who isn’t him. “I’m here for you.” He’s right; he is. But I wish he wasn’t. I wish he was someone else.

“I’m just scared that when he leaves at the end of the summer, I’m going to have a mental breakdown,” I sob. The object of my affections doesn’t live in my city, so this was always a time-limited endeavor. As if unrequited love isn’t painful and risky enough as is. I’m sick with contrition, my heart inconsolable. If I can’t have him then I just want to be alone.

Yet here is the boy I’ve been dating for not-even-a-month, his warm-but-wrong arms wrapped around me. “If you do, I’ll be here for you,” he promises. “I know we haven’t known each other that long, but I love you and I wanna support you and I don’t want you to feel alone.”

I can tell, from the way his sentence stretches out like taffy, that the “I love you” was an accident. Whether he meant it but didn’t mean to say it, or meant to say it but didn’t really mean it, is irrelevant. It’s between us now, screaming to be acknowledged.

I laugh a little, through my tears. “Did you just…?”

He laughs a little, too. “Yeah.”

This would become a cute, funny anecdote from our early relationship, if indeed I liked him enough to progress past this stage. But I don’t. It’s hard to love someone good and kind when you’re accustomed to love feeling distant and cold.

Later, when we break up over the phone, he yells that I’m clearly not capable of loving anyone but that other man right now, and that I shouldn’t have led him to believe otherwise. He is right. I wish I could have caught his embarrassing leap in a plush net, but instead I just let him shatter on the ground. You can’t save everyone, hard as you might try.

The weight of “I love you” comes partly from our cultural conviction that it ought to be a Special Moment, much like a proposal or asking someone to prom. The right time and place, the right ambiance, must permeate the memory upon reflection. It should live on in our minds like a Tiffany’s catalogue centerfold, sparkling and emblematic.

But of course, first I-love-you’s aren’t always this picture-perfect in reality. Many are whispered against sweaty skin after sex, or cackled in irresistible cacophonies, or lobbed automatically at the end of a phone call. We’d all like our lives to look like a perfect three-tiered cake, but sometimes the yummiest desserts are the crumbly, misshapen ones from an amateur baker trying their best.

We’ve known each other for 35 days when you accidentally tell me you love me. It’ll only be a few more weeks before you say it for real.

We’re having phone sex – a thing we’ve done a dozen times or so, and will do hundreds more times as we fall harder – and I’m a subspacey mess. Unraveled, wanton, slurring my words. I know how this aligns with your kinks, and I know you put me here on purpose, but I’m still nervous: what if you find this messy gibberish version of me unattractive and you’re too nice to say so?

“Sir, do you like me like this?” I ask, uncertain, seeking feedback that will calm my heart.

“I LOVE you like this,” you retort without thinking. There is a split-second of silence. We’re both too smart, perceptive, and overanalytical to have missed what just happened, but we’re both also too polite and socially fluid to make it into the big deal it obviously is. We launch back into dirty-talk as before, like cocks and cunts can overshadow what’s developing between us.

When you really say it, later, in a dimly-lit bar, it’s slower, more considered. I feel like I’m hearing you perform dialogue we’ve been rehearsing for weeks – the words were empty and now they’re full, dripping with meaning. You preface the phrase with my name, so I’ll know you really mean it and you mean it about me, specifically. “Kate, I love you.” I tell you “I know,” because I do, I do, I deeply do. And then I add, “I love you too.”

We didn’t plan to fall in love; we didn’t plan to say it tonight. But it wasn’t an embarrassing accident. It was a perfect surprise.

Mini Reviews: We-Vibe Pivot, Icicles #69, & Weal & Breech Nipple Clamps

Kate Sloan

Oops, I let my toy review pile overflow again. Here’s a few mini ones squished together!

We-Vibe Pivot (available at SheVibe)

I am always looking for a vibrating cock ring that will actually get me off, which I realize is sort of a pipe dream. There are people more sensitive than I, so I’m led to believe, who are havin’ orgasms left and right with these things – but I’ve never gotten off that way. Not ever. Not even once, in my entire sexual career.

But the beautiful and rechargeable We-Vibe Pivot comes the closest of any I’ve tried, which sounds like faint praise but is actually pretty significant. We-Vibe is known for (among other things) their rumbly motors, and since the problem with most vibrating cock rings is their laughably buzzy vibrations, this one is a step in the right direction.

I also like that the motor is housed in a broad, slightly jutting, squarish shape at the top of the ring, allowing it to make contact with my clit more consistently during PIV sex. Like most toys of this sort, this one basically requires small, deep thrusts if you want to keep the vibrating part on the receptive partner’s clit, but fortunately for me, that’s how I like to be fucked anyway. My inability (so far) to reach orgasm with this toy is not the fault of the toy, but more related to my own anxieties about “taking too long” to come during PIV sex, and the relative rarity of PIV in my sex life compared to other acts which get me off much more reliably.

I’ve tried this ring with two different penis-wielding partners and both reported it was comfortable if perhaps a little tight (keeping in mind that restrictiveness is part of the point of cock rings). If you’re of above-average girth, you might need the assistance of lube to get this ring onto your junk. The silicone has some stretch but is firmer than I’d generally expect from a cock ring, so keep that in mind.

If you’ve always liked the idea of vibrating cock rings but hated them in practice, the We-Vibe Pivot is the one I’d recommend. It’s quite a bit pricier than your typical watch-battery, jelly-rubber cock ring, but it’ll also last you longer and quite possibly actually feel good instead of numbing your genitals.

Icicles No. 69 (available at Betty’s Toy Box)

I requested this because it looked like a potentially great A-spot toy – and at a decent price point, no less!

However, it sort of misses the mark on that front. The bigger end can sort of slide up into my A-spot if I angle it just right, but then the small amount of toy left for me to use as a “handle” is awkwardly short and curves away from me, so I can’t easily thrust hard and fast the way I prefer.

The smaller end, meanwhile, is too sharply curved to be a good A-spotter – though it does hit my G-spot with aplomb. I’m not into narrow, pinpointed G-spot stimulation – I prefer mine bigger and broader – but if you like the sensation of one or two fingers stroking your G-spot, you might like the roughly equivalent-sized small end of this dildo too.

The other reason this dildo won’t become a bedside staple of mine? All that texture on the shaft. I don’t mind the sensation of it, but it doesn’t really add to my experience, and it’s also a nightmare to clean.

If you want an A-spotty dildo for under $50, I think the Icicles No. 5, Ruse D Thang (used upside-down), and Blue Wave look like good contenders. I wanted to like the Icicles No. 69 but it’s just not quite what I wanted it to be.

Weal & Breech nipple clamps (available at Come As You Are)

I had my eye on these for a long time, and then when W&B came out with some in purpleheart wood, I knew I had to snap them up. They’re quite unlike any other nipple clamps I’ve ever seen: they’re made of two slats of wood which screw together with brass fittings. They open up pretty wide, so you can fit nipples big and small into them, as well as potentially a clit or even the head of a cock. (Be careful!)

The inner surfaces of the wood are cross-hatched, which helps them stay in place once they’re on. I’ve had slippage issues with lots of other clamps, but not with these.

It takes a while to get them on and off, because you have to unscrew the fittings, position your nipple between the wood slats, and then screw the fittings closed again. I love this element of anticipation when doing sadomasochistic scenes, but if you like your nipple pain quick ‘n’ dirty, you’d probably prefer regular ol’ alligator-style nipple clamps.

When using these, I have to be careful not to pinch my skin between the brass and the wood, because that hurts, and not in the fun way. That’s usually as easy as gently prying my flesh away from the brass screw while I’m putting the clamps on.

One thing I miss from other clamps, that these lack, is a string or chain connecting the two. It can be fun to tug on the connector between two clamps during a scene, for a random jolt of pain. However, if you wanted, you could attach your own string or chain to these; they just don’t come with one.

I notice that I have to re-tighten these clamps every few minutes to maintain the high levels of pain I want from them, and I’m not sure if that’s because the clamps are slowly loosening or my pain tolerance is just increasing over time. Either way, it’s not a huge deal. I tell partners about this issue before letting them use these clamps on me for the first time, and they usually remember to readjust every few minutes – especially if they’re sadistic and like seeing my grimace of pain when they do this!

Overall, I love these clamps. They’re unusual, beautiful, and extremely painful. All the best qualities for nipple clamps to have!

Thanks to SheVibe and Betty’s Toy Box for sending me the first two toys. I bought the clamps myself.

Can a Sex Doll Replace a Human?

Kate Sloan

I’ve been writing about sex toys online for over six years, and in that time, I’ve come up against the same mostly-male, mostly-hetero anxiety countless times: “If my partner gets a sex toy, will it render me obsolete?!”

Though I’m bored to death of answering this question, I also understand where it stems from. For a lot of us, our confidence in relationships is at least partly connected to our sexual prowess, and so, if an object can give your partner great pleasure, I guess it makes sense to worry about how that’ll affect your standing in that relationship… assuming you think sexual pleasure is the only thing you think you offer your partner!

Spoiler alert: relationships – even casual, mostly- or exclusively-sexual ones – are about more than just getting off. Sex toys and sex dolls are incredible tools, but there are so many things they don’t provide that human partners do, such as…

Seduction and flirting. True, some advanced sex robots allow you to “seduce” them through words and foreplay, but I would imagine it’s a bit like playing a car-racing video game when you’re actually craving a drive on the open road. There is nothing quite like the slowly-unfolding mystery of a dinner date or even a Netflix-and-chill night. Double entendres and witty repartée abound as you try to discern whether this person might want to kiss you tonight – or more.

Learning a partner’s tastes, and them learning yours. Presumably sex robots will eventually reach a level of advancement that allows for this, but right now, this phenomenon is fairly limited. There is immense gratification in mastering someone’s anatomy and kinks, so you can turn them on with both your body and your brilliant mind.

Smells, tastes, and textures. Products like the Loli sex doll tend to be made of realistic-feeling materials like TPE and silicone, but they’re not quite able to replicate the effect of human skin against yours. Then again, if you’ve had bad experiences with past partners’ questionable hygiene, maybe this is a plus for you!

Feeling desired. Nothing quite compares to the knowledge that another human likes you, wants you, and wants to fuck you. Sex toys are definitely DTF, but they’re not exactly enthusiastic about it, you know?

Laughing during sex. Look, let’s be real. SEXO loverealdolls probably aren’t going to get your weird puns. You can still make yourself laugh, though, so that’s something, I guess.

Cuddling and pillow talk. Sometimes the end of sex can leave you with a hollow feeling, as your neurotransmitters sort themselves out. This is easily combated when you’ve got a cute person to snuggle and talk to, but sometimes lying in bed with a silent sex toy can just exacerbate that lonely feeling. Maybe you and the sex doll could listen to a podcast together or something…

What would you miss most about sex with humans if you switched to only fucking sex dolls, robots, toys, etc.?

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

Intimate Intercourse: #DaddyDomLyfe (Part 3)

Kate Sloan

Hello again! Welcome back to Intimate Intercourse, a series where I interview my boyfriend/Sir/daddy, who goes by Super Sleepy Dude, about various topics related to sex and kink. This week we’re discussing Daddy Dom/little girl kink! This is the final part of a 3-part interview; you can read part 1 here and part 2 here. In this instalment, we discuss ethical concerns around DD/lg, advice for burgeoning daddy doms, literal versus non-literal ageplay dynamics, and being a submissive daddy, among other things. Enjoy! Content note for this post: ageplay, sexual abuse, incest roleplay.

Kate Sloan: Did you ever have any ethical qualms or gross feelings about DD/lg at all as you started to get more into it?

Super Sleepy: Those are sort of two different questions. Ethical qualms: yes, absolutely. I’ve thought a lot about whether there’s anyone being harmed. That’s one of my main ethical standards that I use in my life: is there harm, and can that be reduced? And I don’t think that in anything we’ve done, in our private play or our public play, that there is harm. It’s been argued that, and we’ve had conversations about how, interactions on Twitter or FetLife or other spaces like that, that include consensual ageplay dynamics, might trigger people who’ve been sexually abused as children, and that’s concerning, for sure. I think about that and I think it comes down to, like, those are places where you’re kind of choosing what to see, and as long as people who are playing are being clear that that’s what you’re going to see if you follow them or interact with them in that space, then I think it’s okay. But people disagree about that and I think it’s a conversation worth having.

KS: It also points to the importance of using content warnings, and paying attention to them.

SS: Right. The other stuff that I’ve thought about ethically is how I would feel if I actually had kids. I don’t, and I can’t really predict, because I know that being a parent changes a lot of things about how you think about the world. I’ve heard that from friends and family who have had kids. So I can’t quite get into the right headspace of knowing how I would feel, playing a daddy while also being one. That is an open question for me. And then, have I ever felt gross about it? No, not really. Never really felt gross. What do you think about that?

KS: The only thing that worries me about it sometimes is it makes me feel like I’m too needy – but I think that that mostly comes from having tried to do it with people who weren’t really into it, which always makes you feel too needy, because you’re always just asking for a thing that the other person doesn’t really want to give you.

SS: Right. That could be with literally any kink. Like, if you have any kink that your partner isn’t super into, but will do occasionally, and kind of begrudgingly, you can get into that dynamic where it’s like, well, I’m clearly asking for this too much, or I need too much, and that means I’m broken. But it doesn’t, and you have never, ever, ever been too needy. Like, it just never has ever crossed my mind. The thing about being needy is, the other person has to feel that way for it to even be valid.

KS: Yep. We’re a good match, I guess.

SS: Mhm!

KS: What would be your advice for someone who is kind of curious and thinks that they might be interested in being a daddy, but they’re not sure or they don’t know how to start?

SS: Well, do they have a partner that’s also interested in it, or are they just interested in it by themselves?

KS: Whichever.

SS: Okay. Well, it’s easier, and it also lines up better with my experience, if their partner is sort of coming to them and saying, “I would be into calling you this, or playing with this with you,” because then you have somebody who you can ask a lot of questions about, like, “Why are you into that?” or “What parts of that would be good for you?” and hopefully you’ve built somewhat of a connection with this person where you can try it and be okay if it doesn’t go great. That’s the ideal case, I think, and that’s luckily the case that I was in. You knew a lot about what you wanted, ideally, in a daddy and I was able to try it safely. So if you have that situation, I think trying it in the smallest way possible first is the way to go. I would say that about a lot of sex acts and a lot of kink stuff. Pick a time when it would be okay for your partner to call you “daddy” during sex, one time, and just see how it feels. Or decide to go on a dinner date and be in those roles just for the period of like two hours while you’re out, and agree and consent to the fact that the daddy’s gonna order for the little. Or, you know, pick something that will make you feel like you’re in charge, and like you are nurturing the person that you’re the daddy of, and try it and see how it feels. And then build from there. Like, we didn’t jump into having all the names and all the protocols and all the sex stuff and non-sex stuff overnight. We built up to where we are, and there’s still a lot of stuff that we could build to. So go slow, ‘cause you don’t know what complicated emotional stuff will come up from your past or your partner’s past that you might have to talk about.

KS: Definitely.

SS: If you’re just interested in it by yourself, and it hasn’t come up through somebody else, that’s a little bit trickier. I think, taking some strategies that I’ve used in other kinks, like when I’ve wanted to explore hypnokink, I’ve found communities to experiment with that online. So like, go on a chat room for DD/lg stuff, or find a Tumblr community, and see if there are people who are willing to do some roleplay in text chat, and see how that makes you feel. Or other, similar, low-risk things, where if it starts feeling too weird, you can politely say goodbye and close the window and it won’t blow up your life. That’s how I would start if it was just me.

KS: That’s good advice, daddy.

SS: Thanks, little one.

KS: You’re so smart!

SS: You’re a good interviewer, babygirl.

KS: Thanks! Our dynamic is more-or-less 24/7; do you think it would be weird if it wasn’t?

SS: No, I don’t think it would be weird if it wasn’t. I think if it was bedroom-only, it would be fine. I think if it was only when we were together, it would be fine. I like that it’s all the time, because if I’m feeling that way, I don’t really have to think, like, “Oh, will Kate be okay that I’m feeling this way right now, and do I need to negotiate a whole thing so that she can call me this and I can call her that?” We can just drop in and out of it whenever feels good for both of us, and we know how to read each other so that that works out pretty much all the time. So I don’t think it would be weird, but I prefer it this way.

KS: Yeah. I don’t know that I could do it and not have it be 24/7.

SS: Yeah? What would be wrong with it? What would feel weird about it?

KS: Well, like… In my relationship last year, which was my first DD/lg relationship, we were ostensibly 24/7, but a lot of the time, when we were apart, my partner was really bad at staying in touch with me, and not super dommy via text, and that made me feel really confused, ‘cause part of it, for me, is the sense of having someone who’s there for me – which is why I’ve said to you before that, after trying a bunch of different things, I think a daddy is more like a type of boyfriend, to me, than just a type of kink partner. I kind of need there to be that consistent, romantic element to it, and I don’t think I’m interested in it without that. But I know that not everybody feels that way, obviously.

SS: Yeah, I relate to that a lot. I think that the way it would work for me, if it wasn’t 24/7, would be, like, a still very connected, egalitarian boyfriend/girlfriend relationship where the DD/lg was overlaid only at specific times, in specific contexts. I think that would work, but I do agree that if the relationship wasn’t working, if there wasn’t communication that felt good, or if it was more casual or more on-and-off, the DD/lg stuff would feel really weird to me. It would need to be a really consistent, solid, intimate relationship for me to want to do it at all.

KS: Yeah. ‘Cause there’s so much trust and vulnerability involved.

SS: Yeah. Yeah, exactly.

KS: Yup. Okay. Was there anything else?

SS: Yeah, one thing we didn’t talk about, that we normally talk about when we discuss DD/lg, is literal versus non-literal play. So, I guess, how do you feel about it when we play with DD/lg where it’s more like, literally you’re younger and I’m literally your dad, versus what we do more normally, which is kind of, a caregiver that is called “daddy” but isn’t specific?

KS: I think a lot of people who are aware of my DD/lg proclivities probably think that we do the more literal stuff, like, all the time. And it is, maybe, a subtle distinction from the outside, I guess. But to me, it’s like any other form of roleplay: I enjoy it from time to time, but it’s inherently not as sustainable for me.

SS: Because it’s a fiction, right?

KS: Right. And I’m playing a character, which takes a little bit of extra energy. All my characters in roleplays are versions of myself, but there is still a sense of having to maintain some kind of story.

SS: Absolutely. And you want to be able to drop it, and like, talk to your partner, and go about your life. I agree – it’s really fun, and it’s really hot to do it, but if it was all of our sex, it would be exhausting.

KS: And like, the degree to which I go into little space really varies. I think, with you, I almost always go into it at least a little bit, but usually I don’t get super young in the way that I feel or the way that I present. And also, we’ve talked about how I’m a little bit turned off by some of the super-literal stuff, like stuffed animals, and…

SS: Pacifiers, coloring books, stuff like that.

KS: Yeah, which I think part of that is like, that stuff wasn’t really important to me in my actual childhood. I was always very mature and precocious and I was more into doing creative stuff and researching weird shit on the internet. I don’t really have memories of that particular aesthetic of childhood, I guess, so it doesn’t really resonate with me.

SS: Yeah. That makes sense. And then, the other thing – we’ve played with this a little bit, but not a ton, and it’s something I think we both want to try more – is, me being a daddy but not in a dominant role, from time to time. What are your thoughts on that?

KS: Yeah. Yeah, we’ve talked about how a lot of why I haven’t felt confident being dominant is that I think I was trying to be a type of dominant that I’m not. And I actually feel way more confident being dominant when I’m a dommy little girl. Kind of a Veruca Salt-esque character who is very young but also very powerful. That’s really fun for me. It feels less like I’m putting on some kind of persona. It feels more like I’m just being how I usually am when I have sex, but I’m just more powerful.

SS: Yeah. Where does that power stem from?

KS: I think I did feel somewhat powerful when I was like, 10 to 12. I think I felt really secure in the knowledge that I was smarter than most people my age, and also I came from a relatively loving, safe, accepting home life, so I had a lot of confidence that I was privileged to have. So, if I can kind of access that headspace, when I had very few problems and very few things to worry about, and also felt very strong and confident and smart, that can make me feel dominant sometimes.

SS: Got it. Yeah. And if your daddy is more interested in getting you the things that you want, and making sure that you’re happy, instead of exacting or taking the things that he wants, then it can kind of feed into that.

KS: Yeah. ‘Cause there’s also this overlaid sense of, like, even though you’re submissive, you’re still my daddy, so you’re still gonna watch out for me and make sure I’m safe and do things that are in my best interest. So it doesn’t feel as risky as when I’m an adult femdom and I’m running the whole scene and so much is my responsibility, because even if I’m a dommy little girl, I still am not really in charge of things.

SS: Yup. Makes sense.

KS: What do you like about being a submissive daddy?

SS: Similar to what you said, I like that it still feels like the way that I want to have sex with you – like, I still feel like I’m in the same role that I’m normally in. And in terms of the submissiveness of it, I’m a switch, I’m very comfortable being dominant, very comfortable being submissive, and I like that I get to see that other side of your littleness – the confident little Kate that is excited and willing to advocate for what she wants and needs, and that I can be a strong, older, more responsible person that can facilitate giving her that, and taking care of her, and massaging her, and helping her get to sleep, or whatever she needs, really.

KS: I also really like the element of like, I have power over you because I know this thing about you…

SS: Oh, yeah, that’s really hot.

KS: …that you’re, like, into your little girl and you’re not supposed to be, and so I have this knowledge. Which is fucked up, but is interesting.

SS: Yeah. It’s super fucked up in the real world. In fantasy, though, it’s incredibly, incredibly hot.

KS: Yeah. Okay. Is that it?

SS: Yeah, that’s it, little one.

KS: I love you, daddy!

SS: I love you, babygirl.

Hope you enjoyed this! Thanks for reading. I think next time we might tackle either hypnokink, protocol, or dating a sex blogger. If there’s anything else you’d love to read a conversation between us about, let me know in the comments!