The Summer I Got Paid to Humiliate Men

Yes, it’s exactly what you think.

“I want you to degrade me.”

“Please Mistress, tell me to shut up and do whatever you want.”

“I have a small dick. Can you make fun of it and expose me to all of your friends?”

If God Herself descended from the heavens to inform me that I would be paying bills each month by way of the pocketbooks of sad and wealthy men, I may very well have returned to the faith right there and then.

I became an online sex worker last year. It was a desperate, last-ditch attempt at quelling my financial worries after being fired from my cushy nonprofit job. I did the responsible thing by researching as much as I could, and before I knew it, a webcam and new lingerie were on their way to my doorstep.

Despite being raised in a rather conservative and religious environment, my views on sex have since changed — in fact, I would even venture to say that I quite enjoy sex; both having and discussing it. Sexuality is a tale of our shared humanity. Regardless of whether you are ace or have fucked every moving thing in sight, the collective sexual experience is our equalizer. It does not tell you right from wrong. It just is.