Complaints About Rates

Complaints About Rates

I would like to share my opinions on sex work and stigma, based on my own personal experience of being an escort for several years. I would also like to share some revelations on how much money escorts actually make, and how difficult it is when clients don’t treat us with dignity and kindness.

Choosing to be a sex worker involves taking on the stigma that is attached to sex work. Dealing with this stigma is one of the biggest drawbacks of my profession, although there are other significant burdens as well.

When clients complain about “high” rates – and often they are complaining about rates as low as $200 for an hour of sex – it breaks my heart. It really does. They don’t understand the sacrifices we make in order to do this job. Complaining about our rates is like the kick in the face to top it all off.

I’ve had men respond to my Internet ads with really rude emails. They say things like “Do you think your pussy is made of gold? Your prices are outrageous.” I just hit the delete button because I know I won’t be able to change their point of view. They are looking for the best experience possible for the lowest price possible. I understand this mentality. Every commercial transaction in our culture is governed by this attitude – we want value for dollar. That’s fair.

What I wish I could explain to the men who complain about rates is that it’s not just an hour of my time they are paying for. It’s every minute of every day that I am a sex worker. The work extends into my entire life, and every aspect of my life is affected by being a sex worker.

I never thought I would sell sex for $300. Are you kidding? I would have slapped someone in the face if they had even suggested that amount to me. I remember sitting around with my friends when we were teenagers and playing this game where we were asking each other titillating questions. One that I remember very clearly was “How much would it take for you to have sex with someone for money?” The girl sitting next to me said “a million dollars!” Another one declared “no amount of money. I would never do that.” I mused for a while before speaking up, and then I said “I don’t know. Fifty thousand?” My friends exclaimed at my low price. I responded, “well, fifty thousand dollars is a lot of money! You’d really turn that down?”

To top it all off, complaints about rates aren’t even based on a real understanding of how much we actually take home. For all the sacrifices we make, most escorts I know earn around $3,000 a month. For some reason a lot of clients think we’re all rolling in cash, like our lives are an episode of the TV show Secret Diary of a Callgirl. No, most of us are not being flown all over the world and being paid to drink Champagne and have fun sex with billionaires. Most of us are just working a tough job and making a middle class income. Many of us make a legitimate choice to do this work, but it doesn’t mean we love it every minute of every day or that it’s easy.

In return for our modest salaries, we get to expose ourselves to health risks, dangerous clients, legal trouble, and unpleasant working conditions. We get the pleasure of awkwardly fumbling for a response whenever someone asks, “so, what do you do?”

If we want to leave the sex trade, we are burdened with the ever-terrifying resume gap. What have you been doing for the past five years? Where are your references? What are your skills?

The work also affects our ability to date. Many partners can’t or won’t handle what we do for money. It also affects our friendships. Some people who are “friends” judge us for what we do, and can’t understand our choices. Even when friends are not judgemental, they often just can’t relate, which can result in sex workers feeling isolated and alone. We cope with the guilt of lying to our families about what we do.

The stigma is really, really difficult to cope with. I wish people treated us with more respect and compassion. We are human beings, we are workers, and we are just trying to make the best of things, like everyone else on the planet.

Camming Saved Me

Camming Saved Me

Camming saved me.

I was never “sexy”. Nor was I one of the girls who all the boys and girls liked at school. I was shy, and our family was very poor so we never had nice clothes, all I ever wore were hand downs from my mother!

I grew up in a city in Eastern Europe and while a lot of my friends at school were trying to be models and actresses – they wanted to leave our city and make it big – I had no illusions of doing either.

I was very anxious as a child and this got worse when I got older. My mother passed away when I was 16 and my father started drinking, so I had to go out and work to support my 2 sisters and brother. I found this very hard with my anxiety, I have always found talking to people to be very difficult, as my confidence is not good, and I soon found that working 10 hour jobs for such little money, did not help my mental issues.

At 18 I left home, which is something that has plagued me for many years as I knew I was leaving my father looking after my younger sisters and brother and he was incapable as an alcoholic but I just could not support them any longer.

I moved in with a guy I had started seeing and my life fell into despair. My mental issues got very bad, I was very depressed and quit my job and didn’t get out of bed for days at a time. I realise now that I was dealing with my mothers death. I had thrown myself into work so hard, that I had not allowed myself time to grieve.
But there was still no time. We had to pay the rent and buy food.

My boyfriend watched porn and webcam sites and suggested that it is something I could try. At first I was angry with him, as at the time I felt it would be degrading.

But then I had a look at some of the girls and decided what was really degrading – being online and doing something you might not want to or lying in bed and not changing your clothes for a week?!

I signed up for a site though, and it was really not good. I hadn’t realised that I had actually signed up for a studio, not the actual site, and the studio was taking over half of my earnings. The studio was set up like this, so that you couldn’t cancel your account and get a proper account once you had signed up with them. You had to stay with them for one year! So I was going online for hours at a time and making hardly anything for doing things I really did not feel good about doing.

I was very depressed. I didn’t know what to do. My boyfriend was also drinking at the time, and I felt like I would never escape this cycle. Always surrounded by angry alcoholic men, and having no money and no self respect. I didn’t leave the house for weeks, sometimes only to buy food, but usually I would make my boyfriend do that. I was suicidal and I would think a lot about how one day I would take my own life and be with my mother.

Then one day I found another camming site. It looked very different to the site that I had been working on. I had the house to myself that night because my boyfriend was away for a few days, and I decided that instead of logging on to my usual account, I would make an account with this new site. After all what did I have to lose! And at least they were not a studio.

I was approved almost straight away, and I decided to broadcast. I was so shocked! My first night on, I stayed on for maybe 3 hours and I made $500 USD.

This was really the point that my life started to change and I can truly say that without camming I would not be alive right now.

I became addicted to the site! The guys online were funny and cared about me. It felt like a community. They signed on when I signed on and we would chat, and talk about anxiety and all sorts of other issues.

I broke up with my boyfriend and I now live alone. I make more money that anyone I know (though I don’t tell them that) and now that I am able to take care of myself i have started being able to give money to my family.

I feel so thankful that I found camming and I am only sad that I can’t tell my family or my friends how well I am doing. For the first time in my life I am really successful at something, but they would be disgusted with me if they knew. The few people I do tell, sometimes ask me if camming has made me become more depressed and reclusive. I answer no. It is the only thing which has saved me.

I am living in a beautiful apartment now and I have enough money saved to maybe study some more. I am also planning on going travelling. I have never left my home city so this is a big thing for me but I want to see the world. I wish people could understand that not all cam models are lazy or too stupid to get a “real job”. I studied hard at school and intend to study again, I worked ten hour jobs for hardly any money which almost drove me to the point of suicide.

Camming for me was not an easy option but a necessary one. I am so glad I took it.



I have several safety measures in place when I work, and these measures are meant to act as deterrents against potential “bad dates”. Because it is not illegal to purchase sex, 99% percent of clients are fine with these protocols.

If C36 passes and the purchase of sex is criminalized, clients will no longer feel comfortable giving out personal information or being recorded on camera.

If clients are no longer willing to provide personal information or to come to an incall location with a camera, I will have to change my safety protocols in order to stay in business. I will have to start taking appointments via anonymous email addresses, payphones, and untraceable VOIP services such as Google Talk, and I will likely have to move my incall location to a more discreet building that does not have security cameras.

With this kind of anonymity on the clients’ part, there will be no means of tracking down “bad dates” after the fact. Men will be well aware of the fact that this anonymity makes them immune to repercussions. They will know that they can commit a violent act or a robbery and that I will be no record of who they are or how to find them. If C36 passes, violent men can book dates with me because they know they have anonymity on their side.

This actually puts the power in the hands of the sex buyers, rather than in the hands of the sex-trade workers. I believe this is exactly the opposite of what the government should be doing.

Operating without proper safety protocols will have negative effects on my mental health. Whereas I currently feel safe and confident when I open the door to a stranger, I will feel scared, anxious and paranoid under C36.

Instead of being able to use strict security protocols to PREVENT robberies, assaults, and other violent encounters, C36 will force me to take “after the fact” measures – in other words, I will have to deal with a violent situation once they have arisen, instead of just deterring them in the first place.

I have already spoken to two Victoria Police Department members about the legality of keeping tasers or pepper spray close at hand while meeting new clients. As you may know, this is NOT legal, but if C36 passes, I am willing to overlook that fact just to have a sense of security while I am working. As you may also know, weapons can easily be turned against the person who is trying to use them, especially if that person is a small female. I should not have to resort to illegal and dangerous methods to protect myself.

To recap: Under bill C36, men are not going to be willing to give out their personal information. I will be forced to change my security protocols in order to help clients remain anonymous. I will be sacrificing my sense of security to stay in business. Men will be immune to repercussions. I will lose the upper hand in the transaction and be susceptible to violence.



Lyric: Collective of Sex Workers And Supporters (COSWAS, Taiwan)
Translator: Che Jung Chang
Music: Broadway Chen

If you ask me, “What is Happiness for you”?
How am I going to tell you?
If I was a daughter of a millionaire,
Still I would complain about my decent living.
If you ask me, “What is Life for you”?
What am I going to tell you?
I am not the daughter of a wealthy family.
Where am I going to find my Happiness?
Ah…. Ah… I am an evergreen flower in the wild.
Happiness for me is like a candle light in the wind.
We have to shelter it with our both hands.
Ah…. Ah… I am an evergreen flower in the wild.
Life for me is like a dim light in the dark that leads us forwards.
People look me down for taking this path of life.
But, like them, I only work to feed my families. Why should I be ashamed?
In the district inflamed with red lights, I proceed alone.
Ah… only to feed the whole family.
What a Life!

啊~ ~ 阮是野地的長春花
啊~ ~ 阮是野地的長春花
唉呦~ 換來一家的吃穿
我的人生呦~ ~

Because Sex Work is a Crime

Because Sex Work is a Crime

There is one experience that I think about a lot. I think someone was being hurt by one of my clients. This was many years ago. I feel bad because if my relationship with the police was one where I did not fear them, and if I was not worried about the consequences of being a sex worker, I could have reported that bad client to the police.

I did not report him to the police because I feared the police, and because of this, that creepy man is still out there in the community. I know this is wrong but my fear of the police prevented me from going to them. This was so long ago I don’t remember who he was or where he lives, so it is way too late now. The relationship between sex workers and police has to change so that incidents like this will be reported.

Because sex work is a crime, it is not something that anyone is going to want to report. With the new laws that they are trying to put in place it is going to be even harder to report violence because clients will be more agitated and less likely to give personal information about themselves. Without knowing any of their personal information, it will make reporting incidents like this one even harder.

Battle Scars

Battle Scars

I have been a sex worker on and off for 5 years. I have presented as female for 6. For as long as I can remember I have known myself as a female. I can’t describe to you the pain and bullying and the discomfort in my own body throughout my teenage years. I can only say that deciding to be brave and come out to my friends and family and starting the long process of transitioning on the NHS was the most terrifying journey I ever started, but it was that or nothing. I couldn’t live a life where I didn’t even recognise myself in the mirror. When no one knew who I really was. When I couldn’t let anyone in or form any meaningful relationships because I was constantly living a lie about my fundamental being. The depression. Three suicide attempts. I spent a few weeks before deciding to come out where I didn’t leave my house, I didn’t eat and I barely drank water. I wanted to waste myself away. This body meant nothing to me and I wanted it to be over. I didn’t relate to myself. I didn’t want this version of myself to exist. One friend stuck by me after I came out. One friend. She came with me to my first appointment. She held my hand when she saw me shaking afterwards and she didn’t make me talk about it ( she knows how much I hate showing my emotions in public) She showed me how to do makeup…when I was 19 and didn’t act as though I was stupid and didn’t wait for me to ask.

She held me all night while I cried to her (I never cry) and talked me out of hurting myself after I left my parents house. They didn’t know who I was anymore. My mother could only cry for her own loss of her son. She couldn’t accept her daughter. They were furious with me for ruining their picture perfect family photos I guess.

She was and still is my lifeline. She is always on the phone whenever I need her, and I try and do the same for her. She is a sex worker.
She was a dancer and a professional submissive. I never even questioned her line of work because she was so matter of fact about it. it is a part of who she is. Unashamed, unapolagetic and proud of who she is. Pretty much the opposite of how I felt most of the time.

I had been out of work for at least 10 months when I saw my first client. While it saved me from topping myself – expressing externally who I am on the inside didn’t do me any favours in helping me get a job.

Customer service seemed out of the question, employment offices saw me and put “closed for the day” signs on their windows. I was on the dole and attending multiple patronising seminars in order to be allowed to be paid a pittance every week, and having conversations with people who misgendered me and asked me if I had ever tried searching on gumtree for jobs.

My first client treated me as though I was exotic. And contrary to how I would have assumed I would feel, I liked it. I was already gawped at regularly by people in the street – at least this was admiring gawping and i was being paid more in a few hours than I had made in one month of working cleaning dishes, hating myself and pretending to be a boy. I felt safe as my best friend was on call, knew where I was and was waiting for my call at the end of the booking to check I was okay.

Despite the fact that I have the battle scars from trying to end my life, my family still don’t speak to me, I have only had one sexual/loving relationship outside of my job – I am one of the lucky ones. I am so thankful that I can survive, I can stay true to myself and I can pay the rent. I am so thankful to my best friend. I am so thankful for sex work being the only line of work that actually accepts me for who I am. Others are not as lucky. The ones who everyone turns their back on. The ones who have no way of finding work and are homeless. The ones who lost their wars with themselves. The ones who don’t have support. The ones who the law doesn’t protect. Spare a thought for them tonight.

Am I Just a Glory Hole

Am I Just A Glory Hole?

I saw someone today who, how should I say it….is someone who’s life is clearly influenced by porn, rap music and Grand Theft Auto.
Although I had seen him before, techno phone problems had denied me that knowledge. The outcome of this was, he wanted anal and I was not prepared for that.

Sorry to be blunt, but it literally involves having a shit, douching my asshole repetitively with warm water, baby wipes, talc, then oiling up a dildo to relax my sphincter. Not forgetting, the house work that may be left behind after this particular operation.

So, rather than saying “Oooh sorry, I’m not ready for anal” which I have done before, and perhaps giving him the heave-ho, I politely rushed through my pre-match ritual whilst he waited, for all of 1.5 minutes. The quickest shit of my life I can tell you. All he could do was moan about ‘having to wait, and losing the horn’. He continued to explain that ‘sex should be instant and that I was all ready last time’. He also reprimanded me for using lube for my own gain which deserves a blog in its own right.

Bad prostitute….bad! Where is that naughty step?

So, cut to the chase…there was poo. Only the tweeeeeniest amount. Like I said, I was not prepared. If you wanna go off road, expect mud. I am not talking Mr Whippy, more melted chocolate chip. He was most unnerved by this natural phenomena. Assholes should be like the movies: empty, clinical and pink. How dare I allow my body to function in its organised biological fashion!? Did I eat dinner last night? Shit, I did. Uh oh.

But, rather than tit-for-tatting the whole scenario, as he did love having the last say, I would rather focus on the politics of the situation.

I am not deluded, I am a hooker. I am used and disposed of in order to quench your immediate and subverted sexual requests. Out of all the people in your life, I will receive the least respect. Although I am thankful that the majority of my regulars would whole heartedly agree with that last statement. My kind of punter instigates pillow talk, kissing, cuddling, cunnilingus, toy play…as well as hardcore filthy sex, don’t get me wrong! My kind of punter is mature enough to know and want to know further, how bodies work together within a sexual situation. No judgements, no penalties, just an intimate and often holistic exploration.

It is just a shame that the occasional male surfaces with these detached, ignorant and conditioned ideas about women and their role in the bedroom. (I blame porn…have I mentioned this before?! )

This leads me nicely to the title, ‘Am I just a glory hole?’ If so keep your money to yourself and in the most politest way possible, fuck off.

A Mixed Bag

A Mixed Bag

Escorting in general has been a varied experience for me a lot of it has been traumatic. I started because at 17 and running away from home with a growing habit, what choice did i really have?

Now it’s been ten years. I’m clean and I still escort because I have people to support and its what I know how to do best.

I’ve seen dodgy clients, funny ones And some downright scary ones where i have risked my life. And I cant believe that the most fear and trauma I experience comes at the hands of the police, the judgemental people around me.

If it wasn’t for escorting I wouldn’t have found the self respect to get clean and look after myself financially. It also ruined my self esteem and cut me off from the world even more and made me act against the law more – not because of its fault but because of others judgement and stigma.

I want to live in a world where I could report some of the attacks on me that have happened and not have it be assumed I am lying because of what my job is.



I work in a cafe. At the moment I can’t see my kids because they took them away from me because I was escorting. I’m in the process of proving that escorting is not a sin, it’s a service that I’m paid for, I don’t hurt anyone, I don’t assault anyone, I’m not doing a crime.

I’m fighting to legally recover custody over my children. For once in my life I don’t want Sex Workers to be discriminated against, to be seen as people like anyone else. The error they make is to forbid the sharing of the body for the satisfaction of a third party. But I don’t see the problem if the client is completely aware and ok with the price and with what is going to be done.

It’s been a short story because I’m getting emotional because I have found strength in escorting but it has also cost me my children.

Faith in God

Faith in God

I’m a sex worker. My family is poor, I started this to give my daughter better schooling. I’m a drug addict but I believe in God and I have great faith that I can survive. I was in a very bad place before and am much better now. Thanks to my sisters in the women’s house we have a lot of support.