My heart beat faster as I surrendered to his touch. I released all desire to resist as he put cuffs around my wrists and locked my arms together behind my back. I willingly let him take control over me, the untamable one.

A fresh awareness of body and breath arose as I was liberated from performing. He gently threw me down on the couch face down. His soft, yet firm hands caressed my butt before he spanked me once on each cheek. Is that all you got? The moment it slipped out of me, I both regretted saying such and felt an extreme excitement for what came next. He slapped my right buttcheek so hard it gave off a perfect spanking sound. The arousing pain stripped my mind from thoughts as my body became all sensation. 

I quickly snapped out of it as my perfectionist self came back to hold the reigns of my brain. How was it that this newbie gave off a better spanking sound on my ass than I do on others? Perhaps my booty just give off a good sound? Dammit, just as easy as I lost control, my mind was ready to take it back. I told my first dominant to release me, and that I had enough for the first time. Inside, I craved for more. 

The exhilaration I felt from releasing control infused me with new excitement for life and work. Now, I know what it’s like not to think or plan or hold space. Unaware of what will happen next. Aware only of sensations. Outside the mind, in the field of the body, where pleasure and pain become one. 

I love my job. It's taken me over 10 years to finally dare become a sex worker, what I always wanted. Surely, I would be the last person to give up my beloved profession and lifestyle for a man?

Think again. Before being bewildered by a boyfriend and prospects of a "normal" life, I never doubted my choices in life. Then, I too got lured away by love. At least what I thought was love at the moment. While in my mind, love should be unconditional. In this case it was conditioned by me having to reluctantly agree to seeing my work as morally wrong.

The strong, independent woman I thought I was caved into conditioned love. I no longer felt good about working and took an indefinite break while struggling to adapt to a life of Netflix, chill and dog walks. 

To be loved I gave up my life. I lied and humoured my man and his limited view on sex work as amoral.

Personally, I find sex work beautiful. It allows for genuine connection, exploration of sexuality, and gives space for people to be free and exactly who they want to be, even if just for an hour. Every hour I worked I felt privileged to be a guide in the realm of sexuality. Then I turned around and gave it all up to fit into a box that was never fitted for me.

You may wonder where the story ends? Well, I realised that someone who can't love me for who I am will never accept me as an equal. I choose to take the good memories with me as I decide to be myself again, fully. No limitations and no shame. I am at a stage where my life is exactly what I designed it to be, doing what I love, being happy and free. No one can tell me that's the wrong place to be.