Slut is a word that rolls off the tongue a little too easily for many of the men who call me looking for phone sex, and why wouldn’t it?

Traditionally under patriarchy, women have only served two roles, the prude and the slut, and working in this industry, evidently, I am deemed the latter.

I become whoever the caller wants me to be because that is what I get paid to do, but part of me really does find it difficult to reclaim this word, which has so many negative connotations, and be empowered by it.

I can understand how words like slut, whore and bitch can be empowering if they’re used in the space of consensual sex. And hell, I’d be lying if I said that these words hadn’t turned me on in my personal life; it feels good to take pleasure in something naughty or taboo sometimes.

Yes, I am sometimes a slut in the context of my work life, but I am also a dominatrix and berate men in the same way they do to me. So, what’s the difference?

They choose for me to adopt this persona; I don’t choose to be their slut.

Image: Malvestida Magazine

The fetish itself isn’t the issue; it’s the inability to distinguish between the illusion, plus the stereotypes that come with it, and the woman on the other end of the phone, mindlessly surfing the web at the same time that she’s telling you she’s touching herself.

I guess you could argue that by choosing to do this job, I am consenting to exactly that, which is technically true.

However, like every job, phone sex comes with its drawbacks, and maybe being called derogatory names is just one of them.

The more I work in this industry the more I realise the contradictions in how I think about my role as a phone sex operator.

I am empowered by the money I earn and by the fact that I am essentially my own boss at age 21, but I am conflicted too.

I worry that my work reinforces gendered ideas about what the perfect woman should be, especially for the callers who seem unable to distinguish between fantasy and reality.

“Where do you live?”

“Can I have your personal phone number?”

“Do you want my email?”

These are all commonly asked questions. They are followed by my two least favourite sentences since starting this job: “Oh come on, why not? Nobody will know.”

Almost every time I answer a call, I am prompted with one of the above questions. It gets old very quickly.

The fact that my callers feel entitled enough to ask these questions, and to keep pushing after I have said no, raises some concerns for me around consent.

It seems like to a lot of these callers, the perfect woman is someone who is completely compliant and devoid of their own personality outside of repeating back to them exactly what they say in different words.

I know not all men are like this, but it does concern me how many of my callers are.

I understand fetishes and respect them as long as they’re legal but this seems so much more than a fantasy.

I wish I could say that I’ve done my part to educate these men and sometimes I do try, but it’s hard to do this with the limited time available during the call.

It’s also difficult to ascertain whether it’s even my place to educate these men about boundaries and stereotyping.

Regardless of whether it is or isn’t my place to say these things, communication is imperative to healthy sexual relationships whether they are for your job, or for your personal life.

It can’t be a bad thing to try and educate people about sex and boundaries, even if it’s not the role I thought I was taking on when I became a phone sex operator.

Isabelle Knot is a writer who writes words that sometimes make sense. In conjunction with her immense talent and beauty she is also very humble.

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