I’ve been a porn star for 28 years — now my husband joins in

Welcome to How I Do It, the series in which we give you a seven-day sneak peek into the sex life of a stranger.

This week we hear from Melissa, a 47-year-old dominatrix who lives in Kent.

She’s straight, but has performed both heterosexual and lesbian porn over her 28-year career in the sex industry.

‘I love sex and crave it more frequently and fiercely the older I’ve become,’ she says.

‘When I make porn I play with women frequently, and get to explore many of my kinks, such as bondage, breath play and impact play.’

Melissa’s husband, an actor who she met while auditioning for a play 11 years ago, has been ‘indifferent’ to her sex work from day one.

‘In my experience, men are usually thrilled to find out they’re dating a porn star, but he didn’t really care. I found that so interesting,’ she says.

More than a decade on, her husband now gets involved in her sex work, even allowing clients to listen to him and Melissa while they have sex.

The only issue her husband has with her work is an emotional one, rather than physical.

‘The only problem we’ve had is when he feels I’m messaging one client too much, sharing too many of my intimate thoughts, and leaving him feeling neglected. He really dislikes that,’ she adds.

‘It’s happened maybe three or four times and I’ve promised to wind it back in and put my connection with them on a more professional footing.’

Here’s how Melissa got on this week…

The following sex diary is, as you might imagine, not safe for work.

Monday

I go to a photographer’s house to get some pictures taken for my OnlyFans, in a corset, heels and stockings. Another model pops by after an hour, as we’ve been commissioned to make a couple of custom films.

My most regular buyer likes to see women spank each other with vintage hairbrushes, and regularly sends me beautiful ones to use: silver, ebony, bone. We take it in turns to drape over each other’s laps. He prefers a sensual spanking rather than anything aggressive.

After the initial burning pain my bottom warms and I find the thud agreeable and meditative. Spanking is the ultimate lesson in mindfulness: you can’t worry about anything else while it’s happening.

My next client wants to see my pal play a cheeky girl who needs to be stripped naked and punished by me. She’s 44, and her bottom looks peachy. While it’s happening, I’m worrying about camera angles and remembering my lines, but back home afterwards I reach for my vibrator.

Tuesday

A man who likes to role play as a butler is flying over from California to serve me!

He’s rented a flat in Covent Garden for the week, and as soon as we meet, I lock him in a chastity. He says he’s going to bring me coffee in bed, iron my outfits, polish my shoes and escort me to the theatre. For this I’ll be paid £1500.

We settle into our new quarters. I let him do up my suspenders and stand in my underwear scolding him while he irons my outfit.

That evening my husband joins us. We have martinis at the Savoy! I’ve learned to cosplay as middle class, but in truth I’m common as they come, and have never before had a martini or been to the Savoy.

The butler imagines me much posher and girlier than the brutal truth: I like a pint of ale at Spoons. I’m anxious and feel out of place, but the staff are charming and I discover martinis are only enormous mugs of gin, nothing to fear.

After a few of those we head back to our apartment and my husband and I have sweaty, noisy sex so the butler can hear us from his servant quarters. Butler likes the idea we are enjoying ourselves while he can’t. My husband has always said that the work I do – and that he now joins in with – doesn’t really feel like sex to him – it’s theatre. And that’s why it works.

When we’re finished I emerge, naked, to ask the butler to wash my sweaty underwear, ready for the next day.

Wednesday

My husband and I start having sex again this morning, but neither of us come this time. We do, however, promise to save it for later. I leave a hickey on my husband’s nipple, at his request, and give him six quick strokes of the cane before he has to go.

The butler brings me coffee and croissants in bed and lays out my underwear.

I answer a ton of emails while he tidies. I have a full day of clients wanting to make the most of my central London pad.

The first client likes sensory deprivation, straitjackets, blindfolds, gags, bondage, earphones, and me sitting, fully clothed, on his face. Usually we do this in a dungeon, but today he’s on the bed and I can watch telly while he squirms under me for two hours. Result.

Next, is a handsome Irish man, who’s been in the scene for years who has brought all manner of implements for us to enjoy. We gossip about mutual acquaintances before he stands in the corner and I take him over my knee before giving him 12 cane strokes.

Later, I meet my husband in the pub, telling butler to give us an hour as I need to be Melissa for a bit. Role-playing 24/7 is knackering. The butler obliges before taking us for a fancy dinner, then on to the musical Operation Mincemeat, which is sensational.

Back to the apartment where my husband and I engage in more noisy performative shagging, finishing what we started that morning.

Thursday

A French chap visits the London flat for c**k and ball torture. He likes a gentle spanking over my knee for a few minutes, but mainly to be kicked repeatedly in the nuts: I must wear very specific shiny black stilettos for this, which he likes to watch dangle off my toes, while he bites on another stiletto.

About 40 minutes of sitting and kicking must surely be good for my core strength.

A new client pops by next for some medical play. He’s very pleasant although rubbish at role-play. We giggle and chat about politics as I go through our pre-agreed list of activities including a prostate exam, testicle measuring, and whipping with a stethoscope.

My husband always say he feels proud of my sex work because I make people happy, and I never make fun of their desires – even to him. Even the guy that wanted me to eat artichokes while sitting on a space hopper.

My butler takes me out lingerie shopping, before my husband joins me – we have a night in and fall asleep.

Friday

My butler opens the curtains at 7am, as he has an early flight home, just when I’m dreaming deeply about making beautiful porn.

He’s terribly sad to be going home, but the week must have cost him a fortune. I remove his chastity device, then let him listen to me shag my husband for his final hurrah. My husband and I are both people-pleasers, thankfully, and are keen to make the butler happy.

Once he’s headed for the airport we can relax and we have an uproarious self-indulgent shag, indifferent to the noise we make.

Saturday

Day of domestic drudgery! Unpacking, shopping, laundry, all that. I go for a swim, then meet my son for a drink at the pub where he works. He knows about my antics, and is supportive.

I answer some more emails. My job is probably 90% admin, in truth, although that’s less fun to write about. Although I do have a book: Americaned: Sex and Grief across a Continent, which comes out in August.

I make a massive curry for dinner before attempting to review a sex toy I’ve been sent. I pose, bloated and half-hearted, for a few pictures.

Sunday

I book hotels for the busy week ahead. I’ve got a full Northern tour with a big group, then a role play weekend.

I also have a sploshing shoot in Newark – twelve litres of custard and meringue – so I’m keen to find a hotel with a big bath and modern plumbing.

In the afternoon I go to church. I have no religious faith, but I enjoy the singing, meditation and the hour spent off my phone. It’s an inclusive church: the minister knows what I do and is super cool about it.

Back at home I pack for the week ahead. Dildos, canes, shoes, corsets and custard.

My husband and I have gentle loving cuddly sex as I’ll be gone most of the week. I hate being away from my home and my man so much.

But there are clients to please and placate, and I know I’m lucky to have a job that lets me travel, earn, be creative and fulfilled.

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