How to safely explore kinks like fin-dom, BDSM and chastity cages

The appeal of financial domination, or fin-dom, was lost on me until I saw actor Kieron Moore playing a coin-collecting camboy in the upcoming movie Blue Film. I heretofore dismissed the practice – if the giver could afford it – as a game of ‘middle-class people moving money around and pretending it’s sexy.’ If the giver couldn’t afford it, I thought it outright exploitation. 

Kieron’s character Aaron [below] stopped me dead in my tracks. “What’s up f*ggots?” he tells his hordes of anonymous followers – and by extension, us, the audience – over a livestream in the first scene. “I’ve just been pumping, something you f*ggots never do.” (Guilty as charged.) “I need one of you pay pigs to come and rinse me off,” he adds with a hateful sneer, demanding his “pathetic ass f*ggots … tap that fuckin’ tip jar.” Warning: the video game-style ‘ka-ching!’ sounds that follow may cause confusing shots of dopamine in your brain.

As an example of financial domination, this is an extreme, anonymous, and of course, fictional case. But I nevertheless found myself thinking: “If this were real, I would be, eagerly and willingly, flat broke by now.” I’d be paying my ‘f*g tax’, as it’s called, and then some. Thus, I had no choice but to check myself for previously judging people who were into it. But how on earth, then, does one explore this kink safely and ethically? It got me thinking of other kinks that can involve power play, like BDSM, chastity cages and pegging. How should we, as queer people who are already navigating disempowerment in wider cis-het society, approach them?

We reached out to counsellor and psychotherapist Yann Phesans, MSc, MBACP for tips – and what we heard back is worth its weight in gold. Thank you, Yann!

Yann Phesans on fin-dom

Generally speaking, in fin-dom the ‘submissive’ makes financial contributions or gifts toward the ‘dominant’ partner or partners. It is important not to fall into an essentialist or zero–sum reading where one person holds all the power, and the other has none. Informed consent and aftercare remain the bedrock of ethical kink: all parties’ needs should be considered in the design of the dynamic, in the enactment itself, and in how partners reconnect afterwards. When a ‘submissive’ chooses to contribute, they are not simply handing power away — they are actively co-creating the very conditions that allow the ‘dominant’ role to exist. The act of giving is both constituting and reaffirming of the identities each partner or partners occupy, defying stereotypes of ‘submissives’ as passive.”

‘Dominance’ and ‘submission’ do not pre-exist; they are constructed through the consensual offering and acceptance of power. Power is not a static possession but a process, a constant negotiation — a dance between choosing to give and consenting to receive. It is also worth asking how these dynamics intersect with social realities beyond the scene. What does it mean for a ‘submissive’ to choose a ‘dominant’ who already holds more everyday power because of gender, sexuality, wealth, race, reputation, or immigration status? Conversely, what happens when the ‘dominant’ in the scene is someone who outside of it is structurally disempowered? These questions do not undermine fin-dom, but they highlight that kink unfolds within broader contexts. Acknowledging this can make the play more conscious, accountable, and ultimately more erotic.

To ensure the dynamic remains empowering and not harmful, I would be curious about a client’s background — for example, any history of compulsive spending, ADHD-related impulsivity, or financial instability. Ethical fin-dom requires clear agreements: explicit limits on money, frequency of payments, what the contributions represent, and what renegotiation or withdrawal looks like. These agreements are best written down or otherwise recorded, so no party is left in doubt.

A limited budget does not mean rejecting fin-dom, but rather adapting contributions creatively — sometimes non-financial gifts or talents carry greater erotic value.

For ‘submissives’: know your budget, your red lines, and what it would mean for you to feel compelled rather than willing to give. For ‘dominants’: never pressure someone beyond stated limits and refuse a scene if you suspect coercion or impaired consent. Regular check-ins, creative negotiation, and transparent boundaries preserve both safety and erotic charge. Ideally, these agreements are not an afterthought but are part of the frame of the dynamic itself — a contract that sustains trust while intensifying desire.

Yann Phesans on chastity cages

Conversations about chastity cages often focus narrowly on orgasm denial and the ‘keyholder’. While this is accurate, it risks flattening the experience. Chastity restricts one form of pleasure, but the denied orgasm is not simply projected onto the ‘keyholder’ — it is redirected toward a different internal object for the ‘cage wearer.’

For many, the erotic charge comes from cultivating self-control and delaying gratification. The pleasure lies in the tension: craving intensely yet choosing to withhold, creating a prolonged build-up. Think less of deprivation and more of redirection, akin to the psychology behind the “marshmallow experiment,” where satisfaction is found in restraint and anticipation.

Chastity is rarely a solitary act. It is a relational practice that reshapes intimacy, trust, and power. The ‘keyholder’ embodies more than control; they co-create anticipation, ritual, and care. The dynamic works because both roles — cage wearer and ‘keyholder’ — are actively constructing an erotic structure where control and surrender circulate between them. For those practicing between an AMAB and an AFAB partner, chastity can also offer a rich context for reclaiming control over patriarchal oppression.

It becomes more than play: a psychically and socially reparative experience in which participants can rewrite scripts of power, reclaim agency, and experiment with new ways of inhabiting their bodies and social positions. The chastity cage stages a relinquishing of the dominance and symbolic centrality of the phallus — long cast as the emblem of masculinity — and redirects desire elsewhere.

For the AFAB partner, taking up the role of ‘keyholder’ disrupts imposed scripts of passivity, foregrounding active authorship of the erotic exchange. At its most radical, chastity play can be a democratic expression, a reordering of power that unsettles the presumed inevitability of patriarchal scripts, making sex a terrain of subversion where social orders are disrupted and rewritten. That said, this sociological reading is not a projection or a one-size-fits-all interpretation. To draw from [Édouard] Glissant, opacity reminds us of the right not to be fully legible. Demanding total transparency — forcing every erotic act to be explained or justified — can itself be a form of domination. By embracing opacity, kink can remain partially unreadable, mysterious, and resistant to external capture. What matters is that it is consensual, affirms one’s sense of self, and avoids producing harm or unwanted shame. This refusal of full readability can itself be liberatory: kink as a space where one chooses what to reveal and what to withhold, retaining the dignity of secrecy and resisting pressures to conform to external narratives.

There are also clear practical risks. Medically, prolonged use of a chastity cage requires careful attention to hygiene: the device should be cleaned regularly, the skin kept dry, and circulation monitored to avoid irritation, infection, or injury. It is advisable to start with shorter wear times, gradually increasing as the body adjusts, and to schedule regular “unlock” periods to check for bruising, chafing, or restricted blood flow. Good fit is essential; poorly sized cages can cause edema, abrasions, or even long-term damage. Psychologically, the practice carries risks if introduced without explicit boundaries. Those with histories of compulsivity, unresolved trauma, or sexual shame may need extra care in negotiating limits, as chastity can intensify emotional responses. Denial may trigger frustration or feelings of inadequacy if not balanced with affirming aftercare. Open communication about duration, expectations, and the meaning of the practice for each partner is crucial. At its best, chastity play can be safe, creative, and deeply empowering — but it requires planning, transparency, and ongoing consent to ensure it remains healthy for both body and mind.

Yann Phesans on BDSM

It is undeniable that queer people navigate systemic disempowerment in cis-het society — a reality made even sharper as trans rights are threatened, and queerness is targeted by renewed moral panics. This context cannot be ignored. Yet within BDSM and power play, what may look like inequality from the outside is not simply a mirror of oppression. Rather, it is an erotic structure intentionally co-created through consent. Here it is crucial to distinguish between power imposed from the outside — suffered, unwanted, disempowering — and power exchanged within kink — chosen, negotiated, and often profoundly fulfilling. The former strips agency away; the latter can restore it. Kink offers the possibility of a reparative experience: the chance to re-enact life, but this time with one’s own script, instead of being cast into a play one never auditioned for, to borrow Esther Perel’s phrase. ‘Dominance’ and ‘submission’ do not pre-exist; they are roles co-constructed, enacted, and sustained through mutual agreement. This co-creation means that even when one role appears “disempowered,” the dynamic itself can be deeply empowering.

Grounding power play in respect and equality does not weaken the erotic charge — it makes it possible. Clear agreements, safe words, negotiated limits, and aftercare create the safety that allows one to fully surrender or fully step into control without fear of exploitation. Indeed, the level of communication that underpins BDSM often far exceeds what is seen in more “normative” sexual encounters, which too often rely on spontaneity, silence, or assumption — conditions that can generate far greater risk of harm. Far from cancelling erotic tension, respect intensifies it: there is a heightened thrill in surrender when one knows their vulnerability will be held, not abused.

This is particularly true because the roles themselves demand a deep attunement. The ‘dominant’ is called to listen carefully, read nonverbal cues, and exercise a form of care that can feel unprecedented, creating the conditions for the submissive to feel truly seen and supported. The ‘submissive,’ in turn, is invited to stay alert to their own internal experience, learning to communicate with their body and self in ways that past experiences may have rendered unsafe. There is a profound form of self-mastery in this dual attentiveness: to one’s own sensations and boundaries, and to the subtle cues and needs of another. It is in this shared, co-attuned space that power, surrender, and erotic tension become not only pleasurable but deeply reparative and transformative.

At the same time, power play does not exist in isolation. A scene where a white ‘dominant’ controls a racialised ‘submissive’ cannot be separated from the history of racial violence, just as gender, class, disability, or immigration status bring their own layers of meaning. These intersections do not render such dynamics inherently harmful — many find them reparative — but they require conscious negotiation. The aim is not to replicate trauma, but to reclaim and rewrite the script so that the play affirms rather than retraumatises.

In short: equality, respect, and attuned care are not in opposition to erotic charge; they are the ground on which risk, surrender, and intensity can unfold safely. Far from diluting the experience, they allow power play to reach its most radical, affirming, and transformative potential.

Yann Phesans on pegging

For anyone with a penis — regardless of gender identity or sexual orientation — interested in pegging from an active perspective, the key is to approach the experience with curiosity, consent, and attunement to both bodily and emotional signals. Erotic roles such as “active” or “penetrative” are not predetermined by anatomy, gender, or social scripts. Exploring this practice offers an opportunity to expand one’s erotic repertoire, experiment with vulnerability, and map the body in new ways. Beyond the purely physical, it is a relational practice: a space to co-develop a language of communication and connection with partner(s), to consciously rework the erotic script of the relationship, and to explore or extend its boundaries. In this shared territory, participants can learn to attune to one another differently, discovering new pathways to mutual pleasure, trust, and intimacy, and cultivating a richer, more responsive erotic dialogue. Engaging in pegging also functions as an act of entrusting the partner — a testimony to the pre-existing bond and a further commitment to it — celebrating the trust, connection, and care that already exist between participants.

From a practical standpoint, clear communication and consent are essential. Boundaries, expectations, and comfort levels should be openly discussed. Beginners can start slowly, using adequate lubrication, and experiment with positions that provide both control and comfort. Attunement to bodily signals — one’s own and partner(s) — is crucial. The active partner develops sensitivity to tension, pleasure, and subtle cues, fostering a form of relational care that can feel unprecedented, while the receiving partner learns to stay connected to their own experience and articulate desires safely. This dual attentiveness cultivates self-mastery and relational intelligence: the ability to navigate one’s own sensations while responding to another’s in a co-created erotic space. Psychologically and sociologically, pegging offers more than sexual novelty. It allows participants to renegotiate normative scripts of power, gender, and desire, creating a context in which erotic roles are chosen rather than imposed. The practice can highlight and subvert assumptions about masculinity, penetration, and sexual agency, offering a reparative experience in which participants reclaim authority over their bodies and pleasure. For queer and trans individuals, or anyone navigating marginalisation, this reorientation of erotic scripts can be particularly meaningful: it foregrounds choice, consent, and the co-authorship of sexual experience, while affirming and celebrating the existing bond between partner(s).

Preparation and aftercare are vital. Discuss experiences afterward, check in on comfort and emotional resonance, and adjust practices as needed. Practically, using safe, well-fitting toys, maintaining hygiene, and pacing exploration are crucial for safety and pleasure. When approached consciously, pegging from an active perspective can be a profoundly transformative practice: it fosters attunement, mutual empowerment, somatic exploration, and the opportunity to reimagine erotic, relational, and social possibilities across diverse identities.

I want to preface by saying that I will use bottoming — and even power bottoming — as a verb rather than as a fixed identity label, unless a client feels it is an integral part of who they are. This distinction matters. With the formal categorisation of ‘homosexuality,’ a shift occurred in which a behaviour was transformed into an identity, reducing gay men to nothing more than their sexuality. That reduction then served as a means of surveillance, control, and discrimination — a legacy that still prevails. To use power bottoming as a verb, then, is to resist that historical flattening and to affirm that there is always more to an individual than their sexual practice.

There is also an ethical dimension. Thinking of bottoming as a verb underscores the role of consent and choice. One may want to bottom — even to power bottom — in a particular context, but not at another time. While this might seem self-evident, the danger of relying on a fixed label like ‘bottom’ or even ‘power bottom’ is that it risks blurring boundaries: assuming that because one identifies with that label, they are always available for that role. They are not. Consent matters in each moment, each encounter.

Treating bottoming as a practice rather than a permanent identity keeps space open for fluidity, change, and refusal — all central to affirming agency and safeguarding dignity.

Yann Phesans (he/they) is the lead psychotherapist and founder of Beyond Labels Therapy. A French-born queer clinician, educator, and writer, Yann works between the UK and the US and specialises in supporting queer and marginalised clients around identity, shame, and trauma. Their practice and research sit at the intersections of relational psychotherapy, critical theory, social justice, and the politics of lived experience. For more information, visit www.beyondlabelstherapy.co.uk.

Attitude – the world’s biggest LGBTQ+ media brand and Europe’s best-selling magazine for gay men – is launching of Attitude Uncut, an all-new digital magazine that will be published six times a year (between Attitude print issues) and available exclusively on Apple News+ and via the Attitude app. Featuring long-read journalism inspired by themes resonating within the LGBTQ+ community, each issue will provide a deep dive into topics as varied as sexuality, identity, health, relationships and beyond. The first issue – themed ‘Kink’ – is inspired by hit film Pillion, in cinemas from 28th November. Set in the world of fetish, it stars Alexander Skarsgård and former Harry Potter star Harry Melling who, after a chance meeting in a pub, begin a love affair that takes them both on an unexpected journey of self-discovery.