I write in response to the spectacle of Russell Brand — recent Christian convert facing allegations of rape and sexual assault — offering his “protection, service, and counsel” to OnlyFans creator Lily Phillips. Lily allegedly ‘slept with’ 101 men in 24 hours, and social media is awash with speculation and trolling. Beyond the irony, the blatant deflection, and the saviour complex at play, what struck me most was the rampant misogyny in the comment section. Lily was primarily cast as the repugnant whore, while Brand was applauded for his supposed redemption arc. The line of men who queued was barely mentioned. As an infant sexual abuse (ISA) survivor who lives with Hypersexuality Disorder (HD), I filter this story through a very different lens.
My earliest experience of sex wasn’t one of choice, curiosity, or love — it was imposed upon me prematurely. The violation wasn’t just of my young body but of my core identity. It left an imprint so deep, shaping all human interactions.
“To have your sexuality programmed into you in early childhood is not to be you at all. You are merely a sex doll who comes to life when activated.”
This isn’t just another SA survivor story; it’s the story of how SA intersects with a hypersexualised society that commodifies sexual trauma. I’m not saying that every OnlyFan content creator is a SA survivor, but many are, and there are implications. We must confront uncomfortable truths to fully unpack the ‘whore’ troupe.
The OnlyFans Generation and the Commodification of Trauma
In an era where digital platforms dictate cultural narratives, hypersexuality has become both a symptom and a commodity. The rise of OnlyFans has blurred the lines between empowerment and exploitation, where women — often young, often vulnerable — are financially incentivised to perform the very behaviours that stem from deep-rooted trauma. But what happens when hypersexuality is not just a personal condition but a socially engineered phenomenon? A system that normalises the perpetual availability of women’s bodies for consumption?
For survivors of childhood sexual abuse, hypersexuality disorder is often a maladaptive response to trauma — an attempt to reclaim agency over a body that was once violated. Yet, rather than recognising this as a manifestation of unresolved pain, the digital sex industry capitalises on it. The OnlyFans model, sold as autonomy, instead reinforces a transactional relationship with intimacy, rewarding extreme sexualisation while punishing boundaries and authenticity. Women, shaped by early abuse, are “programmed to please,” unconsciously performing for an audience that thrives on their dysfunction.
This conditioning does not happen in isolation. Social media, pornography, and influencer culture prime young women to equate desirability with worth. The hypersexuality that emerges in response to childhood trauma is reinforced by algorithms that reward engagement, clicks, and financial transactions. The more extreme the performance, the greater the payout. But at what cost? The neural pathways wired through childhood abuse become cemented through continued exposure to exploitative systems, making escape nearly impossible.
The real question is: who benefits? Hypersexuality disorder is not just an individual pathology — it’s a systemic design. The legacy of CSA creates ideal conditions for a market that thrives on brokenness, where pleasure and pain become indistinguishable and where survivors, rather than being rehabilitated, are redirected into digital brothels disguised as empowerment. The sex industry’s greatest trick has been convincing women that selling themselves is liberation, when in reality, it is simply another cage — one that looks different, but operates the same.
If we are to dismantle this cycle, we must interrogate the structures that program women to believe their only currency is their bodies. We must create pathways for healing that don’t involve monetising trauma. And we must, above all, ask the hard questions about why hypersexuality is so profitable — and who is truly in control.
I can’t help but ask: Is there more to the Bonnie Blue and Lily Phillips stories? Are they CSA survivors unconsciously acting out trauma, or are they motivated by something else? Either way the ‘whore’ troupe shuts down critical discussion and conversations around extreme sexual behaviour.
Programmed to Please, Desperate for Love
Sex ruled my life. By society’s standards, my body count firmly places me in the “super slut” category. But that’s not a badge of honour — it’s a reflection of a lifelong struggle with disordered sexuality, tangled in confusion, conflict and shame. Even before I got my first period, I displayed harmful sexual behaviours — sexually precocious and provocative — I was a walking sex doll. Infusing every interaction, no matter how innocent or platonic, with a sexual undercurrent or overture is not healthy. Whilst generally expected of teenagers, it’s not a good life strategy. Worried and ill-informed, my mum put me on the pill. I was thirteen.
You can imagine the fallout as the years rolled on. Crippling guilt and shame. Repeated re-victimisation and re-traumatisation. A profound inability to trust myself or others. Cycles of self-imposed isolation. Seeking refuge in purity culture only to relapse into guilt-ridden sex binges when the isolation became unbearable. Infidelity. Failed relationships. Suicidal depression, homelessness and poverty. I am one of many.
Undiagnosed hypersexuality consumed my life because, unlike substance abuse, you can’t avoid humans. With no experience or blueprint for healthy attachments, I used sex to bond, allowing easy access to my body. My ‘yes’ was overdeveloped, and my ‘no’ was severely impaired. I developed sexually compulsive behaviour that I couldn’t control, fathom or fix. I didn’t even like sex that much; I just craved and needed love and attention, and giving sex was the way I earned it. If I were a man, I probably would have been labelled a charmer, womaniser or sexual predator. As a woman, I was labelled a slut, a whore and a nympho. Shame-inducing slurs don’t see beyond the sexual behaviour to the root cause, and that is a travesty.
The Neurodevelopmental Impact of Infant Sexual Abuse (ISA)
The fallout of CSA is devastating, but when abuse happens in infancy or the first five years of life, it doesn’t just leave scars on the soul; it builds your core identity. During critical developmental years, the brain forms neural pathways that shape how we perceive love, safety, and connection. When infant sexual abuse (ISA) is present, it creates a profound disruption in these pathways, causing structural damage and disruptions to regions of the brain. Put simply, child sexual abuse in infancy causes permanent neurological brain damage.
Abuse, Caregiving, and the Distorted Link Between Love and Sex
When ISA happens by a primary caregiver/parent, the impact is even more devastating as it also alters the attachment system. These infants learn that affection and attention are earned through sexually compliant behaviours. The lines between love and sexual exploitation blur entirely. Caregivers are the foundation of a child’s understanding of affection, trust, and belonging. When this sacred relationship is sexualised, the child learns that to receive attention and love, they must be sexual, that affection is conditional, and that their worth is tied to how well they can sexually please others.
This distorted association becomes encoded in the core psyche, shaping adult relationships and reinforcing the idea that love is earned through sexual compliance and availability. Want more love? Give more sex! For many survivors, this programming creates a lifelong struggle to differentiate between genuine connection and the reenactment of trauma. This loss of choice — this compulsion — is not sexual empowerment. It’s survival.
Hypersexuality Disorder: The Gender Gap
Hypersexuality disorder remains conspicuously absent from the DSM (Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders), despite ongoing debate about its nature, treatment, and origins. When it is acknowledged at all, it is often miscategorised — framed as an impulse control disorder, a behavioural addiction, or a symptom of another mental health condition.
Notably, most research on hypersexuality focuses on men and porn and sex addiction— while the experiences of women remain largely ignored. This is a glaring oversight, especially considering the staggering prevalence of CSA perpetrated against girls.
This neglect does more than reinforce stigma — it buries the deeper truth. It obscures the reality that compulsive sexual behaviours in women are often rooted in trauma, not wanton desire. The obsessive need for male validation, constant sexual availability, and engagement in high-risk encounters — these behaviours don’t arise in a vacuum. They are symptoms of a system that conditioned them to seek worth in their sexuality from the very beginning.
In previous years, there was hardly any language to describe the psychological fallout of CSA. Hypersexuality, toxic shame, triggers, flashbacks, and dissociation were unheard of. Sex addiction itself was a relatively new thing, made famous by the likes of Hollywood celebrity Charlie Sheen. I couldn’t relate to it or him. No one was talking about being SA’d by a parent as a small child. The shame and isolation were unbearable.
Incest is still taboo. It’s so taboo that the word ‘incest’ has almost entirely been erased from public discourse. We rarely even differentiate between Intrafamilial CSA and Extrafamilial CSA, deferring to the catch-all acronyms SA or CSA. This does a massive disservice to the victims of the most damaging type of CSA: an infant being sexually abused by a primary caregiver. These victim-survivors deserve so much more, not least to stop them from becoming the next generation of perpetrators and offenders. Female Hypersexuality needs more scientific research, better diagnostic and therapeutic interventions, support and resources.
Conclusion: The Sex Doll Who Breaks Free
To have your sexuality programmed into you is not to be you at all. But to recognise that programming — to name it, challenge it, and ultimately rewrite it — is to reclaim your humanity. Breaking free from sexual programming and choosing a life defined by choice, authenticity, and self-love is an act of rebellion.
Healthy female sexuality isn’t about suppressing or eradicating hypersexuality — it’s about acceptance, finding healthy sexual expression, and learning to give and receive love without using sex as a measure of worth or exchange. True liberation comes from creating a world where love and self-worth aren’t tied to sexual desirability, where survivors are supported rather than exploited, and where compassion replaces shame. We need spaces where women can openly discuss female hypersexuality without judgment, fostering understanding, healing, and empowerment.
For every survivor who overcomes shame, for every story that is shared, and for every system that is challenged, the cycle begins to break. We can create a future where sexuality is sovereign, the female body is sacred, and love is pure – we must!