Half of Belgians have tried BDSM – so why are we still uncomfortable talking about it?

Half of Belgians have tried BDSM – so why are we still uncomfortable talking about it?
"I’ve been stopped nine times at airport security because my handcuffs and nipple clamps look like bomb parts," says dominatrix-turned stand-up comedian, Sally Porter, holding her handcuffs and homemade flogger in Brussels, 1 April 2026. Credit: Isabella Vivian / The Brussels Times

Whether it's pink fluffy handcuffs, blindfolds, ropes or whips, the sexual practice of BDSM is more common than people may think – but remains tightly bound by societal stereotypes of safety, violence and abuse. How legitimate are these concerns in reality?

Despite public perceptions of BDSM (bondage, discipline/domination, submission/sadism, and masochism) as a "niche sub-culture", this is not actually the case, according to Dr Hubert Van Puyenbroeck, an academic at VUB who specialises in relationships.

BDSM is typically understood as a set of consensual sexual and relational practices involving power dynamics and control, with informed consent, negotiated boundaries, and mutual agreement.

A Belgian study in 2017 showed that nearly half of the 1,027 respondents (46.8%) had engaged in at least one BDSM-related activity. Another 22% had BDSM fantasies without necessarily acting on them.

Moreover, about one-quarter of respondents (26%) considered themselves interested in BDSM, indicating that BDSM-related desires extend well beyond people who formally identify with the BDSM community.

"This suggests BDSM-related interests are relatively mainstream rather than rare," Dr Van Puyenbroeck told The Brussels Times.

Nuages, 25, who came to Brussels from Switzerland five years ago, practises BDSM in her relationship and once paid for a session with a dominatrix. She believes people often don't even realise they have explored BDSM, as it encompasses a broad spectrum of sexual activity, from blindfolding to extreme psychological humiliation.

"BDSM ranges from people who give their partner a little spank during sex, put a blindfold over someone's eyes or use pink fur handcuffs that don't hurt at all. Even if that's the only practice, it falls within the scope of BDSM practices," she told The Brussels Times.

"Lots of people do it, even if they don't talk about it, and even if they do it in a very mild way."

Finding pleasure in pain

BDSM is commonly associated with pain. However, Dr Van Puyenbroeck notes that people who seek out these experiences don't do so because they enjoy suffering itself, but rather because of the other aspects the experience brings.

"Pain can become part of a meaningful, intense, rewarding, or transformative experience – something that occurs in many socially accepted activities, including sport," he said.

Nuages says what's pleasant about pain is both the adrenaline rush in the moment and the sensation afterwards. "It's about enduring it. Or the feeling that 'it was tough, it was really difficult, but I got through it'. These are feelings and sensations that are very pleasurable to experience," she said.

In November 2025, she paid 3,000 Swiss Francs (approximately €3,180) for a six-hour session in Lausanne, Switzerland. It was a "once-in-a-lifetime event", which she had fantasised about for years and used to mark a new chapter in her life.

Nuages asked for her session to focus more on humiliation, psychological abuse, and insults than physical pain. "I went through a lot of emotions," she said. "There were moments when I did feel a bit humiliated, but I also felt a great deal of joy."

It's not only a pleasurable experience for the client, but also in some cases for the professional. For Sally Porter, 61 – a dominatrix turned stand-up comedian from north London who uses her 20 years of kinky experiences as inspiration for her gags – it's all about taking back control.

As a black, Jewish woman, Sally has faced racism and sexism throughout her life and says she therefore finds the work empowering and derives pleasure from it.

She's worked in the sex industry for two decades, mainly in Amsterdam's infamous Red Light District, with clients ranging from Hollywood film stars to British politicians – she even used to watch Prime Minister's Questions on TV with friends and pick them out in the UK Parliament's House of Commons.

Sally working from home in 2003. Credit: Sally Porter

Sally believes BDSM is a form of escapism: "Some people watch football, some people do drugs, some people go to the dungeon," – referring to the space in which she works.

Nuages also describes the escapism she experienced from being humiliated: "I wanted it, because it's something I experienced in my daily life, during my compulsory military service in Switzerland," she said.

"So it allowed me to let that out or turn it into something positive. To relive it, but more positively, with my boundaries respected."

Professional or a partner?

There are varying reasons why someone may choose to pay for a dominatrix's services over practising BDSM in their relationship.

According to Dr Van Puyenbroeck, people may see a dominatrix because they have specific BDSM interests, fetishes, or fantasies that are most safely and effectively explored with an experienced professional.

"BDSM requires skill and safety: professional dominatrices often have expertise in consent, negotiation, and risk management. […] It makes exploration feel safer and more structured," he said.

Sally says she wouldn't practise BDSM with a partner, partly because "it's a different dynamic", but also to ensure work–life balance, as she believes the dominatrix mindset is "unconsciously addictive" and it can be hard to switch off.

"Being in that environment and seeing the sexual deviant side of people, 24/7, you need a rest from it, or you'll end up loopy. The lines start to blur," she said.

Sally's multi-purpose bedroom and dungeon in Newcastle, England, 2004. Credit: Sally Porter

Nuages, meanwhile, already practises BDSM in her relationship, but paying to see a dominatrix meant she could ask for what she wanted more easily. Some practices such as Shibari – a type of Japanese bondage – also require real expertise, she said.

In her view, dominatrixes are craftspeople. "They're artists. I could ask my friend to cut my hair for free, but it wouldn't necessarily be great. On the other hand, some people offer genuine expertise and do it better than others."

She sees it as just paying for a service: "Just as I might go to a hairdresser or a cabinetmaker to have a piece of furniture made. Except the difference is that, in this case, I wanted sexual activities."

Why the social stigma?

Despite 46.8% of Belgians having explored BDSM, either at home or with a professional, the practice continues to be stigmatised by society due to cultural assumptions about safety and consent.

"People often confuse BDSM with abuse or violence. The defining difference is that BDSM is based on informed, voluntary and ongoing consent, whereas abuse involves coercion, fear and the absence of genuine choice," Dr Van Puyenbroeck said.

Historical psychiatric classifications and media representations have often reinforced these stereotypes, portraying BDSM as dangerous, extreme or psychologically unhealthy and viewing it through a pathological lens.

While Nuages says she isn't ashamed of having paid for a session with a dominatrix, she doesn't feel able to discuss it openly with loved ones, either.

"It makes me feel a bit self-conscious, even though I'd really like to be able to talk about it with family and friends, and be more open and prouder of it," she said.

"I'm not ashamed of it, but there is indeed a kind of taboo – though it doesn't stem from a taboo around BDSM, but more from sexuality."

Dr Van Puyenbroeck echoes that societal stigma around BDSM may reflect broader cultural discomfort with sexuality, power and pleasure, which many societies find difficult to discuss.

"BDSM challenges conventional ideas about what 'normal' sexuality looks like. Practices involving power exchange, restraint or consensual pain can be difficult for outsiders to understand, especially when viewed without the context of consent and mutual agreement," he said.

He believes this stigma causes more harm than the practice itself. "From a clinical perspective, the strongest evidence suggests that the greatest risks are often not the BDSM practices themselves, but secrecy, stigma, lack of communication, misinformation, or the absence of informed and consensual participation," the researcher said.

Fear of judgement and concealing this part of someone's identity may also negatively affect their psychological well-being, he added.

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In Dr Van Puyenbroeck's view, the contrast between how widely practised BDSM is and the persistent taboo attached to it suggests that public perceptions have not yet fully caught up with the scientific evidence.

However, he acknowledged that public awareness is growing and stigma, particularly among younger generations, is declining.

BDSM communities also often place exceptional emphasis on explicit consent, communication and aftercare. "These principles distinguish consensual BDSM from abuse or violence," the researcher said.

In the case of Nuages, BDSM has also given her a community: half of her group of friends she met through Brussels' vast BDSM scene at parties and casual social meet-ups known as 'munches'. "The BDSM community has helped me settle in and socialise here in Belgium," she said.

Sally believes attitudes towards the sex industry have also changed over the last 20 years, and there's less stigma attached to her work now with platforms such as OnlyFans coming onto the scene – but there's still a long way to go, especially in terms of safety.

"At the end of the day, we are all people. We've all got a right to be here. If you can't accept people as people, go live on the moon."


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