A tinny rendition of Twelve Days of Christmas fills a fluorescently-lit supermarket aisle as Emma stacks shelves lethargically. A message comes through on her phone. She fishes it out her bra and wipes her boob imprints from the screen. Another rejection from uni. Unfortunately, we felt you lacked a certain empirical grasp on the subject of Economics and therefore-” Great. She spots another notification. Instagram. 1 message request. Tap. “Ur feet look good. They must be sweaty against those patent loafers. Please may I spoil you?”.

Uh-oh. Emma has stumbled upon the world of Findom. And she likes it. Money for nothing? What could go wrong? Over the course of 12 days, the story looks at the culture of our bodies as commodities and where consent lies within that sexual exploration. We go on a rollercoaster of morals behind sex work with a character who’s never really had to think about it; until she takes an involuntary dive into the world herself. Left to question her own empowerment within a new-fangled relationship, she wonders if she really is coming out on top.

A window into a little-known world, this is a sexual power trip gone wrong. With Christmas fast approaching, Emma comes to the realisation that a trickle of money has made her unknowingly trade her own safety. Buy one get one free. From behind the camera, we watch her boundary lines become less and less defined until we are left with the sinking feeling that we’re the ones who’ve been complicit all along.