In 2012, after approximately six months in the industry and with only a few published scenes, I organized my first fan blowbang. The project was produced with no formal budget. An acquaintance of Rocco Siffredi provided a private villa, photography was done voluntarily by a friend, and a videographer charged only 100 EUR. I handled the editing myself.

The shoot proved physically challenging. It was initially intended to be a gangbang; however, during the scene, one participant behaved aggressively, resulting in physical injury. Years later, a gynecologist inquired about trauma to my cervix. Despite this incident, I do not regret the experience, though it highlighted a fundamental risk of working with amateurs: A lack of technical knowledge, professional boundaries, and situational awareness.

Over the years, I participated in two additional fan-based orgies and conducted multiple casting sessions. One casting led to a lasting friendship and a sexual relationship that continued intermittently for several years until his death from cancer. At the time, working with new partners represented both sexual exploration and professional curiosity.

However, in recent years, increasing regulatory pressure and informal censorship within the industry have significantly altered the risk calculus associated with working with new performers. From a legal standpoint, producing adult content generally requires verification of age through two forms of identification and a signed model release. Nevertheless, under the expanded discourse of “consent,” mechanisms designed to protect performers from exploitation are increasingly being used retroactively to contest previously consensual and compensated work.

Consequently, production companies have become far more reluctant to work with unestablished performers, preferring recognizable names that present lower reputational and legal risk. This risk aversion is particularly evident among companies with significant visibility outside the adult industry.

Such entities face heightened exposure to public backlash, deplatforming, or financial sanctions due to allegations that may arise long after production. In many cases, requests for content removal are motivated not by coercion or harm, but by changes in personal circumstances, such as entering a new relationship, family pressure, or parenthood, despite prior informed consent and remuneration.

Additional uncertainty arises from evolving financial and legal frameworks. Payment processors such as Mastercard and Visa periodically revise their compliance requirements, rendering previously considered sufficient documentation invalid. Furthermore, some jurisdictions have introduced regulations allowing performers to request the removal of content for which they have already been compensated.

For example, in Japan and North Carolina, performers can legally request the removal of content without having to prove a breach of contract or unlawful conduct. From an economic perspective, this undermines the stability of productive investment: it allows a worker to receive compensation and then discard the product of their labor.

Such policies function as a form of indirect censorship, increasing financial and legal risks in the adult industry. It's important to note that these regulations do little to address the problem of piracy. Despite removing content from legal platforms or prosecuting producers for illegal acts, unauthorized distribution often continues unchecked.

Governments have shown limited effectiveness in tackling illegal hosting and distribution networks, and content frequently circulates via encrypted messaging apps and social media platforms.

Laws such as the Prevent Sexual Exploitation of Women and Minors Act or the Adult Video Appearance Damage Prevention and Relief Law do not significantly prevent the non-consensual redistribution of content. On the contrary, they can create a false sense of security among novice performers, who may assume that participation does not entail long-term liability because the content can always be removed later.

This perspective weakens professional accountability and undermines sustainable production practices. My personal experience with fan productions reflects these broader structural problems. While I've had positive and memorable encounters, most have been professionally problematic.

Inexperienced participants often struggle to meet basic performance requirements, such as maintaining arousal, controlling ejaculation, or respecting physical limits. In some cases, I've suffered accidental injuries; in others, I've been forced to remove content from platforms like OnlyFans when participants subsequently requested withdrawal of consent after extended periods of public availability.

In light of these experiences, I've become increasingly cautious. For my independent productions, I now limit collaborations to performers with whom I've established trust and pre-existing working relationships, especially when a financial investment is involved.

For me, pornography isn't simply a form of work, but a deliberate lifestyle choice rooted in personal autonomy and sexual self-determination. I'm the first woman in my family tree to openly exercise sexual freedom and challenge normative assumptions about female sexuality.

While fan performances have been a significant form of sexual and artistic exploration, current regulatory, legal, and cultural conditions make such practices disproportionately risky. I hope that future policy debates will move beyond moral panic and symbolic protection, focusing instead on effective measures to counteract real exploitation, coercion, and non-consensual distribution—rather than imposing constraints that ultimately harm both performers and producers.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5819718&forum_id=2...id#49575213)