On the surface, the Disney+ miniseries Dying for Sex tells the true story of one woman’s erotic adventures as she grapples with terminal cancer. But it’s about much more than that. Through the show’s thoughtful and nuanced portrayal of BDSM, it explores themes of self-discovery, personal agency, and deep compassion.
The show wastes no time setting the stage. In the first episode, we learn that Molly Kochan’s (Michelle Williams) cancer is back, and it’s terminal. Despite this, she is very interested in sex, and her husband Steve (Jay Duplass) is very uninterested because he’s stuck in caretaker mode. He also believes Molly has never fully processed a sexually traumatic event from her childhood. On top of all this, we discover that Molly’s never had an orgasm with another person. Fortunately, her palliative care social worker, Sonya (Esco Jouley), wants to help her solve this problem and convinces Molly to add this to her bucket list. By the end of the episode, Molly has decided to leave her husband and seek out good sex in the little time she has left
Gaining Control
After a few false starts, Molly begins meeting up with guys for sex. Although she enjoys the encounters, she can never fully let go because when she tries, she starts to dissociate. Also, despite being constantly horny and a champion masturbator, she’s unsure of what she wants in bed with another person. Less skilled writers and creators could have opted to turn Molly’s stifled sexuality into a tragic commentary on the damage sexual abuse can cause. Instead, the show presents her journey as one of discovery as opposed to recovery, treating her sexuality as something to be explored and understood rather than fixed.
Molly shows some curiosity about BDSM early on when Sonya mentions that she’s into being tied up, but her kinkiness doesn’t come into focus until episode 3 when she confronts her neighbor (Rob Delaney) about his habit of leaving trash in their hallway. She criticizes him for making a mess and expecting other people to clean it up. She demands that he pick up the trash he dropped, and as he does, she starts to realize that he enjoys being berated. She tells him to say he’s disgusting, and he complies. They retreat to their apartments before things escalate, but they can hear each other masturbating through the paper thin walls.
A few days later, this budding D/s dynamic takes off when Molly returns home from the hospital to find Neighbor Guy’s trash in the hall again. She yells at him about it and then abruptly asks if he’s going to jerk off to this later. He confesses that he will, so she asks if she can watch. This results in Molly’s first attempt at topping, which comes naturally to her despite some hilarious missteps. Unfortunately, the scene is derailed when Molly kicks Neighbor Guy in the dick and breaks her own femur due to her cancer-riddled bones.
This scene balances humor with vulnerability quite well—a hallmark of many kink scenes in the show—and sidesteps the eye-rolling seriousness of so many Hollywood depictions of BDSM. Molly fumbles through her first attempt at domination—she accidentally says the wrong things, and the scene certainly doesn’t end as she intended. Yet this is also authentic. In real life, BDSM doesn’t always go according to plan, and the show reminds us that doms and subs are people first, not just roles. The broken femur incident also subtly underscores Molly’s physical vulnerability even as she explores psychological power.
Learning the Language of Power and Consent
Undeterred, Molly joins a kinky dating app and starts matching with submissive men. She doesn’t know much about BDSM, but she does know that she relishes being in control. Some viewers may see this as an obvious path for someone who’s trying to move past sexual trauma, but it’s also a way for Molly to exercise agency when her body is betraying her and very little is within her control.
Molly starts to learn more about BDSM in episode 4 when she and her best friend Nikki (Jenny Slate) attend a kink party with Sonya. Rather than the leather-clad dominatrixes and dungeon aesthetics that Hollywood typically relies on, the show presents a gathering of ordinary people exploring power dynamics in authentic ways. Molly is transfixed as she watches G. (Robby Hoffman)—dressed in casual clothes, not the stereotypical dominatrix gear—top another woman with confidence and care.
The next day, Molly approaches G. to learn more about topping. Much to her chagrin, G. tells her that if she wants to be good at it, she needs to understand what it’s like to submit sexually. Molly balks at this idea at first. But after an encounter with a sub who calls red, Molly reconsiders and returns to G. to learn what it’s like to submit. G. explains that with vanilla sex, it’s easy to disappear, but with BDSM—especially as a top—you have to remain present. She confirms that Molly wants to submit to her and reminds her that she has the power to stop things at any time. She prompts Molly to say what she wants and stay in the moment as they do some light sensation play.
This episode does an excellent job of introducing a number of BDSM concepts in an authentic way that doesn’t come across as didactic, heavy handed, or overly serious. For instance, when the sub Molly’s seeing calls red, it’s not treated as a life-altering trauma for the sub. In fact, he’s more concerned about Molly than he is about himself and warns her about top drop as he races to get her a snack.
The idea that everyone should try submission before dominance is a popular BDSM “truism” that perhaps doesn’t hold up upon closer inspection (does every man need to be penetrated to get good at penetrating someone else?). But in Molly’s case, it seems beneficial. By the end of the episode, Molly learns that, as a top, she needs to be more responsible, present, and self-aware. Armed with this new knowledge and a better understanding of power dynamics, she’s ready to move past the awkwardness of the dick-kicking incident when she bumps into Neighbor Guy in the elevator again.
In the remaining episodes, Molly’s fling with Neighbor Guy evolves into something resembling a real relationship, though she still hooks up with other subby men, including one who’s into puppy play. At the same time, Molly continues to battle her unresolved childhood trauma. In the penultimate episode, she’s back in the hospital for an extended stay. After several days of creative sex with Neighbor Guy, she finally banishes the demon from her childhood and achieves her goal of orgasming with another person.
Beyond Hollywood Stereotypes
What makes the portrayal of BDSM in Dying for Sex particularly compelling is how it challenges mainstream misconceptions about kink. Rather than depicting it as deviant or purely physical, the show presents these experiences as deeply emotional and even healing. Through Molly’s story, we’re invited to consider how power exchange can be a form of radical self-acceptance and connection, especially when facing life’s most difficult challenges.
Despite the fact that Molly uses BDSM as a way to contend with childhood sexual trauma, the show avoids pathologizing her. Molly isn’t portrayed as irrevocably damaged or an abuser herself and isn’t racked with shame about her desires. On the contrary, she approaches her sexual journey with curiosity and wonder and ends up learning a lot about the nature of her own and others’ sexuality along the way. This is a rare feat in popular media.
This non-pathologizing portrayal matters because it challenges the persistent narrative that BDSM practitioners must be “broken” in some way. By presenting power exchange as a legitimate path to self-discovery rather than evidence of psychological disturbance, the show allows viewers to consider their own desires without judgment and offers trauma survivors a powerful counter-narrative to the pervasive “damaged goods” trope.