I've owned nipple clamps since 1990.


It’s perhaps a funny way to measure my interest in kink. I’ve been kinky for longer than this, my earliest erotic proclivities all involved some aspect of female dominance, even if I didn’t understand them as such at the time.


But it wasn’t until 1990, my freshman year at Brown University, that I realized my fantasies had names and even accessories. That was the year a group of us piled into a car and drove from Providence, Rhode Island to Waltham, Massachusetts on a pilgrimage to Vernon’s, a cross-dressing boutique that also carried sex toys and a smattering of BDSM gear, where I bought my first pair of nipple clamps.


Vernon’s was situated on a stereotypically quaint small town New England street, made quainter by the arts and crafts fair happening that particular weekend. We navigated through the tables covered with quilts and apple pie and into the non-descript shop, windows blocked out with pink paper and a rose painted on the door. The front room of Vernon’s was sparsely stocked with high heel pumps in very large sizes, waist cinchers and padded panties, breast forms and gaffs, and a cosmetics counter with high coverage foundation, three shades of coral lipstick, and strips of false eyelashes. The back room had more sinister stuff, black leather paddles and riding crops, long tailed whips, and in a glass cabinet rows of nickel-plated nipple clamps on shiny silver chains.


The clover clamps were both the most ornate and the firmest grip in the case, and while my friends twittered and gawked and bought condoms and lube, I pulled out $16 for the clamps, which felt like a fortune, a ridiculous luxury. I wore those clamps with pride off the epaulet of my leather motorcycle jacket, at ACT UP and Queer Nation actions, but also to my classes and in the quad. Gay boys would run up to me in the library, clamp their nipples through their t-shirts, and follow me around the stacks like puppies on a leash. It would be a few more years before I would see a leather pride flag and the inside of a dungeon, but I knew then who I was and what I wanted.


I started playing professionally in San Francisco in 1995, and began teaching on the topic out of my own passions and fantasies, and a deep commitment to the practice of BDSM for health and happiness. When practiced well,  BDSM is a ritual of intimacy that requires intelligence, responsiveness, and communication.  People come to BDSM for any number of reasons, but at the root of them should be a sense of adventure, connection, catharsis, and fun. All erotic exchanges should be grounded in mutual consent, and the practice of BDSM can elevate this ethic into an art form.

As I write this, it’s been 18 amazing years of living as an out and proud BDSM professional, educator, and guide. I’ve built a practice around my own passions for traditional domestic discipline, feminization, and diaper dominance, as well as more traditional SM pursuits like inescapable bondage, precision torments, and compassionate sadism. I like to introduce novice explorers and veteran players alike to a style of kinky exchange that's graceful, intense, loving, and skilled.


My greatest satisfaction comes from unlocking kinky passions in the lives of those I come in contact with in the dungeon and the classroom. I welcome players of all persuasions and experience levels, and individuals and couples of all gender and sexual orientations. This site is organized to provide you with information about my commitment to BDSM practice and education. Enjoy your journey here, and wherever it may take you.


And those clover clamps? They’re kept in the top drawer of the Precision Torment cabinet, next to the throne in the front room of Maison de la Maîtresse. Come on over and see them sometime.