I teach erotic wellness and sacred intimacy. I also hold a very firm boundary: coaches don’t play doctor. Coaching can transform your life. It is not a medical license. Bodies are complex. Medical advice belongs with licensed clinicians. I won’t tell you to discontinue your medication. I won’t claim breathwork replaces insulin, or deep-throating replaces thyroid care. I’ll support your pleasure, your boundaries, and your nervous system alongside your medical team.

Last night, I had a revelation that came wrapped in pain. Not emotional pain — physical. The kind that makes your whole body tense, your breath halt, and your soul whisper, “Enough.” I was with a man who, like so many, believed size equals satisfaction. But what I realized was something I’ve always known deep down: pleasure isn’t about how much a man has — it’s about how well he loves.

The courtesan is the woman who knows herself. Who claims her sovereignty. Who radiates so deeply that her very being is worship. She is not average. She is not numb. She is alive.

Three lovers walk into the temple...

One wears a mask.
One forgets himself.
One walks in barefoot, breathing with God.

Reclaiming Sacred Power in the Bedroom. Aggression is often the default script for sex, drowning out the quiet, patient art of deep arousal. The strongest men I know… are the ones who can hold the full intensity of their desire, hovering at the edge, and choose connection over compulsion.

When a lover shares their past or present sexual escapades, it can either draw intimacy closer… or it can fracture the connection in subtle but painful ways. So how do you share in a way that’s sexy, connective, and nourishing for your relationship?

But Pussy - in her awakened state - is not for the shallow-sensed. She is a temple. She is the scent of the sea, blood, and God. She is mystery encoded in soft folds and fierce knowing.

This is for any woman who forgot she could say no. For any woman whose body knew the truth before her mind could catch up. For any woman who danced her way back to herself. And this morning, when I didn’t orgasm with him - I knew why. Because my Yoni said no.

… When I Was Offering a Kingdom.”  I saw your pain. I saw your possibility. I saw the King inside you, aching to be born. But instead of rising… You ran. Instead of leaning in… you burned the bridge. Instead of saying “yes” to healing… You chose pride.

“Take me as I am.” It sounds like self-love. It sounds empowered. But let’s be honest - it’s often a wall. A defense. A plea not to be challenged. But don’t ask me to take you as you are, if that means you refuse to evolve.