I discovered Kink Cafe the way most people in the kink world find community—by word of mouth. I’d been part of the “lifestyle” in New York for a few years, finding my footing by attending sex parties and kinky bingo nights. Which is why I was in Baltimore to visit the restaurant, which has gained popularity among East Coast foodie fetishists since opening last fall.
When I arrived at the brick building, nestled between a nonprofit and a gas station, chef and owner Nicole “Daji” Aikens was bustling around, rotating between a small dining room and a smaller kitchen. She is meticulously organized, a trait she brought over from a career in law enforcement.
“My prep has to be immaculate, so I don't get behind,” she says, the rhythmic sound of a knife dicing vegetables cutting the quiet.
Guests who have visited a sex dungeon, or have seen one on Netflix, might notice similarities: Ruby red walls, black decor, and lots of leather. Most are Aikens’s personal touches: a collar purchased at a shop in New York’s West Village, high heels affixed to a wall, a nod to her former life as a dominatrix, and paddles of all shapes and sizes. The object that draws the eye most is the St. Andrews cross, an X-shaped structure meant to restrain, that rests in a corner near the kitchen.
The space itself emulates something akin to an actual dungeon, and the menu’s theme reflects what you’d see (or experience).
Aikens doesn’t eat meat, and most of the menu is pescatarian. There’s the “Chastity” shrimp lo mein, a take on the Baltimore carryout staple, which features broccoli, diced onions, and shrimp slathered in soy sauce. The “Shibari” jerk branzino is grilled bare with a jerk rub, a scoop of spiced yellow rice and broccoli resting atop it. The “Bondage Salmon” is baked, served with a sautéed array of zucchini, carrots, and green onions, on a bed of rice.
What the restaurant represents to its supporters (and those hesitant but curious) is a shift in public interest in, and acceptance of bondage and discipline, dominance and submission, and sadomasochism (BDSM). Indeed, a 2019 international review published in The Journal of Sex Research found that more than 40% of people surveyed had BDSM-related fantasies, and about 20% had engaged in BDSM.
People sating their desires for food and company no longer need seedy hotels or hastily arranged Facebook events, now that brick-and-mortar spaces like Aikens’s restaurant exist. However, it remains to be seen how sustainable kink-themed food establishments are.
One of the most well-known, San Francisco’s Wicked Grounds, closed in 2023, citing declining traffic due to the pandemic and a need for a larger space. It had enjoyed a decade-plus run as part coffee shop and part kinky art gallery, and it hosted events and workshops for the lifestyle community.
“I want lots of kink cafés, lots of queer cafés, lots of people out there doing their thing,” owner Mir Bilodeau, who opened the restaurant ahead of the annual Folsom Street Fair in 2009, told SFGate in 2023.
Another, Kinky’s Dessert Bar in Manhattan’s Lower East Side, which had gone viral for its burlesque shows and phallic-shaped treats, has been closed since early 2025. A note on the dessert shop’s Instagram page reads, “We are closed until further notice. Thank you for the memories, your support, and love.” It’s unclear why the store closed, or when or if it’ll reopen. Other concepts, such as Duane Park in NoHo, have flourished by offering burlesque-themed shows amid a four-course dining experience, balancing the risque with the vanilla.
Stepping into Kink Cafe, I couldn’t help but think about how food and pleasure intertwine inextricably, of the joy that lights up your face at the first sip of a good glass of wine, the shiver down your spine at the first savory bite of spinach lasagna.
When asked if the idea factored into her thinking, Aikens said she designed the restaurant to engage all five senses. “We want the food to be delicious. The sounds you hear, we want a good playlist,” she told me, as DeBarge’s “Stay With Me” wafts from the speakers. “We want you to feel good, we want you to have a great visual.”
“Even if you're hearing a kink demo, like flogging or [electric] play, you should be feeling good,” Aikens said. Just above our heads, a dildo in the shape of a fist on a ledge catches my eye.
Aikens is Kink Cafe’s head chef, sous-chef, and marketing director, skills she acquired without formal culinary training. Dinner service starts around 5 p.m., and if there’s a show scheduled, guests can watch as they eat. A dozen or so tables and bar seats dot the room for sit-in service, but the restaurant also takes orders from DoorDash. Aikens says the grilled branzino and the Miso Hornee mussels (steamed in miso butter broth) are popular delivery dishes. The restaurant shares its schedule on Instagram, offering events like comedy shows and movie nights.
While Kink Cafe doesn’t serve alcohol (it doesn’t yet have a liquor license), there’s a mocktail menu offering fruit-centered beverages. The In My Guts, which I order while chatting with Aikens, is a concoction of pineapple juice and cream of coconut, with a hint of cinnamon. The Rose, ostensibly an homage to the popular sex toy, is a take on the spritz.
Aikens has a modest staff, including a host and a house dom, a professional dominant who performs demonstrations such as flogging and wax play for the 30-and-over crowd. There’s a regular burlesque show and workshops on best kink practices.
As sensual as the space is, it isn’t a proper sex dungeon, and no sex actually takes place. Part of the proceeds from dinner service go to Aikens’s nonprofit, I Survived Inc, which supports women and girls who have experienced sexual violence.
Leading with the shocking and the obscene—some of the dishes have names that can’t be printed—is one way to open a much-needed dialogue about sex and pleasure. Ultimately, Aikens wants the restaurant to draw the kinky and non-kinky alike.
As I placed my order (the Spank Me, a wrap of baked jerk salmon, cabbage, and spicy peppers), the house dom arrived. Going by Master S’ango, he plopped his duffel bag on a counter beside a St. Andrew’s Cross. I watched as he methodically removed a cat-o’-nine-tails whip and a bundle of colorful rope as I sipped my mocktail.
Alongside a “performance submissive,” Master S’ango provides demonstrations to guests while they eat.
Sometimes, they’re educational, like the proper handling of a whip during a flogging session. Other demos are meant to be more sensual or shocking. On this particular evening, Master S’ango had planned a scene that would cause intimacy coordinators for 50 Shades of Grey or Mr. & Mrs. Smith to blush.
While I didn’t stay for this part of the demo, he walked me through what the evening would look like for guests. As they ate, he would bring his performance submissive on stage, bind their hands to the St. Andrew’s Cross, spank them with a paddle, and run a violet wand (used for electro play) over their bodies. Guests could ask questions or simply take in the show, Master S’ango explains.
“You may be a little shocked to see what’s happening onstage, because you’ve never seen it before,” Master S’ango says.
“[But] we don’t want to take the focus off the food.”
Food is a necessity that nourishes and sustains, and in Aikens’s view, it is something that can sit at the intersection of survival and enjoyment. So, too, then, can pleasure.
“I never thought that [Kink Cafe] was as needed as it was until we did it,” Aikens says. “I thought it would be a place that I would want to go, so that’s how I built it.”
“I always go to play parties, and I wish there was food [or] I go to a restaurant, and I [say] ‘Damn, I wish I could play here.’ And that is what I was thinking: Why can’t we have it all in one space?”