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Home » Archives for Dame TylerRose.

Dame TylerRose.

How “Total” Power Exchange Is Manifested

October 13, 2021 By Dame TylerRose. 2 Comments

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There’s been a lot of yammering about the “total” part of total power exchange, and a lot of “whatabout” ism as people try to prove that total isn’t total at all.

People seem to think that the “total” in TPE means the dom is making every single decision every single minute of the day, and those decisions are all about the extremes of life and death matters. They seem to think decisions made must be to the detriment of the sub/slave half of the dynamic.

What they fail to see is that it also means the sub/slave is doing what the dom wants without having to constantly ask for a decision or be threatened with punishment. TPE requires obedience on the part of the sub/slave. If the sub/slave won’t obey, there is no power exchange. Disobedience/noncompliance is keeping control. Obedience/compliance gives control.

The dom/master/owner gives the rules and the sub/slave/property obeys them. That’s the power. It’s not about the teeniest little thing being dictated. It’s about doing things how the dom wants them to be without pitching a bitch about it every single time. It’s knowing “this” is what they want…and fulfilling their wishes.

You know he doesn’t like rye bread. So you don’t make his lunch with rye bread. Do you have to be told a thousand times that he doesn’t like rye bread? No. He told you once and you remember. You can buy it for yourself if you want, unless he decrees he doesn’t want it in the house. If he doesn’t want it in the house, don’t fucking buy it.

THAT is the T in TPE.

EW decided once that I was not to address anyone by any title. His decision was final. I abided by that decision regardless who didn’t like it. When there came a time that someone had earned my respect (Lon_RM, who I have come to regard as the father I wish I’d had) that I wanted to use the title in his name (MasterLon, at that point), I went to EW and explained. He agreed and the exception was made. The rule was NOT changed for anyone else.

It was EW’s decision to make the exception. There was another time when I had asked for an exception and he’d said no. I abided by that decision, whether I liked it or not. That is total power.

I asked EW to flog me long enough that I naturally fell asleep. He refused. I had to abide by that decision, because he would never relent and I was not to ask again. I had nothing to say about his decision. I was not given the luxury of an opinion on the matter. That is total power.

There was a night he’d forgotten his keys. He was already in Manhattan and did not have the time to travel half an hour back home and half an hour into work again. I had a full plate of food in front of me. A delicious corned beef supper. I had to put that supper in the fridge, get my shoes on, and take him his keys. There was no option for me to say “after I eat”. It had to be now because Master needed it NOW. There wasn’t a single second of complaint about it from me. This was my job as his sub: To do as he required. Period. He had that total power to command. An hour and a half later (because waiting for trains and walking blocks through neighborhood), I was back home and finally able to eat my supper at 9 o’clock at night.

Having “total” power also means having discretion over when to exert their will and when not to.

He knew he could insert his own ideas into my books. He could use that power if he wanted. He chose never to tell me what to write or how. He felt it would not be appropriate. That is discretion.

He could have told me what kinds of leather goods to make. He could have told me never to use skulls or upside down crosses if he wanted. He chose never to tell me what to make or how to make it. That is discretion. He did, however, greatly enjoy prototype day, and some of my innovations. He particularly liked the 3-sided, meatier handles.

He could have bent me over and fucked me during the most painful days of my period if he wanted. He chose mercy, and would sometimes jerk off onto my tits instead. All I had to do was kneel or sit there and hold my tits up. He chose not to cause me more pain and discomfort. He chose discretion.

There was a time we discussed a piercing or tattoo to mark me as his. Then he worked a season with the Freak Show from Coney Island hanging in Blood Manor. He came home one morning and declared that he would never get me pierced or tattooed. Ever. Didn’t matter if I wanted the piercing or tattoo. He had decided, and the matter was at his discretion in the first place. When the time came that I wanted a simple tattoo as research for a book, he allowed it because it was for my own reasons and not something marking me as his. When I asked, months later, if I could get it finished, he said no. I did not sneak out behind his back to get the tattoo finished. Because total power exchange.

He chose to allow me to learn to top others. He could have put a stop to it at any time. In the last couple years of our relationship, he let me go to spanking parties and receive. But there were rules for both. I could not touch the genitals of anyone. No one could touch my genitals. There was no kissing. No mouths touched me and my mouth touched no one. This was completely within his power to permit or refuse at any time, any party. Even if I was about to walk out the door, he could have told me to stay home and I would have had to obey. Because total…and at his discretion.

I didn’t ever intentionally disobey him on trivial things or for trivial reasons. He knew anything I did that was contrary to what he might have wanted was a “rock/hard place” moment and I made the best decision I could…in good faith.

Not once was his “power” diminished by any of his decisions. He chose when how to use his authority and exert himself…and chose when not. He made what he felt was the correct decision in the moment.

And I didn’t turn every decision into a battle in order to have my way. Pissing and moaning over every decision, undermining every decision or overriding them and doing whatever the fuck I wanted, would have undermined the entire TPE dynamic. It would not have been “total”.

TPE meant he decided and I abided. Period.


TylerRose. is known as Dame Tyler in the NYC public SM/Fetish scene. She is an award-winning author who has written four “lifestyle”, four cartoon, and twenty eight fiction books. She’s been doing this bdsm stuff for 34 years and lived TPE relationships for 31 years.

Read her books on her Amazon page — https://www.amazon.com/TylerRose./e/B00HCPLSP2

You can also find more of her OP/ED work in Fetlife: https://fetlife.com/users/305828

She enjoys crocheting, diamond painting, and baking, and will no doubt die with a thesaurus open on her thigh.

Tagged With: bdsm, bdsm community, bdsm play, bdsm relationship, bdsm scene, dominant, fetish, kink, power dynamic, power exchange, submisison, submissive headspace

Using The Safe Word As A Weapon

September 29, 2021 By Dame TylerRose. 2 Comments

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Using the Safe Word as a Weapon

We see it all the time. “sub has the power because safe word!” or “sub has the power because can stop play at any time.”

Okay…I have some questions that stem from the many repetitious discussions on safe words that I see on a daily basis on this site.

  1. WHY is your partner your enemy who must be beaten in all things?
  2. Why is your partner such a foe that he/she must be held at bay every minute by the power of your consent and the threat of…of what, exactly?

If you don’t obey my safe word, then I’m going to…what? What are you going to do? Call the police? Nope, you won’t call the police. They almost never call the police, do they. They don’t file reports. They don’t prosecute.

So what do they do? Drag their partner through the mud of the court of public opinion on whatever social websites you have profiles on.

Which brings me to…

  1. Why are you using the concept of the safe word as a weapon against your own partner?
  2. If your partner is such an enemy and you cannot trust them to communicate when something is amiss, why the fuck are you with that person in the first damn place?

————-
TylerRose. is known as Dame Tyler in the NYC public SM/Fetish scene. She is an award-winning author who has written four “lifestyle”, four cartoon, and over 30 fiction books.

Read her books on her Amazon page — https://www.amazon.com/TylerRose./e/B00HCPLSP2

You can also find more of her OP/ED work in Fetlife: https://fetlife.com/users/305828

FB Fan Page — https://www.facebook.com/TylerRoseGethis/

Twitter — https://twitter.com/DameTyler or @DameTyler

She enjoys crocheting and baking, and will no doubt die with a thesaurus open on her thigh.

Tagged With: bdsm community, bdsm play, bdsm relationship, bdsm safety, bdsm scene, dominants, power exchange, safety consent, safeword, submissive

Predators Can Have Great References

August 19, 2021 By Dame TylerRose. 2 Comments

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Predators don’t violate everyone they play with. They need people who can honestly say “oh, yeah, it was great”. They need people who will be a good reference so they can find and groom new prey.

New prey. That would be you.

No one is going to give you the name of someone they’ve violated.
No one is going to give you the name of someone who will say “oh, yeah, him…he’s going to pee in your mouth after you tell him, vehemently, that you don’t want him to do that.”

No one is going to give you the name of someone who has accused them of consent violations, which are the people you’d WANT to hear from. Or, you think you do. Some people hear negative stories and think “Gosh, what if those people are exaggerating? It couldn’t have been that bad.” We see them posting every time someone pops up with their horrific story of abuse and consent violations.

They’re going to give you the names of the people they did NOT violate. You know, the ones who post “he played with me lots of times and I never had any problem” on those same writings.

Let me tell you what, but this serial predator is smarter than you.
He knows he’s smarter than you are because he picked you carefully. He’s had his system in place for YEARS and probably was watching you for months waiting to make his move. Yes, some predators are opportunistic. We’re talking about the patient planner here, the one who will wait for you to walk willingly into his arms.

You aren’t the first victim and you won’t be the last because (let’s face it) you WON’T go to the police. You’ll be too embarrassed, regardless the hurt done to you. Almost no one files charges, let alone sees it through to final verdict.

“But he had such great references!” Of course he did. He made sure of it.

Maybe you should spend the time getting to know them rather than jumping in with both feet because someone you don’t know said “yeah, he’s a great guy.”


TylerRose. is known as Dame Tyler in the NYC public SM/Fetish scene. She has over 30 years of experience in SM play and d/s relationships. She is aan award-winning author who has written three “lifestyle”, four cartoon, and twenty eight fiction books. Read her books on her Amazon page — https://www.amazon.com/TylerRose./e/B00HCPLSP2You can also find more of her OP/ED work in Fetlife: https://fetlife.com/users/305828 She enjoys crocheting and diamond painting, and will no doubt die with a thesaurus open on her thigh.

Tagged With: bdsm, bdsm community, bdsm play, bdsm relationship, bdsm scene, dominant, fetish, kink, submissive

What’s The Difference Between An Orgy and A Gang Bang?

July 8, 2021 By Dame TylerRose. 2 Comments

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Gang Bang – one person is the central focus with several others fucking that person.Most people think of one room, one chick (guest of honor), and a buncha dudes. But there are gangbang nights at venues, with numerous women in attendance. They hit one of the beds at varying times through the evening. Some of the men will participate in more than one group.Most people also think the center person must be surrounded by partners with all the hands and mouths working. Personally, I prefer the “train” method. One after the other, take a number and form a line.The woman picks her crew, hits a bed, has her fun, and they all leave the bed when they’re done. The sheet is changed and ready for another group. The same woman may pick another crew and go at it again, two or three times, or more.While the party may last four or five hours, I’ve not personally seen any group encounter last much more than twenty minutes, for some reason. 

Orgy — “Do people walk into an orgy expecting anyone can do anything to them or that they can do anything to anyone?”
I’ve never seen an orgy at which anyone could do anything they wanted to anyone else. Consent still matters and, as I said, the events I’ve been to have been mostly heterosexual affairs. Bisexual men and women may be in attendance, but I’ve not personally seen man on man, woman on woman action. Or a woman pegging a man.

Sidebar: I’m not saying it doesn’t happen. Just that I’ve not seen it at the parties I’ve attended. (I’ve been to three venues and countless individual parties in the last four out of five years. The scene was put on hold for the plague.) Some venues have multiple rooms. I can’t be everywhere at once.I don’t attend bisexual or lesbian events, and heterosexual men aren’t interested in seeing man on man action. If there’s bi-action to be had, the het-men want to see two women together. Single het-men are the largest demographic at the parties I’ve attended. Since they pay the most to get in, they are the ones funding the party and making the promoter rich. Women are usually free to get in. If women were charged to get in, few would attend. (It’s called Gender Pricing.)If women don’t attend, there’s no party. 

Consent & Rules — Just because you’re in the big bed with 10 people doesn’t mean everyone can touch, fuck, suck, and lick every body part that comes within reach. Check the rules of the party before you attend. If you still aren’t sure, contact the organizer. Everyone has to mind your manners and ASK if they can touch. If they can suck. If they can fuck. If they can lick. If a couple is already going at it, you have to ask if you can join in. Some parties have a rule not to approach if people are already engaged, to wait until they are done and have left the bed to ask the woman if she would like to play with you. If you ask and the answer is no, then you don’t do that thing. Nor do you ask again. The answer was no. There’s no badgering allowed. There may be two or three beds pushed together to make a large surface, but there are also usually beds off to the side for those who don’t want to be on the big bed. A couple might have their play apart from the group. There’s no rule that everyone at an orgy has to be playing on the same bed or together. An orgy could also be a bunch of couples playing on separate beds. The definitions say: “wild or drunken festivity or revelry, especially involving sex with multiple participants” or “indiscriminate sex”. If we are to strictly follow the definitions, none of the “orgies” I’ve been to have been orgies. Because not everyone is drunk, and it’s not really that wild. It’s all rather orderly and not all that indiscriminate. They’re remarkably vanilla, straightforward sex with very little or no kink or SM activity, even when the venue itself is SM positive.
Excerpt from: The upcoming book Questions Frequently Asked About BDSM


Tagged With: bdsm, bdsm play, bdsm relationship, bdsm scene, fetish, gang bang, kink, orgy, sex club, sexual fantasy, sexual safety

Erotica: Fire Fetish

May 20, 2021 By Dame TylerRose. 3 Comments

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Standing at the edge of the road, admiring his work, Marok watched as the flame spread out across the rear of the house. Orange flames climbed up the back wall to consume the dry, unprotected wood walls. He sat on the grass, Brother resting behind him on the front lawn. Leaning back to use the horse as a pillow/bench, they watched the crops and the house burn. 

Not long into the watching, Marok slid a hand into his pants to stroke himself nice and slow. The house would take a long time to burn, giving him plenty of time to relish the event. When his pants were too much in the way, he opened the laces to enjoy the cool night air.

Rats and mice, skunks, opossums, spiders and centipedes fled in all directions except the fields of flame. Snakes slithered away as fast as they could. Marok could see their tiny life forces. A family of bats fled through a tiny hole the roof as the fire rose to the second floor.

Marok watched as flames engulfed the entire roof of the house, outlining its shape and reaching far into the sky. Windows blew out, their violence heard from his distance. The best part, when the extreme heat caused various reactions within. An oil keg exploded in the basement. Smaller pops of oil lamps exploded in various rooms. Stacks of firewood in each room went up, including the long cord of dried and drying wood along the side wall.

He gripped his cock tighter in his fist, stroking slow and long, mind completely fixated on and enraptured by the house as overwhelmed with flame as it could get. The warmth of the immense fire reached him. Not hot enough to burn skin or singe hair but enough to make him sweat in the cold night.

Flames lit the night as bright as the sun at noon, illuminating a radius of half a mile. Birds fled nearby trees. People in the distance came out to watch from the safety of their own houses. Townspeople gathered in their second floor windows to watch the fire. He felt their curiosity, their satisfaction at knowing whose land, whose house, was being destroyed.

The smell of burning grain, burning wood, burning meat of any food supplies inside the house or the attached cold larder. He knew there were no people or pets inside. They’d all escaped in the first minute. Buckets of water weren’t going to put out anything. They didn’t even try, were standing on the other side of the drive in front of the house, watching it.

Marok had always found the dancing flames of a fire highly erotic. Fire was a living thing. Consuming, breathing, leaving waste behind, even reproducing if the wind carried burning debris to another field or a forest. Fire was sexy as fuck, the only lover who possessed his heart.

He loosened his grip to reach his fingertips into his pubis mons, to the deepest root of his cock, and slid far out to pull his foreskin over the head. A grunting sigh of intense pleasure, a strong pulse in his hand, the surge of thrill tingling under his skin, causing the hair on his arms to raise and a slow chill to work its way over his shoulders to his scalp. He exhaled long and slow, calming himself to keep control. There was a lot of burn time left and he didn’t want to pop off prematurely.

Flames whirled all through the grain crop like a stage of naked slaves in a dark banquet hall. A row of flames danced atop the roofline of the house, reaching their naked arms into the sky, swooping their heads and hips to their own music. He kept himself slow, prolonging his pleasure as long as possible, wanting to time his finish with the pinnacle of the burn.

The warmth of his flesh in his hand, softness of skin, coarseness of hair around testicles as he reached with his other hand to grip his sack. He needed a shave. Veins underneath skin, felt by thumb and fingers. Familiar lumps and bumps along his stiff rod that he knew how to slip over and around to keep himself hard as long as he wanted without the concluding act.

Two hours into his attentive self-pleasuring, he heard the telltale creaking of the roof weakening. The structure was starting to collapse in on itself. Watching with wide open eyes, he stroked himself with increasing speed. As the peak of the roof caved in, he moved up onto his knees to bring himself to his explosive finish. His ejaculate shot out two feet in front of him, landing in the grass with series of plops and drops. He stripped himself time and again until he had nothing more to expel.

He shook his cock to throw off the last droplets and fell to his ass on the ground to lean more heavily against Brother.

“Fuck that was good,” he sighed, and crossed his ankles to take a nap.

Excerpt from Marok: Rogue Deliverer, to be released later in 2021.

Read his origin in Arlyn the Deliverer and continued adventure in First Queen of Unada.

——————

TylerRose. is known as Dame Tyler in the NYC public SM/Fetish scene. She is an award-winning author who has written three “lifestyle”, four cartoon, and twenty eight fiction books.

Read her books on her Amazon page — https://www.amazon.com/TylerRose./e/B00HCPLSP2

You can also find more of her OP/ED work in Fetlife: https://fetlife.com/users/305828

She enjoys crocheting and baking, and will no doubt die with a thesaurus open on her thigh.

Tagged With: bdsm community, bdsm play, bdsm safety, bdsm scene, bottom, fire play, Top

“You don’t like to cuddle?! You’re a HORRIBLE Person!”

April 2, 2021 By Dame TylerRose. 2 Comments

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Seems like such a mundane thing to have as a hard limit, doesn’t it? Cuddling after sex or play.

I get this attitude every time the topic of aftercare comes up. Doesn’t matter if I’m the bottom. Doesn’t matter if I’m the top. Doesn’t matter if I’m the dom. Doesn’t matter if I’m the sub.

They ALWAYS mean cuddling. I mean ALWAYS. It’s never about food and drink. Never about tending wounds. It’s always about being trapped against another human being long after my need for close contact is concluded.

When I say I don’t cuddle, people automatically assume I must be some callous, mean-spirited, abusive ghoul. They personally have to have the cuddles, so anyone who won’t do that (even though we’re never going to meet, let alone play) is the worst villain in the world. End of story.

Here’s the thing…there is a story behind it, if only they’d see past their own personal snit to listen.

Not once has anyone ever asked me why I don’t like to cuddle. I’m a very horrible terrible person and that’s the end of it. There are no valid reasons as far as they are concerned.

But, yeah, there are reasons. Very serious, horrific reasons. In order to comprehend how pervasive it is, take this moment to set aside any indignation over the very thought that someone doesn’t like to cuddle with other adult human beings. (Cats and dogs are fine. I’d love a bunny, too. Or a ferret. Hell, even a cuddly snake would be great.)

My reason starts with the molestation I endured for years as a child. Being trapped on the bed, unable to escape him or that nightmare. Not allowed to leave the bed until he’d done what he was going to do to me that day and let me go. There was no fighting him. He was much bigger than I was at the start. He just picked me up and carried me into his room. The cousin trusted to babysit me and his younger brother while his mother and sisters went to the grocery store, which always took two or more hours. It ended when my mother and I moved closer to my school and I no longer had to go to my aunt’s house every day Monday through Friday.

Flash forward to my first husband, who I was with from 1987 to 2000. He would demand that I remain in the bed with him after sex. “Cuddle with me!” he would say in this pleading, childish whine. It may have been cute at first. After years of it, I hated that phrase. At the time, I could not vocalize my dislike. I just didn’t much like to cuddle.

I was literally trapped in his arms, forced to remain regardless how I felt about it. He was good at back-handed guilt trips and getting angry if I tried to stand up for myself and not do something he was badgering me into. There was no winning. Even if I won and didn’t have to cuddle, I lost because he would be angry for hours.

I had to endure it until he started snoring. Close, hot space, sweaty bodies (gross), being breathed on when my skin was already insufferably over-sensitive. 

I hated every second of it. I still do. If a guy flogs and fucks me well enough that I want to cuddle, he needs to mark his belt, put a notch on the bedpost, and make a note in the calendar to celebrate the anniversary next year.

Once he started snoring, I could extricate myself from the bear trap and get some space. I could be alone for the rest of the night if he stayed asleep.

Would it have been different if I’d never suffered through four years of sexual abuse? I don’t know. I can never know, so I don’t dwell on it. This is who I am and people have to take me as I am. They cannot change me to suit themselves, and that wouldn’t be fair of them anyway.

Not wanting to be trapped in a place I no longer want to be doesn’t make me a horrible person.

“Gosh, maybe you should go to therapy and fix that!” I can hear someone saying.

Why? To appease people I’m not in a relationship with? So no one has to suffer the thought that someone else isn’t like they are? No amount of therapy in the world is going to change the fact that I don’t like to be touched after sex and/or play, or that I want to be left alone when we’re done. I don’t need that type of pseudo-connection and manufactured closeness in order to be content.

Another mundane thing that is a hard limit with me is performing fellatio, and for the same initial reason: Molestation I endured as a child.

Over the years, it’s become harder and harder to do. I’m at the point where I cannot bring myself to put my mouth on the genitals. I have zero desire to do so. Rather the opposite. I have complete aversion to the very thought.

I’m really good at fellatio. I used to be able to do it for quite a long time with my first husband, until my jaw ached and I could barely move it. With the second husband, it slowly became impossible. We talked about it many times. He understood. He didn’t tell me to do it very often. He understood when I couldn’t do it for more than a few minutes. He knew it was a thing he was not qualified to fix.

“Gosh, maybe you should get some therapy to fix that!” I can hear someone saying.

Yes, the horror of a woman refusing to suck dick. It must be fixed! All those poor men whose dicks she’s not sucking! THINK OF THE POOR DICKS!

I don’t feel a need to go to therapy just so I can tolerate a sexual act I get no pleasure in performing. It’s not a crime against nature that I don’t want to do it. It’s my choice. Consent and all. I do not consent to giving head, and I’m okay never giving head ever again in my life.

That doesn’t make me a horrific monster either. I’ll still fuck a dude right off the bed. 

While I won’t perform oral, I do give an intense round of fucking. I consider that a good trade off, especially when they wear themselves out and can’t satisfy my need for orgasms. See, that’s another lingering effect of having been molested for years. I LOVE to fuck. I’m all about the penetration. Hard fucking, long fucking, bodies pounding together so hard that people on the other beds stop to watch and applaud when I’m finally done and the people next door light up a smoke.

I’d call that a good alternative.

So, Dear Reader…When someone says a seemingly mundane, everyday common thing is a hard limit, rather than drawing a judgment against that person maybe you should ask if they will share the why of it. Maybe take a moment to realize that there might be a deeply personal and private pain behind that hard limit. Understand the why and accept the person for who they are. Realize it’s not the end of the world if you don’t get that thing, and take what they offer as an alternative.

Their limit isn’t about you.

It’s about them.

——-

TylerRose. is known as Dame Tyler in the NYC public SM/Fetish scene. She has over 30 years of experience in d/s relationships. She is also an award-winning author who has written three “lifestyle”, four cartoon, and twenty seven fiction books.

Read her books on her Amazon page — https://www.amazon.com/TylerRose./e/B00HCPLSP2

You can also find more of her OP/ED work in Fetlife: https://fetlife.com/users/305828

WordPress – https://dametylerrose.wordpress.com/

Twitter — https://twitter.com/DameTyler or @DameTyler

Instagram – https://www.instagram.com/tylerroseauthor/

She enjoys crocheting and baking, and will no doubt die with a thesaurus open on her thigh.

Tagged With: aftercare, bdsm community, bdsm play, bdsm relationship, bdsm safety, bdsm scene, boundaries, hard limits, Kink Community, soft limits

Safe Caller Does Not Mean Chatty Friend

March 26, 2021 By Dame TylerRose. 2 Comments

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Some people seem to think that the job of the safe caller is not all that important. “It’s just what you would normally do, letting someone know where you are” is an attitude I’ve recently seen.

That is wrong. Painfully wrong. Dangerously wrong.

The purpose of a safe caller isn’t just so someone knows where you are; the other person knows you have back up; or to calm your nerves while waiting.

Yes, those may be aspects of the job. I’ve been all three of those things, because the safe caller is whatever the person going to the meeting needs them to be. Most of the time, those things are all that is needed.

The ultimate purpose of a safe caller, however, is to call the police to rescue your ass if shit goes sideways.

I know a great many wonderful people. I would not, however, pick the biggest flake to be my safe caller. Or the one I know is not good under pressure or in emergency situations. If I wouldn’t trust them to watch a puppy for the weekend, I’m not going to trust them with my life.

In fact, I have asked someone with whom I wasn’t particularly friends, because I knew she’d do the job well if shit went bad on me.

The person you select must be calm in the midst of crisis. They must be confident when speaking to authority figures, and even a little pushy about getting their point across. They must know how to efficiently give the facts without paragraphs of unnecessary information.

They must be capable of dealing effectively with 911 personnel to convey your location and the situation and get help to you as quickly as possible.

It doesn’t have to be a ten point plan, but the use of a code word can be very helpful. Say the code word is deuces. You say “Is everything deuces?” If the person on the date repeats the word back to you “Yeah, it’s totally deuces!”, shit’s gone bad and they need help. If they don’t use the word “Yeah, everything is great”, all is well.

This is a serious job.
They must not hesitate to make that call if the code word is used.
They must not fail you.

Anyone will do if you’re a little nervous waiting for the other person to arrive and are texting to fill the time.

We are talking about your personal safety. If they’re not ready, willing, and capable of calling 911 for you, should it go bad, then that person is not a safe caller.


In case you do not know…

To call 911 in a city not your own, you must know the area code for the person’s location.

Dial 1- (area code) – 911


TylerRose. is known as Dame Tyler in the NYC public SM/Fetish scene. She’s been doing this BDSM stuff for over 30 years in private and more than 12 years in public venues. 

She is an award-winning author who has written two “lifestyle”, four cartoon, and over twenty fiction books that you can find on Amazon. https://www.amazon.com/TylerRose./e/B00HCPLSP2

You can find more of her work in Fetlife: https://fetlife.com/users/305828
FB Fan Page — https://www.facebook.com/TylerRoseGethis/
FB Regular page —  https://www.facebook.com/TylerRoseAuthor


She enjoys crochet, coffee, and baking, and will no doubt die with a thesaurus open on her thigh.

Tagged With: bdsm, bdsm community, bdsm relationship, bdsm safety, bdsm scene, fetish, kink, Kink Community, safety, safety consent, safeword

Presentation (From Have Your Cake)

March 13, 2021 By Dame TylerRose. 2 Comments

sexy feet in fishnets
via stock.adobe.com

“I feel like this is my wedding day and you’re about to walk me down the aisle.”

“Good. That’s a very good perspective. I don’t want you to go in completely cold, so come here over my lap and I’ll give you a warm up spanking.”

Having not been touched since her day with Rikter, she was ready for some attention. All the bruises from that night and day had faded and her skin was pristine pale again.

The chair he was in was deep seated and armless. His feet flat on the floor made for a wide plane of thigh for her to bend over.

“Hands at your back.”

She was a bit awkward at first, with nothing to hold onto or brace against. His hand gripping around her wrists made her heart jump. Tight grip to hold her in place while his other hand pulled up her nightgown. Large hand that cupped and gripped her buttocks a moment before beginning the spanks. He did not start with an easy warm up, but went right to hard spanks that had her yelping at once.

“You have a fantastic ass,” he said during a rubbing pause. “You can expect numerous spankings every time you’re in the Manor.”

“Oh, goodie,” she giggled, hearing the wall clock ring the hour.

“They’ll like your sass too so long as you don’t go too far.”

Any response was cut off by a round of harder spanks. Eyes closed tight, colors bursting sparkles behind her lids, and she heard the clock chime the next quarter of the hour.

Another pause, her ass burning deep and half numb. He put her on her knees between his thighs, let her rest her head on his thigh a moment.

“I cannot bid on you,” he said. “I will be presenting you. I will play with you while they watch, while they bid to have you. I will give you intense pains. I will make you scream and cum. You wanted to be a sex slave with no ability to consent. You have gotten what you want. Don’t squander it.”

“When can you have me, Master?” she asked, smiling up at him.

“Every day after today. Or as soon as you are recovered from whatever the winner will do to you tonight. Could be a few days.”

“We’ll see,” she flirted at him. “I can take a lot.”

“Yes, you can. But you’ve never been whipped and beaten like you will be here, Pax. There’s no Dungeon Monitor to tell members they cannot do something. Only the House Master or I can stop a member. Most of the time we don’t care who dies.”

“Most of the time. Can I hope I am different?”

“You are different,” he said. “And we have recognized it. I will do the one thing that will speak loudest for you.”

He reached into his pants pocket for a small green clip ring embossed with the number 1.

“Hold this.”

In her fingertips, looking at it while he went to his desk and back. He stood in front of her, telling her to stand tall on her knees. Cool metal slid around her neck and she lifted her hair for him. Then her face was pressed into his crotch while he closed the metal ring. She felt metal on metal and he exerted pressure. She heard and felt the pop. His hand grasped her by the bangs and pulled her face up to look at him.

“You are the property of the Culpation League. You will please us or you will die for our entertainment. Which is your choice?”

“I will please you, Master,” she said without hesitation, the weight of the ring curving with her collarbones an odd sort of comfort, like it was always supposed to have been there.

“Suck me off before I have to give you to someone else for the night.”

A good, deep suck until he told her to get her tits out and hold them up. Looking down on her smiling face, tits held up in both hands for him, he jacked himself onto her nipples. 

“Paper towels are there.”

In a box like facial tissues. She plucked out one and wiped her breasts off.

“There. I may have to let someone else have you first, but you go to him with my cum on your breath and skin.”

She grinned up at him and held up the green and gold circle. “Do you want this?”

She’d been holding it the entire time. He took it from her fingers and snapped it over the ring of her collar. Others would put theirs to left and right, keeping his in the center.

“My personal request that you be kept a long time,” he said.

“Thank you, Master,” she smiled, having never felt so secure in herself and a relationship.

She was no one now. A prisoner condemned to die and a slave of the lowest order, on the cusp of perfect fulfillment. He gave her one more round of spanks, this time using a small, tapered dildo to start her anus relaxing for what was to happen. That accomplished, he called the House Master in again.

“She’s ready for the isolation room.”

“Her designation, Mr. President?”

“For now she is cunt.”

“This way, cunt.”

She couldn’t complain. Cunt was nicer to her ears than prisoner.

Excerpt is from Have Your Cake, story 1 in the Culpation League series.

———-

TylerRose. is known as Dame Tyler in the NYC public SM/Fetish scene. She is an award-winning author who has written three “lifestyle”, four cartoon, and twenty seven fiction books.

Read her books on her Amazon page — https://www.amazon.com/TylerRose./e/B00HCPLSP2

You can also find more of her OP/ED work in Fetlife: https://fetlife.com/users/305828

She enjoys crocheting and baking, and will no doubt die with a thesaurus open on her thigh.

Tagged With: bdsm, fetish, humiliation play, kink, power exchange, sex, slave, slave auction

Some OnlyFans Commentary

February 20, 2021 By Dame TylerRose. 4 Comments

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via stock.adobe.com

“I hate people who post their Only Fans!”

We see some version of this multiple times a day on various social sites, usually by men.

Let’s do something. Let’s replace Only Fans with other things and see if you still hate it.

“I hate people who post their Ebay store.”
“I hate people who post their Etsy store.”
“I hate people who post their Patreon page.”

Is it still a problem?

I can hear the answers now. “No, because they’re selling a product.”

Okay, let me point something out to you right now. People who have an Only Fans also are selling a product. That product is their tits, pussy, and ass. They have every right to do so.

So if you don’t whine about a Patreon page, an Etsy store, or Ebay listings, you need to quit whining about Only Fans people.

All you’re really complaining about is that you have to pay to see the pussy.

“I hate that they’re selling a paddle they made. They should let me have that for free!” — See how stupid that sounds? That’s how stupid you sound complaining that you can’t see the pussy for free.

I can hear it now. “But they spent hours making that item and should be paid for that workmanship.” Yes. Indeed. And it takes time and effort to make a decent video. They may take fifty pics before they get the one they want to post to their Only Fans.

“Yeah, but there are a lot of crappy pictures they didn’t put effort into!” someone will say. Yup. And there are a lot of crappy, overpriced floggers populating Etsy accounts. Now you’re complaining about not being able to see crappy pics for free.

You need to really look at your behavior and attitude. You are complaining because one chick out of 1000 won’t show you her pussy without payment first. You are also complaining that ANY woman dares to restrict your visual access to her body.

Reality Check — You are not entitled to view their pussy if they don’t want you to see it without paying. They are entitled to restrict those pictures to people who pay for the privilege. You have to pay a cover to get into a strip bar. You have to buy a minimum number of drinks to go into a strip bar. Only Fans is an online version of the strip bar.

If you don’t complain about people posting links for selling their melting wax, paddles, and floggers in Etsy, then you need to shut about women making ends meet through Only Fans. Maybe you should think for a moment about the times we live in and how many people are unemployed and can’t pay their bills without that Only Fans account.

Tribute is an accepted practice. That’s what an Only Fans account is. A formalized version of tribute. You don’t have to give them money if you don’t want to. There are plenty of other women on plenty of other sites who show you all the goods for free. Good god, whatever you do, don’t go to chatterbate!

Just because you’re willing to flash your dick in your avatar doesn’t mean we have to flash the pussy. That’s why you don’t see many men with an Only Fans. They flashing that shit all over the place. LOOKAMAHDICK!

And you’re just pissed off that you don’t own every woman’s nakedness.

They have every right to try to earn a living.

You…aren’t entitled to a damn thing.


TylerRose. is known as Dame Tyler in the NYC public SM/Fetish scene. 

She is an award-winning author who has written three “lifestyle”, four cartoon, and twenty seven fiction books that you can find on Amazon. https://www.amazon.com/TylerRose./e/B00HCPLSP2

You can find more of her work in Fetlife: https://fetlife.com/users/305828

She enjoys crocheting and baking, and will no doubt die with a thesaurus open on her thigh.

Tagged With: onlyfans, Sex Work Community, sex worker rights, sex workers

Ebra The Whipping Post

February 14, 2021 By Dame TylerRose. 2 Comments

woman tied to chair splashed with water
via stock.adobe.com

“Naked,” Andaray said, as he always did when he was going to enjoy her.

One garment at a time, not hurrying but not dragging it out either, she undressed for her Master and her King. Lannid sipped a glass of whiskey, her silent audience.

“Face me. Grasp the bar,” Andaray said, indicating upward.

She saw a wood bar suspended between two others that dropped from a frame. Hands on the bar, she tried to shake it back and forth, testing its movement and security. It would not come out. She was held tall and open but not stretched like Master usually did.

He slid an arm around her back, holding her against him for a kiss.

“Are you being punished?” he asked.

“No, Master.”

“What is the purpose of this?” he asked.

“Our King’s pleasure. And yours.”

“And yours,” he concluded.

She smiled, knowing how much more she liked sex after a good beating. He’d taught her all manner of pleasures in their short time together. An entire education in sexual practices in a matter of eight weeks. He had learned not to ask her if she wanted this or that. Given the choice, she would default to no. He learned to tell her and then she would not refuse.

“Our king likes to see the strikes,” he told her. “I will swing from behind you.”

She only nodded. He’d done this before, so he could see her face during the whipping. He’d brought a long handled whip with a dozen wide, flat falls of brown leather. Swinging with arm extended, the leather wrapped around her side to strike her back. Gentle, with little force. He gave her several minutes to get used to the thumps and relax her initial nerves.

He swung with more force, the tips of leather smacking against her skin. This implement did not make her flinch, but eventually took her to a calm and dreamy state. He switched hands several times to strike from right and left, pushing her deeper into that fogginess. She lost track of how many strikes, lost all track of time.

He recognized the blankness of her face, paused to step in close against her and slid his open palm down her back. She sucked in a breath of callused hand stimulating tenderized skin.

“Turn around.”

She did, taking a fresh grip on the bar overhead. Eyes closed, waiting patiently. A cup touched her bottom lip.

“Drink.”

Water. She sipped until he took it away. He walked around behind her again. Instead of the wide tails she was expecting, the thin braid at the end of a signal whip bit into her breast. Lannid smiled to see her jump inside her skin and stomp a foot.

“Fucker!” she gritted between clenched teeth.

Andaray only chuckled, and did it again.

“Dammit. Motherfucker!”

A few swings in, Lannid opened his pants to stroke his cock nice and slow. A hundred times the whip striped her breasts, ribs, and belly. A hundred times she cursed Andaray. Whip over his shoulder, he reached around with both hands to grab her breasts. Squeezing hard, he forced a yelping scream from her. One hand smacked its corresponding breast.

“Asshole!” she said, foot stomping.

He pulled the stick holding her braid in its round coil, took hold of the braid near the top and pulled it sharply backwards.

“You’re going to be used now. Harder than I’ve used you on my own. Bend over the end of the bed.”

He let go to watch her slow walk to the left.

“You can use her however you want, General. She was a whore long enough to know every orifice is available. In addition, she will know that she is available to you whenever you want. Anything you want, she is to obey. If she doesn’t obey, you can force her as you choose. This is my private agreement with my Lifeslave. I discussed it with her. You can do with her as you can no longer do with the lower women of your court,” Andaray explained. “As we used to do with women captured in battle.”

Lannid took his friend at his word and positioned himself. A wad of spit between her buttocks and he drove into her anus. She screamed into the bed, stomping a foot. He rammed into her the way he liked best, harder than he’d done to Lanelle that first night. She hadn’t known it, but he had actually taken it easy on her.

The core of his soul most enjoyed brutal force and violence. He smacked Ebra’s thighs hard as he used her, held her braid to lift her face and hear her suffering.

“The whore likes it hard?” he hissed.

“Fucking asshole!”

“That means yes,” Andaray said, sitting on the side of the bed to watch.

Excerpt from First Queen of Unada

NOW AVAILABLE in Amazon for purchase and Kindle Unlimited readers


TylerRose. is known as Dame Tyler in the NYC public SM/Fetish scene. She is an award-winning author who has written two “lifestyle”, four cartoon, and twentysomething fiction books.

Read her books on her Amazon page — https://www.amazon.com/TylerRose./e/B00HCPLSP2

You can also find more of her OP/ED work in Fetlife: https://fetlife.com/users/305828

She enjoys crocheting and baking, and will no doubt die with a thesaurus open on her thigh.

Tagged With: bdsm, bdsm play, bdsm relationship, bdsm scene, dominant, impact play, power exchange, submissive

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