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Dame TylerRose.

Popping The Pussycat

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“I promise you we’ll get there,” he said gently, taking her hand from his crotch to put it atop his shoulder instead. “In my own time and in my own way. That is the Gar in me. I don’t want or need for you to do anything for me. All I want is for you to respond naturally, however what I do inspires you. Whatever noise, whatever movement. That is where my pleasure lies. Don’t put on a show of it in any way.”

She nodded, captivated by the calmness in his dark eyes and the rumble of his voice in that big chest.

The leg she was straddling came up to put her entire weight on her sex and his thigh. Her arms went rigid to balance herself until she found a place to put the toe of her shoes and brace her legs back and out of the way. Pulling her forward slightly around the waist put pressure at the top of her open vagina. The pressure on that delicate spot made her gasp a little, confirming the presence of a clitoris, which Voranian women did not have. 

He stole her breath with feather light touches to her breasts that popped her nipples out like little marbles. Soft, smooth fingertips strummed sideways across them.

“Can you cum from this?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she whispered, eyes closing with a surge of arousal.

Fingers strumming faster, like playing a guitar, pressing in for a firmer stroke. Her legs strained. She squirmed, shifting her pelvis and hitting just the right spot. Combined with the demand of his fingers, she shuddered in a small climax. He felt a small, wet warmth spread through his pantleg.

He kissed her, palm pressing over her entire breast, and enjoyed the wetness of her tongue touching his without any prompting on his part. He lowered his knee, holding her firmly to guide her down to lie on the incredibly sumptuous rug. Fur against her naked skin, having been made to cum by a new lover.

“I made your pants wet,” she smiled at the darkness in the middle of his thigh.

“I shall cut that square from the material and carry it in my pocket so I can smell you whenever I want,” he said, opening the garment to remove it.

She laughed. “You would not!”

“Indeed I would,” he said, taking the knife from the back pocket.

He thrust the angled tip into the material and sliced, producing a triangle the size of his hand. He lifted the wet center to his nose to inhale, closing his eyes for the briefest of seconds.

“Mmmm. Very nice.” He tossed it aside, closing the balisong with fast flips of his wrist. “I will soon taste it from the source.”

He came to lie beside her, his big hand sliding up her thigh. She became aware of an odd pressure to the side of her vulva, increasing, stealing her breath away with each passing second as it built.

“What is–? Oh, my,” she gasped.

He slipped a finger inside and pressed thumb on the outside to finger on the inside, pinching firmly but without pain. Warmth spread through her channel as she made whimpering mewling sounds and squirmed beside him. He moved himself in close, to feel her writhe against his chest and belly. Finger and thumb rolled slowly and her astonishment came out in a loud, sharply pitched note of a cry. He kept on, knowing she’d not hit it yet. Wetness lubricated his finger and he slipped a second in to roll against the pad of the thumb.

At once her back arched sharply, breasts jiggling wonderfully. The shriek from her throat was as surprised as the sudden and harsh reaction of her body. As she lay there with eyes closed, panting for breath, his thumb released to allow the fingers to slowly glide deeper into her.

“Was that good?”

“Oh, my god! That was fantastic,” she blurted.

“I’m glad. That sweet spot is unique to Voranian women. It’s called Popping the Pussycat.”

Excerpt from Ties That Bind

——-

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.

Twitter — https://twitter.com/DameTyler or @DameTyler
FB Fan Page — https://www.facebook.com/TylerRoseGethis/

FB Regular page —  https://www.facebook.com/TylerRoseAuthor

 

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.

 

Lie #25 Consent Is Not Different In BDSM

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In my continuing series of excerpts from my 50 Lies Told to New People About BDSM book, this week I’m tackling the murky waters of consent. Note that this piece is edited and expanded from the book entry.

There are a lot of people who think consent is not different in any way. They want to make the issue black and white, but it’s not. There are always variables and extenuating circumstances to take into consideration.

In a nutshell: In June of 2018, a judge in Australia dismissed a very controversial (at least on a couple social websites) assault/rape case.

“The magistrate noted that because violence was intrinsic to the S&M scene, conventional notions of consent did not necessarily apply. He cited video evidence of [redacted]’s previous encounters with one of the alleged victims, which were consensual despite her crying and saying ‘no more please’.”

This is actually an important moment for all Edge players, in this age of buyer’s remorse, with so many people retroactively rescinding consent and the slightest mistake by a top/dom being likened to rape.

There are huge fights in forums, spilling across multiple groups and dozens of writings within a single website. One side wants to enforce vanilla (conventional) standards of consent where they don’t belong, and the other side points out the reality of the situation. 

The reality is that once the agreements regarding aspects of consent (or the removal of it) are made, and the action begins, nilla sensibilities cease to apply in the bdsm context. Of course, “no means no” when you’re just having conversation; when you’re at the party and haven’t agreed to play/have sex; when you’re not in a relationship with someone; when you haven’t made an agreement to suspend the conventional notion of consent in any way. I’m not saying any dude can walk up to any chick (or vice versa) and hump them and say “hey, that’s bdsm!”

That’s not what we’re talking about here.

We’re talking about specific interactions and relationship types in which the participants have agreed to suspend conventional applications of consent. I will illustrate why/how consent is different between certain bdsm situations and non-kink “vanilla” (conventional) situations. 

Those differences are the crux of what makes BDSM “deviance”. Pretending those conventions always apply is a dangerous lie to tell new people.

Look up the synonyms for “conventional” – Conservative, conformist, unadventurous. Does any of that sound like BDSM to you? It sure doesn’t to me. BDSM is about all things NON-conformist and adventurous.

Let’s examine the how/why one hot-button topic at a time. You will have seen me cover many of these in earlier Lies. This time, I am going to cover a different angle.

A: Safe Words

The original purpose was as a code word so that the bottom/sub could scream NO and STOP at the top of their lungs and play would not stop. The bottom could be screaming bloody murder nononononostopstopstop, but so long as they did not say the special code word, the top could keep going.

There is no one standard for all bdsm participants. Using/recognizing no and stop is an individual choice, decided upon between the people in the encounter/relationship. 

The traffic light system, while commonly used at public venues, is not universal either. If the safe word between them is kumquat, the bottom can scream red and the top can ignore it. They may get kicked out of the venue for their choice…but it IS their choice.

Conclusion: If a bottom can say no and stop and, by agreement, play doesn’t stop until they say the correct code word…then consent is different in bdsm than it is in the non-kink “conventional” setting/encounter.

B: Not Using ANY Safe/Stop Word

The bottom agrees to not have a safe word, to have no power whatever to stop the action, whether they like what is happening or not. They agreed it wouldn’t stop until the top/dom decided to stop. 

This is a lot more common that a hell of a lot of people want to admit. They call the top/dom all manner of vile names, and throw accusations of abuse and breaking the law. They call the sub/slave brainwashed, mentally ill, in denial. They can’t fathom that this is something eagerly sought after by some subs/slaves. The second anyone says they don’t have a safe word, the fur starts flying.

Conclusion: If the bottom cannot make things stop at all, no matter what they say, then consent is different than in non-bdsm/kink situations. Conventional concepts of consent do not apply.

C: CNC relationships. 

It gets damned tedious to constantly be asked over and over and over and over if it’s okay to do the same thing you’ve always done together. Blanket Consent, Consensual Non-Consent, takes that tedium out of the equation.  

The sub/slave says “Yes, I consent to not have to give consent again” at some stage of the relationship. This is also a common arrangement.

From then on, if the dom wants sex, the dom bends the sub/slave over and fucks them wherever they happen to be in the home. (Taking into consideration present company, of course.) There is no asking the sub/slave every time the dom wants sex. This is normal in the CNC setting. 

The dom decides they want to issue a flogging or a spanking. They can say “get the fuck over here and brace against the wall so I can beat you.” They don’t have to ask if the sub is in the mood.

The sub/slave complains “that’s too hard” and the dom says “that’s too bad.”  This is normal in a CNC relationship.

The dom wants oral sex. “Do you feel like sucking my dick today?” isn’t a question unless the dom feels like saying “that’s too bad because you’re going to do it anyway.” 

This is not how it’s done in the non-kink/conventional/”vanilla” relationship. In conventional relationsihps, both parties are expected to have equal input to the positive and the negative. 

A d/s relationship is inherently inequal.

In the non-kink/conventional context, coercion is abuse. Coercion and force are common in the bdsm CNC relationship. They are often cited as being the hottest part of the arrangement.

Conclusion: Consent is different in the CNC relationship.

Does all this mean that any dom can demand service from any sub/slave? Only if they are at an event for which those ARE the rules. I don’t think I’ve seen that party advertised yet, unless it was a female dom/male sub tea. Those don’t usually include any form of SM play.

D: Can’t Leave the Relationship

There are a number of subs and slaves who say they cannot leave the relationship. This always brings out the “OH YES YOU CAN TOO!!!” people. Because LAWS!

“Can’t leave” is usually part of the CNC relationship, but I’m going to give it its own explanation.

In a non-bdsm situation, disallowing the partner from leaving is unlawful imprisonment. There are shelters for women to escape to.

In a bdsm relationship situation in which it was agreed upon at the start that the sub/slave is not allowed to end the relationship, making the sub/slave stay when they try to leave is simply the dom enforcing their end of the agreement. 

In every “can’t leave” discussion, there are several subs and slaves who tell their individual stories of what happened when they tried to leave.

What astonishes me is this assumption that because they cannot leave, they must always want to leave. The notion that the sub/slave is content in the relationship, a relationship they intentionally agreed to, never enters into the equation.

Conclusion: Consent is different in this type of bdsm relationship.

There are other aspects in which consent is different. These are the big ones I see most often disputed.

People are always shouting about getting everyone on the same page. Okay, here it is, but it’s not the page a lot of people think it should be because it’s not the vanilla, conventional, version of consent. 

Whether they like it or not, consent IS DIFFERENT in bdsm. 

Understand what you are getting yourself into when you decide to play games with consent.

——–

About the Author

TylerRose is a real-world sadomasochist with over 30 years of relationship experience.

She 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.

FB Fan Page — https://www.facebook.com/TylerRoseGethis/
Read her books on her Amazon page — https://www.amazon.com/TylerRose./e/B00HCPLSP2

And the other 49 Lies Told to New People About BDSM: And read the other 49 lies in her book 50 Lies Told to New People About BDSM: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07HVS2H2T

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.

What Happened To All The Sadists and Predators?

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“What happened to all the sadists? What happened to those who wanna see us bruised, sweaty and crying for mercy but never giving completely in?”

I don’t often speak for a group of people, preferring to speak of my personal experience. But my responses to the above questions received nothing but positive comments, and numerous people began to follow me because of them. So in this instance, I feel comfortable using inclusive language. I’m also going to use female bottom and (mostly) male top designations, as that seems to be the most prevalent dynamic that this comes up in.

Where did all the sadists go?!

Where are all the good predators? 

They mean the sadists and predators who know exactly what a masochist needs and how to deliver it. How to take the raw sexual energy and turn it into a play session that’ll be remembered for years rather than forgotten before work on Monday. They mean someone who knows how to take them on a ride worth having and leave their legs shaking and the makeup smeared all over their face. Someone who leaves them knowing they been fucked, just how hard, and smiling for days remembering it through all the sore muscles and bruises.

I know. As a masochist, I want those things too.

As a sadist, however…

I’ll tell you where the sadists and predators are. We’re really smart. We see the jellyfish floating around our shark-inhabited waters, bumping into everything because they are so UNself-aware…and we are avoiding them like the plague.

We read one too many “WAAAAAAH I GOT IN OVER MY HEAD AND HE’S SUCH A CRIMINAL!” writing posted by some chick who can’t take responsibility for her own stupid choices. We realized we can no longer trust a bottom to be who and what they say they are. Yeah, they say they’re so hardcore a masochist; but then they’re whining to stop after five minutes of a moderate spanking because they can’t take the pain. One strike beyond, because it’s hard to stop a paddle in mid-swing when doling out two swats a second, the accusations of consent violation start flying.

It’s a disgusting atmosphere in which accused equals guilty. There’s no room for the smallest error. No room for a simple mistake. There’s no space for being human anymore. The top, the sadist, absolutely must be flawless, must be utterly perfect in every single thing at every single moment.

Cane tip wrapped around an inch too far? Consent violation.

Couldn’t deflate the butt plug and remove it one second after the bottom says stop? Consent violation.

Hugged? Consent violation.

Kissed on the cheek? Consent violation.

Shake a hand without immediate permission? Consent violation.

Hold hands? Consent violation.

Not tell every person in the venue that the scene you’re about to have with someone might trigger someone in the audience? Yup. Consent violation.

Every week there are more accusatory posts, because every week there are stupid people making stupid choices to go where they ought not to be, and doing shit they ought not be doing. Everyone else pays the price, because they cannot, for the life of them, say “Yup, that was me. I shouldn’t have been there. My bad.” 

Nope. It MUST be someone else’s fault! Always. To say anything else is victim blaming…even when they are solely the victim of their own foolishness.

We see that shit for what it is. Jail bait. Fortunately, they broadcast their inanity for all to see, so they’re easy to avoid from then on. It’s only that first poor schmuck who is ruined for life for no reason other than to do it. We’re not likely to forget that this guy, that guy, the other guy got reamed by the keyboard warrior mob. We don’t want to be next.

I mean seriously, one errant strike half an inch outside the designated six-inch-wide, three-inch-tall “green” zone and a top finds they’re being lynched by the Court of Stupidity. I mean the Court of Public Opinion. They’re the same thing, so whatevs.

So that means not playing with people we’ve not played with before. It means keeping to the familiar partners. Or not bothering to play at all. 

We watched as a stupid fantasy sent in PM (a fantasy based off an episode of The Closer, I’ll point out) was churned around into a fictitious cyberland rape charge by a very small group of consent militants who blew it all completely out of proportion and charged like a herd of cows over the cliff into deactivating their accounts for five days. The most peaceful five days that site had seen in a very long time, I’ll add.

Yeah, we watched that shit with amusement, and we knew exactly what it all meant. It meant it was time to take a step back and let the stand and model parade go by for a while. Stand and model, because very few of the cows stampeding over the cliff were actual BDSM participants. For being such experts on everything, it’s remarkable how little they’ve actually done.

Mmmhm. We saw that shit. Like an episode of Keystone Kops with people slamming and sniping each other all over the place, posting personal information there and on Facebook. We want no part of that shitshow. 

We saw where that stampede was heading. We saw this situation coming. We’re not willing to put our reputations, our lives, on the line to play with some chickadee who has no clue what she’s really asking for, or the consequences of her decision. 

I know this first hand. I had some chick ask for a caning “but no marks”. I had to tell her that isn’t going to happen. You’re being hit repeatedly by a stick. If you don’t have rhino hide, there are going to be marks. If memory serves, I gave her a five-minute butt warming with a paddle and that was it.

Unrealistic expectations abound, largely because they don’t want to listen to those of us who really do this shit and know what the fuck we’re talking about. They’d rather listen to the lies being told in discussion threads. They want to be told only what they want to hear. They don’t want the truth.

Just fulfill their fantasy, dammit! Don’t annoy them with facts.

We’re not willing to go all in on some bottom who doesn’t want to take the time to talk for half an hour with a complete stranger before going into an intense, to the edge, encounter. If they’re not willing to put in a little time and negotiation, then they aren’t going to get our attention at all. It’s much safer that way.

Nope, they want to skip right over that negotiation thing. Never mind that they are not nearly prepared for what could happen to them. Lack of negotiation is one of the things stated when they make their accusations. They ADMIT they didn’t discuss things well enough. They admit they didn’t bring up this or that. They admit they LIED when asked.  Somehow it’s still the top’s fault when things go sideways.

Up pops another writing about how some top wasn’t a mind reader when the bottom didn’t open her mouth and make words to say there was a problem.

We bitch at dudes for thinking with their dicks, but lemme tell you, I have never before seen such a group of twats thinking solely with their pussies.

Are you what you say you are, masochist bottom standing there begging me for a spanking? In ten years of topping others, I’ve only ever had two women who could go as long as I wanted to beat and whip on them. So that’s not very good odds.

Are you WHO you say you are? Will there really be no drama? I doubt it. Those who say they hate drama seem to make the most.

Sadists and predators are not willing to take the chance that you’ll turn out to be some psycho hellbent on ruining their lives because you didn’t get cuddled long enough at the SM dungeon. A friend of mine made a “rabbit in the soup pot on my stove” reference. Yeah, we think along those lines. We see that shit coming.

Are you going to turn psycho because the top you’re done playing with dared to go play with some other chick ten minutes after you walked away?

Whammo, there’s another writing about how she didn’t get sufficient “aftercare” (which is, by their own words, a euphemism for cuddling with these chicks) and he’s such an abusive ass for going to play with someone else.

Lemme tell you something. If you’re looking for cuddling from strangers at the SM dungeon, you’re looking in the wrooooooooong damn place.

Are you going to go insane on him because he didn’t want to be your boyfriend for the next three months after half an hour of play? I’ve seen someone declare that any top who plays with her knows they MUST be available to her for THREE MONTHS afterward, for after care. (does the math…three play partners in one night, twice a month…six men pandering to her “needs” for three months, renewed monthly) That is completely ridiculous.

That’s is a boyfriend fetish and a fear of being alone, not a need for after care. 

We’re not interested in being roped into a nonconsensual role as your significant other for quarter of the year over half an hour of patting your tushie. Trust me. Your tushie isn’t that special. Casual play means we both walk away when it’s done, not that we’re tied to you for weeks on end until you find a replacement mark.

I’ve seen one of these people state in a writing that she’s not interested in justice. She’s only interested in destroying someone. I’ve seen another state that she can destroy a top with one post.

Where did the sadists and predators go? 

Nowhere. We’re still here. 

We’re just a LOT more cautious nowadays about our casual play.

This is the bed made by all those chicks who knew they didn’t belong in the first place, and the militant consent crew that twists everything they don’t like into the worst of consent violations because they have nothing better to do that day than cause trouble where there wasn’t any.

This is the bed created by party promoters who decided the nillas (and their money) coming in the door were more important than the actual SM practitioners. This is the bed created by the Dungeon Monitors who tell hard players they can’t play hard anymore because the nillas will get scared. Or who tell those hard players to wait until later in the evening to play. You know, after the non-participants go home and won’t get scared by what they might see.

This is the bed made by all those people who put ticket sales and group membership numbers ahead of quality and experience.

They’ve left you, masochist wondering where the sadists/predators have gone, to lay in it. 

I know it’s not a comfy bed. I’m a sadomasochist. I see it from the perspective of the sadist top who has to be extremely careful, and I see it from the perspective of the maso bottom who craves that intensity and absolutely means it when I say “MOREMOREMORE Please don’t stop!” I have told more than one top that, within the boundaries of the party’s rules they could not possibly violate my consent.

“What happened to those who want to see fire and spunk??”

They’re waiting for the brat-fad crap to be over, and for submissive to mean NOT the boss of everything again…because that bullshit gets fuckin’ old fuckin’ fast.

“Where are all the sadists/predators?!”

They both standing together on the sidelines, watching the circus and shaking their heads…and protecting their asses by not playing with or getting into a relationship with people they don’t know well enough.

What did you think was going to happen?

———-

TylerRose. is known as Dame Tyler in the NYC public SM/Fetish scene. She’s been doing this BDSM stuff for 30 years in private and 10 years in public venues. 

She is an award-winning author who has written two “lifestyle”, four cartoon, and 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.

 

Shadows Of The Night: Dimitrius

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His fingertips pulled her chin toward him for a gentle kiss she didn’t hesitate to return. A nice kiss that expected nothing, wanted nothing, took nothing. A giving kiss. She’d not had one of those in a long time. Not since her one night with Jerome.

“You’re some kind of fantastic. You know that?” he said quietly.

She only smiled and kissed him again, a small box coming to her fingers and she lifted it for him to see. A box of three condoms.

“You don’t have anything and I don’t have anything,” she said. “I can’t get pregnant anyway. But you like putting one onto your fingers to slip up the back side and I very much like a good double penetration. I’ll do bareback vag to ass, but not ass to vag.”

His brain stopped. Staring at the box and then looking into her eyes again. “I’m not ready to love. It’s too soon.”

“Neither am I,” she replied. “It’s not about love and I’m not asking for a relationship. It’s about want and need and sharing things we both enjoy a great deal. I need to know it can be good again. I don’t even want foreplay right now. I need penetration and lots of it, so go as long as you can.”

That was good enough for him. He pulled her jeans off, taking the bikini underpants with them…and tried to ignore the bruises covering her from top to bottom. She pulled her shirt over her head while he undressed.

His warm, curly-fuzzed chest against her cool breasts, his chocolate caramel skin against her pale, soft lips on hers as he leaned on his hip between her thighs. Her small hand grasped his hardening shaft in the casual stroke of an experienced woman.

“You can tell me to stop. Right now,” he said.

“No, I can’t. I need it too much. Please.”

“Please it is,” he said, turning into position to drive his cock all the way in.

She flinched a wince with the pain she’d expected, and gave a relieved groan when the sensation passed. That fast, it was only good. Lifting her hips to take him as far as he could fit, she sighed away the world. 

Balls deep on the first undulation, he took to his slower rhythm for a good, long riding. Taking her through several hard cums, he was in no hurry to have anything finished.

“Are you ready for the other now?” he asked after he’d given her a few more.

“Please.”

Still inside her, he paused to open the box and rip open a package. Condom rolled onto his middle two fingers, he reached around her thigh and under to find the tight center of her anal opening. One fingertip at first, to start to open her, then the other, sliding that first half inch, then the full inch, driving deeper and deeper with each until he was fucking her ass the full length of his fingers. 

She started the humping on her own, needing more and taking his double penetration for another good, long time. He couldn’t hold off his ejaculation anymore.

“Don’t stop your hand,” she hurriedly gasped when she thought he would stop. “Please. Keep going.”

He did, taking her onto her side face to face for more kissing while she held him tight and sighed and groaned her bliss.

“You like a long ass fuck a lot more than most women I’ve known,” he commented when she was still able to cum half an hour later.

“I adore it. When you can get hard again, I want you to fuck it with your cock as hard as you can for as long as you can.”

“Hard?”

“Very hard.”

“Like this?” he said, and rammed his fingers into her far harder.

“Fuck, yes!” she groaned, liquid cum gushing from her puss.

“I like how much you cum,” he said when she grunted out another one a moment later. “My cock is getting hard. You still want it?”

“Fuck yes!” she gritted out, shuddering against him.

“Then get on your knees and open your ass for me.”

But he didn’t stop his hand. She had to do it while his fingers were still working in and out of her. Turning onto her knees first, backing to the edge of the bed and parting her knees wide, cheek to the mattress and puss pulsing hard, all the while his hand giving her no respite.

Once she was in position, he pulled his fingers out and stripped the condom off inside out. Another on his cock, he was in her hard to the base, and bent over to kiss her flaming hot cheek.

“Jerome was a stupid fool not to take you back to your home that night. How hard you want me, baby?”

“Like you intend your cock to come out the top of my head.”

That’s what he gave, her loud screams into the mattress spurring him on. He reached around her hip to find the point of her clitoris. Wide open, exposed and vulnerable, a touch made her give an involuntary yelp of surprise. He took to tapping it twice in a row every twentieth (or so) thrust into her, keeping her on the edge of a clitty popper until she was pounding a fist into the mattress. Then he kept patting continuously until she went into the full body gripper orgasm. His body slamming into hers while she shuddered violently on her knees, she was as passionate as some she-beast.

“More, baby?”

“Yes!”

He pulled out, pulled the condom off, flipped her over onto her back and rammed himself hard into her soaking wet puss. She was beyond insatiable, completely lost to her own lust and greedy need. Limbs drained of all strength yet she still managed to lift her hips to fuck him back. Her arms far overhead, he placed his hands over her bruise-covered breasts to grip and brace himself. She only came again. 

He finished off with a mighty groan, and came back to the physical place. The movie’s credits were rolling. They’d fucked through the entire two hour and fourteen minute movie.

“God damn, woman! You always fuck like that?” he asked, falling behind her on the bed while she turned onto her side to face the television.

“When I need to,” she said, flicking a finger out to start the tape rewinding.

——

About the Author

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.

Twitter — https://twitter.com/DameTyler or @DameTyler
FB Fan Page — https://www.facebook.com/TylerRoseGethis/

FB Regular page —  https://www.facebook.com/TylerRoseAuthor

 

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.

 

On Begging

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In the comments of one of my previous articles (Stoicism is Not a Gauntlet Thrown Down, www.kinkweekly.com/article-guest-author/stoicism-not-gauntlet-thrown ) I was asked a few questions.

I thought I would take the time to address the issue in general.

“Have you written any articles on begging?”

Not really, until now. While I appreciate being asked nicely, and having bottoms ask politely for what they want, I’m not into making them beg. I don’t make them ask repeatedly. I’m not into humiliation games.

“I am struggling with the right things to say to please my mistress.”

You will have to ask her what the “right things” are. You have to open your mouth and make words to ask her “what words would you find most pleasing?” (Or something to that effect.) They don’t have to be the perfect words at first, because you’re just now asking what the perfect words are. The important thing is starting the dialogue, awkward as that may be.

If she says that you’ll “have to figure it out”, then you have a decision to make. Do you want to continue in a relationship that leaves you floundering right when you need help the most? In which you have zero guidance and your dom won’t communicate with you?

Or do you end the relationship and search for someone who will be more supportive of your efforts to please?

There is this urge to please, to do more. It’s not always necessary. Sometimes a sub is over-eager and wants to do more than the dom wants of them. Sometimes you just have to take a breath, calm down a little, and settle into what the dom wants of you. It’s okay to sit together in silence and do…nothing. Being together, being that companion, may be quite satisfactory.

This is part of that communication thing we’re always hammering on about. So start the conversation.

“She gets frustrated with me.”

Is she frustrated with you or with herself for not communicating more clearly what she wants? 

This isn’t all on you. Relationships are 50/50. It takes two to tango. (I’ll add some more clichés if I think of them.) Both parties have to be engaged and working for a stable dynamic. If one is not engaged and putting in the effort, the other may well get tired of trying to carry the entire load without any encouragement. I’ve been there myself. It contributed to the demise of my second marriage.

 “I really want to be a good slave so people will realize what a great mistress she is.”

You can be a terrific slave and she a crappy mistress. One is not necessarily the result (or the impetus) of the other. 

If you’re trying but the dom is giving you no input on how to improve, or the most basic information on what they want, I think you seriously need to examine the relationship and address these issues directly.

If you have a hard time coming up with words to speak, write them down when you’re apart. Just a simple list. Number them. Then sit down away from the playroom and have a serious heart to heart conversation.

Note that I don’t say “outside of the dynamic”. I don’t believe in putting a dynamic on hold (especially a 24/7 d/s dynamic) just to have a conversation. There’s no reason you can’t be on your knees at her feet to discuss the issues you face.

“I assume the begging is different a male sub to a femdom vs a female sub for male dom. Is that correct?”

Since I don’t make subs/slaves beg, I really wouldn’t know the answer to that. I don’t think it really matters all that much for the purpose of this article. Begging is about control. The one doing the begging doesn’t have it. The one making you beg does.

It’s not, however, always a matter of humiliation. 

My former dom would sometimes make me beg to have an orgasm during sex. It wasn’t a humiliation thing, but a buildup of repeated denials that led to an explosive orgasm when he finally said yes.

Whether or not begging is a form of humiliation play is an individual matter. For some people, it is. For others it is not. It might be humiliation for the bottom but not the top. It might be a power-trip for the top and a huge sexual turn on for the bottom.

It’s not a matter of which way is “correct”. They all are. 

It’s more a matter of identifying what triggers it trips and making sure that both parties are consenting to the activity itself.

—-

About the Author

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.

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

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.

Naughty Word Caning

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“Bring the slave to me fully prepared for punishment. Take the nipple jewelry out,” he told Jacek, and turned his back on them to walk down the left side of the apartment.

Master’s side.

Reah went into the slave hall side and was stripped down and flushed out in both orifices. The gold bars with rubies and diamonds were removed from her nipple piercings. A small thing, but it measured his displeasure. If he ordered them removed, she was the lowest of the low slaves until he put them back in. Only the gold chain he’d had sealed on her, and the flower bracelet on her wrist, remained to adorn her. Jacek did not even put a flower in her hair.

“Time to pay for what I said,” she muttered, and went through the narrow corridor between slave room and toilet room.

Preece was in the front sitting room reading a letter. His thin cane and the leather muzzle were already on the seat beside him. She was definitely going to pay for her impertinence.

“Let yourself out, Jacek,” he said, not looking up from the letter.

Jacek bowed his good night and departed, leaving Reah on her knees waiting in the silence. She waited a good while in posture with her arms behind her back and head bowed, knowing better than to speak out of turn when he was already unhappy with her behavior.

“Put the muzzle on.”

She knew how, and secured it firmly. Long minutes more with her jaw held shut and he all but ignored her, turning the paper over to read the back side.

“Sit on the slave chair,” he finally said.

The chair pseudi had been strapped in many times, held open for use by the men of the chamber. She sat on the edge of the seat, knowing he would place her however he wanted her configured. No doubt she’d get a caning across her puss with that super thin shaft that bit deep and bruised for days. She hated it and she loved it at the same time. She loved to hate it and hated to love it.

He was always quiet before issuing a punishment, his silence part of the whole to build her anticipation and clear his own mind for what he would do. He would be the picture of self-control, doing exactly what he wanted to the degree he wanted and going no further. At last putting the letters down, he stood to come toward her in that slow pace she knew too well. 

Deliberateness.

If Preece was one thing, deliberate would be that thing. Every action had a purpose for her or for himself. Everything was thought out, to the smallest motion and detail. While he disliked the reasons for having to punish, he could not say he did not like enacting it.

“Hands.”

She lifted them to him and he pulled her arms backwards over her head to be locked into the cuffs attached by a very short leash to the back edge of the chair. Elbows pointed up, the position was at once awkward.

“Bend at the knee. Feet back.”

Her ankles were quickly cuffed to the chair’s front legs. This kept her buttocks toward the edge of the seat. She couldn’t go too far back because her arms wouldn’t bend that far. Couldn’t go too far forward because her ankles could not be moved. She was open from breasts to knee, and forced out even more when he shoved two pillows behind her into the void between her back and the curve of the chair. They would take her weight and prevent her from pulling her spine backwards more than an inch or so. She could not escape, no matter how she squirmed.

He brought the thin cane over, lovingly stroked its length between finger and thumb tips as he looked down at her vulnerability.

“You know very well not to use curse words when speaking to me. Your fucking country, is it? It’s my fucking country too, and I will not have you sounding like a common fucking whore.”

The cane swung down, landing across the top of both breasts at once and leaving a crimson stripe that swelled to a welt at once. The deep stinging bite of it sprang forth a scream and tears of an unexpected sort.

“My slave does not speak foul words or she is not permitted to speak until it is time to put on Queen’s clothes again,” he said, and struck again. “I did not give her the power of speech for her to speak like a street walking prostitute.”

So she knew the muzzle would probably be on until morning. Struggling in the cuffs, held in place and squirming, there was nowhere to go to get away from his punishment. There never was.

“My wife does not speak foul words or she does not get my love.”

A third strike, horizontal and landing just above her nipples and her screams went on for nearly half a minute as the pain of it worked its way through the layers of breast tissue and out over her skin in the tingling fire she both hated and adored.

“If my slave needs a beating, there are certainly better ways to go about it.”

Fourth strike slightly lower, directly onto both erect nipples. He wasn’t swinging nearly as hard as he could and she knew it. The stick caught her under the arms scant seconds into her screaming reaction to the measured and accurate strike. He was always so bloody accurate.

“Keep those arms up,” he said with a quick whap to the underside of her right arm.

Then between her thighs, back and forth smart and fast.

“Open that cunt.”

Her knees parted and he stood between them to give her a sharp vertical strike to the puss. Her bottom bounced on the edge of the seat, body twisting as her thighs pressed together around the cane.

Solid taps to the outside of a thigh.

“Open back up.”

Heaving for breath after breath, sweating with the effort of taking this kind of intense pain, she opened her knees. Another strike would be forthcoming but disobeying would get her far worse than obediently taking what he chose to dish out. He stepped between her knees and she got several more painful whaps to her labia. Unable to close against his legs, she could only screech and howl in the muzzle. The end of the cane pressed under her chin to lift it and make her look at him.

“The punishment for foul words keeps getting worse every time I have to issue it, doesn’t it?”

She nodded, whimpering with the continuing sting to breasts and puss and tears leaking from the corners of her eyes.

“You’d think you’d learn the lesson already,” he said, moving aside to give her a strike to the top of her breasts where the first had been.

Three more, placing them as he’d done the others but landing one after the other in faster succession to keep her howling and sobbing in the extreme pain. This was no reward for a foul mouth and they both knew it. A few naughty words was not worth taking this harsh punishment.

He left her to suffer and cry it out, pouring himself a small whiskey and savoring every minute of her distress. He waited for her to calm and quiet before approaching once more. Just that motion, of turning to her with the cane in hand and taking his place, was enough to send her into a fit of fresh tears. 

He gave her a third set of stripes over the first two, to drive the lesson home before wiping the cane with the soft cloth and putting it back into its carved case. Hung in its place, he walked up behind the chair and crouched low to kiss her temple. Hands reaching around to cup her breasts, thumbs strumming those beaten nipples, and she keened a renewed cry with her back arching high. A different kind of cry, overloaded with pleasure and pain. Orgasmic.

“The punishment that keeps on punishing,” he said close to her head, and snapped his finger onto a nipple in one of those hard stingers Jacek had so liked to use in discipline.

She gave an involuntary yelp, a single note that greatly pleased the Beast in his belly.

“Will you be more mindful of your language?” he asked, and stung the other nipple to hear it again.

She nodded, screeching into the muzzle and writhing in the cuffs in a most adorable way.

“I will punish you harder next time, you know.”

He gave her a double stinger, his cock hardening to marble with the sounds  she made for him. He let her out of the wrist cuffs but held her arms there a moment while he smacked those already striped breasts. The color, bright red stripes crossing over each other across her white pale. Welts swelling long and thick from one side all the way to the other above her breasts and the twin lines on the fullness of both beautiful…

Out of the ankle cuffs with hard pulls. He could not wait any longer.

“Punishment is over except for the muzzle. Get on my bed. Face down, ass up.”

Excerpt from Peeper Ascendant

——-

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.

Twitter — https://twitter.com/DameTyler or @DameTyler
FB Fan Page — https://www.facebook.com/TylerRoseGethis/

FB Regular page —  https://www.facebook.com/TylerRoseAuthor

 

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.

I Want To Go To A Sex Party…but…

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Now and then, a woman says to me that they want to go to a sex party, but she’s afraid to.

She’s afraid of being pounced on the second she walks in the door. She’s afraid of being assaulted, not being in control of the situation.

January 2018, I attended a sex party for the first time. I had left my husband, my dom, my Master. Two weeks later, I took myself to a Roman style orgy.

All of my concerns were put to rest at once because the venue has very specific rules regarding consent. No means no. Period. End of story. Don’t ask again.

Every sex party I’ve been to at this particular venue has been well-controlled, well monitored. Safe. Calling out the DM’s name brings him over in about two seconds to address any issues. Truly, I couldn’t feel safer.

The trick to it all is to find a place where you like the people; like how it’s run; like the policies and how they’re enforced. This can take some time and effort. That’s not always easy. 

I’ve written previously about turning around an awkward evening and instead having a terrific time. Patience is a necessity. You won’t always get what you want. There is no guarantee that you’ll have sex. You might not meet someone you find attractive.

You may also discover that you have to set aside some of your personal attraction features. Just like at any SM party, the sex party isn’t filled with Adonis and Aphrodite. People have imperfections.

The hunky dude with the biggest dick may look great and be a fantastic guy…but he may pop off in five minutes and be done before you ever got started.

The dude who is the most eager may burn his thighs out within ten minutes. The guy you wouldn’t normally go for might last for 45 minutes. 

You have no way of knowing until you’re in the saddle, as it were.

There’s a certain level of open-mindedness you have take with you. There may be trade-offs you need to make.

For example and for a multitude of reasons, I don’t perform oral sex. Period. End of story. But I do fuck like a demon. What I don’t do orally I make up for in my ability to go for a long time. And I don’t need (or want) foreplay for myself. 

Some have asked if I will receive oral, even after I’ve said I don’t perform it. My answer is yes. I very much enjoy receiving oral, and we’ve gotten down to business. If they’re not good at it, I’ll stop them after a few minutes and reach for a condom. Get it up, slap it on, and let’s fuck, bubba.

I have had perfectly satisfying encounters that were nothing but oral and fingers. I wrote about that previously, in my “Sexually Serviced for the First Time” piece.

I’ve taken a toy or two myself, most notably my little jeweled butt plug. Regardless the scorn those things get on fetish sites, it gets smiles when the guys see it, and they are always eager to use it on me.

I’ve also had a fun time without engaging in anything but socializing, simply enjoying being with the people.

The bottom line is this: If you want to attend a sex party, by all means go. Have fun. Use the condoms if you are going to have sex. 

Understand that every time you attend is going to be a different experience. Be open to that, because you never know which party is going to be the best you ever attended.

—–

About the Author

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 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

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

Master Rigio of Gloriana

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Rigio saw her coming through the bedroom.

“Stay there.”

He met her at the door when she stepped through, took her by the hand and kissed her cheek and told her how lovely she looked. Seating her in the companion chair, giving her a small whiskey, he put the cane in her hand.

“I’ll be right back. Wait for me.”

Lady Boldon and Iris were waiting by the door of the suite. He said goodnight and let them out and locked the door. Turning off lights along the way, the apartment darkened behind him. He liked this layout, the controlled path and entry, the one way emergency exit in the wall.

“I’d like to watch you cane the slave, Reah,” he said, stopping near the chairs. “Inspire him to good oral service.”

She smiled and stood as he opened his pants and sat near the front edge of the chair. His cock and balls hung freely. Property eased forward to take the base of this new cock in hand to stroke.

“No hands,” Rigio said. 

Which forced Property to brace his hands on the floor to lean far enough forward that he could suck and keep his backside presented. As always, the Namrata did not start lightly. Not her hardest swings, but certainly not gentle and coaxing. She swung methodically until his ass was on fire, then changed target between his legs to whap back and forth rapidly just at the bottom of his ball sack. Then up to strike the sack directly.

Grunts and fast breaths as he dealt with it. Rigio held back his chuckles as Property struggled to take his Mistress’ mean cane and give proper oral service at the same time. The torment of stroking his cock and balls softly with the cane about drove Property over the edge every time. She knew well how to balance the pain and the pleasure. When she gave him a hard kick to the balls, Property almost spilled onto the carpet. His groan was loud, he shuddered inside his skin and sucked down harder to avoid biting the cock in his mouth.

Rigio watched her, saw her tight focus…and the beast in her blood. Not like the Beast in Preece’s belly. That was mostly Parin. This was her own cruel streak, learned at the hands of a cruel man, and tempered by living among others who had control and had taught her control. Otherwise, he’d worry she was just a murdering brute.

She grew strong as she got deeper into the beating and Property did not put on a show of noise. She said nothing, did not taunt or verbally humiliate. She increased her force swing after swing, pausing after a smashing hit that about sent Property through the roof. She took a step away to give Property a moment to regain his composure after the open-mouthed scream, give him time to resume his vigorous sucking.

Rigio pushed him away. “Go to your room.”

“He can take much more,” Reah said, and smacked his ass once more as he crawled by her.

“I’m sure he can,” Rigio said, leaving the seat. “But I want you. Now.”

He picked her up around the waist, carrying her straight through the doorway and to the bed. On the edge of the foot, the nightgown sliced down with a knife he was too fast with, he pushed her to lie back, pulled her thighs around his hips to have her with a vigor he’d not shown her before. Gown ripped the rest of the way up, he took his belt from his pants to whip her breasts as they slid and jiggled with his hip force.

“Is that why you brought these gowns?” she asked when he turned her over to stand off the side of the bed and sliced it from her back. “To destroy them?”

“Yes,” he replied, and gave her a long beating to her upper back, buttocks and thighs.

He wailed on her until she could barely keep on her feet and her hands were no longer trying to grip the sheets. Belt aside, he finished in her ass in a few hard and fast minutes very unlike his other sodomies.

“Starting right now, I will keep you hot and horny as you were in Mida. Your satisfaction is at my mercy and you will not be sated every day. Climb up and go to sleep and don’t you dare try to jack yourself.”

She did climb up, slow and stiff  and deep into the dream space. She was sated through the beating and plenty of orgasms, not needing the finisher to be at peace. Happily beaten, more so than she’d been in a long time, and curled onto a side to sigh her content, she fell into a hard sleep in a matter of minutes.

Kissing her cheek, smiling at his good work, Rigio gathered up the remnants of the nightgown into a pile and went into the sitting room to get another shot of whiskey and turn off the lights. He went out onto the balcony outside the office room to see what could be seen.. He could not see the men on the roof, which meant they could not see him. Why were there men on the roof? He would put them on the ground instead.

Heading for the bathing room intending to take a quick one himself, he heard a noise inside the slave bedroom. Opening the door, he found the slave on his knees on the floor, trying to finish himself off over the piss bucket.

“Having trouble?”

Property startled, looked up. He was having difficulties. “The Namrata knows how to keep me in agony of need all too well, Master. I cannot finish for wanting her small hand or Master’s harsh invasion.”

“Come here.”

Property followed Rigio into the corridor between bathing room and bedroom. Painful hand in his hair and another around his forearm put him hard up against the smooth, painted wall. Scant seconds and he was penetrated enough like Moros had done in the Temple in Mida.

“If you’re going to cum then do it,” Rigio hissed, pinning the slave to the wall and thrusting in sharp jerks. “I will keep her in need. But not you. So if you need an ass rape before you can sleep, I’ll rape your ass when you least expect it.”

Property groaned with his cum, his hard shaft pulsing and throbbing between his belly and the unyielding wall. His warm goo spurted in slow blobs with each jerk from Master, smearing over his skin and the wall.

Rigio kept going until his own climax shot out, and let go the slave.

“Clean up that mess,” he said, and went to take that bath.

Excerpt from Peeper of Gloriana

——-

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.

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

FB Regular page —  https://www.facebook.com/TylerRoseAuthor

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.

 

What The Community Owes You

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I’ll answer the question right off the bat: NOTHING.

The “community”, if you believe in such a thing, does not owe you a single thing. I’ll explain why.

I read a thread in which someone decided that everyone has to know everything about BDSM, and is personally responsible for educating all the new people in all the BDSM things.

“Even in the realm of BDSM, I still come across folks who have been in the lifestyle for decades, so they say – and I have no reason not to believe them, who have no idea what a little is.” 

Said as if it is a horrible thing for someone not to know about a niche, trendy fad kink.

Finding that statement to be very judgmental, I asked “Why would they?” Behaving like a child doesn’t fall under bondage or discipline. It isn’t dominance or submission. It’s not sadism or masochism. If they’ve never seen it in their circles, they’ve never seen it. 

That’s not a crime.

A lot of experienced people don’t know about the fetish of balloons and know nothing about dudes putting nettles through piercings in their foreskin. Or putting crickets on their junk so they’ll bite. Still more have never heard of splitting a dick in two, or splitting the tongue like a snake.

If they don’t know about it, they’re not going to be teaching others about it.

I was doing this d/s relationship stuff for ten years before I knew it had a name. I was doing bdsm for 20 years without ever setting foot in a dungeon. Fire play? Seriously? People set each other on fire??? WTF? People actually stick needles in each other for fun??? GTFO!

It’s not a crime against BDSM, or humanity, for someone who has decades of experience to not know a kink exists. We don’t all have to know everything about everything in order to participate in BDSM. The entire point of BDSM is that we all can pick and choose the things we learn about based solely on our personal, individual, interests. There’s no doctorate in BDSM that I’m aware of. There’s no Bachelor of Bondage Degree to my knowledge. We do what we like to do. We learn about the things we like to do.

As for everyone “being responsible” for educating everyone else who walks in the dungeon and making sure everyone is safe…just no. This is actually one of the 50 Lies I included in my book 50 Lies Told to New People About BDSM. No one at the party is obligated to educate you in anything going on. This is the word I’ve been seeing used in recent months. Obligated.

When you go to a shopping center, are you personally responsible for making sure no one steals? Are you obligated to stop them? No. That’s what security is for.

When you go driving on the freeway, are you personally responsible for making sure everyone drives within their lane? Are you obligated to inform someone they’re speeding and tell them to slow down? No. They are responsible for themselves.

Suddenly, when it’s BDSM, everyone is personally obligated to everyone else. It doesn’t work that way. It’s a wonderful wish, but it’s not reality.

Reality is:
I’m not responsible for anyone but myself. No one else is responsible for me.
You are responsible for yourself. No one else is responsible for you.

There is another huge lie that BDSM is great for everyone and everyone else will make it gentle and safe for the poor booboo newbie who is obviously incapable of making any decisions for themselves.

Let me set you straight on this right now, because THIS is EXACTLY why and how new people get hurt: They rely on OTHER PEOPLE to protect them, to teach them, to show them the ropes. Why do they rely on it? Because a few idiots in an online forum have told the rest of the world that it’s obligatory and to be expected.

It’s not obligatory. It’s not to be expected. It’s sink or swim time.

What you perceive as the “community” doesn’t owe anyone a damn thing. Not a hot cup of coffee and not your personal safety. Those things are up to you.

I’ve also seen this notion that you personally “owe” the community. When questioned, they couldn’t actually state what you owe your local BDSM community beyond teaching new people.

Here I am saying it again: No one is obligated or required to help anyone else learn a thing. 

That shit comes from the heart. It comes from within the individual who wants to do it, and exists only as long as that individual feels like sharing and teaching. I know people who quit holding parties; who quit teaching. One stated (directly to me over my vending table full of floggers) that he’d “already done” his community service and he was at the parties solely to have a good time. That is his right. Choosing to be there solely to have a good time is everyone’s right. 

Choosing to teach is an individual decision and not for anyone to demand or require of anyone else. That guy with the great flogger technique doesn’t have to talk you through it if he doesn’t want. The chick who is the bomb with the cane doesn’t have to tell you a thing. You have no right to get indignant if they won’t share. What they can’t do is stop you from watching their scene and learning visually.

No one owes the “community” anything beyond respect for the anonymity and privacy of others.

So remember these two things:
1. No one is required to teach anyone anything.
2. It’s not crime for anyone to decide against performing community service.

Almost invariably, there’s some comment about “saving/protecting the new people from themselves.”

We are not dealing with children here. These are fully grown adults making their own choices. If you wouldn’t tell the neighborhood kids not to skateboard off the roof, but would instead watch it from the safety of your living room (or, worse, record it for youtube or facebook), then don’t be saying we have to protect a grown adult from deciding to go to an adult party and get a spanking or get tied up.

If a new person decides it’s not for them and never returns, that’s fine. That would be much better than holding their hands and luring them along with the false promise of a perfect (and perfectly safe) kinky playland. There’s no such thing on either count.

People forget that the public scene is the smallest portion of kinksters. The people in it just seem very loud because events and groups around them are completely in our collective faces on social media.

The vast majority of people are doing this BDSM stuff solely at home. They are figuring it out all by their own selves. They don’t feel isolated or alone. They want to keep themselves private. It’s just their sex life and they’re perfectly happy not having someone intrude to tell them how to do it or that they’re doing it wrong/being unsafe.

We don’t need a scene full of white knights. You do your thing and be safe about it. Others will learn by watching you. 

That’s called leading by example.

 

——-

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.

Twitter — https://twitter.com/DameTyler or @DameTyler
FB Fan Page — https://www.facebook.com/TylerRoseGethis/

FB Regular page —  https://www.facebook.com/TylerRoseAuthor

 

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.

I Will Make You Safeword!

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This one is going to be short, not so sweet, and directly to the point.

“I will make you use your safe word.” I saw this said in an erroneous supposition that this is how a top learns a bottom’s signals.

If a top said this to me, I would look them in the eye and say “Then you will not ever touch me”, and I would walk away. Remember a couple months back when I wrote that piece about my stoicism not being a gauntlet thrown down? This is another angle of that same thing.

Why will I not play with someone who says this to me? 

Lots of reasons. I’ll start with these:

  1. This top does not have my best interest in mind. 
  2. Play is not about pleasure and having fun. 
  3. The top wants to give me the worst experience and MAKE ME make it end. I find that alarming.
  4. There’s this matter of consent we’re always going on about.  I do NOT consent to being intentionally driven to say stop.

Any fool can swing a cane and make the bottom scream red. It takes zero skill to do that.

As a top, I do like to deliver a great deal of pain; but I don’t EVER want to hear the bottom say stop. The most I’ve heard so far is a yellow during a paddling. It was rather early into the scene. She wasn’t quite warmed up enough yet. It happens. She communicated. I adjusted. We went on to have a terrific scene and she will never forget getting a methodical paddling to “Another Brick in the Wall”. (excellent spanking/caning/paddling song, btw)

My goal as a top is to find the bottom’s pleasure zone and keep them there for as long as humanly possible. I want to take them to the limits of their physical endurance. Not their pain endurance, but that of their legs. I want to take them to the point that their legs literally will not hold them up anymore, yet they’re still pleading with me not to stop.

I want to stop while they still want more, keeping the experience positive for them from start to finish. That’s how I keep them coming back for more of what I do, sometimes within the same night. That’s why they come to me in the first place.

My dearest novice bottoms, you have the right to say “NO, I will not be intentionally, relentlessly, driven to say my safe word.” You can tell the top that. Tell them that is not a game you are willing to play.

You have the right to walk away the second they say something like that.  You do not have to go through with the scene. You don’t even have to start it.

You have the right to NOT PLAY if anything the top says during discussion/negotiation makes you uncomfortable.

Better to walk away and not play that night than put yourself into the hands of someone who is intent on taking you beyond the point you want to go.

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About the Author

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.

Twitter — https://twitter.com/DameTyler or @DameTyler
FB Fan Page — https://www.facebook.com/TylerRoseGethis/

FB Regular page —  https://www.facebook.com/TylerRoseAuthor

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.