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Dame TylerRose.

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“Only one more room to see,” he told her.

“Gee, I wonder which one.”

He changed his mind. “It can wait.”

In seconds, she was on her back on the square foot stool with him thrust in to the hilt. Only a few moments and he pulled her off to straddle his waist. Feet on the floor, in her heels, hands on his shoulders, she had leverage to ride him well.

“Work for me, Pussycat,” he urged. “Show me how hard I can be inside you.”

Her channel being deeper made it impossible for the average K’Tran male to fill her and strike the core to cause her to ovulate. He was not the average K’Tran male, however. His shaft was longer, thicker. In her position, her channel was at its shortest when he was fully inside her. She jammed herself down, seeking on instinct to feel his solid strike against her cervical plate. Desperate sounds of a Femina in her prime, and his primal self heard. She sat harder on him, gasping when she felt him hit that spot that burned the most. She went weak for those few seconds, and he decided her dress was too much in the way.

“Where does this untie?” he asked of the lacing.

She laughed. “I’m not telling.”

He searched the front for the string ends, could not find where they’d been tucked in behind her neck. Without a word, he reached into his pocket for the balisong given him by the Dragon his first day as a raw recruit. His first Earth weapon. Open in a clacking flash, he sliced the strings up the front.

A lift as he got up and she landed hard on the footstool. He cut the strings up the back as well and turned her over to slice the material from her waist to her knees.

“Never wear this dress again!” he commanded, dropping the knife to rip the skirt apart to the hem.

Adelaide laughed. “I think you took care of that, lover,” she said, sitting up to pull the sleeves off and let the shredded dress fall to the floor.

He captured her left hand to kiss her palm, and stood with her.

“My ringlet. My teeth marks. A great pair of shoes. Let’s go out to dinner!”

She laughed again as he took her to the big sofa. On her belly with his soft word and he raised her bottom up with a guiding hand. Cock greased with lubricant kept under the cushion, he sank his thumb into her sheath first, to find the right spot. When her head drooped and he heard that certain low moan, he slowly drove into her welcoming anus. A new, deeper groan emanated from her.

“How’s that, Pussycat?”

“Mmmmm,” she hummed.

“More?”

“Mmmhmmm.”

He took her straight to a climax more intense than when he’d popped her clit on the station. On wide knees, she lowered her pelvis and shuddered violently. Breath held as he gut clenched, she let go a flood no Voranian could ever produce. He drove into her in forceful jolts, the clench of her muscles squeezing his climax from him whether he was ready for it or not. Stripped empty, he slipped out to lay behind her and rest as she flopped onto her side. Knowing her legs weren’t going to support her for some time, he pulled down the light blanket from the top ledge of the sofa and opened it to cover them both.

Excerpt from Ties That Bind

——-

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.

Bottom Does Not Equal Housemaid

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Last week, I went on a date with a very nice man I met on OKC. Toward the end of our date, he brought up how he’s having difficulty finding a submissive who will clean his house. They’ll come over to play and fuck, but don’t want to clean his house. I commiserated that I couldn’t find a bottom who was willing to come to my end of the subway line and carry my rolling backpack for me. 

I have a bad back, am in constant pain when standing, so having someone pull/carry the bag for me would be a tremendous help. It’s downright exhausting to have to drag the thing up four flights of stairs and through two neighborhoods just to get to the party.

I think it was the last thing he was expecting me to say. His expression was one of astonishment. Probably that I had the audacity to say that I also find myself in the position of not being able to find someone to be of service when we were discussing a possible top/bottom relationship between ourselves.

As a sadomasochist who can be either the top or the bottom, I can easily flow from one end of the spectrum to the other during conversation as it pertains to me. (as per my piece about my Sadomasochism being fluid) 

I think it can be disconcerting for some, who don’t grasp that a person can be a dominant bottom.

The next day, I received a message from him that I’m not what he’s looking for. Okay. Fine. No hard feelings. Maybe we’ll hook up now and then at a play party.

But it got me to thinking. I went to my OKC profile and added a line that says “if you are looking for someone to clean your house, swipe on by because I am not the house maid.”

Within a couple days, nearly 20 of the men who had previously clicked “Like” had clicked UNlike. Ten percent of the men who had clicked to like me had dropped me after I’d added one line to my profile about not being their housemaid. 

I find that fascinating. It got my brain churning some more.

Why is there this automatic assumption that bottom = housemaid? Or that submissive = housemaid?

I’m a whipping post bottom and a fuck slut, not a chambermaid and waitress.

If it’s a male bottom/submissive, no such assumptions are made. They’re not nearly so often made to do the chores when it’s a now and then hookup situation. But if the bottom/sub is female, all of a sudden it’s taken for granted that she’s going to clean the bathroom when she shows up. She’ll fold the laundry, do the dishes, vacuum the living room.

You know what? Fuck that shit.

There’s an app for that. Several, in fact.

Literally, there’s an app for hiring housecleaners who will do the work exactly as you specify without all the fuss and bother of meeting people and pretending you want a relationship with them.

Make use.

Just as tops are not kink vending machines for greedy bottoms, nor are bottoms automatically your house help just because bottom.

——-

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 SERRRRRRVE You!

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I get these messages all the time. Some random dude whose screen name I’ve never seen before sends me a pm out of the blue to say…

“I want to serve you.”

Well that’s nice. 

There are a lot of ways I can respond to this. Often I tell them that they are too far away and there is not one single way in which they can serve me, since serving me means being physically present. 

Recently, I responded with a question. “What does that mean to you?”

Twelve hours later, he replied: “I will be your slave, you can use me for your pleasure…”

Well that’s nice. 

But it doesn’t tell me anything.

I asked again “What do you think ‘service’ means?”

Twelve hours later, he responded with “Never mind, good luck…”

Gosh. The horror of being expected to use your brain and communicate to me the meaning of the  concept with which you approached me.

It doesn’t seem like that hard of a question, does it? “What does service mean to you?” We ask people this very thing in thread after thread, group after group, when they are asking questions about “is this right?” and “how do I serve?” and “how do I be submissive?”

Invariably, they mean sexyfuckytime stuff. It doesn’t occur to them the million and one other things that make up service.

If someone is going to serve me, and I allow them into my home, they must be prepared for any of the following:

  • to research something on the fly
  • to find and buy something
  • drag my suitcase
  • carry my backpack
  • carry bags when shopping
  • attend a class with me (painting classes are fun)
  • locate something for me on google maps
  • type pages of my novels
  • untangle yarn and wind into balls
  • share posts about my book sales into a list of 25 groups on FB
  • help me finish a latch-hook rug or a cross stitch table cloth
  • run to the grocery store if I forgot something for supper or we ran out of milk
  • get my prescription from the pharmacy
  • run to the store to get milk and fresh bread

To serve me means that I can and will utilize your brain, your hands, your body, in whatever occupation or activity I desire from one minute to the next (within reason, limits, and our agreement). If I don’t want sex and we sit for three hours working a cross stitch table cloth, and I say thank you and send you home…that’s service for the day.

Not everything is about playing with your penis. I know this is a difficult thing to comprehend. Apparently it comes as quite a shock, as I’ve gotten some truly frightening responses to that revelation. One man who said he’d piss in my mouth if I’d been in front of him. Yup, he’s so submissive!

In fact, playing with the penis is the LEAST of what we will do. 

I’m not a professional dominatrix you’re hiring to do what you want to do for your allotted time span. I am a lifestyle dominant. There’s a tremendous difference between the two.

A professional dominatrix will do exactly what you want, to the degree you want, when you want because that’s what she’s paid to do. She’s not actually the boss of anything. The client is, and she has to keep the client happy if she wants him to book another session. She will not, however, have sex with you if you are her client. 

A lifestyle dominant does things how she wants to do them, because this is how she’s living her entire life. She is the boss. You’re going to do the things she wants and needs done. I gave my quick list. Perhaps another dominant will expect her sub/slave to change a tire, perform an oil change, generally be her personal mechanic. Maybe that should be part of the discussion over coffee, especially if you don’t have those skills. Sex will be what she wants it to be, not what you want it to be. Don’t assume she’s going to play with your penis how you want her to. Discuss it!

Can you discuss everything? No. That’s not realistic. Hit the big stuff first, meaning the things you really enjoy doing and the things you will not do. Along with that, make a list of the following items.

  • What does “service” mean to you?
  • What special skills do you have to offer?
  • What specialized knowledge do you have?
  • What do you have to offer that no one else can provide?

These are important questions you’ll be asked frequently. It would be nice if you have an answer ready.

Are you:
a good handyman
pet sitter/walker
good with taxes
make a mean pizza
willing to be a chauffer
an IT specialist who can help hook up the printers to the wireless network because everything she’s tried has failed and it’s beyond frustrating and she’s given the fuck up…(deep breath)

We keep pounding on these notions of communication and compatibility. 

This is exactly what it looks like.

————–

About the Author

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

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

 

Naughty Slaves In Master’s Bed

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Mobi carried the breakfast tray up, opening the door without knocking and catching Arlyn with her fingers between her legs.

“You should never have to do that yourself,” he teased, shutting the door. “But don’t stop on my account.”

He placed the tray on the side table rather than on the bed this time.

“What is that?” she asked of the cage around his cock.

“It’s what Master puts on me when he doesn’t want me to fuck anyone that day.”

“Were you naughty?”

“You could say that,” he grinned. “I expressed my desire to have my cock inside you. He put this on me so I can’t do that today while he’s gone.”

She chuckled. “What a meanie. I just might have let you, too. Master fucked me this morning but didn’t let me have an orgasm. I need a good pussy pounding.”

“Well…there’s a flaw in the design he doesn’t know about and I’ve never told him exists,” Mobi said, and lifted his balls.

With careful maneuvering, he slipped one through the leather circle and then the other. The cage slid off easily.

“The circle around the top of my scrotum is too big,” he grinned.

She laughed loud as she pleased, knowing Harmen wasn’t around to hear it. He lifted her foot by the ankle, bending over at the same time to kiss that ankle. He kissed up her calf to the back of her knee, trailing his tongue along the divot between tendon and center. His hand led the way up her thigh, finding her pubic bush and the slickness left behind by fucking without satisfaction. 

She didn’t stop him as he parted her labia to suck her swollen clitoris down to her pelvic bone, his smooth inner lips sliding over her smooth flesh in a sensation that sent her into an instant, jerking, orgasm. She grunted a gasp and gave herself over to the succession of climaxes he gave her. 

His thumbs went into her vagina to pry it open, tongue following to slide in as far as his mouth would go over her, then out for the very tip to tease over her clitoris.

He looked up at her, lifted himself over her to kiss her lips.

“You? Are delicious. Would you please stroke my cock a moment? I’m dying to feel your hand on me.”

She reached between them, small hand down his belly and into his own mass of pubic hair. Her fingers parted to either side of his shaft, then turned to rest the palm atop it. Down to the base first, then slowly his entire length until she pulled his foreskin up over the tip, and back down again. He had a shaft just larger than her grip around him. That meant he was bigger around than her own wrist.

He groaned a deep and long sound, head dipping slightly. “You do that very well.”

“I better, for as much as men were bidding on me. Did your Master tell you how much he paid to fuck me?”

“He did. He said it was the best money he ever paid, even if you were limited due to pregnancy,” Mobi said honestly.

“You get to have me for free and I’m not limited by pregnancy anymore,” she smiled. “So you can fuck me nice and hard.”

“Not the first time,” he said, leaning his hips in for the head of his cock to find that prepared channel.

A slow but deep penetration as she shivered under him and her nipples popped out hard against his chest. They rode each other in a moderate but steady pace for a long time, he holding off his climax so that she could have as many as possible. He kissed her chest when she arched her back high and her fingernails dug into him hard.

“He really left you in a state,” he said after she’d had her fifteenth orgasm around his cock.

“He does that so he can have me even harder later,” she panted, and came again from the fullness of him.

“Do you like a cock up your ass?”

“Very much.”

“In this position or turned over?” he asked, pausing his motion. “How would you like it best right now?”

“Seriously?” 

“Seriously.”

“How many rules do you want to break right now?” she asked.

He grinned big. “All of them!”

“Get off me.”

He turned to land on his side next to her and she left the bed. She reached a hand into her own traveling pouch. She took out a quirt much like his own Master owned and returned to the bed to hold it out.

“I like to have my ass high up and my chest over a pillow while being fucked and whipped really hard.”

“Who’d you learn that from?” he asked, looking at the quirt. “This is Tridorian, isn’t it?”

“Yes. On the voyage over here, Zhurek gave me to the ship’s Captain for the duration of the trip. He liked to whip with that. He gave it to me during our last night together,” she said.

“But this will definitely leave marks,” he said.

“So what. We’re breaking all the rules, aren’t we?” she asked, reaching for the cup of cider to drink it empty.

“You and I are young,” he said. “Our Masters are old. It’s nice to be with someone closer to my own age.”

She chuckled. “He’s not that old. Only thirty-two.”

“But you are what? Eighteen? Nineteen? And I’m twenty. If ever you need a replacement for him, I will happily travel with you.”

“You don’t even know me,” she denied.

“I know you well enough,” he said, stretching out over her to have her ass as she was lying fully on her belly. “You may like it best with your ass high, but you’ll take it any way you can get it so long as the cock is big enough, hard enough, and forceful enough.”

That she could not deny. He certainly was big enough. Not just the cock but his entire physique. His cock was hard enough, unlike some of the old men that had fucked her in the bathhouse. And he was strong enough to be as forceful as she liked.

“I should thank your Master for teaching you to like a hard fucking. Mine taught me as well,” he said a few minutes later. 

He lifted onto his knees, an arm under her belly lifting her as well. Ass high, cheek to the bed, he gripped that little ass with one hand while sending the quirt down onto her shoulder blade with the other. She gave a shocked yelp with the deep bite of leather, and her hands swept her hair aside to give him a fully open field to mark up. He gripped her ass in both hands to ream her good a moment, then eased off his motion to lay on half a dozen stripes that popped up into red welts within seconds.

“Fuck that feels good,” she sighed when he sped up a little and laid on another stripe. 

He finally gave in to his orgasm, ejaculating in bursting spurts deep inside her anus.

“Keep fucking me this good and I just might let you travel with me,” she said as they lay beside each other to rest and catch their breath.

“Find a reason to have breakfast in your room and I’ll fuck you every day,” he smiled.

He left the bed to wash himself in the basin on the floor. When he returned, she was sitting up to eat. He lay behind her, a hand reaching around for her breast. She slid down to lie on her side and continue eating. He needed only a few minutes to grow hard again, and slid into her puss from behind.

“Eat your breakfast with a big cock in your puss,” he said, and set to kissing the various welts he’d put on her.

Small movements on his part kept him hard. She raised a foot, bending a knee, to give him wider access. She finished what she wanted of the very cold meal and rested her head on her arm and the pillow to enjoy the sensation of slow penetration.

“Your cock feels so nice,” she hummed.

“I would lie like this with you for hours,” he said. “Filling you slow the entire time until you wanted me to fuck you harder.”

“It feels good to be full, after so long not having sex at all.”

“I’m sure. How about I do this?”

He pushed his cock deep and stroked her clit as she had been doing when he’d arrived. She moved on him in time with his fingers, taking him deep into her puss when she was closest to that big passion-ending climax. 

At last she sank into it and froze in a whole-body clench that released and renewed several times before she smacked his hand away and lurched off his cock. In those seconds, as she lay breathless and limp, he rolled her onto her belly and had her ass one more time, for his own pleasure. Hard and sharp for the couple minutes he needed to be done himself.

In the quiet of breathing, she fell asleep on him, utterly exhausted by his endurance. He washed himself again, disposed of the water and cleaned the bowl. He put the quirt back into her pouch and searched for the diary she’d taken from Master. It was not there. He gave up that search, not wanting her to catch him looking, and put the cock cage back on. 

He took the tray down to the kitchen and asked for a midmeal for them both. When it was ready, he carried it up and put it on the small dining table. The sound of dishes being moved roused her. She sat up and stretched, saw what he was doing.

“I thought we should sit at the table this time. Give your pussy a rest.”

She left the bed and sat naked at the table. He sat naked opposite her, the cock cage still on.

“How long will they be gone?” she asked.

“Who knows. Master has a hunting lodge on the other end of the hunting grounds. He’ll have the midmeal there. Then they will hunt their way back here. Unless they caught both animals on the way out. If they did, they’ll be back sooner. If they did not, they’ll take longer. Closer to supper.”

“Fucking again could be dangerous,” she teased.

“Not if I fuck you standing at a rear window so we can see them coming into the yard,” he teased back.

That was exactly what they did. He had her from behind while she looked out over the land to the rear, and saw the dogs and horses coming up the road from the village. The Masters on horses were first, the dogs all around them with tongues hanging out and tails wagging for the good sport. Behind them, two men carried a deer on a long pole. Another pair carried a big boar.

Mobi felt her excitement surge on seeing her Master.

“Fuck me hardest! Right now!” she blurted.

Watching her Master coming up the road about to be caught if they didn’t hurry up, she had one more huge and hard climax as he exploded his into her. He pulled out as the Masters were dismounting. She pulled a simple dress over herself. He gave her one more kiss and a grasp of her puss.

“To be continued tomorrow,” he promised, and was out the door.

Excerpt from Arlyn: Adjutant & Apostle

—–

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-something 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.

The Truth About Your Privacy At Public Events

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  1. If you go to a munch, or other event, your privacy is assured.

There was a writing I saw on a Fet site, of people getting all up in arms because someone attending a munch told other people in the restaurant what the group was about. 

Seems people thought that a public munch, in a public restaurant, on a public street, somehow afforded them anonymity and personal privacy. 

They didn’t like it at all when I pointed out that the wait staff knew all about them and was probably talking about them in the kitchen the entire time. Every time the group holds their munch in that place. 

Not to mention the fact that, if they’d paid their tab with a credit card, the restaurant had their legal names too. No one I know has a Mastercard or a Visa in their scene name.

People like to delude themselves into thinking they’re not out, that they are completely anonymous. Well, guess what? If you go to a public event, any public event, you’re out. 

You’re not anonymous anymore. You lost your anonymity the second you stepped into the venue and joined that group.

Recently there was a rope demonstration at the Museum of Sex here in NYC. Pictures were taken after people were told not to take pictures. Some NYC SM scene attendees were up in arms over what they saw as a breach of protocol and privacy.

Here’s the thing. It was the press taking pictures. 

Because it was a publicly attended event, they may have taken pictures of the audience too. It’s perfectly legal. There’s nothing anyone can do about it because there is no expectation of privacy at a publicly attended event.

That means those professional pictures will be wherever they are sold. Newspapers, magazines, websites, etc. 

Sure, people can complain to the Museum of Sex. What will the museum do? Tell those people not to attend such events in the future…or they might decide not to hold those types of events in the future. Neither of those outcomes is all that positive. 

In the end, the people complaining will only have made an uptight nuisance of themselves. 

Apparently I’m the only person who realizes that NO EVENT HELD IN A PUBLIC PLACE IS EVER GOING TO BE PRIVATE. Your anonymity goes out the door when you walk through it to take your seat.

If you go to a Broadway show, you are told to turn off and put cellphones away. No pictures. The press can still take pictures if they are present. Doesn’t matter if the big booming voice said “NO PICTURES!!!” The person with the press tag can take them if they want. They can use a flash if they need to. That’s why they’re there in the first place. 

They are authorized. Audience members aren’t. If you’re in the audience, you’re fair game to have your picture taken and used however the photographer and the venue choose. 

If the Museum of Sex wants to have the press present at their neato rope demonstration with that famous name rigger, they can do that. They don’t have to inform you before you buy your ticket, or when you arrive. It’s assumed you realize these things.

If the person with the camera wants to take pictures of the audience, they can do that too. They don’t have to ask you first. There is no “scene etiquette” at the Museum of Sex because this is NOT a scene venue run by scene promoters who understand scene issues of personal privacy. This is a public venue and there is no such thing as personal privacy. 

If you read the fine print of your ticket closely enough, you may even see a disclaimer that attendance is your permission to have your picture taken and used in their brochures and advertisements. You know, like the audience at concerts becomes part of the music video of the live show.

It’s not reasonable to expect “scene level” personal privacy from a demonstration at the Museum of Sex. They advertise their exhibits on the subway and to the tourists.

“Scene level” personal privacy is itself a lie. 

I don’t expect any privacy when I’m walking into my preferred dungeon. The address and the word CLUB are on the door…and you know damn well that everyone who lives on that street KNOWS the club is down there. They know what that club is all about because people in leather and latex are standing outside smoking, being loud, and keeping people awake at ass O’clock in the morning.

Are people sitting up in their apartments with a camera trained on the door, to see who goes in?

Probably not. 

Is anyone taking pictures for evidence…or their own private voyeurism kink?

I’m sure not. 

Umm…Hmm.

When it comes to matters of personal privacy, when walking into public venues, you’re safer to assume there IS NO personal privacy.

Make your decisions accordingly.

—–

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 read the rest of the 50 lies in Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07HVS2H2T

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

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

Riding the Pole—Ties

By 2 Comments

“I think you need more of the attention I used to give you,” he said. “Far more of my hands before the satisfaction of my cock.”

“That could be—”

His hand strong over her mouth silenced her.

“That required no response from you.”

He felt her energy jolt and sizzle against his. A few words, a small action, and he had almost total control over her. His hands slid down her belly to her thighs, reach for her knees. Strong fingers tensed, arms bending to lift her compliant knees from the bed. He raised her feet as well, his own knees bending under hers. He raised her bodily, putting her down atop his lower belly.

He lowered her thighs to rest on top of his. Parting his legs opened hers as wide as he wanted her to be. Bringing his up higher angled her sex for easier reach, his cock below.

The smell of her, musky and heady, hit a certain spot in his brain that resulted in an instant erection. He stroked himself fully hard and pressed his cock against her wide open slit. She couldn’t move much, but tried to slid herself against his rod.

Knees down, moved to the outside of hers, he forced her thighs to close, capturing his cock in the space between her thighs and dripping wet puss. She had a pole to ride whenever he wanted her to.

His hands slid down her arms to capture her wrists and bring her hands behind his own back. He held them in his left hand, his arm against hers, fist in the small of his back. She had to relax into him in order to avoid straining her shoulders too much.

Right hand returned to slide a hard palm across both breasts, giving the nipples a long sandpaper-like rub that had her squirming against his cock.

“That’s what I want. Remember how Tight I used to wind you up? How desperate I could make you before fucking you?” 

“Mmmhmm,” she hummed, his finger and thumb gently rolling a nipple.

The hand opened, delivering a scorching smack that stiffened her from neck to knees. Her thighs squeezed tighter around his cock, ass pressing down into his pelvic triangle.

“You want some of that?” he asked.

“Please, Sifu.”

“Already with the please, Sifu.”

His hand struck the other breast, full on open palm that compelled a cough of a cry from her. She ground downward again.

“I love that sound,” he rumbled into her ear. “It means you’re ready to burst.”

Harder smack to the left and her groan was one of relief. The warm, wet flood accompanied the sound, providing slick lubrication for her riding.

“Ride me. Keep me hard.”

She obeyed, thighs crushing together and hips moving faster for half a minute every time he struck her breasts. He paused between each to let her ride the wave and come down. After about ten minutes, he increased the frequency to every ten seconds to keep her going at a steadier pace and not let her rest. 

Smacking left and then right, back and forth, one per second, had her bouncing off his chest and trying to turn away from his hand. His knees would not let her loose. A quick adjustment of his feet trapped hers to the mattress. She wasn’t fighting him so much as struggling to take the increasing intensity.

Her reactions, her raw passion, brought his climax through his body to spurt upward and splatter onto her from midthigh to lower belly. Hand gripping a tit tight had her shuddering with orgasm while his cock throbbed incessantly against her clit. He pumped his hips slow, prolonging his orgasm and milking out several more small blobs of semen.

“How about that,” he said. “I just used you to masturbate myself with.”

“I admit. That is a new one,” she huffed.

She tried to move away, to reach for the towel. He stopped her, holding her wrists in both hands to keep her in place.

“I’m not done with you. Turn over on my lap.”

“But—”

“But what? My cum is on you? Yours is all over me. So what. Lie across my lap, ass in the middle.”

She complied, squishing drops and splotches of his slimy jism between them.

“Bring me a box of gloves and the lube,” he said as she dragged a pillow to stuff under her shoulders and head so she wouldn’t be nearly upside down.

The requested items appeared beside him. Head resting comfortably, eyes closed, she heard him pull two gloves out, heard the plastic cap snap open, a sputter of air coming out of the tube with the clear gel. Two slicked up fingers slipped into her anus, unhurried but not stopping with her gasp. He drove in to the base of his fingers, making her take their length without allowing adjustment.

“Remember when we used to do this for an hour?” he asked.

“Mmmhmm,” she sighed, relaxing over him.

Two fingers of his other hand went into her vagina, driving in as the other fingers slid partway out. Alternating, she was fingerfucked through several rounds of gut-wrenching orgasms. Her cum splashed and dripped, soaking them both down to the mattress before he decided it was enough.

——-

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.

How To Be A Dom For Him on His Birthday

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This is a simple guide intended for all those subbie/bottom chicks who have a sorta switchie/kinda dom boyfriend who has asked you to “dom” him for a night.

I know. He wants this but you have no idea what to do. And that huge group for submissive women is no help whatsoever because no one in it is allowed to speak from a top perspective. (Seriously, this is why you should be a member of my Give It To Me Straight group.)

You’re not accustomed to holding the cane, the flogger, the wooden spoon, etc, except to hand it to him when he tells you to. You don’t have the foggiest idea where to begin even though he’s done this stuff to you a thousand times.

Here’s a step by step guide that will hit all the important points and get you through the first scene. Yes, it’s partially tongue-in-cheek. It’s also a solid scene for a baby sadist or budding new top.

Today is your switchy dom’s birthday and you want to do something special for him!

HERE YA GO!!!

Items you will need: 

1 Wooden spoon

1 Velvet glove

No, really, that’s it. I believe in simplicity.

Pre-negotiation — I don’t believe in negotiating things to the nth degree. If he wants you to “dominate” him, then he’s just going to have to shut up and submit to what you will do. However, be sure to make him agree that he will NOT issue any reprisals. He asked you for this.

Step 1. Get wooden spoon from kitchen.

Step 2. Tell him to bare his ass and bend over.

Note: Steps 1 and 2 can be done in reverse order if you want to see him bent over with his ass and balls hanging out while you take your time getting the spoon. Pour yourself a glass of water while you’re in there. There’s no hurry. You know very well that the anticipation of what is to come can be very exciting.

Step 3. Start whapping his but at a moderate speed and force. When he whimpers and whines, call him a sissy boy and tell him to shut up.

Step 4. If he wiggles his butt, tell him wiggling means you’ll hit harder. And then DO hit harder if he wiggles again.

Step 5. Put on velvet glove.

Step 6. Give the balls hangin’ there a good feelsie and a squeeze. Not enough to get him off, but enough to get him hard.

Step 7. Turn wooden spoon around so you’re holding the spoon end and the handle becomes a short cane. Continue whapping the butt. Top, middle, bottom. You know that spot you hate, where the thigh meets the buttocks? Yeah, get him there really good.

Step 8. Tell him that anything he sticks out is going to get whapped. When he changes the arc of his back to stick his balls out, whap them.

Note: Give him a few seconds after a particularly hard whap. Give the spot a little rub and say “Awwww poor baby. Did that hurt?” When he says yes, correct him to say “Yes, Ma’am” or “Yes, Mistress.” Then give his balls an unexpectedly hard whap.

Step 9. Ask him if he is liking all this. When he says yes, correct him to say “Yes, Ma’am” or “Yes, Mistress.” Then give his balls an unexpectedly hard whap. If he says no, correct him to say “No, Ma’am” or “No, Mistress”, and ask him if he’s wimping out of the birthday present he asked you for. If he says yes, then you are off the hook for ever having to do this again. He will have learned the lesson. If he says he’s not wimping out, continue to the next step.

Step 10. Add a brief interrogation to the scene. Spend a couple minutes asking simple questions and making him answer and address you as Ma’am or Mistress. Now would be a good time to ask him something that you’ve wanted to know. Did he drink from the milk carton as you suspected? Did he eat the last of the ice cream? Why do your panties come up missing and suddenly reappear in the dirty clothes? Whatever thing you’ve noticed, now is the time to find out.

Step 11. If at any point he says something along the lines of “do this” or “do it like that” then you take him by the top of the ear and squeeze tightly so that your nails dig in a little. Pull his head back toward you and scowl into his ear *”shut up unless you want this to stop.”*

Repeat steps 3 through 11 as necessary until he’s a blithering puddle of goo saying “Thank you, Ma’am” at your feet. 

Step 12. If he gets mouthy, saying you’re not hitting hard enough, make him wait while you go into the kitchen. Get your smallest frying pan and use that as a paddle instead. He’ll stop mouthing off.

When you’re done, sit down with wooden spoon (or frying pan) in your hand and tell him to go make you a glass of wine. 

While he is gone, you pick up the remote control and turn on the television to whatever show you want to watch. Don’t ask if he minds. It’s not for him to mind. He’s your submissive during this time. Watch what you want, for as long as you want.

Make him crouch on the floor at your feet rather than letting him sit on the sofa next to you. Anytime he opens his mouth to say he doesn’t like the show, tell him to go get you something. Your slippers, your robe, another glass of wine, a sandwich.

Or put your foot in his face, tell him to shut his mouth and give you a foot massage. If he asks for aftercare, tell him “THIS is the aftercare. Shut up and keep rubbing.”

You will probably want to let him off the hook after the foot massage. By then, I’m sure he will have had his fill for the year.

If he wants you to do this multiple times through the year, you can add in things like making him lick your puss, kiss your foot, lick your shoe, make and bring you tea or coffee…or a sammich. 

If he makes the tea or sammich incorrectly, you can tell him to bend over on the floor so you can use him as a footstool. He can’t make a decent sammich, so obviously his only good use is as a piece of furniture.

You can make him do the laundry, scrub the toilet, do the dishes, sweep the floor, mop the floor. You can make this fun by chasing him around with a longer cane while he does them. A $5 oak dowel from Home Depot will do you just fine. They’re about three feet long and work perfectly well so long as you don’t swing like you’re chopping down a tree.

One of two things will result from this session. Either he will NEVER ask you to top or dom him ever again because he wasn’t careful what he wished for, or he will completely flip sides and want you to be the dom from now on. In the bedroom *and* out.

While there is a middle ground of the two of you regularly switching roles in the bedroom, that middle ground isn’t usually where things end up.

Above all…

HAVE FUN!

DTR

* Note: The word dom/dominant is used for simplicity, because that is what most people who don’t know any better use when they really mean top.

 

——-

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.

No Bed Required – A Tiny Taste of Peeper Indomitable

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She dropped her skin dress to the floor, stepping over to Moray and his thick, dark layer of fur. She ran her fingers over his chest, watching the hair disappear under her hand. It was soft, like nothing she’d felt before. Thinking back over it, almost none of the men she’d been with had much body hair. She liked how it felt against her breasts when he pulled her closer.

“How about we just take turns with you,” he suggested, a hand sliding down to grip her buttock. “Until you’re ready for a double ride.”

“That sounds like a terrific idea,” she smiled. “Working in tandem means I get more for longer.”

Moray grinned, lifting her by the back of her head and his grip on her ass to turn around and stand her on the bed. She was eye to eye with him but feeling herself small in the hugeness of his arms and chest. She felt like that skinny waif all over again, when everyone seemed so much larger than she.

“I like it when—”

He made a sharp SHH noise, stopping her. “I don’t take direction.”

Words that made her heart skip a beat. He lowered to his knees on the floor, taking her down to the bed. He put her on her back with her bottom at the edge of the bed platform and bent over her there. Arms braced on both sides of her, he had the right angle but didn’t crush her with his bulk. Her own size was nothing to him. He pulled her toward him, eventually flipped her over, and generally threw her around the bed like a ragdoll. If he wanted her in a place, she was in that place for as long as he wanted her there.

She gave herself up to him as she did Preece and Parin, needing the release of it. Moments like these were the only time her guard wasn’t up, were the only time she could let go all her worries. She lost track of time through her string of orgasms. He flipped her over onto her belly again and she screamed a burst of shock and distress as his cock head thrust fully into her anus without warning or preparation.

“You don’t have to put your face in the skins,” he said a few minutes later when she was trying to stifle her noise for the neighbors. “I like for the village to hear you scream and think I’m doing horrible things to you. Truth is you love every second of it, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do,” she huffed through a breath.

“So you go on and make all the noises. Just don’t ever tell me how to fuck you,” he said, and lifted her hips to bring her up higher.

The change of angle was like starting all over again, bringing that full volume moan that was so totally out of her control. Her arms went weak. She needed to lay her head down and rest her upper body, surrendering to his physical power. Another few minutes and he grunted his orgasm and pulled out to spurt his hot liquid over her back.

Without wiping her off first, Kaimen took his place at the side of the bed and took his sweet time riding her slow and deep. He took so long that Moray was ready again. Kaimen pulled out and lifted her while Moray moved in to lie on his back across the bed.

“Did you wash?” she asked Moray.

“Yes.”

A truth, she could see clearly enough, and allowed herself to be lowered onto his cock. Kaimen lifted her feet onto the bed, putting her into a modified frog position. She was filled as full as when Dohan and Preece did this to her. But Moray held her tighter by the hair to pin her down onto his chest, and spoke all manner of things Dohan never did.

“Greedy cunt takes it well,” he said, and immediately felt what it did to her. 

She flooded wet and slick.

“Wet pussies get fucked harder,” he said, Kaimen taking that cue to do just that.

“I should get three more men,” Moray teased her. “Make sure you’re good and ruined.”

Kaimen suddenly pulled out and she was given a second coat of hot semen over her back.

“Hold her up off me,” Moray said.

Kaimen lifted her and Moray took cock in hand to squirt upward. His velocity was enough to shoot onto her tits.

“Let’s go to the stream to wash off,” Moray said.

A stream that was only about fifty feet to the north east from his hut. The late hour and dark made for its own privacy. Rinsed off and enjoying the knee high cool water, Reah sank to her knees for a moment. Soon as she stood up, Moray had her around the waist against himself with two fingers going up into her puss. He fucked her fast until she was groaning her pleasure and her cum was splashing around his fingers and onto his hand.

With a nod and a gesture, Moray indicated Kaimen should turn around. On a knee and slightly bent over, his back became the surface for her to be placed on. Moray lifted her legs with his forearms under her knees and had her again. Her arms flailed a bit. Kaimen caught them with his own, hooking her at the elbows. Feeling more secure, she stopped trying to find a way to brace herself. Warm skin at her back, solid and strong, calmed her. They may have lived in a primitive society, but they were certainly inventive when it came to the fucking.

When Moray had finished with another set of jets over her belly, he let her down and took Kaimen’s place.

She’d almost forgotten what it was like to be used over and over again, receiving a third round as soon as they returned to the hut. When one spent, the other was recovered. When that one spent, the first was recovered again. Between the two of them, she was fucked ten times before they finally let her sleep.

Her gut was so sore the next day, from coming so much and so hard, that she was slightly bent over whenever she tried to walk. Her hips didn’t want to work right. Her arms had no strength.

“If you can walk, then I can still fuck you some more,” Moray said rather than tell her for the twentieth time to lie still.

The result was the same. She remained on her side in his bed, resting, most assuredly not prepared to take another four or more rounds.

——————–

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 the Peeper saga —https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B076657ZQW — to catch up on what you’ve been missing!

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

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

Amazon page — https://www.amazon.com/TylerRose./e/B00HCPLSP2

You can also 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.

The Bratting Lies

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Lies Regarding Brats, As Told By Brats

As I have done before, this week I’ll be sharing a piece of my 50 Lies Told to New People about BDSM book. Today it’s brats and bratty behavior.

The lies are:
33. Bratting is totally normal and acceptable behavior.
33a. Everyone has to tolerate brats.
33b. If Doms don’t like brats, they’re weak and don’t know how to handle a brat.

  1. No, it’s not.
    33a. No we don’t.
    33b. No we aren’t.
    33b. And oh, yes, we do! 

Not tolerating it means we don’t like it, don’t consent to it, and have no time for it. We don’t want that kind of behavior in our lives. We have better things to do than deal with someone who manipulates their dom in order to to get what they want.

We’re allowed to have those preferences because it is our house and our relationship. If we want someone who knows their place; does what they’re told; and actually submits to what is wanted, when it is wanted, then we have the right to uphold that personal standard.

Every time the brat war comes up, the self-professed brats prove to me precisely why I don’t tolerate that kind of behavior. They will argue that a brat does too submit. But the meanings of the words are completely contrary. One cannot be “disrespectful/manipulative” and “respectful/obedient” at the same time. As far as I see, the two concepts are mutually exclusive. If a person is one, they cannot at the same time be the other. Language is not fluid enough for brat to ever be a good thing in the Merriam Webster.

Sulking and complaining about doing a task, mouthing off the entire time you’re doing, it isn’t being obedient. Nor is it doing what you’re told. It’s whining and complaining about fulfilling a role you said you would, that of the submissive. The one who yields to the authority of another.

When they can’t win on that point, they say they “can’t help it!” Yes, you can. A person chooses to behave badly. They do it for their own reasons and to achieve their own goals. I prefer someone who uses their words to express how they feel rather than passive aggressive manipulation to get what they want.

Then they’ll say that those who aren’t brats are boring robots and doormats. Tearing down others to make themselves seem favorable by comparison isn’t exactly mature either. 

They will say anything to make their behavior seem desirable and themselves somehow better than people who don’t behave as they do. 

Well, I’m going to say it out loud. Acting childish to piss someone off and get an angry reaction isn’t a good thing. 

There’s nothing wrong with being a doormat if that’s what a person enjoys. I know a number of people who are perfectly happy being a doormat submissive, and have been in their relationships for quite a long time. 

I’ve never seen a submissive who was a robot, however. “Doing what you’re told” entails a great deal of brain power when the dom doesn’t micromanage or give step by step instructions. It’s much more like the Quarterback tossing the ball to the Running Back and the Running Back decides which way to run to get the completion. The Monarch telling the Chancellor what they want done and the Chancellor deciding how to go about implementing what the Monarch wants.

One of the the self-professed brats actually said in a discussion thread “it’s our job to challenge the dominant.” 

Their job? 

Their job to give their partner grief? Their job to challenge their own partner’s authority? 

No. I don’t accept that for one minute, and neither do a whole lot of other people I’ve spoken with over the years. Far as I’m concerned, it’s just another excuse to get away with crappy behavior. 

In my relationships, the job of the submissive is to do what they’re told (within limits and reason) and support the dominant by making less work for them, not making more work. It’s certainly not appropriate to intentionally cause unnecessary dissention for not reason other than to do it. 

I’ve seen them say they’re “really respectful of where the line is and never cross it.” Yeah, sure you don’t. I call bullshit on that too. There’s a line. They always end up crossing it and causing hurt. It’s just a matter of time. It’s a lesson learned after it’s too late to fix it, and irreparable damage may be done to the relationship. 

I wouldn’t call that a good thing.

All I see is one denial after another, a pile of excuses, intentional manipulation, overt disrespect, outright disobedience, and utterly inappropriate behavior. 

It’s not cute. It’s not funny.

Do You Want an Ally or an Adversary?

Do you want someone to share your life with or do you want a perpetual adversary?

Do you want someone you must continually defeat in all things? 

I can’t fathom living a constant power struggle in which every interaction becomes the Battle of Hastings redux.

I don’t know when this “us vs them” thing happen between subs and doms. I see it as completely counter-productive to a harmonious dynamic. Last I knew, the dominant isn’t supposed to be the sub’s mortal enemy. Increasingly, this is exactly what I’m seeing. 

I do not see how a relationship–any relationship, not just a d/s one– can thrive when it’s based on distrust, dislike, and this constant fostering of invented adversity. 

Personally, I want my partner to be just that. My partner. We’re a team. Us vs. the World. We are both the one person who understands best and is the safe harbor. The home is a sanctuary away from all the external conflicts faced every day. I have lived that kind of harmony and it’s glorious. The last thing I would ever want is to create an atmosphere in the home that my partner dreads coming home to.

Of course there are doms, tops, sadists, etc, who enjoy bratty behavior in their sub/bottom. I’m not saying there isn’t. I’ve told many brats that if they find someone who enjoys that behavior, then they better hold onto that person for a good, long time. One day they may fall in love with someone who won’t put up with it, and the world as they know it will be over.

I once had a self-professed brat say that she would like me to play with her. I told her she could not do that running away from the paddle thing I’d seen her do earlier in the evening. I was not going to play that game. She would have to stand there and take it (paddling and caning) or I’d never play with her again. I would get her where she wanted to go; but it would be done my way, in my own time, and she had to be patient and let go that control. Bouncing on her feet was fine. It’s normal. Wiggling her butt was fine. It’s common. Foot stomping was fine. None of that moves a person off the apparatus they’re leaning against. 

She agreed and we began. 

During that play session, she learned a very valuable lesson: That she could get far more from me in being good and doing what was expected of her than she could steal in pretending to be bad. 

She’s never once bratted on me in the years since.

Brat As the Newest Kink Fad

Bratting has become a kink unto itself, like “training”, rope play, after care, and feet. 

Like any other kink, if you enjoy it and get off on it…great! I’m happy for you. 

But make sure you hook up with someone who consents to that sort of behavior. Enjoy each other thoroughly.

Also like any other kink, you have to respect that it is not enjoyed by everyone. 

Insulting those who don’t engage in your kink is unseemly behavior regardless what that kink is. 

Consent applies to brat behavior too. Forcing your behavior on those who do not consent is as much a violation as inappropriate touching.

But no one ever thinks about that.

About the Author

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 read the rest of the 50 lies in Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07HVS2H2T

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

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

A Piece of Property

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Master’s voice outside the door, greeting the familiar guard by name, drained the strength from Property’s legs. He went down to his knees, bracing on shaking arms. The knob turned and the door swung inward and his thighs.

Boots first, black with short block heels. Master’s favorite pair for shit-kicking a slave who had pissed him off. Property had known those boots many times over the twenty years since they’d first met. He had certainly angered Master this time, in a flash of selfish desire that had turned the entire world upside down for them both.

Property lifted his gaze too far, and saw Master’s eyes. Hard, black fury with a scowl to match. Death had come for him. His moment of final judgment had arrived and nothing would go in his favor. The same expression he’d seen that night their paths had first crossed.

An expression that caused Property to bolt for the nearest waste can and vomit his empty stomach. This time there would be no reprieve. He’d completely blown his second chance at life in his vulgar self-interest.

Master waited for him to be done and return to the appropriate spot two feet in front of him. In proper kneeling posture, head hanging low, again braced on his hands, Property waited in acceptance of his death.

“At least you understand how badly you screwed up.”

“I do—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Master cut him off in far too calm a tone. “I require no words from you. Anything you say will only make me angrier. That’s not a smart thing to do right now.”

The short snake whip was out of his pocket. One step around to the side and the red and black leather coil opened to hiss through the air and land a hard, striping slice across Property’s bare back. Three more and Master’s boot lifted to his ribs to shove him onto his side. The sharp corner of that block heel dug into flesh between the ribs to cause a pain that shot through Property like a spike. Property fell over, body curving together around that pain. The whip came down half a dozen more times, around his ribs to bite hard into his back. The boot heel kicked him over again, leaving a dent in his skin that would turn into a bruise if he lived long enough.

Property rolled in all directions on the floor, directed by the whip and Master’s relentless, demanding boot. He did not try to hide or escape, did not cover or attempt to protect any part of his body. There was no point to any of that, with the whip nailing him everywhere from feet to neck. If Master wanted to hit a specific area, he knew how to make his slave present that part of the body. One lightning fast, burning, slice after another, the twisted length at the tip drove home just how vehemently enraged Master was.

Property screamed with some, yelped or cried out with others. The one thing he knew not to do was beg. Or plead. No begging for mercy. No pleading “no”. Either would have made Master angrier, if that was possible. Certainly would have made him more vicious.

Powered by Master’s entire arm and back, follow-through ensured that every strike left a stripe of a welt or a weeping, bleeding cut. There was no such thing as mercy this time, as the whip bit and sliced him over a hundred times.

Normally, Property would have to count the strikes and say how many there had been. This time, the whip flew too fast to be counted. Once it began, there was no stopping until Master felt like it. Master had a tireless whipping arm and a bottomless well of fury. His wrath, especially today, was the unleashing of a demon straight from Parin’s Pit.

Today, Property realized, he could literally be whipped to death.

The thin whip curled around his arms and legs, wrapped around his ribs. Master landed the braided popper end to Property’s cock or balls every time they were presented, making sure to punish the greedy organs that had left Master’s wife vulnerable to kidnapping.

All through the punishment, Master said nothing, made not one single sound. Single-minded in his action, tightly focused on issuing this punishment, he had no need for words. When Master had no need for words, the slave knew he was in the most dangerous predicament of all.

As suddenly as it had begun it was done, and Master was standing over him. Cessation allowed Property to give in to his emotions and sob in repeated convulsions. Master waited a moment, to let him quiet enough to be able to hear what Master had to say.

“It’s as simple as this: If I find her and she is alive, you will live. You will suffer every single minute of every single day until I am no longer angry with you, however many years that may take. If she is dead, you will suffer a hundred times longer than she did before I finally end your life. Get up. Get dressed. We’re flying to catch up to Dohan’s ship. He’s following a vessel he thinks she’s being held on. I’ll issue the next round of castigation when we’re on his ship.”

Property had to crawl to his clothing. Even if he’d been permitted to walk, he’d have had to crawl. His limbs were jelly, not fully under his control. He was slow and stiff, testing to be sure his arms would hold his weight every time he moved them. He had to sit on the welts and slices on his ass, painful as it was, in order to put his shirt on. Had to sit there to pull his pants up to his knees and put his socks on his feet. Efficiency was the need of the moment, to conserve his energy. Had to lift a foot to bend the knee in order to put shoes on. Once standing on wobbly knees, he pulled up and closed his pants.

He took the handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the sweat from his face and blow the snot out of his nose before slowly making his way to his feet. He didn’t think to tuck his shirt in and Master didn’t tell him to do so.

He dared not raise his eyes to Master’s again, and Master waited for him no longer. Walking out, he expected Property would follow. Property kept up as best he could, limping with the pain of a stripe along the bottom of his foot and several others that had wrapped around the tops of both feet. In the restriction of stiff shoes, they hurt much more than if he’d been barefoot.

In the steel box of the elevator, he leaned heavily into a rear corner to catch his breath. His eyes caught Master’s reflection in the brass plate, watching him. Property lowered his gaze away. His head swam with the endorphins a whipping always brought out, a combination of dizzy and high he usually enjoyed. There was no pleasure in it today. He felt only resignation. This day had been coming for him for a long time. His own stupidity had brought him this moment.

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

Read the rest of “Property: Punishment of a Dead Man”: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07PHV3CC2

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

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