Dame TylerRose.

Turning Around An Awkward Evening

February 3, 2019 By Dame TylerRose. 2 Comments

Photography by Mistress Laurent

I’m the world’s most socially awkward sadomasochist nympho slut. I freely admit it. I find small talk and mindless chit chat difficult and boring. I don’t go from person to person, trying to make conversation until I finally strike gold. I’m more the “let’s play first, then we’ll talk after the ice is well and truly broken” type. Either that or I engage in a two hour conversation about my work or all things Science Fiction.

There I was at a venue I particularly like, conversing and people watching in the social area, savoring my Scotch and water…and pondering how much time I would give it before deciding I’d rather be at home writing and watching whatever show I was binge watching at the time. This is what every event I go to has to be: More enticing than sitting at home by myself with the television, the book I’m working on, and a pizza. I enjoy my own company and I’ve known my share of parties weren’t interesting enough. I have sometimes left early to be sure I could catch that last train before the weekend shut down.

At one point, I had an emotional moment thinking about a friend who lives in the Carolinas, worrying about them and their family as Hurricane Flo steamrolled over the region. I almost did change my clothes and go home at that point. Instead, I got a grip on the wave of anxiety and put an end to it, and I stuck it out another half hour.

I’m very glad I did. I ended up having a magnificent evening.

A couple hours into the five hour long party, I was approached by an older gentleman. We talked a bit. He asked if I was there to bottom. I was there to top or bottom, depending on how things turned out. I had toys for both. We sat together and talked some more, doing the mental prep work of the basic “what do you like” stuff.

I’m fairly easy as a bottom so long as the top realizes and accepts that he’s not going to be bossing me around, issuing orders, and that I’m not submitting to him. We’re playing together for mutual pleasure, not exercising a d/s dynamic. In fact, this dominant top did equate bottoming with submitting, so we talked about that. He may have been humoring me, not really changing his view. I may have been talking to the wind for all I knew. At the time, he sounded like he understood how I felt and who I was.

We found a spot, a tall padded bench, but had to wait a moment. There was a rope scene nearby that was winding down, and their bags were around the base of the station we wanted to use. It’s improper to move someone else’s equipment, even just to move it out of the way. If they had been just starting, I’d have gotten a DM to move the bags. Rope scenes tend to be long. But we had plenty of time before the end of the party, so there was no problem waiting a couple minutes. That little bit of time gave me the opportunity to shake off the “YAY, I’M GONNA GET A SPANKING!” giddiness.

After the other couple moved their bags and vacated the area, I found an implement that had fallen under a low table. I took the time to hand it over to a DM rather than leaving it on the table. Someone was saved the “where is it???” panic when unpacking at home. I call that a good thing too, as it’s entirely possible no one else would have seen it. I did only because I wasn’t rushing to get what I wanted.

My dress off, I bent over the bench and we began the warm up phase of our play. I hadn’t been on the receiving end with any consistency for a long time. That meant I was somewhat out of practice, out of condition. Warm up, something of a luxury for me while I was with my second husband, was absolutely necessary for this casual play. I don’t need a lot, just a few minutes. I did have to say “not so hard, please” a couple times until I was able to fully relax and the endorphins started kicking in.

I let him do things I’ve previously not enjoyed, most notably the smacking of open hands to the upper portion of my back. In years past, I’ve had a knee-jerk “NO!” reaction to that kind of impact. This night, it felt really good, sinking into my muscles like a deep tissue massage.

I also received a lovely flogging from the top of my shoulders, around my left side, and down to my bottom, interspersed with bare-handed spanking that went a little lower down my thighs. I hadn’t realized just how much I’d needed a good working over.

He lowered my underpants at some point, a cheeky skulls with roses short pair that I like to wear to spanking events. I shimmied them down to the floor. It was definitely time to have a bare ass. My bottom and back were tingling nicely. I was ready to take it up a notch.

At one point, I turned around to lean backwards over the bench. He’d been trying to slap my tits from below, which felt really awkward from my position. “If you want to do that, how about I take this position?” I said as I turned around. I’m glad I did.

I had to tell him to lighten up at some point. The tendency is to go harder and harder until the bottom reaches a breaking point. I prefer to be in a comfort zone that allows us to keep playing for a long time.

When my tits had had enough, I turned again for another round on my backside. I think we played for a solid hour. He was the one who needed to stop. I had worn him out, and I received one of the best compliments I can hear, as a bottom.

“You have stamina.”

Yes, I do. They underestimate my ability, thinking the old fat chick won’t be able to stand there for more than fifteen minutes. HA! and lulz on them, because I’m accustomed to hour to two hour sex/sm sessions, thanks to back to back husbands who also had stamina. (I’ll tell a sex party story of wearing out several men another time.)

Suffice it to say I went home a very happy, endorphiny camper, and slept very well.

The next day, looking myself over, I actually had bruises! This is nearly unheard of for me. Rhino-hide is a thing and I haz it. I tend to get an overall pinkness to the area struck, but, unfortunately, not much for bruises or other marks. Instead, streaks and stripes will pop out when I take a shower five to ten days later. I’ll turn to look in a mirror and whoops, there they are!, but it’s not the same as watching bruises develop and fade over the course of a week.

I must say I enjoyed the hell outta those bruises for as long as they lasted. I took several update pictures over the course of the first three to four days, and shared them with pride. When the bruises began to fade, spots of fingers and palm could be seen on my right breast. I’d never in my life experienced that.

The joy of an hour of play had resulted in nearly a week’s worth of continued satisfaction. Now if only I could remember his name.

So what is the point of this odd rambling?

I know events can be difficult, especially if you’re new to your local scene. Munches can be long and tedious if you’re not familiar with many people or they seem to be talking among their own little groups of friends. You can actually feel like an outsider when you’ve been a regular at a place for two years. The party can seem long and disappointing if you don’t get to playing within the first hour.

My point is not to give up and head home too soon. Stick it out another half hour and see what happens.

You never know when you’ll meet a person who trips the right triggers and turns a boring, awkward evening into the most terrific night out you’ve had in months.

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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 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.

Excerpt from Peeper

January 20, 2019 By Dame TylerRose. 3 Comments

KimCums.com

The following is an excerpt from my novel PEEPER, which won the 2012 Bondage Award for Best Bondage Story.
(To read the entire novel: Https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0033PSJIE)

Jacek’s cloak went down again and a lesson began in how to properly stretch a hard-used slave.

Preece named every muscle, described how it was being activated, where it connected to tendons and other muscles, how they worked together. He described Peeper’s orgasmic arm and fist clenching and showed Jacek how it caused her entire upper body to hurt, even up the sides of her neck to her temples and down to her chest muscles. He named different organs and where they were in the body and how some could be affected by a beating, pointed out that the lower section of soft tissue below the ribs was untouched by Lord Quye’s beatings.

“The kidneys can be bruised and damaged and are to be avoided with her, at all costs. There are two ribs that are not connected to the sternum in the front. They float here.” His fingertips pressed in under the bottom rib, far enough for Jacek to see but not far enough to cause Peeper pain. “You must be aware of them. A flogger brushing over is one thing. But a solid hit from one, or a cane or whip, is not permitted. The slave can suffer cracked or broken ribs and die from bleeding if a careless strike causes a rib to pierce an internal organ,” Preece said. “I’ve seen it happen and it is not pleasant.”

“How do you know so much about human anatomy?” Jacek asked.

“I have attended and participated in many dissections of corpses. Fascinating stuff if you can get past the stench and the yuck factor. Let her lay still now and rest while you begin a massage.”

Jacek and was disgusted by the thought of a corpse cut open and entrails exposed for digging around in, and resolved never again to ask Preece how he knew anything.

“Peeper is particularly docile and obedient after such a thorough beating,” Preece continued. “She’s going to be very quiet and calm for a couple days. From now on, whenever she is with you, you will have her rest.”

“That doesn’t get much work done,” Jacek said gently rolling his fingertips over the muscles of her arm.

Preece chuckled. “She is to perform no work. She does not so much as carry a blanket unless I tell her to. Her only job is to be at my beck and call and ready to serve me in any capacity I require of her on a moment’s notice. That will be work enough, I assure you. What you see now is much the same as I will require from her and it will be your job and Dohan’s to keep her in need and ready for me.”

“So I can look forward to her being in this condition often?”

“Constantly,” Preece corrected, tracing that particularly angry welt again and smiling when she giggled. “One set will not fade before the next is applied.”

Jacek wondered if that statement was for him or a tease for Peeper. “I must admit that I did not know she was such a beating slave. Even that day in the King’s chamber, I thought that was extreme.”

“That was just a warm up to me,” Preece dismissed. “I am a sadist, Jacek, and a Master of my craft. I like to see the pains I inflict play out in my slave’s body. I derive all manner of pleasures from what I do and the results I get. I adore the slave’s submissions to my will and my desire. I am also very particular about the slave on whom I practice my craft. Precious few are capable of accepting my most intense attentions. Peeper is one of two in Axlar’s court who can serve me to full capacity.”

“The other being?”

“Her name is Orla. She used to be the Queen’s best friend. They were captured by my uncle Pekes and sent together to my father’s stronghold. Mother submitted, Orla did not. She learned the way of pain through discipline and punishment because she continually fought back and tried to escape. Mother learned through love and pleasure.”

“Isn’t that how Peeper learned? Punishment?”

“No,” Preece said, voice dropped to a hush. “Angry violence, not discipline and punishment. Entirely different. She did not earn what he did to her and she did not deserve it and she learned to fear spontaneous bouts of feet and fists she didn’t know if she’d survive. Not the same at all.”

He paused, looking down on her where she lay still and beautiful against the dark brown of Jacek’s cloak. “You have the opportunity to learn a great deal, Jacek. Not of court or the ways of Kings; but of Mastery. I and my brothers; Generals Rigio, Aisus, and Kelen…We are the end all and be all of Mastery in the country of Mida. You may not like to beat your slaves, but you should know the proper ways for it to be done with different implements; and the improper ways so that you can correct someone beating their slave in the street. This you can learn from me and Rigio. You may not like to use a cane, but you should know how to apply it to different parts of the body for your desired effect. Aisus is the utmost authority on the cane and I learned from him. The flogger, with its many tails, can be soft as butter or hard as iron. That is Kelen’s specialty and I was a diligent student. I learned from anyone who had something new to teach about the Way of Pain.”

“And the King?”

Preece smiled a sort of snort. “He’s a spanker. Under his hand, just about any slave can take two hours if he wishes it. You may be one of the Queen’s favored employees, but you have to earn my respect. Sure, you can handle a disobedient cunt like Echie and you carry the rank of Master. But you are very low in that ranking. Not much above Dohan at this point. You have all of two minutes seniority over him.”

He saw Jacek’s unpleasant expression and smiled, plucking a small flower and trailing it down Peeper’s back.

“You expect proper shows of submission and respect and you get it because it is what you demand. She does as you tell her because she knows she will be swiftly and painfully disciplined if she does not. You hold the rank of Master and a dominant position over her, but has she known smiles from you? A small touch of affection? A tiny consideration for her emotions and the internal struggles of every slave? Just a little love?”

Jacek had to think hard, wasn’t sure of either. Couldn’t readily name one instance of either for either Peeper or Echie, except perhaps when he had Peeper select her flowers. He seemed to recall feeling a bit softer toward her that night.

“They all have their struggles. Some hide them better than others. Echie’s are there to be seen every single minute. She holds her heart in her hands. Peeper learned to withhold much. You can see in her eyes what she’s thinking sometimes. But if she doesn’t know how to feel, or if what she’s feeling would earn her a punishment, her eyes are as blank as the wind.”

Jacek knew the truth of that. If Peeper was with someone she trusted, she let that person see everything she was feeling. Her face was expressive to compensate for the lack of tongue.

“Sadism is an art form, the slave a canvas,” Preece continued. “Peeper goes where I say and does as I wish because she knows that she is mine to do with as I choose. And because she wants to. Her submission is mine to command not because I take it from her, as you take with your demands, but because she gives it to me freely. She knows in any group of people who is the highest ranking Master. In this place, I am the unquestioned Master and she gives to me that which she will offer no one else—the very core of her being. She will surrender to me every single thing I want of her, when I want it of her, to the degree I want it. Because she wants to. There is no overhanging threat of discipline as she gets from you. In fact, she has no thought of receiving punishment from me at all. She knows she has only to please me in order to receive my affection and I make myself pleasable.”

He paused, tilting his head to see that she was asleep again. “You demand with sharpness and anger and the slave is relieved to not displease you. What a place that is to reside. I wouldn’t want to live there. I, on the other hand, speak softly and the slave responds with joy to my command and is fulfilled in having pleased.”

He paused again to study the welts and stripes across Peeper’s back. “Demand versus Command, Jacek. That is the difference between one who owns a slave and is called ‘Master’ and one who is Master. Which would you prefer to be?”

Like the snippet? Read the book in Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/PEEPER-Gethis-History-Planet-Book-ebook/dp/B0033PSJIE

** Note about the “avoid the kidneys at all costs” comment by Preece. The character Peeper, at this point in the story, is recovering from near-starvation and is still very thin. Avoidance of the kidneys applies to her as a matter of her personal safety and well-being and is not necessarily applied to all slaves.

** This book won the Best Bondage Story category of the 2012 Bondage Awards.

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About the Author

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.

The Quandary of Trust

January 6, 2019 By Dame TylerRose. 2 Comments

Model: Domina Mara

Taken by: Domina Mara

There is a contingent of kinksters who are adamant that one should never play with any top without getting references beforehand. Aside from being impractical when you’re at the dungeon and meeting for the first time, giving the name of someone I’ve played with to a stranger is a complete breach of their privacy and anonymity. I find the very expectation unethical and unreasonable.

I’ve seen people say, in discussion threads and writings, “a good top will give you references!” I don’t think so. I think a good top will not violate the consent and privacy of those they’ve played with just to get into the pants of another person.

No one ever thinks of that. For some reason, people assume that every bottom will be delighted to talk about their experience. Those people demanding references don’t see that it’s unfair to put others into that position and on the spot in that manner.

I’m so adamant about it that “Will you be a reference for me?” isn’t a question I ask. I have not asked a single bottom, out of the many dozens I’ve played with over the years, if they would provide a reference for my kink resume.

The very notion that tops should have references available but bottoms don’t need to is a double standard of epic proportions. Maybe I’d like to ask other tops if the bottom became an unhinged stalker demanding attention for three months after half an hour of spanking. That’d be a really good thing to know, and it has happened.

Remember that privacy and anonymity are two of the most important aspects of attending BDSM dungeons, and of kink sites as well. Privacy and Anonymity means if they have not already agreed to it, thrusting this stranger into their face to say “oh yeah, DTR is a great person and top” is an unwelcome intrusion into their life.

There is not one single person on this planet I would do that to. There is not one single bottom I would do that for. There is not one person on this entire planet that I want to play with badly enough that I will violate the privacy of another person. If that makes me an untrustworthy person, then we have a different view of what is and isn’t ethical.

If someone won’t trust me enough to play without talking to someone else I’ve played with, then we’re not going to play. Period. They can continue to not trust me. I’m not going to do a thing to change their mind.

I wrote a piece some time ago regarding the matter. Some people took exception to my statement “I really don’t care if a person doesn’t trust me.” For some weird reason, not caring that someone doesn’t trust me somehow made me untrustworthy to other people in the thread. I don’t get how they made that leap. I don’t think they do either, so I think I should fully explain my meaning.

Why do I not care that someone doesn’t trust me?

First, because I don’t need the entire world to trust me. A level of distrust in our fellow humans isn’t necessarily a bad thing. I used to bust shoplifters for a living. I was damn good at it too, so I know very well that not everyone is trustworthy. It was made readily apparent by the number of very loud and public consent accusations that popped up around the country (and the world) in the last two years. Well-known educators and party promoters, those whom the most ardent consent advocates named to put on a proposed mythical “high panel for authorizing/judging all dominants” when the mayhem began, fell like dominoes to the guillotine of the court of public opinion.

Not everyone is out to take advantage of a novice the first chance they get; but yeah, don’t trust everyone too easily.

Second, because I don’t need the world’s approval. I got over needing universal approval a very long time ago. While I was married, I wanted and needed the approval of my husband. Now I’m on my own, I only need my own approval. It’s a very freeing thing, to let go the need to be patted on the head and called a “good girl” by the entirety of global society.

Third, because a person’s inability to trust isn’t about me. It’s about them. It’s about their own worries and inexperience, or their past experiences. None of that has anything to do with me. At that point, they probably wouldn’t trust anyone. I’ve given far too many brand new people their first ever experience to ever take that as a personal affront.

I can talk until I’m blue in the face. If someone isn’t going to trust me not to harm them, then I’m wasting my time and theirs. I don’t go around convincing people to play with me. I don’t prowl the party looking for people to beat on, bugging twenty people until I finally get a yes. They want to or they don’t. Either way is fine with me, and I long ago made a policy of not asking the bottom to play. They ask me to play, and I make them ask me nicely. My policy at once means I cannot be accused of stalking bottoms and badgering them to play.

I don’t know their history, and I don’t want to know. I don’t need to know in order to have half an hour or so of play at a dungeon party.

Did they have a bad experience with someone? They’ll tell me. If so, there likely is nothing I can say or do that will allay their fears and trepidation. They have to get past it themselves. I’m not a therapist. Going into an impact session with hesitation and trepidation isn’t a healthy position in my experience. It lends toward the negative. Better not to play at all until they’re in a better frame of mind.

I can say a thousand times that I err on the side of caution, but the person too afraid to trust won’t hear that. Their inner dialogue is so loud that it blocks out what I’m saying. I can’t change that. Only they can, and that could take months. Or years.

I want to play with someone who is eager to give it a go. Most of the time, they come to me to experience what I do. Sometimes we’ll meet at the munch first and talk about play and implements; but the final decision to play isn’t made until we’re at the dungeon. They still have to decide if they trust me enough to drop their drawers for me.

If someone isn’t able to in that moment, that’s fine. As I said, it’s not about me. Perhaps another day down the road they will. Doesn’t matter if it’s for me or someone else they finally let down their guard. I may never know if they did. We may not ever cross paths again for the rest of our lives. Such is the nature, and size, of the NYC public scene.

Sometimes it’s just newbie nerves. The novice has a thing so hyped up in their head that they’ve completely psyched their own self out about it. A few minutes into the session, when the bottom sees it’s not nearly what they built it up to be, they start to relax and get into it. I strive to be as professional and upfront as possible, almost clinical sometimes. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing; but I remember reading once in a horoscope book that Pisces tend to be very clinical about sex and related matters. I do my best to maintain my objectivity, knowing the bottom isn’t likely to.

If someone hesitates over an implement, I don’t use that implement. If they hesitate over “harder” or “not harder”, I opt for “not harder.” Even if they say harder (and I tease them with “remember, you asked for it”), I still don’t strike as hard as I could, especially when I’m using the single tail. I let them make the decision, educating as needed so they’re not making decisions out of ignorance or free-flowing passion.

We each have to assess our own selves and decide what level of risk we’re willing to take.

So…trust or don’t. It’s okay.
Trust the next person…or don’t. That’s okay too.

It’s your life.

About The Author

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.

An Excerpt from Peeper Indomitable

December 16, 2018 By Dame TylerRose. 4 Comments

Reah woke in a comfortably warm bed, enveloped in the softness of the blanket with her head gently cradled on a delightful pillow. Her eyes opened to see Moros leaning up on an elbow, watching her. He smiled, an expression she still wasn’t accustomed to seeing from him.

“You’re quite angelic when you sleep. No one would ever guess you shot a man through the eye with an arrow in front of your entire court.”

She said nothing, made no motion.

“What do you miss from your years under Eklur’s boot?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

Said too quickly.

“Of course you don’t miss beatings that left you with broken bones. There had to be something he did that wasn’t so objectionable,” Moros pursued.

“Oddly enough, those bad beatings meant he would leave me alone for a few weeks,” she informed him in far too neutral a tone. “The daily stupid punishments would stop for that time.”

“Daily stupid punishments?” he repeated.

“He would make me confess things I’d done wrong that day, just so he could torture me. I would get five strikes from his hand to my breasts for each one. Then he’d make me confess another thing. That’s why I had an ejaculatory orgasm when Rigio punished me in the same manner on Ande’s tour.”

“He told me about that. Okay. On your back across my thighs. Let’s see if I can make this far more fun for the both of us.”

She hesitated, watching him sit up and place a pillow over his lap.

“That should be more comfortable. Come on,” he said.

She sat up and turned around. Arms over her head was hard on the shoulders and awkward, with the pillow holding her up. He suggested folding her arms under herself, between his legs and under the pillow. The effect was more or less the same. Her arms were out of the way and her breasts were isolated for him, and her weight was on her shoulders more than her arms.

“Close your eyes. Relax,” he said, hands slipping gently around her breasts to caress them lightly. “I talked with Preece last night. He has agreed I should come be the Head of your Household. The deal is made and I will come to take up the position when you return from your vacation in Tridor. A vacation I do not approve of, by the way. Once I arrive, you will make no such plans without my express permission. That means no betting for time away from your Master.”

She did not reply, too busy enjoying the strumming of his fingers across her hard nipples. He kept up the sensation until her hips flexed into a squirm.

“Now…Stupid daily punishment for things you have done wrong. Tell me what you’ve done, Peeper, so that I may issue a punishment and cleanse your conscience.”

“Um…” She had to search her memory for anything that would be considered against Preece’s rules. “I had a third cup of wine when he was talking to someone at Rheece’s wedding dinner. Preece doesn’t—”

“You will refer to him as Master,” Moros corrected at once, giving the tips of her nipples a brief but painful pinch.

“Master normally only allows me to have two. I have to ask for a third if I want it. I didn’t ask. His back was turned and I refilled my own cup.”

He gave both nipples a quick, sharp pinch that caused her to gasp with the sudden pain.

“That is a punishable offense,” he said, and pinched again. “You do not take a third cup of wine without asking first. Are you allowed to touch the pitcher?”

“It’s not been a specifically spoken rule for or against. I do often refill his cup,” she said. “I have to touch the pitcher to do that.”

“It is a spoken rule now,” he said, giving her another hard pinch. “You do not touch the pitcher at all unless you are specifically told to do so. If you want more wine, you will always ask.”

He gave her a moment of gentleness again, to relax her and not rush the play session. He was enjoying her far too much to rush through or cut it too short. Or to get too serious about things.

“What else have you to confess?” he asked when he was ready to give her pain again.

“Uhhh…I told Master I was going to take a walk in the garden, but I went and shot arrows instead,” she said.

“Meaning you weren’t where you told him you would be.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s worth a good one,” he said, and held the double pinch for a good five seconds before releasing her nipples. “Changing your destination is dangerous. Your Master needs to trust that you are where you said you would be. You will not do that anymore. Changes in destination must be approved by him. Or by me.”

He did not ask if she understood. He did not ask if he was being clear. Rules were not hers to approve but for her to accept and obey.

Four fingers strummed quickly across both nipples and she gave him a groan of deep pleasure.

“Can I make you cum just from this?” he asked.

“Probably.”

She received a stinger to her left nipple, like Jacek used to do, and cried out with the unexpected intensity of the strike. He liked the squirm of her arms against his leg.

“You’re missing a word when you answer me,” he said. “Rephrase your answer.”

“You probably can make me cum that way, Master.”

“Which way?” he asked, having returned to the full cupping slides of his hands.

“Rubbing your fingers over my nipples, Master,” she said.

“Like this?” he said, going back to the sensation that so quickly brought her little nipples out to be tormented further.

“Mmmmm, just like that, Master,” she purred.

His hands swiveled left and right faster. Her back arched to present her lovely breasts. In an instant, her belly clenched and she grunted an orgasm.

“Just like that,” he said, fingertips sliding down her nipples and off the tips without the painful pinch.

He reached a hand down between her legs to slide a slow finger between her labia to tease her arousal along and feel her wetness.

“What else should you be punished for this morning?”

“I don’t know, Master. I might need a minute to think if there was anything else,” she said.

“Oh, come now,” he said, a single finger slipping into her. “There’s always something else. I’m sure something will come to you.”

He took his hand away, the tease ended.

“I stepped on the hem of my dress and ripped the lace.”

“Making work for other people,” he clucked his tongue, and took the pillow out from under her. “Definitely a punishable offense.”

Fast and hard, giving both nipples a firm tug that caused her to cry out.

“You must not make unnecessary work for the people who serve you,” he scolded her. “They already have plenty enough to do.”

He brought a palm down onto her breast the same way Rigio had, then her inner thigh. His hands were a swift series of stout smacks, not as hard as Rigio had done, but enough to sting and take her breath away with speed and frequency.

“I like this game,” he said when she was gasping for air and had gushed a flood onto the surface of the bed. “We’re going to do this several times a week, I think.”

He slid one leg out from under her, then the other. A trip around the bed and he climbed up between her pinked thighs.

“I should have your thighs and breasts burning for a while every day to remind you what is expected of you.”

He kissed and bit his way up her legs, and tongued the tattoos that ended in the brand of Parin’s symbol. She smiled, mind a hazy puddle of calm and quiet as his cock slipped into her.

“I think I should fuck you so often that you’re too sore for your husband to fuck.”

She laughed at the notion.

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.

Peeper Indomitable is set for release on February 23rd, 2019. You can pre-order it now:

Read the first four Peeper books (https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B076657ZQW ) to catch up on what you’ve been missing!

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.

How Not To Be Afraid to Top

December 2, 2018 By Dame TylerRose. 3 Comments

There was a huge shake-up within the NYC public scene late 2017 into early 2018. Some big names in the scene were accused of various consent violations, some of them several years old, one after the other. “Pillars” of the (gak) community, as it were. Long time educators and party/convention promoters went down in flames, one by one, almost overnight. The whole thing got very ugly, as we all watched and waited to see who would be next.

While it was going on, I saw a post from a newish top saying they were afraid to be a top because of the “hang ‘em high” atmosphere. There is also a frightening trend of bottoms deciding months, even years later, that something fully consented to at the time is suddenly not. We’ve dubbed it “retroactively withdrawing consent”, and it is a frightening prospect.

That post, and this new trend, prompted this piece.

—————

There are people who point out that we have to have new subs/bottoms at the parties. Okay. Great. I agree.

We also need new tops in order to have a thriving public scene. If the tops are scared away by the prospect of having their name and reputation dragged through the court of public opinion by someone who was fully consenting at the time, who are the bottoms going to play with? It’s a double-edged sword.

There are plenty of “how to be a bottom” discussions. But there’s not very much “how to be a top” that doesn’t disintegrate into “you must aftercare or you’re a BAD TOP!!!” Once that happens, there can’t be any discussion about topping. The entire thread becomes mired in the endless DO TOO!/DO NOT!!! shouting matches that all-too-often just get a discussion closed.

Many people are focused on the poor, ever-innocent bottom and how that big mean top is totally going to violate them the first chance he gets. No one thinks about how a top might have to protect themselves.

As a top, you also have the right to protect yourself from bad situations. This is a candid article, experienced top to new top, about casual/pick up play at a party, and how to implement an ethic that can go a long way toward building and protecting both yourself and your reputation. Is it foolproof? No. I would never say that. But I do believe that having a plan, and sticking to it, is better than traipsing through the scene with no regard for the consequences.

First a few simple truths:

You don’t have to play with any and every bottom who asks you.
I’ve seen it happen to others and it’s happened to me. A bottom bounces up to you and all but demands you play with them. They don’t even ask. “I want a spanking from you” rather than “would you please give me a spanking”, then they have the nerve to get angry if you say no. Hold your ground. If they get angry that you refuse, would you ever want to play with that person? When someone shows you who they are, believe them.

You can refuse to play with anyone at any time.
Even if you’ve made prior arrangements to play, you can change your mind and not play with them when the time comes. If the bottom can back out at any point, so can the top. That shoe fits equally well on both feet.

You don’t have to have any reason other than “I don’t want to”.
If “no” is a full sentence for bottoms, then it’s a full sentence for tops as well. You don’t have to give an explanation if you don’t want to.

No one has the right to guilt or badger you into topping them.
If it’s not okay for a top to guilt or badger a bottom, then the reverse is also true and the bottom has no right to hound you for play either.

Implement a few simple rules and standards for yourself to follow. Below is a list of simple starting points.

Only play with people who know and understand what they are asking for and agreeing to. Make sure their expectations are reasonable. When it’s clear a person doesn’t understand, or their expectations are unreasonable, respond with straightforward language. Ambiguity is your enemy. Be very specific.

Ex: The bottom wants a caning but no marks. That is an unreasonable expectation. Tell them straight up “You’re being hit with a hard stick. If you can’t accept that there will be marks, don’t do impact.”

You don’t know if the bottom marks easily or not. You don’t know how easily they bruise. You can’t know that. You cannot promise no marks. You cannot promise a bruise won’t pop up three days later.

If the bottom is hesitant, or unable, to explain when you question their understanding of what they want, don’t play with them.

This may seem harsh, but we are talking about your personal safety and reputation within your local scene. Even if you don’t play in public, you can still earn a bad reputation if the bottom does attend events and decides to tell the world about your playtime encounter.

Not to mention: If the bottom cannot articulate/communicate appropriately BEFORE play begins, they won’t magically get any better at it once the endorphins start kicking in. Poor communication skills, from either end of the cane, are your enemy.

If they have a habit of making dramatic mountains out of meaningless molehills, don’t play with them.

Does a person gossip about other people all the time? They’ll gossip about you too. If they do it with former partners, they will do it with you. Don’t think for one minute that they won’t.

During play, less is more. Always leave them wanting more rather than regretting they didn’t say stop.

Casual/pick up play with a stranger you’ve never met before isn’t often dom/sub play. It is topping and bottoming and both parties need to be able to say yes and no along the way. Don’t be afraid to ask “do you want (this) or do you want (that), less or more, harder/softer/the same?” Always offer the option to stop right that moment. If it is the bottom’s choice every step of the way, then it’s all consented to. Abide by the answer unless they are hesitant.

What if they are hesitant?
If they hesitate to say yes, then it’s no. Don’t do that thing.
If they hesitate between more or less, then the answer is less.
Err on the side of caution. Always.
You can always play a bit more later on during the event, or another day.

Keep your fingers, mouth, feet, knees, elbows, implements, etc, away from where they ought not be.

You cannot take liberties with someone you have never played with before. It takes time to build the play partner relationship, to learn each other’s signals. That’s not likely to happen during this half hour of play at a very loud party, when you’ve barely talked about the weather let alone your entire sexual and playtime histories.

So if you haven’t asked if they want it (whatever “it” is), then don’t do it. That includes rubbing the butt or shoulder after a series of impact hits. Ask first, before you start play, if that kind of touching is okay. Some do like it. Some don’t. This is not something to assume once you get going.

Assume nothing.

Regarding after care.
There are those who demand that all tops and doms must absolutely give aftercare to every bottom, no matter what.

I’m here to tell you they are wrong. In my ten years of public play, wailing on dozens and dozens of different people, the only aftercare I’ve ever performed was to put a band aid on someone’s butt.

I don’t do aftercare. All manner of insults are hurled at me online for saying that. At the party, I get a response of “why would there be?” For all the yammering in online forums, there’s remarkably little of it actually happening at the dungeon.

Not all bottoms want anything more than a hug. Some don’t even want that much. If the bottom doesn’t want you to do anything for them when you’re done playing, then trying to force it on them would be wrong.

Some tops require the care from the bottom, which is quite a turnaround from what is generally considered the norm.

Talk about it as soon as the question “wanna play?” is asked. Whether or not there will be any sort of aftercare should be discussed before you even look at implements and decide what is going to be used. It must be agreed upon from the start. If the bottom wants something you’re not willing to do, or you want the care but the bottom isn’t willing to do what you need, then there’s no point in discussing what type of play will be had.

If you, as the top, have ANY doubts, don’t even start to play.

Listen to your gut and err on the side of caution. Always.

Watch how people play and behave. I have made decisions about bottoms I won’t play with just watching how they interact with others when asking for play or during a scene.

There’s always another party, another time.

There is a temptation to go to All The Parties. Don’t.

It’s downright exhausting to try to attend everything. Not to mention expensive. Hit this party or that party. Keep within the confines of your wallet. Find a place you like, or “like enough”, and establish yourself there.

Become known by the regulars of that venue. Learn the familiar faces and become friendly with some of them. As you gain experience, it’s easier to go with confidence to other venues and events.

As you find your place, find your footing, you might start to relax some of these steps. Or not.

It may also happen that someone close to you finds themselves in hot water, and you end up relieved that you’ve stuck to your personal protocols and standards. You might choose never to relax them.

Only you can decide what is going to be right and best for you.

About the Author

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.

Excerpt from TylerRose.’s book Have Your Cake

November 18, 2018 By Dame TylerRose. 3 Comments

Ambi Bambi – https://www.instagram.com/ambixbambi/

The Dark Arts-https://darkestarts.com/

“So who is this girl?” Guus asked as the fruit pie dessert was placed in front of him.

“One for the League annals,” Gaadan said. “Smart, quick witted, nicely experienced in a wide range of pleasures.”

“What did she do?” another asked.

“You’ve seen it on the news all this last week. The woman who confessed to making a repeat rapist kill himself.”

“She is here?” Ustace said, eyes wide with the knowledge of who their new plaything was.

“She is,” Natjun confirmed. “And doing very well. None of the weeping and pleading as with others. This one wants to be here. She wants to be whipped and ridden hard. She loves it like Sadie did.”

A name to bring many smiles.

“But this one is young. She’s only thirty. Her name is Paxanne. Pax for short and I’ve decided she will keep her name. If we handle her well, she could be here for twenty years. I find I very much like that idea. She negotiated her entry into the League and that should be taken into consideration.”

Dessert finished, the House Master went to get her while Natjun took off his jacket and walked around the end of a table to the round performance platform. From a small sack he took out a thick jelly dildo like the one used on her previously, a tube of lubricant, a small wooden paddle. The only things he would need or use aside from his bare hands.

Pax came in already nude, the knit dress having been left in the small holding cell. A room full of men in business suits. Grays and blues, from light to dark, with different color shirts, different patterns and colors of necktie. Most wore rings, some had tie tacks. And she the lone, naked female brought for their amusement.

Natjun gestured her up while the House Master went around the table to take the President’s vacated chair. She walked around front of the bed platform, sizing them all up as they devoured her with their eyes.

Thrown to the wolves?

No.

These men were lions. Every single one of them. And she…either the gazelle they would devour or the lioness they would snipe each other to possess.

“All ten at once or will you form a line?” she grinned, choosing to be the predator lioness herself. “Show me your pecker-order, as it were?”

They laughed or chuckled and she chose to sit on the edge of the round padded platform and keep her feet on the floor for now.

“Are you ranked by size largest to smallest?”

“What’s your name?” one of them asked, cutting off her witty remarks.

“Paxanne. Pax if I like you well enough. Ma’am if I don’t.”

More chuckles.

“What crime did you commit to be sent here?”

“I made a rapist kill himself,” she said without pause or regret.

“Every man here could be called a rapist,” another said.

A Duke, ring prominent where a wedding ring would go.

“Of other condemned killers like myself?” she countered. “So what. What you do here is legal. There is no law against the rape of a condemned prisoner far as I know. The man I made kill himself was luring unsuspecting women. Innocent women who were looking for love and companionship and he used their loneliness and vulnerability as a weapon against them.”

“Were you one of the women he preyed on?”

“No. I went to a motel to help a friend after he did it to her. She was not the first, my Lord. I decided she would be the last. I do not regret doing it.”

“Enough talk. I start bidding at half a million. Put some color on both her tits, Mr. President,” said one who’d not yet spoken.

“On your knees. Come backwards to the middle,” Natjun said, moving himself to the side to roll up his sleeves.

That image. Manly hands swiftly and meticulously rolling shirt sleeves up with confidence and determination to reveal a muscular, moderately haired arm. Tan skin of a man active in the sun. Muscles of a man accustomed to strenuous activity.

Not just one sleeve. Both. She had to wait there patiently for him to finish and take her in hand to beat her breasts in some manner. Her heart pounded loud in her ears, that moment, that image, hitting all the right buttons of her psyche and making her suddenly feel very small indeed.

“Face front,” he told her.

She moved a quarter turn, disquieted by this one man when she had boasted bravado to the other ten. He came onto the bed platform to stand on his knees close behind her. She saw his hand wrap around the handle of the small wood paddle, the paddle lift to stroke up her thigh.

“Open more.”

She did and the paddle smacked the inside of her thigh. Not hard. Enough to make a good noise on her skin. He stood it up on end to use both hands to flick fingers over her nipples and pop them out. Fingers and palm smacking hard and she had nowhere to go. His left hand slid up her body to close around the front of her throat and hold her in place. Her hips squirmed under the force of his hard slaps. Ten to each side in rapid succession, twice, and he gave her a pause to catch her breath.

“She doesn’t seem very afraid,” one said.

“I don’t think any of you will kill me on the first night when I already have the President’s vote to keep me around.”

Low chuckles from some, silence from others.

“Six hundred fifty thousand and use the paddle on her tits until she screams.”

Arm firm against her torso, reaching down between her legs for the wood handle, the thin side of the paddle pressed into the front of her mound as he pulled upward slowly. The smack of hard wood on soft flesh, smart and sharp. Enough to catch her breath with the first and make her freeze and yelp by the third. Then the other side and his fourth strike was hard enough that she cried out fully with the smarting sting radiating through her breast.

The pause for her to recover for the next bid, and unexpectedly soft fingers stroking over her nipples. Only a moment of her squirming and pressing back before he stopped. Letting her have a cum was not the goal.

“When did you learn pain?” someone asked.

“Over ten years ago, House Master,” she replied, having recognized the voice with eyes closed.

“Who taught you?”

“My former husband. I don’t want to talk about him.”

“Seven hundred thousand. Give her three hard ones from the paddle to the puss.”

One, enough to make her jerk and grunt with her hands bracing on his hard thighs. Two, harder to sting deep into her flesh, with a bit of an undercut angle to get the tender flesh underneath. A one-note cry, loud and strong. Third issued at once, not letting her get over the second and making her scream outright.

A scream ending in “Fuck!” and then a hard breath and “son of a bitch.”

“Has she not been told about cursing?” someone asked.

“Put a gag on me if you don’t wanna hear it,” she ground out between clenched teeth. “I might say fuck or fuck me. But I don’t say fuck you.”

“The compromise is agreeable,” the President said, and whispered into her hair “I happen to like the way you curse to process the pain I give you.”

Pax realized this was as much a negotiation of her own position as it was their night to bid to have her.

“Eight hundred thousand. Smack her smart mouth,” said the one who complained about the cursing.

She got a full palm to full cheek slap, and not a kind one.

“Nine hundred. Five from the paddle to the insides of both thighs.”

Building up as he’d done on her tits, until she cried out with the last two, then repeated on the other side.

“One million. Finger her puss.”

Wet as she was, his finger so gentle alongside her clit got the big reaction he was hoping for. She rose sudden and strong on her knees and his hand around her throat held her tight to him as he went with her to keep control.

“Such a horny show off of a slut,” he whispered.

“One point one million. Beat her tits with bare hands again. I want to see a handprint.”

She yelped and cried out from first to last and then his fingers were so teasingly gentle that he had her whimpering in small, desperate tones. More than one cock hardened when her hands gripped around his forearms and she melted into him with a sighed “Master.”

“One point three mil. Keep doing what you’re doing but with that dildo in her cunt.”

He had it in her in seconds and the men watched her chest flush bright pink with her throaty moan. They watched for some minutes before the next bid.

“One point five mil. She will get that dildo full up her ass all by herself.”

The President let go of her and moved back. Jelly thing warm and wet in her hand, looking at it, she knew this was not going to be easy. The thing wasn’t stiff. The head twisted and flopped around. Lube between her buttocks first, she reached around to start trying. Slipping and sliding back and forth, she worked for a good minute with no success. Growing nervous, she tried another angle. She had to stop a moment and take a breath and calm herself and try again.

“Let’s move on. She’s not going to get it. The tool is unsuitable to this command,” someone said.

“Give her time. She’ll do it,” the bidder said at the same time she said “I can do it. Gimme a minute.”

Eye closed to focus on what she felt, she choked up on the jelly shaft to grip directly below the head and have more control over it. More lubrication, more patience. She almost got it, the head slipping aside. Every time she tried, she got a better idea of her own timing. Slide, sink, pause to let it work its way in, and the head popped through her tightly closed anus. Her groan spoke of success and they cheered and applauded her. She could not stop there, however. The order had been “fully” up her backside. But she needed only a minute to work herself up and down and take it in. Primed as she was, she was ready for the intensity.

“We’ll call that the last bid,” Natjun said from behind her. “Where do you want her, Your Grace?”

“Exactly as she is in my room.”

The side tables pulled out to allow access to the middle, four of the men came through to put their little gold rings on her collar. Last, the House Master put his on the heavy solid steel ring, making sure to place it next to the President’s. On her first day, at her first showing, she had six rings.

Excerpt from TylerRose.’s book Have Your Cake (book 1 of her Culpation League series) — https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B078VYTF99

About the Author

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.

Dame TylerRose.

Model: Domina Mara

Taken by: Domina Mara

The Dark Arts-https://darkestarts.com/

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