An Afternoon Ride On A Fence Rail

It’s a long painful afternoon, but everything still works afterwards despite what she thinks:

At noon I was allowed a plate of cold biscuits and a pail of water. then I was placed upon a fence rail and left there to ride the rail until supper. The rail was rough hewn wood, with sharp ridges. It wasn’t too wide but enough to take my weight. A portion in the center had been sanded down until it was smooth and free of splinters but still had a ridge along the top. My arms were still bound behind my back, elbows touching, naturally, when Juan and Mendosa lifted me then set me down over that rail. The ridge I mention was squarely centered on my crotch and dug in as soon as some of my weight came to rest on it. I tried to tell them that it hurt terribly and that I would be injured if I had to sit there. They found my protests amusing.

My legs were tied to the rails below the one I was sitting on. But the fence was tall enough so that I could not touch the ground with my toes. The last part of the bondage was a short length of rope Mendosa looped around my neck then passed down my back to my wrists. The rope circled that already around my wrists then was pulled back up towards my neck. My hands had to come up on my back and my elbows stuck out. When he tied the knot, my hands were in the small of my back and I had to strain a bit to keep them up there. They laughed about something as they left me.

It hurt. That’s the first thing you have to understand. The wooden ridge dug into my flesh and there was no way I could ease any of my weight off it. And I quickly found out that the best thing I could do was sit straight up and not move. The top of my body could bend forward, backward a bit, and even to the side. But that motion only put sideways stressed upon my crotch and made the wood hurt more.

As time passed, the pain changed and grew. It became more of an ache than a sharp pain. It gnawed at me, an insistent ache that I could do nothing about. I tried to get my hands free, but that did nothing save pull on the rope attached to my neck. And that became worse as the hours passed because if I let my arms relax, the hands tried to lower and that tightened the rope around my neck. It was horrible.

When Juan came back that evening, I was crying softly and was a very pathetic girl. As he untied me from that torture, I tried to tell him that my sex had been ruined and would never work again, an idea that saddened me greatly. To have just discovered sex and then be denied it for the rest of your life is not a pleasant thought. But he laughed at my stammerings, telling me that other girls had ridden the rail and their sex still worked — he knew that for a fact.

From Valley Of The Captive Maidens by F.E. Campbell.

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Another African Captive

Guest of honor or not, this doesn’t look like just another Friday night dance party, and Our Heroine may have good reason to look as worried as she does:

chained to a pole

Via Kinky Delight.

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Hot Irons In Venezuela

Oh, dear, oh dear, these rough gentlemen are entirely unclear on how to proceed once they have a pretty girl chained up to the rafters of a secluded rural hut, aren’t they?

hot iron for martyr

Illustration is from a 1911 book called Inquisiteurs vénézuéliens: Le martyre d’une jeune fille (Venezuelan Inquisitors: The Martyrdom of a Girl).

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Soaking Her Head

Is this punishment, interrogation, or just good old-fashioned sadism? Hard to tell, but any which way, a steel drum of cold water for a tied woman on a cold winter day is no fun for her to have her head held under the surface of!

water torture japanese style

Artwork is in the style of those old Kitan Club Japanese fetish magazines.

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Table-Top Girl Cage

This bit of essential BDSM party furniture is from the delightfully wicked pen of French fetish artist Georges Topfer:

table top cage with nude woman

It originally illustrated the book Visites fantastiques au pays du fouet, discovered via ErosBlog.

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Win Some, Lose Some

When Master rummages through the toys, you win some and you lose some:

I lay back in the bed as Master rummaged through his night stand.

Leather handcuff strap.


Ball gag.

Extra yum.

Nipple clamps.

Oh shit.

From A Slave To Master.

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Upside Down For Punishment And Blowjobs

She got strung up for punishment, but while she was there and her mouth was at a convenient height…

I suspected what was to come next and it was confirmed when he tossed the rope over the beam. All that was left to do was to pull on the rope and I was slowly lifted into the air by my ankles. It’s a strange feeling to have your legs rising before your eyes, and to have them keep on going. The worst part is when only you head is still left on the ground. You want very badly to reach down and touch the ground with your hands but you can’t. He stopped pulling when my feet were almost touching the beam, then tied the rope off to a tree. It was a most strange experience for me. I was slowly twisting in mid-air, everything upside down to my vision. My ankles hurt some but not too bad at all. But the position did make me feel very helpless. I had never been hung upside down in my life and I can tell you, it really makes a girl feel helpless.

Suddenly he had a riding crop in his hand. My heart sank, which was hard while hanging upside down. It might have been inverted but I didn’t like the leer on his face. “You must learn to please a man in every way,” he began the lecture. “It is the duty of all women to please all men. It is their only purpose on earth.” Was this guy for real? “Those who forget this have to be reminded.” He swished the crop before my face, probably to scare me. It worked.

It’s bad enough being whipped on your bare bottom, but at least there it’s padded. The first stroke, even though expected, was still a shock. This man had a strong hand and that crop delivered quite a sting on bare girl flesh.

The strokes came slowly. After each he paused to watch me writhe at the end of my rope like a fish dangling at the end of a line. The impact of the blows plus my jerking away reaction made me twist and sway, and he waited each time until my body was hanging still before delivering the next stroke of pain. It was unpleasant, grossly unfair, and I hated the man. I don’t know how many strokes had impacted upon my flesh before he stopped. A lot. I was crying, sobbing actually, and my bottom felt on fire.

A burning bottom and the discomfort of hanging upside down were not to be the total of this punishment. Oh, no, Don Mendosa had more in mind. Dropping the riding crop to the ground, he stood before my face and unbuttoned his pants. It didn’t take much imagination to figure what was coming next. I mean, hanging there my face was just about the height of his rod. I wondered if he had arranged for me to be at the right distance from the ground for just that purpose, then decided that this had to be the case. I had to take his disgusting rod in my mouth. The riding crop was nearby and he hinted, not too subtly, that my breasts could easily be as marked up as my ass. Now, that scared me! It was awkward trying to slide my mouth up and down a penis while hanging upside down but I got the knack of it pretty quickly. I was pumping away on his rod and he was making grunting sounds like he was enjoying this something fierce. I wasn’t, but at least it was better than being whipped on the breasts…

From Valley of Captive Maidens by F.E. Campbell.

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