Bondage Badonk-A-Donk
Now this, ladies and gentlemen, is a magnificent specimen of bondage booty. Yarr!

Now this, ladies and gentlemen, is a magnificent specimen of bondage booty. Yarr!

Some people say bondage is like a religious experience. In this rope bondage photo from Shadow Slaves, the cute redhead seems to have her hands in an appropriate posture for prayer:
Alas, not everyone has the same standards when it comes to proper religiousity:

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If it weren’t for the fact that both of these folks still have their undies on, I’d think the artist intended to suggest a bit of anal sex in bondage:
From Sado Bondage.
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In which Prince Alexi is turned to the task of pleasuring some well-tied princesses:
“I would now be lashed swiftly into the Hall of Punishments. Of course there were a handful of Princesses chained from the ceiling, their legs tied up in front of them. Now she brought me up to the first of these.
“She told me to rise and to spread my legs very wide as I stood before her. I saw the captive Princess’s pained face, her blushing cheeks, and then her naked and moist sex peering shyly from its wreath of golden pubic hair, much ready for pleasure or more pain, after days of teasing. But it hung low, at the level of my chest, I suppose, and that was like my tormentor liked it.
“For she ordered me to bend over towards it, and to thrust my hips out behind me. ‘Give me your buttocks,’ she said. She stood behind me. The other girls pulled my legs wider than I myself could spread them. Again I was told to arch my back and to put my arms around the bound and doubled Princess slave hanging in front of me.
“‘Now you will pleasure her with your tongue,’ said my captor, ‘and see you do it well as she has suffered long, and for not even half your clumsiness.’
“I looked at the bound Princess. She was mortified, though desperately hungry for pleasure. And I pressed my face into her sweet, hungry little sex, rather eager to pleasure her. But as my tongue delved into her swollen cleft, as I licked her little clitoris, and her swollen lips, I was walloped by the belt continuously. My flaxen-haired one chose one welt after another for her work, and I was in great pain as the bound Princess finally shuddered with pleasure in spite of herself.
“Of course, there were others who had been punished enough and now must be rewarded. I did my work as best I could, finding a refuge in it.
“And then with a panic I saw there were no more to be rewarded. I was again at the hands of my captor with nothing so sweet as a bound Princess in my arms.
“And again, my chest and chin pressed to the floor, I struggled along on my knees under the wallops of her strap back to the Special Punishment Hall.
From The Claiming Of Sleeping Beauty, by Anne Rice.
I love the play of light and dark and water in these photos from the April 04 issue of Hustler’s Taboo magazine. This unfortunate slave has escaped into the dark and rainy night, but when she makes it to a road, the traffic just blows on by, soaking her to the skin and increasing her terror and misery:

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There may not be any bondage in this vintage picture, but you can’t tell me that a woman kneeling like this doesn’t set off your BDSM radar:

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As many bondage blowjob pictures as I post on Bondage Blog, you already know I think these are “two great tastes that taste great together”. So as you’d imagine, I was attentive when I found a blog post entitled Blow-job Slave Girl, written by the slavegirl in question:
I was packing our bags to leave…when he called up to me, “Girl – come down here!”
I always have this immediate pang of “Eeeep! What have I done wrong?!” when he calls me “girl” like that, but I didn’t think I’d done anything wrong, so I smoothed down my nerves, and called out, “Coming, Sir!” and went down the stairs (that I’d been beaten upon earlier that day) and saw him sitting down, wearing only shorts, on the sofa. It was about 5 PM, so the light was starting to slant goldenly into the room, pouring over him as he reclined on the white micro-suede sofa.
I immediately knew what he wanted, and excitement and happiness bubbled up in me. As soon as I got down to him, I kneeled between his legs and pressed my face against the bulge, breathing in not only the smell of him, but also the smell of salt water from walking in the ocean earlier. The combination of musk and salt tingled in my nose. The wood floor beneath my legs was warm and remarkably comfortable, making me feel like it was exactly where I’d always belonged.
I nuzzled my face against him, like a cat, and then reached up to help him pull off the shorts. Then he was naked in front of me, and I savored the sight before leaning in to start kissing and licking his balls.
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If Google is to be trusted, Georgette Walters was a pinup girl from the late 1940s and early 1950s. Here, she’s a harem girl, well chained:

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It looks like last week it was breath control play-day for Kink.com’s ever-willing Clare Dames, at Device Bondage:
The evil “device” of the day was a rather scary latex strangle-hood:
I guess she’s breathing (trying to breath?) through that tiny black hole the size of a cigarette or a pencil, but that’s gotta be a tiring and unsatisfying operation that occupies her full attention.
Here’s another unsatisfying exhalation:
That must have been one long and tiring day in the bondage porn mines. But oh, the treasure we get to enjoy as a result!
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Abel from The Spanking Writers was awakened during a nighttime power failure. The unrelieved darkness around him inspired a dungeon musing:
As I lay on the bed, unable to get back to sleep, I whiled away some of the time imagining a kinky variant of this pitch black world. The prison cells lined a narrow corridor, deep in some dank stone dungeon. No natural light here, just the flicker of the torches flaming on the walls. And before the guards departed for the evening, even those would be extinguished, leaving the women – the king’s captured enemies? - engulfed by the absolute darkness until morning.
Except, some nights, their captors would return in the middle of the night. The prisoners would wake at the sound of the dungeon door being unbolted, at the stomp of approaching boots. Each girl would be praying: don’t let it be my turn.
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Who doesn’t like to see a pretty girl tied up and tickled with a feather?
From Tickle Horror.
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Incorrigible safety Nazis may want to skip this link, because it features Kaya’s breasts with rubber bands tightly around the base and more bands tightly around the nipples. The visually striking result? Engorged purple breasts. Anybody got a riding crop?
(In this post I am preemptively slamming safety Nazis because I know some people are squicked by bondage that restricts circulation in any way. Yes, that color means that oxygen is not flowing to the tissues. Yes, in the long run, that’s bad. What does that really mean, in a world where people routinely slice up their own genitalia and rearrange it to suit their personal preferences? It means: the safety issues are the business of the nipple-owner.)
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