Locked Pussy Tweet
This is definitely the locked pussy tweet o’ the day:
@MinxGrrl: Thought of getting my pussy lips pierced so I can lock em shut & give a key to a few people. Not gonna happen but so fucking hot.
This is definitely the locked pussy tweet o’ the day:
@MinxGrrl: Thought of getting my pussy lips pierced so I can lock em shut & give a key to a few people. Not gonna happen but so fucking hot.
Here’s a long blog post in which frequent fetish actress and model Ariel Anderssen / Amelia Jane Rutherford responds to a clueless and ignorant comment from an abuse-damaged person who makes all the usual mistakes in conflating BDSM play with abuse and accusing its practitioners of abuse, prostitution, and the debauching of innocent sloths. (No, wait, I made that last bit up.) When I get comments from hateful broken people of that sort, I typically don’t consider them worth responding to, but Ariel/Amelia did, and it’s worthy stuff that somebody needs to take the time to say. It’s sad that we still have to be explaining, in 2011, that BDSM between consenting adults is not abusive. But, apparently, we do.
Hey, hey, it’s Friday bondage links time!
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I say “of the year” because I don’t expect to see any better in what’s left of 2011:
The artist is Lon Ryden and the art is as seen at Erotic Mad Science.
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There’s nothing like a well-trained puppygirl to make her master proud and keep him happy:
From a Dofantasy comic called Sluts In Training Part 1: The Kennels.
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He went for tomatoes, but he ended up taking home a slavegirl. The free women of the city are not amused by this commerce:
Image credit: Public Disgrace.
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“I won’t have my men catching disease from the captive wenches. Make sure you sluice the filth off of them before you set them to service.”
Found on UseNet.
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I am, uh, reliably informed that these gags are not comfortable to wear:
From Top Grl.
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Er, perhaps I ought to start calling this “Weekend Bondage Links”. Whatevs:
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Here’s an alt.sex.stories gem that’s so old (1991) that its “from” line is a bang sequence instead of an email. You internet oldsters will remember these UUCP addresses:
From uwm.edu!spool.mu.edu!uunet!mcsun!hp4nl!htsa!maestro!beo
The story is The Green Door, and the credit is “as told to Bishop”:
A single chair afforded the only furnishing for the room. He left her standing near the door and seated himself facing her. “You will speak only when asked to speak. You will follow all orders without hesitation.” He pointed to a spot two feet in front of the chair. “Come
here and kneel.”She complied quickly, not wanting to experience the result of disobedience, at least not yet. He gazed down at her approvingly. From behind the chair he produced a black leather strap about two inches wide. He grinned as he placed it on her. The purpose of the strap revealed itself as he threaded it behind her neck and under her arms, buckling it firmly against her upper back. Her shoulders automatically moved several inches closer together. But he wasn’t through yet. A second strap attached to the first behind her neck. He watched her face as he used the second thinner strap to hoist her wrists upward via the short chain connecting the handcuffs. He stopped just short of pain, judging expertly by the expression on her face. He sat back in the chair now looking rather contented as he watched her attempt to adjust to her new arrangement.
“Your breasts look lovely that way.” She stared back at him, feeling her breath coming quicker. “I have a task for you my dear. A simple one, I don’t want to be unfair. Your task is to undo my pants for me.” She looked at his pants now for the first time. A comfortably worn pair of 501 jeans. “My god, how am I going to undo a pair of button fly jeans without my hands?” The question burst to her mind. His grin faded, as she spoke, “I can’t!” He leaned forward, very close to her, “You can, and you will. And if you speak again you’ll be punished.”
This is from some of that nasty old 1970s porn – specifically, a stroke book called Chained Cheerleader by Robert Vickers. I’m pretty sure this would nowadays be described as a hostile work environment:
She gasped for air, each breath coming hard. All she could hear was the man laughing and saying, “You’ve been bad. Gotta punish you. God, do I have to punish that sweet white ass of yours!”‘
She felt the man moving her around. Something hard clinked at her left wrist as he pulled her arm out straight. The same thing happened with her right arm. She tried to free herself, all the while gasping for air. She found herself chained firmly to two of the benches in the locker room. As she struggled, she discovered that Bradford had chained her legs, too. This put her face down, supported by the chains, between two benches. Her pussy was widely exposed in the vee of her legs. Now, no amount of struggle would cover up her snatch.
“Trying to disobey your superior, eh?” he said.
She screamed as a leather strap landed firmly on her ass. The pain rocketed all the way up her spine and shocked her into awareness. She could feel an ugly red welt slowly rising on her once smooth ass flesh.
The man didn’t seem content with a single stroke. Another followed, and another and another until she was lost in a terrible world of searing red pain.
He laughed as he whipped her with the broad leather strap. When he stopped, the cessation was almost as bad as the whipping itself. Then he dropped to his knees in the vee of her legs and placed his hand flat on her curvy ass.
“Hmmm, just about the right temperature, don’t ya think?”
“Don’t spank me any more,” she whimpered. “I’ll do anything you want. Just don’t hit me with that strap again.”
“Of course you’ll do whatever I want you to. You have no choice…now. No, I think I’ll whip you a few more times, to make certain you remember this lesson.”
He stood, and this time the whistling leather strap landed across her
turgid cunt lips…
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I don’t think this is a chain smuggling scheme, but maybe somebody has been looking at too many Gronc cartoons?
From The Upper Floor.
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From an old bondage magazine cover:

I am posting these pics in the purest spirit of self-indulgence. The model, Sensi Pearl, reminds me quite strongly of a girl I knew a long time ago, you see. I’m pretty sure (though you never know) that the girl in question wasn’t any kind of kinky, sadly.
Via Device Bondage — namely, this gallery.
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“Excellent! The coffee cart is here!”
Art is, I’m pretty sure, by Carlo.
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This “Friday comes on Saturday” business is starting to become a habit. But anyway, here’s the bondage links:
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One of them is thinking “The next time she suggests going on a double date with these guys, I’m going to smack her!”

I was looking at this for awhile, wondering why she doesn’t just flip her legs forward to get out of the exposed position, when I finally saw it: the bamboo rod her ankles are tied to is also tied into her hair!

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Poetic Desires (guest posting at Stuffies) writes about some boot service:
Setting up at a ledge built into our Sunroom, I splayed the necessary items from my kit and awaited my friend. He, eventually, sat in the chair in front of me, cigar already lit.
I began my work slowly, massaging the leather and his feet through the material. I already knew he had oil tan boots, so I focused on feeling any particular rough patches that may have needed special attention. I washed each boot twice, using my hands to massage in the saddle soap and again kneaded the flesh beneath. After cleaning both, I allowed my hand massaging to translate into caresses from my cheeks, and then kisses and licks. My face loved the feel of his leather against my skin.
Whenever he chose, DeepEnd grabbed my hair, pulled me up, and blew smoke into my strands. The feeling of being near him, mixed with the slight tickling of his warm breath, thrilled me.
The second pair I worked on, a needed reprise and acceleration of our first encounter, had the soles of his boots firmly in my flesh. I sat in front of him, naked, as I had been all night, his weight pressing into me as I worked. He joked with our friends, “Oh, my life is so hard, a beautiful woman naked at my feet working on my boots.”
When I massaged his boots this time, I remembered the sweet spot he’d mentioned in my previous work and focused my attention there. He could not hold in how much my hands pleased him. He smiled and smoked, enjoying the night of blissful kinky fun.
“Our master tolerates no acts of insubordination. She’s been in that gadget a long time…”
Art is by Eneg, from a sequence called High Heels In The Heavens as seen in Bizarre Comix #11.
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“Comrades, no measures are too extreme, in pursuit of 100% fulfillment of the five year labor plan!”
Via UseNet.
After the rebels took the city, they imposed martial law. That was bad enough. But then they claimed that all the women in the city had been “collaborating with the oppressors” and began handing out summary punishment:
Image credit: Pain Gate
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When your owner leaves you locked in the bedroom for the weekend with hands cuffed behind your back, your thirst-quenching options are limited. The dish of water on the floor makes it clear what you are supposed to do:
The beers on the nightstand? Not for you.
Found here.
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This interrogation scene is from one of those classic HOM magazines, I think — Captured South Of The Border or one like it:

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I’ve seen shower stall sex cuffs before, but never the nipple clamps:
I wonder if they are a home-made invention? These would be fun to use on the inside of a big picture window that overlooks a not-too-busy street…
Found on All My Kink.
So, sometimes your Friday bondage links come on a Saturday. So sue me?
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The thing about sex robots is, they’re like industrial robots … fixed installations mostly, unlikely to be self-propelled, slow at best. So how do they capture and ravish their unwilling human victims?
Duh … the answer is bondage!
From this photoshoot at Fucking Machines. Model is Charlie Laine.
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I’ll confess to sometimes being an innocent. In numerous places I’ve seen the round ball on the end of a butt hook referred to as a “pleasure ball”, and I always parsed that as a reference to the pleasure of the person with the ball up their ass.
It never once occurred to me until today that when it’s up a woman’s ass, the pleasure ball would also provide a unique sensation to the man penetrating her pussy. This picture makes it clear what I’m talking about.
Picture found here.
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I was a little surprised to see The Stockroom selling two varieties of “Penis Enlarger Systems”, because The Stockroom typically sells quality stuff that does what it says on the tin, and as all wise men know, mechanical penis enlarger devices don’t really work. Oh, sure — they make your dick longer while it’s stretched in the machine, but, sadly, your Mr. Happy will bounce back to normal dimensions as soon as you turn it loose. But here they are, the Maxman Penis Enlarger System and the very similar ProExtender Penis Enlarger System. WTF is up with that?
As soon as I clicked through, all became clear. As penis growers, these things surely will fail. But as torture racks for extended dick-yanking, they appear to be well-designed. And since The Stockroom routinely sells every sort of device for tormenting penises, these items fit right into the lineup.
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Letting her use one hand to try and stabilize herself is a specially cruel touch:
From Whipped Women.
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Enforced exercise is painful enough without a bit gag to make breathing hard just that much trickier:
From Special Exercises.
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