Bondage Blog

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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It’s been no secret that Kink.com stopped filming at the Armory in San Francisco quite some time ago, but no coherent account of the reasons ever surfaced. One way and another, we can surely blame financial pressure; the porn business isn’t what it used to be, and San Francisco real estate has values that it didn’t when the Armory was purchased. But it turns out that Peter Acworth himself never provided a coherent explanation even to his own people, or so it seems from the conclusion of this nostalgic account of the last porn shoot filmed there:

The final reasons for the end of production here, which many people would tell me only off the record, were along the lines of, “Peter is tired of fighting,” “Peter is trying to get his kid into pre-school,” “Peter is going through a divorce,” and “Peter is burned out on fetish porn.”

According to employees, some days Acworth says he wants to preserve Armory rooms for sex parties, and the next he’ll demand everything with the signature red “K” be stripped down. One day he’ll say he wants to mount a traveling art exhibit of props and devices, the next that everything should just be put on the street.

One thing is clear: the screams of catharsis, the ingenuity of predicament bondage, the collaboration of devious queer minds will no longer fill the rooms and hallways of the Armory. Beyond that, the future of Kink.com is still unwritten.

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This pulp-art illustration of a woman being cinched tightly into a roll of hawser is from the April 1936 Terror Tales; it’s an internal illustration signed “Sewell”, presumably referring to pulp artist Amos Sewell. It’s for a story titled Embrace Of The Python.

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An innocent enjoys the feeling of having her hands and elbows tied for the first time:

He unlocked the handcuffs from my wrists. For a moment I was able to massage my wrists in front of me, about the only time they had been in front of me for days. The sudden thought of hitting him over the head with something and running leapt into my mind. But there was still the handcuffs on my ankles, and I wouldn’t be able to get very far with those on. When he took my hands and pulled them behind my back, I didn’t protest.

But I was surprised when he placed my hands palm to palm rather than cross them as they had been all that time when tied with rawhide. But I was too busy thinking about the new rope, which although soft but still very strong, to wonder about why the chance in position of my hands. He wrapped the rope around my wrists, not too tightly, then passed the rope between my arms and around the other ropes, cinching them down. Everything tightened down with those cinch windings, so that, when he tied the final knots, my wrists were pretty tightly bound together. But it was much more comfortable that rawhide — thank heaven for small favors.

Just as I was wondering how it would be to sleep like this, I felt a loop of rope going around my elbows and tightening. “No!” I started to protest, but suddenly his arm pulled my elbows together and then the rope tightened around them. Quickly he was wrapping more rope around my arms just above the elbows and I was becoming quite helpless. It was a strange feeling. I had never touched my elbows behind my back, and certainly never been tied with them like that. It was uncomfortable, yes, but not terribly so. I could see where it would be okay for a while but had a feeling that it would grow more and more uncomfortable as time passed. It was quite a strain on my arms and shoulders.

It was then that I realized what else being tied this way did to me. It made my breasts stick out! Forcing the arms back behind me sort of pushed my chest out and I could look down to see my breasts straining against the fabric of the blouse. I also noted that my nipples were rather enlarged and had to wonder about that. I knew from some times when I had experimented with touching myself that the nipples do get larger. But I wasn’t touching myself then and didn’t know why they should be doing that. But there they were, little bumps showing through the thin material.

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

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It looks like she’s in for a very long night, these guys are big and they look demanding!

Artist not known, although I did find a tweet with a broken source-link and text indicating the image may have originally illustrated an edition of the French-language erotic classic Le Parnasse Satirique.

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Sometimes you want a captive to hold herself damned still. These rings will go a long way toward encouraging that stillness:

Artwork is from the cover of Sexovid #6.

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I am fairly sure that best anal health is not preserved by inserting an enema nozzle with a mallet, but these slatternly prison matrons do not seem to care very much:

The artwork is a panel from La Perfection Chrétienne by Georges Pichard.

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