Bondage Blog

A Game Of Suck

The game is a bit like Blind Man’s Bluff, only she never finds out how many men were in the room or who she’s given blowjobs to:

blindfolded woman giving blowjobs to two men

Artist is Fernando.

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Sharing At Thanksgiving

There’s always a fine line between a proper feast and an orgy. In my imagination, that famous apocryphal first Thanksgiving dinner probably went more like this:

Art is Another Slice Of Pie by Markydaysaid.

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Stress Test For A Ball Gag

There’s no better test of a gag’s effectiveness than giving her a good breast whipping. From Spanking Blog:

It’s a panel in a Dofantasy comic called Enslaved Without A Cause. Artist is Slasher.

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It is my impression that the nascent craze for virtual reality (VR) porn — we’re talking especially about the newest stuff that’s designed for the spiffy and expensive eye-tracking VR headsets — has been slow to reach the bondage and BDSM porn markets. In part this is a conceptual problem. The best VR porn so far has been point-of-view (POV) stuff that puts you in the viewpoint of the (usually male) participant. When the porn performers are right up in the sex, that’s frequently a compelling viewpoint, and one that’s rather different from most mainstream porn (although POV stuff has long been an available niche). On the other hand, the point-of-view perspective of a bondage top or a sadistic dom inflicting a punishment, although pleasant enough, doesn’t differ (as much) from the usual camera angles used to film BDSM porn. The upshot seems to be — and here I’m speculating far beyond my knowledge — that in the BDSM porn realm, VR technology is a solution that hasn’t yet found its problem. It’s a technology that may still be in search of its impossible-to-live-without “killer app.”

I can hear you out there saying “That’s all fine, Rope Guy, but Santa Clause is bringing me an Oculus Rift for Christmas, and the very first thing I want to do with it is to boot up some kinky porn. What’s out there for me?”

Well, if that’s your situation, you lucky perv, I have a site to suggest. You can begin your search for kinky virtual reality porn at VRPorn.com, which is a site that pulls together pretty much all the VR porn they can find, in whatever format. In recent correspondence they told me that they emphatically aim to include “virtually all the BDSM VR porn on the internet” and will be updating the site whenever new stuff is released. Meanwhile, the selection of bondage and BDSM porn they already have is bigger than I’ve seen at any of the other VR porn sites, leading me to suspect they’ve done a good job of aggregating what’s out there:

As the above screenshot suggests, VRPorn.com doesn’t limit itself strictly to commercial VR porn movies. Although trailers and links to ready-to-buy movies are perhaps the heart of the site, they are a true aggregator, and they’ve assembled a wide variety of freely downloadable VR clips, games, and apps from a variety of sources, in the wildest profusion of hentai, anime, and western-CGI styles:

In roaming around the kinkier corners of the VRPorn.com site, I also came to realize that there’s at least one kinky fetish that’s already an excellent fit with the virtual reality format. Although we may all still be waiting for the innovative creative visual rethink that will make rope bondage or whipping porn extra-compelling in VR, in the realm of femdom I think you’ll have to agree that leather-clad facesitting dommes are already making excellent use of the form:

I have been a bad boy this year and I do not believe that Santa Clause will be putting a VR headset in my Christmas stocking. But if I’m wrong and if he does, I’ll be at VRPorn.com before the kittens have had time to get bored with the wrapping paper.

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Her Bad Day

Picture a lonely cowboy, riding carefully through Apache country, when he spies trouble:

Before him was the remains of someone’s Conestoga wagon and their belongings. Most of the wagon was gone, burned down to a pile of glowing ashes and the metal rims from the wheels. There were pots and pans and the metal parts of tools scattered around and some clothes, no more than scorched rags, now. The Apaches had taken all they wanted and burned the rest. There wouldn’t be anything useful left.

Disappointed that it hadn’t been a cabin with a pot of stew on the fire, Fallon nudged his horse on, circling the wreckage. With a sharp jerk he reined the horse to a stop and sat in shock at the sight before him.

On the ground, naked and staked at her wrists and ankles was a blonde woman. The first woman Fallon had seen in over three weeks. He blinked to make sure he wasn’t seeing things.

Fallon scanned the area around him, again, and then looked down at the woman. Her face was turned away from him, but even in the moonlight Fallon could see the damage the sun had done to the skin normally covered with clothes. Her breasts were large and soft looking but smudged with dirt, as were her stomach and hips. Her blonde pubic hair was plastered and pressed flat and the insides of her white thighs were dirty. Fallon could see her chest rise and fall with her breathing.

“Ma’am?”

She jerked her head around and popped her eyes open to stare at Fallon. “Oh! A white man! Thank the Lord! You are a white man! I thought the savages had returned. Praise be!”

Fallon noticed she was fairly young and maybe would even be more than just pretty, in a different situation. “Yes, Ma’am, I am a white man. What happened to you?”

The woman looked up at Fallon and began talking. She talked with one sentence rolling over the next, with one word flowing in to all the rest of the words. Barely taking a breath, she shot through her story with a rhythm that reminded Fallon of a Gatling gun.

…

“The eight savages that were left ignored me as they picked through every item in this wagon; eating all the food and drinking all the cider and water. When they were satisfied, they ripped my clothes off me and tied me down like this — and then, one after the other, they violated me. Some, more than once!

“I begged them to kill me. So I wouldn’t suffer their abuse. I never heard them utter one word of English the whole time. Finally, when they were all done with me, and could no longer mistreat me, they got on their ponies and rode away, whooping and hollering.

“They left me in the desert sun to die.

“And then, thank the Lord, you come along.”

Fallon eased the Henry back into the scabbard. He slid off the horse and looked down on the woman. Her skin glowed in the moonlight. The marks on her round breasts and open pubis where she was ravaged and raped were obvious. He moved closer to her.

He thought about what she had been through in one day. Losing a husband, four children, all her earthly belongings and her respectable womanhood. It was more than you could expect one person to take.

He dropped his chaps and pants and pulled his hard cock from out of his stained longjohns. He knelt between her spread legs and spit on his prick’s knobby head.

He had been wrong — for once, the Apaches had left something useful behind.

The woman looked up at him in surprise, with large round eyes, and he sadly informed her:

“Well, Ma’am, this sure ain’t been your day.”

From A Long Day, a 1991 story by J. Boswell.

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I Like Gags

It’s true. I like gags. I like all kinds of gags, but strict ones are the best. Mean ones, difficult ones, gags of metal and wood and unusual items. Physical, structural, textural challenges to her speech and comfort and poise. Gags that are a struggle to wear, gags that are a constant reminder of her captivity and enforced submission. Gags that challenge her comfortable patterns of breathing and swallowing and abiding. Gags she has to focus on while they are in her mouth. Gags. I like them all.

Here’s a closer look at a nice simple steel gag we saw last week: