Bondage Blog

Can a girl give herself an orgasm by fucking herself in the ass? It sounds like a challenge, but her master thinks she can do it:

Via Kinky Delight.

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Sent to a women’s prison by a vengeful and powerful politician, our heroines get in trouble for slacking off on the hard labor, and are punished with a little extra humiliation:

Continuing the motions of hoeing, Gail frankly watched Emma grasped Grace’s hair and pulled forward and down. “Bend well over, honey,” she invited.

The unfortunate girl had no choice but to obey. A moment later her head was between Emma’s ample thighs, her neck held as in a vice. Her bottom was reared, her legs were rudely kicked as wide apart as their chain would allow. Gail began to guess what was in store.

But she had underestimated the resources of the Prison Farm. From the bag, a gleefully grinning Thelma produced a huge tuft of what appeared to be ostrich feathers spouting from a sizeable rubber prong. She also produced vaseline.

Grace struggled and protested. But to no avail. She was held. The operation that would degrade and render her ludicrous before her fellow prisoners went competently forward. Admittedly, it was done with reasonable care. The ugly protrusion entered its warm sheath under skilful guidance and practiced hands. But to a girl who had never been spread it would be agony. Its frontal knob would ensure the sphincter muscle’s firm retaining grip upon the mockery of a bird’s plumed tail. But it would be bitterly painful to the girl within whose rectum it found refuge. The beastly work was concluded when Grace’s handcuffs were removed so that the sack could be discarded to leave her nude, and then locked back on her wrists with an extra tight grip. Scarlet faced, she stood in her plumed nakedness, uncertain what to do.

“Reach round and pull it out if you don’t like it, sugar,” Thelma suggested cheerfully.

For a moment Grace stood, undecided, off balance, not knowing. Then, following a natural instinct, she did the wrong thing. She reached back to tug the intruding alien thing from her body.

The laughter was not limited to the merriment of the wardresses. Most of the captive girls found it hard to keep a straight face. Even the agonized Gail could appreciate the comic absurdity of what she beheld. No matter how she tried, Grace could not reach the thing she sought. The handcuffs tight upon her wrists defeated her. She could touch a fingertip to a feather. But could grip nothing with sufficient force to achieve her purpose. With or without permission, she would have no choice but to wear her badge of shame.

Blushing vividly she picked up her hoe. Tears of chagrin bedewed her eyes…

Excerpted from Strange Captivity by F.E. Campbell.

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“Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who’s got the tightest tied tits of all?”

From Titty Blog, where they ID the model as Petra Morgan.

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Via the Fansadox tumblr, we have some Templeton art featuring two young ladies who are less than enthusiastic about their impending lessons in how to give a proper bondage blowjob:

From Junta Hell (a Dofantasy comic).

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From Erectus:

Her Mexican boyfriend took her to Tiajuana, promised to take her to the sleaziest clubs and even take her to a donkey show. But he “forgot” to mention that she would be in the donkey show…

Oh, that’s just not nice!

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Just a reluctant bound girl with a buttplug up her ass:

Ma Billings had done the awful thing to her with typical goodwill. There had been no warning. The command to “Bend over, honey,” had been her first inkling of something untoward. The careful and skilful insertion of the plug in her rectum had been so outrageous, yet so clinical; she had failed to protest until after the bizarre impalement had become a fait accompli. Even then she cherished the illusion of some medically normal reason for what had been done to her. That the woman who had done it failed to respond to question or complaint was no more than normal for the Bar-B. There had even been the possibility of vulgar humour. But all hopes of rationality had died when Ma Billings produced the harness.

The whipping had been too recent, her wounds from it still too sore, for Gail to have the courage to resist. She accepted Ma’s cheerful, “Don’t worry none, honey, you’ll live,” and stood passive while the straps were buckled about her loins. One ’round her waist, another from back to front between her legs. The latter, passing through a slot in the base of the thing within her, held the plug inexorably pressed home, divided her sex and made walking painful. Ma tightened buckles thoughtfully until Gail flinched within the cutting embrace of the leather bands. The thing was neat and cruel.

“But why . . .?” Gail was genuinely puzzled.

“Well, this ain’t supposed to be no summer vacation,” Ma reminded.

“But, is it a punishment? Or have I got something wrong . . .?”

Ma Billings guffawed. “I ain’t never seen a gal’ got less wrong than you, honey. Let’s say I don’t want you to feel lonely. With little Peter up your ass you’ll always have a friend.”

“There’s nothing little about what I’m feeling.”

“Come night you won’t know he’s in there, kid.” Ma found amusement in referring to the intrusion as a personality.

“It all hurts. Is it supposed to?”

“Sure is, honey. Now we take a little walk. A get acquainted stroll you might say.” Ma Billings chortled happily.

The little stroll had ended at the usual tree and with the familiar handcuffs. Now Gail stood, hurting, shamed and apprehensive. Now she would wait.

From Strange Captivity by F.E. Campbell.

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Art is by Alexia, from the cover of the February 1985 newsletter of the Society of Janus.