Bondage Blog

Typically when one is entrapped in the coils of a tentacle-raping fiend, there’s not a lot of room for negotiating. But this girl is making the attempt:

Via Dirty XXX Comics.

Elsewhere on Bondage Blog:

• Tentacle Bondage Sex Of The Year
• The Tentacle Interrogation
• Bondage and Tentacles!
• Plant Bondage Sex

This tender bondage scene is by Mmaexx (via Kinky Delight).

Nothing like a bit of suburban bondage fun to liven up your marriage:

Suburban basements lack character. Their atmosphere is domestic. From where she stood she could observe the washer and dryer against one wall and the shelves holding the jars of pickles and preserves at the other. If she strained her neck enough there would be Bryce’s work bench and his treasured tools. He had mentioned them: “I can make some of the stuff we’ll need.”

But the basement was cool in the heat of summer. In addition, it possessed a facility.

The post.

Drusilla was tied to the post with neat competence.

Bryce had taken a lot of time in the binding of his wife. She had helped by standing limply passive, her naked back against the wood. They had discussed her nakedness with the same polite detachment they had employed after the initial heated resentments had been set aside and they had begun their postulation of the impossible. Bryce had suggested it diffidently. With a willingness she found suspect within herself, Drusilla had agreed.

Nudity had added a quality of deliciousness to the mixtures of Drusilla’s captivity. It had provoked awareness. It had also enabled Bryce’s rope to sink intimately in her flesh and hold her doubly secure.

After the first panics had passed she had ceased to struggle for release. The rope and her skin had found an affinity against which she could not prevail. In the first few hours of fruitless rebellion against her bonds she had repeated again and again a shocked admission: “No way… ! No way… !”

She found it necessary to constantly test her impotence. The flexings and twistings caused the rope to bite in reassurance that she was indeed tied to a post in the basement of her own home and that she was truly naked and frighteningly helpless. Her situation was real, unfeigned, not contrived. She supposed the flickerings of fear arose from imaginings of discovery, of fire, of burglars! Ruefully she recognized these alarms as implicit in the validity of her plight. They, too, were a touch of spice.

Bryce had crossed her wrists behind the post and tied them there. Drusilla could not see how it was done, only feel. Several ropes made a band round her middle. They had been painstakingly cinched to weld her bottom and her back immovably to the stanchion’s vertical authority. Her ankles had been similarly treated, but one to teach side so as to separate her legs enough that her cleft was murkily visible below its black pubic thatch.

That was the totality of her bindings. Above her strictured waist there was nothing. But her shoulders were well planted against the pillar by the compulsion of her bound arms straining against the bondage of their wrists.

From Drusilla by F.E. Campbell.

Elsewhere on Bondage Blog:

• Steel Bondage Rack
• Handcuffed In A Slaver Van
• Chaining Jewel
• Whipping Stand, by Bishop
• Tied Toes And Stinky Dogfood
• Bondage Buttplug

He told her: “This is a hunting trip. I’m going hunting, and you’re staying, tied to this-here tree. The last thing I need is you hollerin’ and scaring the deer. So here’s the deal. When I come back in a few hours, you’d best have those panties still in yer mouth. If you don’t, the first thing I’m going to do is whip the shit out of your titties with my leather belt here. The second thing is, I’m going to burn them panties. They’re all you’ve got to wear out here for the next week, so you don’t want that…”

Elsewhere on Bondage Blog:

• Paint Guns And Buried Blowjobs
• The Bait Girl
• A Bit Of Tight Rope
• Tape And Panties
• Pain Toy, No Panties

It only takes one stout pole to hold them handy on the fuckbed:

From Sexually Broken.

Elsewhere on Bondage Blog:

• Automatic Blowjob Machine
• Shush!
• Paint Guns And Buried Blowjobs
• Ass Up! For Phoenix Marie
• Sexually Broken
• Tied To The Blowjob Bar

There’s a sub memoir at Kinky.com that’s all about a woman’s kinky experiences in Beijing. I’m always fascinated by cultural differences in kink:

Wei was the first person I talked to in the Chinese BDSM circles. He seemed like a nice, decent guy. So when he asked to meet me in person, I decided it wouldn’t be such a bad idea. In a pretty old-fashioned way, we chose to meet at a park in downtown Beijing. He looked not much different from his pictures – average height, round face. When he smiled, his eyes squeezed, which made him look like an emoji.

We took a stroll in the park, while he told me about his previous relationships and how, as a businessman, he had to drink a lot of alcohol at dinner meetings with his potential clients. He wasn’t particularly handsome, but I guess I liked him. His slightly crude manners and ostensible shrewdness gained from years of switching between sales jobs seemed very attractive to someone like me, whose adult experience was largely limited to university campuses. Before I knew it, he was kissing me as strange men and women brushed against our shoulders on the subway train home.

A few days later I found myself down on my knees, hands tied, with a ball gag in my mouth, looking forward to a three-day “confined training.” That odd term, as Wei used it, meant that although he asked me about my limits beforehand, I was not informed of the specific content of our play sessions. “It’s more exciting that way,” according to him.

I wasn’t thinking.

Looking back, I did almost everything that can put a newbie sub in serious trouble. We didn’t have a safe word (the magical word that one can say to stop the other person from doing whatever they are doing). Being gagged, I couldn’t have said it even if we had. And even though the three-day session held a vague promise to me as if I could push myself to the extreme and then emerge as a brand new person, I should’ve looked more into it and realized that there was no such a thing as “confined training.”

As attitudes toward sex remain conservative in China, there is a general lack of reliable information and education with regards to sex. Wei might well have picked up the idea from some obscure sources or conjured it up himself by watching porn. I don’t blame him. But I might still have emerged out of this experience totally hurt and broken. Like many other Chinese men, Wei’s idea of BDSM flirted disturbingly with misogyny. While he knew on a conscious level that BDSM should be based on safety and consent, he really wanted to punish the female form to his own satisfaction. As he told me later, he initially planned on leaving me tied up in a hotel room for hours while he’d go out with his friends, regardless of whether I’d want it or not (I would have not).

Luckily and serendipitously, we sort of, I guess you could say, fell in love. This was beyond the expectation of either of us. He could’ve been utterly cruel and heartless; I would have stopped all contact with him after those three days. But we bonded as we played, laughed, had sex, and lay in bed in the middle of the night, chatting.

On the night before we were supposed to part ways, I was kneeling on the couch, facing the wall, arms up as instructed. I was sobbing. His previous spankings were so painful I had to gather all my strength to brace myself for the next one. But I heard him step into the bathroom. Moments later he came behind me, and suddenly wrapped me tightly in his arms. The room fell silent.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he said, helplessly.

I turned around and saw not the dominant who had me at his mercy, but a defeated man. I hugged him and patted his head, as if telling him “it’s ok. I don’t blame you.”

He looked up. His eyes were red. The tears on his face were not yet dried.

“I think I should quit. They all say that if you have feelings for your sub, you can’t be a good dom. You become too softhearted.”

“Screw them. We can do whatever we feel right.” That was my answer.

Elsewhere on Bondage Blog:

• The Half-Buried Prisoner
• The Bondage Sex Doll Traffic Warden
• Bondage In The Real World, Ugh
• Victim Of An Audit
• Soy Sauce In Bondage

From ErosBlog, a prescription for good living:

A string of pearls, a glass of red wine, a little belled-and-collared submissive with a hungry mouth and deft hands who makes you spill your red wine… Really, it’s not a bad way to spend your Friday night!

There’s art, too.