Bondage Blog

This is only the warmup; this dungeon wouldn’t exist if all it took to get them talking was a few stripes across the bare back!

Elsewhere on Bondage Blog:

• Dungeon Pillory Sex
• Prisoner Whipping
• The Dungeon Amenity
• Sukia's Dungeon
• Dungeon Whipping Sport
• Dungeon Interrogation
• Inquisition Bondage

I’ve never felt the urge to host a BDSM party, but this looks like a very practical and sensible set of first steps for the party planning:

How To Throw The Perfect BDSM Party

For instance, about the space:

Lets take a look at what makes a good play space. If you can, arrange for four distinct areas. When guests first arrive they will want somewhere to change out of street clothes, and someplace to put them so that they can find them at the end of the night. One solution is to provide brown paper shopping bags with a number marked on them for clothes and shoes, etc. guests can either write the number down, or some sort of ticket corresponding to the bag can be handed out.

Welcome the quests into a social area with food, drink and a place to sit and hang out without disturbing people who are already playing. This makes for a good way to get into the mood of the party, take a break between scenes and talk to others.

…

If at all possible create two dungeon spaces. If there is a fairly accessible, open play area where people can easily watch what is going on, and where there is an unwritten understanding that this a good place for the lighter stuff, where a sense of fun and humor is acceptable, and where a newcomer to the scene will be less likely to be scared off, then there could also be a more private, intimate space where the serious players can do their stuff. If people do want to watch what is going on in the heavier space, then they should be prepared to be unobtrusive, so as not to disturb the experiences that the players are working to achieve.

And so forth.

Elsewhere on Bondage Blog:

• Coming Down From The Upper Floor
• Bondage Dinner, Japan Style
• Hold My Silverware
• Kinky Cats, 1966
• The Bondage Spanking Party
• The Gunny Sack Invitation
• Bondage And Wine Party

The arms would start to give out before long in this position; who can hold a handstand forever? But the small of her back won’t thank her at all, once she starts to lose the support of her arms:

The lovely tattooed lady in this bit of predicament bondage is Krysta Kaos. She looks like a tough girl, but nobody’s that tough!

Picture is from Device Bondage.

Elsewhere on Bondage Blog:

• Red Hair And Freckles And Black Leather
• Breast Bondage For Sara Jay
• Samantha Sin's Nose Ring
• Trussed And Cropped
• The Girl With The Tired Arms
• Arm Pit Caning?
• Stress Positions
• Ominous Bondage Photo

Art is by François Miville-Deschênes.

The new pedometers, they’re all high-tech and they log every step you take and remote-synch it to a website if you want. There’s an app for that, you know. But I hadn’t considered all the implications. What if you have a dominant person in your life who takes an interest in your physical fitness? Kaya tells it like it can be:

He bought me a pedometer. A fancy-shmancy one. With a quick touch of the button, can tell him how many steps I’ve taken, how many calories I’ve burned, how many flights of stairs I’ve walked, how many miles I’ve walked… and, once logged into the website the device automatically syncs to, he can see all sorts of other information about my day and what I’ve been doing, including a bar graph of the hours of the day and what my activity level was at each hour. “What were you doing between 10am and noon that this thing didn’t move, cunt?” Like, srsly?

I tried shaking it to run up some numbers but somehow it seems to know the difference between actually moving my body and only moving the device. Hmmph. (What? It was for science!)

A friend referred to it as a “Pocket Scott”. Pretty accurate name, if you ask me. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if it pulled out a miniature riding crop and smacked me one.

Among the many other dietary restrictions and exercise orders he’s given me (because fat), he set the minimum steps per day at 10,000.

At first I was like, pfft. 10,000 steps, I got this. I probably get that in before noon!

Turns out 10,000 is a LOT. Especially if you’re just a housecunt. Seems one doesn’t actually take that many steps cleaning the house. Who knew? (well, he did, obviously.)

The first day I was barely halfway there at dinner time. So he took me and the dogs for a walk. The next day I was a little closer but still a thousand or so away. He took us for another walk. Same routine the next day.

The day after that, the entire first part of the day was off. I was off, my body was off, I was struggling. I told him so, we talked about it, he told me to slow down and take it easy for a bit. My brain went “Sweet! Come on, body! To the couch we go!”

(Well, okay, not really. But I sure didn’t head for the treadmill.)

I knew we had plans later that day. He’d invited company over and I knew we’d be busy. I also know his expectations on housekeeping ramp up if someone is expected so I spent most of day cleaning.

Refer to: “Seems one doesn’t actually take that many steps cleaning the house.”

Long story short, we spent the evening entertaining and not walking. It was late when we got to bed, and I had a measly, shameful 4,000 steps on the counter. I showed him, he said nothing so I thought nothing and we went to bed.

The next morning he informs me I have to have 16,000 steps on the counter. At my puzzled (and slightly terrified) expression, he did the math very slowly for me. “10,000 plus the 6,000 you didn’t give me the day before equals— equals what, cunt? How many? Come on, you can do it.”

Smug, sanctimonious bastard, ain’t he?

Oh, I did the math alright. In my snottiest voice. I’d been busy doing what he wanted me to do the day before and now I was being punished for it? I then proceeded to tell him that if his house wasn’t clean and his dinner wasn’t on the table, to not get mad at me because I can’t do everything if he’s got me out walking stupid fucking laps!

“Oh, you’ll do it.” he said, very quietly and very matter of fact.

Elsewhere on Bondage Blog:

• The Labors Of A Slave
• Galley Slaves On Twitter
• Work Harder, Not Smarter!
• Enforced Calisthenics
• Strict Personal Trainer
• She Does What She's Told

It looks like the poor dears are trying to use the raw power of their imploring gazes to hypnotize the guy who is coming at them with that sharp bale hook:

This is a detail from the cover of a World of Men pulp magazine.

Elsewhere on Bondage Blog:

• A Tricky Problem In Minesweeping
• Weird Tales Bondage Whipping
• Chains and Punji Sticks
• The Pagan Urge To Bind And Feed
• Bound As The Stake

There are a variety of masturbation toys out there that attempt to simulate the blowjob experience. Most are unsatisfactory in varying degrees; it turns out that a mouth is hard to simulate. But a real woman giving you a blowjob, no matter how submissive or cooperative or even enthusiastic she may be, is generally going to do it her way, which may not be yours. Plus, who hasn’t had the experience of having her stop because her jaw got tired, just at the wrong moment?

Thus it was with amusement that I blogged late last year about the perpetual blowjob machine: A simple electric motor and reciprocating shaft attached to the back of a ring-gagged woman’s head harness. Such a simple idea!

She’s on her knees giving you a blowjob, bobbing in and out on your cock. In and out, in and out, in and out, tongue working, just enough saliva. Only, she doesn’t ever stop. She doesn’t slow down, she doesn’t get tired, she just sucks and sucks and sucks and sucks and sucks…

The oversexed pervs at Sexually Broken have taken this fantasy a step further. A few of the boys have rigged up an old shed with one of these automatic blowjob machines and they’ve got the lovely Allie James strapped into it. When the urge catches them, they enter the shed, lift off the tarp that covers the whole hybrid machine-woman contraption, and just push the handy button to start the electric motor. Instant automatic machine-assisted blowjob that lasts as long as they like and never stops even if Allie’s jaw gets tired:

No muss, no fuss, and the best part is, all the internal parts are (mostly) self-cleaning!

Elsewhere on Bondage Blog:

• Allie James On Her Knees
• Paint Guns And Buried Blowjobs
• Ass Up! For Phoenix Marie
• The Perpetual Blowjob Machine
• Sexually Broken