Wearing Concrete Overshoes
Another old download. Time for somebody to swim with the fishes?

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Another old download. Time for somebody to swim with the fishes?

Elsewhere on Bondage Blog:
I found this in a download directory so old it was stored at one time on a Zip disk — remember those?

How bad the problem is depends on what events you go to and where you hang out, but we’ve all encountered the phenomenon of the fellow (it’s usually, but not always, a fellow) who thinks being a jerk asshole is just “being dominant” and thus makes no effort to conceal just how big a jerk asshole he actually is. Erica Scot reminisces about one such:
There was a guy in the kitchen (not going to give any name or details) who was talking a mile a minute, blustering away about how he manages his slaves. He beats this one, fucks that one, beats AND fucks this other one. None of his slaves is allowed to close the door when she uses the bathroom (“It’s MY house, and I have complete access to EVERY room, ALL the time”). He went on and on about what he won’t accept, and said, “You can tell me no, but only once. You say it a second time, and you’re out the door.” Charming.
The funny think about people like this is, they always seem to not understand how small the world is. Karma’s a bitch, people; just read Erica’s post for the punchline, if you doubt me.
Wow, if this photo doesn’t take me back in time:
To their credit, ALS-Scan never claimed to do BDSM stuff — they just had a huge variety of costumes for their models (and still do — golfing, anyone?). But this chain harness outfit (with extra cheese!) from fifteen years ago brought it all back. Do you remember the days when just about every so-called BDSM photo featured a silly outfit like that? I do, but I sure don’t miss them!
We do this after dark so it won’t scandalize the neighbors, right?
Photo looks like an Irving Klaw classic to me, but I don’t know. Found it on UseNet.
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From Post Modern Sleaze, via an old ErosBlog post:
And there’s something else, pushed close against my clit. I recognise the hitachi and barely have time to utter a pre-emptive yelp before it roars into life and my body explodes with sensation.
It’s too much. I know it’s too much after two or three miliseconds. It’s too much but it isn’t stopping and I can’t move. I can moan though, which I do, as if the pressure against my cunt and inside me is trying to come out of my mouth. It doesn’t help. I have never felt force like it and it is force, brute force, commanding deep responses. It’s not exactly pain, it’s not exactly pleasure, it pitches between the two, in waves equally unyielding and incessant. I cannot relax into it and I cannot get away from it. Sometimes I’m sucked down by it, other times I can edge myself away a little but then the pitch changes and it’s too strong again.
I tense, almost as if I’m about to orgasm, but the pressure is too much and I can’t. Something has to give. So I started to cry with the helpless frustration of it all. All this time when I thought I was tied up to be the object and instead I am a whimpering scrap of flesh plastered to a bench in thrall to the real machines.
The last bondage links of 2011!
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