Bondage Blog

It’s often fun to set the slave girls against each other. If they’re good slaves, they’ll enjoy it too:

From The Upper Floor.

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This would be more convincing if they weren’t letting her hold the loops of rope to prevent them from tightening:

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So this guilt-plagued writer for GQ is disgusted by his own pornography preferences, and feels guilty about watching it, and all that. Really, I’d forgotten that people could be so conflicted about their porn. But this guy is so worried about it, he decides to go and interview Max Hardcore, who is still in federal prison on an obscenity beef, and then write an article about how to hate yourself for watching porn. It’s an interesting read, even if it is basically an extended loop of authorial self-loathing. Here’s the writer’s description of the first time he saw a bondage movie (or maybe it was a gang-bang movie, he coyly hints but doesn’t say for sure):

God, my rabbis told me, could only grant me forgiveness for the sins I had committed against Him; sins I had committed against my fellow humans could only be forgiven by them personally. If they didn’t forgive me, my rabbis said, when I died and went to heaven, God would cause me to suffer in the exact way I had caused them to suffer.

At the time, though only 14 years of age, I had already tired of the porn magazines I found in my house and decided it was time for full-motion video. I went to Times Square, where a group of women stood outside a porn shop, protesting and carrying placards. On one placard was a picture of a naked woman tied to a bed. She had a ball gag in her mouth and clamps on her nipples. I ducked into the store, spent every dollar I’d stolen from my father’s wallet, hurried home, and hoped the videos wouldn’t work.

They worked.

Fuck.

I wondered what was wrong with me. I wondered how many gang bangs I would have to suffer in heaven. Was it like an eye for an eye—a gang bang for a gang bang—or was it some sort of eternal gang bang that never ended? Would I be anally violated? Would I be spanked? Did they have ropes and ball gags and Ron Jeremy in heaven?

I can’t resist! Here’s another excerpt from The Green Door. There are worse things than an unwelcome lesbian kiss, when you’re all tied up:

Tara took Betsy’s face gently in both hands and kissed her on her full pink lips. This time Betsy didn’t try to consider what her reaction should be. She pulled back and turned her head away.

“No please, don’t!”

Tara turned Betsy’s face to her. “Now Betsy, now you’ve really pissed me off. Kneel!”

Betsy lowered herself quickly to the floor and stared a a spot in the thick carpet just in front of Tara’s feet. Tara stood very still for a moment, then spoke to Robert.

“I’m going to need a pole, Robert.”

Robert rose and opened yet another of the many cabinets. Betsy ventured a look as Robert removed a three foot chrome plated pole. It had threads on one end. He walked near to the wall with the eyebolts and screwed it into a plate counter-sunk into the floor. Meanwhile Tara had made a trip to the supply side of the room herself. Stood behind Betsy now and went about her task. The first implement was as the others, leather. A four inch wide collar was buckled around Betsy’s neck. It was designed to keep the head erect, and the slightly wider parts on the left and right sides made turning her head nearly impossible. With great relief Betsy felt Tara remove the strap holding her arms in their now painful position.

“Go over to the pole.” Betsy began to rise in obedience but Tara’s hand on her head prevented her. “On your knees!”

Robert guided her to the desired position. Her back was placed firmly against the pole. A second pair of handcuffs were placed around her ankles. A padlock secured the pair on her wrists to the pair on her ankles. Tara stood before Betsy now with a second padlock. Gently now Tara reached behind Betsy’s head to secure a grip on the ‘D’ ring at the back of the collar. She smiled brightly in to Betsy’s face as she forced her head back and down to meet with the eye bolt welded to the top of the pole. The padlock clicked into place.

Tara stood back and inspected the girl. “I love that position. Take a look, dear.”

With some effort, Betsy inched her head around to see herself in the mirrored wall. She could see why Tara liked her this way: her arms were taut by virtue of being attached by the wrist to her ankle cuffs. She was forced to bow her back considerably to afford her neck being attached to the pole with no leeway. Her firm breasts jutted up toward the ceiling and her beautifully proportioned pelvis was now the forward most part of her body. She looked back at Tara now with a little trepidation. “She’s goin to beat me! My God, I can’t take that! This has to stop…”

Tara stands before her now, freezing her thoughts. She clinches her eyes shut waiting for the first blow. Nothing. She ventures a breath, two, three, four. Nothing. Silence. Now a scent. Now a bit stronger. Her eyes open to a wall of leather one inch from her nose. Tara’s skirt. Tara’s grin looks A lot like Robert’s from Betsy’s perspective. Now Betsy realizes what Tara plans! Without a word Tara unzips first the right zipper then the left. Another step places her over Betsy’s upturned face. “Now my dear, you’re going to make me cum.”

Betsy knew that struggling was useless, but she struggled anyway. The scent of leather was replaced now by the faintly musky odor of Tara’s womanhood. Betsy opened her eyes and was confronted with a perfectly trimmed pubic mount of jet black hair. Tara’s thighs, firm and strong closed on each side of Betsy’s head preventing even the
modicum of movement allowed by the collar…

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Bad Bad Girl wanted some rough play. And she got it:

He released my hair and pushed me back down, instructing me to lay forward, ass up and arms in front of me. I complied as I felt him pushing his cock against my ass. Lube is a luxury, and not one I would be afforded tonight. He entered me roughly, and after a few strokes, told me to kneel back up. I did so, carefully, as so not to disconnect us. At this point, he gathered all of my hair in his hand and told me to lean forward again.

I did so slowly, cautiously as to not yank my head in the process. I used all the strength my thighs could hold to lean forward until I was leaning forward in a 45 degree angle, being supported by my hair. I could feel more strands breaking but I complied. When he started fucking me again, each thrust pulled on my scalp. My thighs burned and occasionally I had to simply allow his grip on my hair to hold me up while he fucked my ass deep and hard. It was intense and violent. I stayed as quiet as I could, but could not deny how the angle of his cock penetrating me felt amazing. My whole body was shaking, and while I wanted to come, I could not. He instructed me to reach behind me and pull my ass open, so he could watch his cock disappear in my ass. It was humiliating and seemed physically impossible, but yet so owned and controlled. I could no longer balance my body on anything but my hair since my center of gravity was off, and as I leaned into the exquisite pain from my hair, I came so close to orgasm, but it escaped me. There was no way my body could get there, so I simply slipped away, back into my dark corner. From the outside, I suppose it looked as violent as it felt, but from the inside, I was in a deep headspace that made me feel somewhat like flying. He kept going, telling me what a delicious little slut I was, how he owns my whole body and if he wants to break it, he can. I replied with the only words I could get out, “Yes Master.”

The bondage quality isn’t the best, but it’s still a fun vintage bondage photo:

What’s @pandorablake thinking when she exercises?

I always indulge the galley slave fantasy when I’m using the rowing machine at the gym.

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