A Ball Gag For Chelsea Handler

If you’ve ever seen the cable show Chelsea Lately, you may agree with me that its hostess, Chelsea Handler, ought to try out the ball gag look as a regular thing:

Chelsea Handler in a ball gag

The image (and backstory, which is complicated) come via Spanking Blog. Sadly, the baseball bat is never explained.

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Suburban Spanking Party Bondage

After taking a rare “day off” from Bondage Blog yesterday, today I am scrambling to catch up with some posts of interest. And one thing I notice right away is this post at Spanking Blog linking to Zille Defeu and her kinky magazine article about spanking parties in suburban 1970s California. Nobody who has read this thing appears to believe a word of it, but that never stopped me from avidly reading the Penthouse Letters when I was (ahem) a young man, so who cares? And there is bondage in it:

Blindfolded, I was led into the room, and placed over what transpired to be a specially built spanking “horse”. After the height had been adjusted and I was in position, my wrists and ankles were securely fixed, and a leather girdle placed across my middle. I knew that my bottom was sticking out, because my jeans felt very tight. Twenty strokes were given. It was interesting to appreciate that some liked to give the strokes one on top of another, others side by side, whilst others preferred to give one high and one low. The final effect was that my bottom was stinging like mad.

After a minute or so, the assembled members were asked whether they considered me suitable material for membership, and there was a great cry of “Yes”. I was then asked whether I wished to proceed to the full initiation. I must admit that I hesitated for a second or so, because my bottom was stinging so, but then I agreed. Immediately, I felt the level of the horse being lowered, which eased the strain on my jeans, now seemingly bursting at the seams. I felt what seemed to be female hands reaching for the zip of my jeans and pulling it down, followed by the pulling down of my jeans to my ankles.

Although the room was comfortably warm, the baring of the bottom seemed to allow some of the heat to dissipate. The horse was then re-adjusted upwards until everyone concerned was satisfied that I was once again bent over as tightly as was possible…

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Feeding Time, Slave!

And sadly for you, you didn’t earn “eating with your hands” privileges this week. Maybe if you attend to your cocksucking lessons this week, next week will go better for you, and you won’t get so much tomato sauce up your nose:

slave girl eating spaghetti out of a dog dish with her mouth and face

From Shadow Slaves.

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Wrists Tied To Boobs

This is a really clever predicament tie that I found here. As her arms grow to tired to hold her hands up, she’ll be forced to put more and more weight on the breast ropes. Nothing too extreme, but it’s going to get more painful over time:

predicament bondage with her hands tied to her breasts

Bridle-Gagged Red-Head

This bridled beauty is brought to you by The Wasteland:

Red headed beauty drooling over a pony bridle and posture collar

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The Old Party Handcuffs Trick

Here’s a bondage story classic from two decades deep in the Alt.Sex.Stories archives. It seems our heroine was receptive to the old “handcuffed at a party” trick. Sure, she threw her drink in the guy’s face, but later she followed him upstairs so he could find the key and unlock her:

“I’ll get the key.”

She sat on the edge of the bed. While John shuffled through a drawer, she stroked the light brown wool blanket that covered the bed.

Curiously, she found that the contrast between the blanket, her lightly tanned wrists, and the nickle-plated handcuffs with the light from the track lighting reflecting off of it was aesthetically pleasing. What an odd thought.

“Found it.” He knelt down and picked up her hands to take off the cuffs. She held his hands and looked into his eyes. “I’m really sorry I threw my drink in your face.”

“I’ve suffered worse.”

Angie actually began to feel guilty for hating him. He had, after all, only been playing around and she built it up into this whole big deal in her mind. Looking at him, Angie realized he was quite handsome, and his hands felt so strong and firm, yet gentle as they held hers. She leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the lips.

He didn’t move, and momentarily Angie feared that she had made a horrible mistake. Actually she had, but not the one she was thinking of, as she found out later.

He pushed her back onto the bed and laid on top of her, kissing her with a passion that only fanned the flames growing in her loins. She wanted to hold him close, press her body harder against him, but her hands were still chained. Indeed, he had hooked the chain of the
handcuffs with his left thumb and was holding her arms above her head.

He leaned to one side and with his free hand, began unbuttoning her blouse. She was panting too hard to voice the slightest protest, she was too aroused.

With her arms pinioned above her, and her body helpless under his weight, she could feel his hardness against her mound. She felt exposed, and helpless, and as he began to caress her breasts, she could swear she was about to come. She struggled and squirmed, but only
ended up rubbing herself against him harder.

Then he began to use his mouth, twirling her nipple with his tongue. She couldn’t resist any longer. Hooking her legs around behind his, she ground herself against his cock. She wanted it inside her so badly that she was determined to push it through the two intervening layers of denim. She strained her arms against the cuffs, her chest was heaving when he bit down on her nipple. Her scream echoed throughout the attic room. It was one of combined ecstasy and pain, frustration and release. Angie came hard, and it left her weak and panting.

“Oh god… John… Please… fuck me.”

“I guess you don’t hate me anymore then?”

“Oh please, don’t punish me this way.”

“How shall I punish you then?”

Angie had no idea what John had in mind, but she would do anything now that she was worked up to this peak. “Anything, just do it.”

The story after that puts me in line of that bit of old doggerel:

She offered her honor,
he honored her offer —
and all through the night
it was on her and off her!

Only, with more chains and leather.

Elsewhere on Bondage Blog:

The Oral Trainer

What you cannot tell from this picture is that the dildo is made of hard sugar, and she hasn’t been fed in four days.

bondage fellatio training

If he’s not 100% happy with the oral technique she shows him, he pulls her off and lets her hang an inch away, before putting her back in the cell for another day…

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