Bondage Blog

Got an email from the boys at Back Door Bondage, sending me enticing pictures of pretty bondage model Amber:

Thanks!

From Sarah at Submissive Reflections:

Ok, the ankle tying thing. I thought I had mentioned it before, but perhaps not. Every night when we get into bed, Mac ties one of my ankles, just one, to one leg of the bed. He uses a nice soft rope we found at the hardware store. It is a decent length of rope so I can climb out of bed and stand up with no problem. I can move around the bed pretty freely too, and it is a simple knot, one I can easily get out of myself if I need to, but I am not allowed to take it off or put it on. Mac does it. This means that I am only tied when He is home, and that I have to wake Him every time I have to get out of bed.

He does this because I sleep better with my ankle tied. I feel more secure and safe. I don’t exactly know why, but I wake more rested when I have my ankle tied. Mac likes that it helps me sleep and He allows and encourages it. It works for us.

From Wired Pussy.

Elsewhere on Bondage Blog:

• The Electric Interrogation
• Kissing The Violet Wand
• Poor Madison Young
• Bondage And Electricity
• In Bondage For A Zapping
• Breast Bondage And The Violet Wand

Funny comments from a BBS thread about dog cages for bondage:

Well, the huge one, i can curl up comfy in, and have a time out, with heavy blankets around it making it into a wee den. Have to say the the small dogs look very confused that I’m in the the crate and they are on the outside, they want to come in it too.

and:

My dogs looked on with utter confusion when I climbed into their crate — then sheer awe when I was able to let myself out using only the power of opposable thumbs!

To my dogs I am God.

“Hey, guys, I’ve got an idea! Let’s tie her up, stuff her panties in her mouth, and then … wait for it … poke her boobies!”

Well, I’m sure it seemed like a good idea at the time:

It’s from Rick Savage, and I’m an admirer of his bondage work. But this shot strikes me as amusingly silly.

More from Beasts of Gor:

“Greetings, Master,” said Thimble.

“Greetings,” I said to her.

She was dressed, save for her bondage strings, in much the same way as most of the women of the red hunters, bare-breasted, with high boots and panties. Thistle, however, behind her, was naked, in a northern yoke and on a leather leash. The northern yoke is either of wood or bone, and is drilled in three places. The one Thistle wore was of wood. It was not heavy. It passed behind her neck at which point one of the drilled holes occurred. The other two holes occurred at the terminations of the yoke. A leather strap is knotted about the girl’s wrist, passed through the drilled hole at one end of the yoke, usually that on her left, taken up through the hole behind the neck, looped twice about her neck, threaded back down through the center hole, taken up through the other hole at the end, usually the one at her right, and tied about her right wrist. She is thus fastened in the yoke. From each end of the yoke hung a large sack.

“We are going to pick moss and grass,” she said. Moss is used as wicks for the lamps. Grass, dried, is used for insulation between the inner soles of the boots and the bottom of the fur stockings in the winter.

“That is good,” I said. “Why is Thistle yoked?”

“It pleased me, Master,” said Thimble, first girl. There was little love lost between the girls.

“Was she insubordinate?” I asked.

“She said a sharp word to me,” said Thimble.

“Did you switch her, too?” I asked.

“Of course, Master,” said Thimble.

“Excellent,” I said. Discipline must be kept in the tent.

I looked at Thistle. She met my eyes, briefly, and then looked down. She was quite attractive. I had not as yet had either Thimble or Thistle.

“Is Imnak finished yet with the new slave girl?” I asked, referring to Arlene.

“I think so, Master,” said Thimble, smiling. “At least he has tied her to a pole behind the tent.”

“Why is that?” I asked.

“I do not think she is much good, Master,” said Thimble, one slave girl appraising another.

“Do not let me detain you from your labors,” I said.

Thistle, suddenly, knelt down before me, yoked, and put her lips to my boot. Her head was jerked up by the leash in the hand of Thimble. Her eyes were moist “Master!” she begged.

“Come, Slave!” snapped Thimble, and pulled her to her feet and dragged her away, behind her. Thistle looked over her shoulder, at me. I gave no sign of response. She stumbled away, on Thimble’s leash. I smiled to myself. Thistle, as I had expected, was the first of the girls to begin to understand and feel her slavery.

Funny thing about bondage — once a person is tied up, they can’t move so much. Which has its plus points and its minus points, which may vary depending on your point of view (inside or outside of the cuffs). Kaya writes about both the good and the bad (and illustrates with lots of pictures):

It started out well enough. Trussed and masked and completely exposed – a masochist’s wet dream!

[in this space “spare the rod and spoil the slavegirl” fails to happen; there are many welts. -ed]

He finally did fuck me, exactly as I was, legs and arms tied up and out of the way, gag firmly in place. He planted Himself in as deep and as hard as He could. I still have a tendency to smirk at porn clips where a girl is being fucked and she’s squealing like a pig because, come on, sex doesn’t hurt *that* bad! Except… sometimes it does, and last night it did. I couldn’t move or shift like I sometimes do so He’s poking a different spot and He just kept at it and at it… jesus christ it hurt so good. Having to stay spread wide open while He pummeled my innards was fucking hawt.