Bondage Blog

A nice bit of nun bondage artwork, from Spanking Blog:

One result of the fact that Hogtied.com has been pumping out bondage photography for a whole lotta years now is that they constantly change things up in order to keep their stuff fresh. This is great on a day-by-day basis, but sometimes I find myself going “dudes, where are the hogties?”

And then they remember their roots, and push out a nice simple image like this one:

Nice use of iron shackles, too.

Elsewhere on Bondage Blog:

• More Toilet Bondage
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• Toilet Bondage

Let’s say you’re a girl. A pretty girl. And you’ve been cursed by the elves, who took the additional step of binding your hands behind your back with some sort of permanent magical shackles.

You’re likely to have adventures. And if you’re a creation of the fertile mind of Grigbertz, your adventures might be portrayed in a series of cute and pretty bondage drawings.

For instance, you might be captured by a witchfinder. You might be turned over to the civil authorities. And they might put you to the pillory, in the public square, with inadequate clothing.

And that, poor girl, is where you might learn the difference, in terms of relative peril, between dogs and werewolves. A dog, friendly soul that he is, might stop by to sniff your smells, probe a bit with his cold nose, and give you a friendly lick:

But nighttime will come. And, as you shiver under the stars, so too might you encounter a werewolf, whose attentions will be altogether more aggressive:

Howl with me, boys! “Awwooooooooo…”

Elsewhere on Bondage Blog:

• Pillory Sex
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Remember my kegadoru post? If so, you may enjoy this bandaged bondage babe from Shadow Slaves:

Here’s another erotic bondage excerpt from The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty. In this scene she’s just been well spanked, and then comforted by the inn-keeper’s daughter:

“Now, you see there the posts of the foot of the bed,” the Prince said to the girl. Beauty of course knew that the bed had high posts which held a coffered ceiling over it.

“Tie your mistress to those posts with her hands and legs quite wide apart so that as I lie down I can look up at her,” said the Prince. “Tie her with these satin bands so her skin won’t be injured, but tie her very firmly for she must sleep in this position and her weight must not pull her loose.”

Beauty was stunned.

She was in a delirium as she was lifted to stand at the foot of the bed. She obeyed pliantly as the girl told her to spread her legs. She felt the satin go tight around her right ankle and then it firmly bound her left ankle, and then the girl, standing before her on the bed, bound the Princess’s hands high on either side of her.

She was spread-eagled, looking down at the bed, and with terror, she realized that the Prince must see how she suffered; he must see the shame of the dampness between her legs, those fluids she could neither check or conceal, and, turning her face into her arm, she whimpered softly.

But the worst of it was that he did not mean to take her. He had tied her here out of reach of himself so that as he slept she must look down on him.

Now the girl was dismissed, secretly depositing a little kiss on Beauty’s thigh before she left. And Beauty, crying softly, realized she was alone with the Prince. She did not dare to look at him.

“My beautiful obedient one,” he sighed.

And to her horror she felt, as he drew near, the hard handle of that dreadful wooden paddle nudging her moist and secret place, so cruelly exposed by her open legs.

She struggled to pretend this was not happening. But she could feel that revealing fluid, and she knew the Prince knew of her tormenting pleasure.

“I have taught you much, and I am so very pleased with you,” he said, “and so now you know a new suffering, a new sacrifice for you Lord and master. I could soothe the burning craving between your legs but I shall let you suffer it and know the meaning of it, and that only your Prince can give you that relief that you long for.”

She couldn’t control her moan, even though she muffled it against her arm. She feared that any moment she might move her hips in helpless, humiliating entreaty.

He had snuffed the candles.

The room was dark.

Beneath her feet she felt the mattress give with his weight.

She leaned her head against her arm and felt secure in the satin bonds as she let herself hang there. But this torment, this torment… and there was nothing she could do to alleviate it.

It’s like this, see:

Gotta be.

Elsewhere on Bondage Blog:

• Jail Cell Lesbianism
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Pretty wild girl tied to a stake, cannibal soup pots heating over a lively flame, the great white hunter conducting some sort of transaction. Is he buying her for his harem? Or rescuing her from a fate worse than being simmered?

From the cover of Exciting Comics #59.

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• Time For A Bondage Safari
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