Bondage Blog

Ever wonder what a bondage blowjob with a spider gag would look like?

Well, you can see in this shoot from Sex And Submission:

Of course, to see the whole thing, you have to be a member.

Elsewhere on Bondage Blog:

• Open Mouth, Insert...
• It's Bondage Blowjob Party Time!
• "Towel Boy! Oh, Towel Boy..."
• Nika Noire In Chains
• Spider Gagged In Chains

Soap in the mouth is a fairly common kinky punishment, but soap on a gag? A new idea for me, and one that would have to be closely monitored for safety. But it still sounds hot in this account by _spankable_:

The second half of my punishment got deferred until today (variety of reasons), but he gave me that look this morning (you know the one I mean) and told me to get the soap from the bathroom. Going back upstairs I scanned the label with the kind of fervour found only in the damned and doomed. Nothing on it about not ingesting. Damn.

On his orders, I gently eased the butt plug in, then pulled on a pair of rubber pants with a dildo built in, then fastened my harness over the top to help hold everything in firmly. I held still while he padlocked my wrists, blindfolded me and pulled a lycra hood over.

Thinking about it, I’m surprised by how secure I felt – the hood encased my head and held the blindfold firmly (impossible to rub it out of place), and yet wearing them made me feel more secure rather than less.

I lay on my back and held still while he padlocked my ankles together. Then he lifted his head and knelt behind me so that my head was supported on his thighs, and told me to open wide for the gag. I’d heard the sound of the soap being pumped out, and then I could smell it under my nose. There was a lot of wimpering and head shaking but he pointed out that the sooner it went in the sooner it could come out again, and eventually I (incredibly reluctantly) opened up.

It was horrible, but fortunately by making him wait a while all the soap had run down to the base of the gag so actually very little of it was against my tongue. I held very still, knowing that movements would be Bad. He buckled it in place, rolled me onto my side and left me.

That was the bad bit. He left me. I knew he was still in the room, I could clearly hear computer sounds, but I also knew that he wasn’t going to pay any attention to me until the 20 minutes were up, that I was going to have to endure this horrible punishment without him. Saliva pooled in my left cheek and started to sting slightly, which just let me know that there was a load of soap in there that I really didn’t want to go anywhere near. My butt started hurting (it’s a large plug), and I didn’t want to be there. I didn’t want to be trussed, plugged, gagged, ignored. I could feel the resentment growing. I tried to stop it, pointing out to myself that it was entirely my own fault that I was in this position. That if I’d simply obeyed the rules that I’d asked Master to give me, this wouldn’t have happened. Didn’t matter. All I could think about was how miserable my mouth and bottom felt and how my Master was completely ignoring me. I wanted my Master. I started to cry.

Tears didn’t attract his attention, though. I thought about throwing a tantrum. There may have been intermittent whimpering and the odd kick of the legs. I thought about crawling blindly across the room to him and nuzzling against his leg while making piteous noises. I figured if I did, he’d probably extend the time or make me start over or something. I reached up (my hands were cuffed in front of me) and realised I could unbuckle the gag if I wanted to. I thought about it. A lot.

But it wasn’t mine to unbuckle – I was in this position because I’d disobeyed my Master, and he was ignoring me and I was uncomfortable and I would just have to be patient until the time was up.

I’m not very patient. There may have been more whimpering…

From one of the blogs at Bondage.com:

He came from behind and put his hand over my mouth, tight.

I didn’t see it coming. We had just had such a nice casual dinner after finally meeting in person for the first time and we’d brought wine and dessert back to the room. I thought we were going to continue eating and drinking and laughing. It’s good to be wrong sometimes.

“Shut your whore mouth” he said in my ear as he pulled a cloth out of his pocket. I was instantly drenched and moaning. He removed his hand and stuffed that cloth in deep. Then he pulled my arm behind my back up high and tight. “Don’t even think about spitting that out” as he took a pair of handcuffs from the magical pocket and snapped them on one wrist, then brought that other arm back down and snapped them on that wrist as well…tightly. I wasn’t getting out of those cuffs. I secretly tried, just to be sure.

He secured the gag with a scarf, again tightly. And then put a hood on me that covered my eyes and some of my nose…

Spotted somewhere:

“Romance. It’s like sex, only without the handcuffs.”

A woman in prison, from before they invented the women-in-prison genre of movies:

The folks at Wired Pussy have gotten themselves access to a wonderfully scenic public rooftop for some of their urban photoshoots:

We can be sure that dozens of men with telescopes were watching the whole thing.

From Goose And Gander, a bumper sticker spotted:

Silence is golden.
Duct tape is silver.