I’ve seen thumbscrews that look like this (only smaller) and some foot-squishing devices in old torture illustrations, but I’ve never seen a full-body bondage press like this one from Vintage Spanking Photos:
Talk about a well-equipped bondage dungeon!
As every perv fondly imagines, the pillory was never invented for the morally upright purpose of exposing the village drunkard to a spot of correctional dung-throwing. No, it’s obvious the thing always had a sexual purpose. Every lustful and despotic lord with a dungeon worthy of the name must have kept a short pillory in it, for the express purpose of taking recalcitrant wenches and bending them over in sexually-available positions, hands held well away out of the way of his whip and his unfettered enjoyment of rear-entry sex. It must have looked something like this:
Thanks of course to Sex And Submission for bringing pillory sex to the masses.
Elsewhere on Bondage Blog:
The next time you’re chatting away online with SweetTeen18 and she starts hinting she’d like to meet up with you and let you play with her handcuffs, please remember your internet safety and prudence tips, and keep this object lesson in mind:
Hmm, naked girl captured by pirates, tied to a pole like a deer, and hauled back to the longboat for ravishment at leisure. Who knew that playing with paintable figurines could be so much fun?
She can look, but she can’t touch:
I am on my knees, my arms behind my back, tied at the wrist. My wrists are then attached to the headboard, with latex tubing.
Well, that’s not so bad you say.
You can stretch the latex, you say.
Oh yes, I know. I was the one who bought 100 feet of latex tubing that has been cut into many lengths and used for many, many things (reference above cock and ball tying) over the past few years so I know all about the stretch.
And how far it will go.
And how far it won’t.
And so does he.
My legs are parted and I sit quietly on my knees and watch him stroke his cock in front of me.
…
There it is. The first drop of precum.
He takes his finger and wipes it off and I moan.
He rubs his fingers together, showing me the slickness.
I stretch the tubing as far as it will go, my mouth open.
He runs his fingers over my lips, then his hands through my hair.
I lick my lips. My pussy drips.
From Ambient Storm.
The bondage enema in this shoot from Wired Pussy is about as clean and wholesome as such a thing can get. Sweater-girl-next-door Tyla Wynn looks like the bondage girlfriend you wish you had in high school, and she’s extremely fetching tied down to a cargo pallet:
Once those denim shorts come off and the huge glass enema clyster-syringe full of crystal-clear water comes out, she’s in a bondage predicament of the very best sort. As the plunger is smoothly pressed all the way home, the pressure mounts, both figuratively and literally. Better stand back…
Elsewhere on Bondage Blog:
Lots of bondage-loving pervs enjoy the fantasy of a good kidnap scene. The trouble is, it’s tricky and dangerous to play that game, even when everybody involved is all for it, for a variety of practical reasons. (See here for a fairly long list of them, courtesy of Mistress Matisse). If knife-wielding butch lesbians don’t convince you, you can’t be convinced:
I was at a party with a large group of kinky lesbians. It was getting late and people were starting to trickle out, when suddenly we all heard, from outside the house, a woman’s piercing scream. Now, if you hang around the kink community you hear some screams now and then, and one learns to interpret their various meanings. This was not a happy scream—this was a scream that clearly indicated something bad was happening.
Everyone instantly poured out into the street to find one of the guests—struggling and still screaming—being pulled toward a car by two men. I don’t have to tell you how three dozen BDSM dykes—many of whom are in the habit of carrying knives—are going to respond to such a situation. Seeing a swarm of outraged Valkyries descending on them with violent reprisal clearly on their minds, the two guys let go of the woman, threw their hands in the air and yelled, “It’s just a scene! It’s a kidnapping scene!”
It’s hard to explain yourself coherently when you’re pinned against a car with a large, pissed-off butch pressing her elbow down on your throat, but gradually the would-be kidnappers managed to convince us that what we were seeing really was part of an agreed-upon kidnapping scene between two women. The problem was that the top had decided to add a bit of spice to the game by having her two male friends do the initial grab, and not knowing the kidnappee personally, they’d grabbed the wrong woman.
Oopsie!
