Bondage Blog

Tangy Sweet describes an evening of sweet fun:

He’s got me blindfolded. My wrists are cuffed in the front. I’m flat down on my back on the bed and I can hear him moving around the room. He’s just…watching me. Not touching, just looking.

When his hand finally makes contact, I let out a sigh. The blindfold makes everything sharper and clearer, the sensations so much more powerful. He says nothing. He only eases his hand over my body, running his fingertips over my nipples, which feel about as hard as diamonds. I move my hips restlessly when he lowers his mouth over a nipple and draws it into his warm mouth. He knows the perfect way to lave it with his tongue, just the right way to scrape it against his teeth so it doesn’t quite hurt. Hurts in just the right way.

When he finally speaks, it’s to order me to spread my legs. His fingers trail down my skin where my inner thigh meets my pelvis. He barely brushes my clit and strokes the entrance to my pussy. All I want is to be fucked; I want his fingers, his cock, or a toy. Anything he wants to give me. Anything that will fill me up.

I push up, trying to gain contact. His response is immediate. He rolls me onto his lap, facedown with my hands straight out in front of me, and gives me a series of sharp slaps to my ass. I wiggle and gasp because they’re hard enough to sting, hard enough to leave red marks. I feel my cunt grow hotter and wetter.

I’m “borrowing” this illustration from Spanking Blog because I like the design of the portable spanking rail. Wouldn’t that be a handy bit of bedroom furniture?

It’s bad enough for a curvaceous girl to be exposed in the stocks in the public square — how soon are those pretty knees going to start hurting? — without some lecherous citizen running his creepy hand up her leg:

As soon as I saw the picture of this lovely piece of stainless steel, I imagined my sweetie tied in a spread eagle on the bed, and me pulling this thing out of a bowl full of water and ice cubes:

From JT’s Stockroom, of course.

Elsewhere on Bondage Blog:

• Do You Need Some Shackles?
• Butt Hook
• Steel Nose Hook
• Prickly Kiss
• Wrapped In Steel

Here’s a fairly standard tattooed girl wearing a spider gag and some heavy chains. The look of apprehension on her face is a nice touch, but the real ominous bit is the visible IV bag hanging behind her:

You can get a better idea what’s going on by viewing the rest of the promotional materials for the shoot, but I’m not sure the purpose of the IV ever becomes clear without becoming a member. (It’s also possible that it’s actually an enema bag?) From Wired Pussy.

Elsewhere on Bondage Blog:

• Dr. Bondage And Nurse Sin
• More Toilet Bondage
• Bondage Enema

There’s a long essay at Pillowbook about two bad real-life bondage experiences, one teen-aged and one adult. I liked the bit where she gets tied up by some lounge lizard channeling the ghost of Dean Martin:

He stuck his tongue fair into my slit while i was standing there, and he started licking away at me like there was something inside my cunt that he needed to get into him in order to survive the next five minutes. his breathing got more and more laboured, and he started to sweat with excitement.

no kidding, he started to sweat visibly in the few moments that we stood like that. well, that i stood like that, and he knelt like that, licking at me.

beads of sweat popped out on his shoulders, forehead, back… it was like he was a frosty cold glass of hairy iced coffee, placed on a bench in a humid room, and condensation was forming on him as i watched. except, of course, that condensation is just pure water, and this was his salty, filthy, body juices, oozing from his pores.

it would be ungracious for me to say that it was at this point that he went from being dean martin, to pepé le pew.

so i won’t say that, even though that was what happened.

and i figured that was what the ropes were for. to stop me squirming away when the body odour hit.

well, i thought to myseln, and to any mind-readers who may have been listening, he’d better get those ropes working pretty soon, or it’ll be too late…

how about, he gasped, taking his tongue out of my cunt for a moment so he could form words, we use the ropes now?

i wondered for a moment if he could read my mind after all…

ok. would you like me to tie you up face up, or face down? i aksked, all sweetness and innocence. in my mind i added, ‘, you hairy fokken gorilla’, just to see if he *could* read my mind.

he didn’t react to the gorilla comment, but he did laugh when i suggested that it was to be him that got tied up.

i’ll tie *you* up, princess. here, lie down.

with the possible exception of russia’s anastasia, and maybe neverland’s tiger lily, i couldn’t think of any princesses who had been tied up, and i suspected that one or both of them was fictitious anyway. nonetheless, i lay down on my back, on his slippery bed, and submitted.

without too much messing about or delay, he tied each of my four corners to the four corners of his bed. it was one of those awful white enamel beds with brass knobs and flower decals on the posts.

he did, of course, a lousy job of tying me up.

i knew that at any moment, whenever i felt like it, i could get out of the ropes. i wondered if i was sposed to feel that, or if i was sposed to be feeling all overpowered or something.

the only thing overpowering me was his body odour.

standing dangerously on the oil-slick bed sheets, he looked down upon me, subjugated at his feet. with a flourish akin to a particularly lame shopping mall magician producing a startled pigeon from his sleeve, he produced his half-hard penis from the flap in his scungies.

From alt. binaries. pictures. erotica. cartoons, this great “tie her up and tickle her silly with the wing of a bird” illustration:

(We’ll just try to ignore the ominous appearance at the bottom of the drawing of an enema syringe and a bedpan.)