I suppose it’s not suprising that, on the set of a Water Bondage photo shoot, they’d have plenty of plumber’s tape (you know, that rolled metal strapping that comes pre-perforated with screw and nail holes). But I don’t think I’ve ever seen it used for bondage like this:
If you like BDSM fiction that tends toward the non-literary variety, but is still printed in an actual book with actual paper pages, one of the better imprints out there in recent years has been British publisher Silver Moon Books. Their books, alas, aren’t widely distributed in the United States, which makes them tricky to find.
Content varies widely, but tends to remind me of the old House of Milan titles in the sense of featuring lots of bondage, lots of spanking and whipping, lots of sex, and lots of severe scenarios starring unwilling women who manage to have fun anyway.
To give you the flavor, here are a few paragraphs from the first chapter of Desert Discipline by Mark Stewart:
The final straw came just after Suzanne’s eighteenth birthday. Her uncle informed her that she was to be married to an old merchant in return for a lucrative business deal. The thought of this horrified Suzanne; she threw caution to the rind and informed her uncle in no uncertain terms that she would not be ‘sold off’ to increase his already considerable wealth.
“If you think I will marry that old decrepit crow, you had better think again” she had shouted at the top of her voice. To make matters worse, the ‘decrepit old crow’ was in the next room and heard every word.
“You will do as I order” thundered her uncle.
“I will not and there is nothing you can do to make me,” Suzanne brazenly retorted.
“We will see about that” her uncle replied and stormed out of the room.
Suzanne was left with her aunt who stood glaring at her, her face crimson with anger. Suzanne prepared herself for another meeting with the vicious birch rods, determined that no matter how hard she was beaten this time she would not give in.
It was some five minutes later that her uncle returned accompanied by the merchant and the butler. “Have you changed your tune?” he demanded.
“NO!”
“Right then. On your head be it.” Then turning to the butler. “Do as I ordered.”
The butler grasped Suzanne’s arms behind her back and she was frog marched from the room, the others following close behind. To her consternation she was not taken to the study but out of the house towards the stables.
As the procession entered through the stable door, Suzanne began to tremble with fear at what confronted her. A heavy wooden table had been put in the centre and the head groom, whose advances Suzanne had once rudely rejected, stood there a long riding switch in his hands.
“You had your last chance girl. Now you will get a sound lesson in obedience and respect for your elders. Take off your clothes.”
“I will not.” Suzanne replied, her face red with embarrassment.
“Obey my order this instant or I will order the groom to do it for you.”
Realising that resistance was useless, Suzanne removed her garments one by one until, her face bright red with shame she stood naked before the gathering. She was pushed over the end of the table and her wrists and ankles tied to the legs.
“Carry out my order, Jacques.”
The last thing Suzanne saw before she screwed her eyes tight shut was the sadistic smile on the groom’s face as he took a practice swing with the switch.
Swish. Crack.
The stroke curled across the centre of her taut bottom raising a streak of fire far worse than any the recipient had dreamed possible. A shrill scream echoed around the stable.
Swish. Thwack.
A second line of fire rose in her cheeks as again Suzanne screamed.
Swish. Thwack.
This was far worse than any beating she had received before. It felt as if the switch was biting deep into her flesh. She had only taken three strokes yet she was writhing and screaming as if she had had a dozen with the birch.
After the sixth stroke Susan felt her head pulled up and she looked through her tears at the angry face of her uncle.
“Are you ready to change your mind yet?” he asked.
“No, and I never will” sobbed his niece through her tears.
“Carry on Jacques,” Suzanne heard her uncle order, “and lay them on harder. The ungrateful wench will learn to do as I say.”
To the accompaniment of her screams and sobs, the groom satisfied his revenge on Suzanne’s bottom. Twelve, fifteen strokes he delivered, the effort making his face run with sweat.
Suzanne lost count of the times the switch lashed across her raging buttocks. Her determination not to give in outlasted her body’s ability to absorb the beating and, after the eighteenth stroke had burned another path across her writhing body, she sank into welcome oblivion.
She slowly surfaced through the mist of pain to find herself laying face down on her own bed. Her uncle stood beside her.
“You have until tomorrow to think things over. If you haven’t changed your mind them you will be taken back to the stable for a further whipping. This will be repeated every day until you learn obedience to my orders.”
So saying he stamped his way from the room. Suzanne heard the key turned in the lock and she was left alone with her pain.
Elsewhere on Bondage Blog:
The old “stranger-in-my-apartment” roleplaying game can be so much fun, especially when the “stranger” has a roll of duct tape:
“Come here and stand in front of me. Turn around. Yes, just like that. Put your hands behind your back and lock your fingers together. Good girl.”
The sound of tape being ripped from the roll immediately precedes him grabbing my wrists and encircling them tightly with the thick silvery length. The sound of his belt being unbuckled and his zipper slowly opening follows. He seems to be in no rush, as if he has all the time in the world.
When he turns me around to face him, he is completely naked. Though his body is tight and lean, his completely engorged cock is where my focus seems to remain. I am too fearful to look into his eyes now, seeing how the evidence of my submission excites him, I find myself not having the faintest inkling of what I can or should do.
He sits back in my chair, “Kneel in front of me. Suck my cock.” I can’t help but hesitate and immediately know I’ve made a mistake, as he rises and grabs my long hair at the base of my neck, holding my head back, he pushes me to my knees. “Don’t ever make me have to tell you anything twice again. Now suck it.”
Tears well in the corners of my eyes, but I use the considerable will that I still manage to possess and I repeat over and over in my head – I will not cry, I will not. My hands bound behind my back have me confused and off balance and I struggle to maneuver his erection over my lips.
Once it is fully in my mouth, so warm and hard, I decide to give him the best head I have ever given, hoping that this will hasten his orgasm and end my ordeal. I pool as much saliva into my mouth as I can and soak his cock in it, allowing my mouth to flow smoothly over his thick shaft.
I try to use all skills I’ve mastered over the years, remembering to keep it wet, wet, wet, to repeat the same movements over and over, and then switch, from moving up and down his entire to length to sucking greedily at the head and switch again to licking with the flat of my tongue…
From Andrej by Tess Darcy.
Even if she’s just nibbling on the hem of his shirt, as this discretely-posed bondage picture from Hogtied.com could be interpreted by the sexually dead-in-spirit, this still remains a fine example of the most classic bondage pose ever:
Naked, on her knees, hands tied behind her back, ready to give a blowjob. Classic, I tell you!
Mistress Matisse has written a column listing eighteen things kinky people should know. I’m particularly fond of these few:
10. Sorry, “dominant” does not equal “license to be an asshole.” All ordinary social conventions about good manners still apply to you.
11. Don’t announce, loudly and often, that you’d never, ever do kinky activity X because it’s so icky. The Higher Powers of BDSM have a sense of humor, and if they hear you, they will visit you with persistent erotic visions of that precise activity until you give in to it. Your merciless friends will take great pleasure in making you eat your words when you admit your new favorite kink. A gentle, “I don’t think that’s for me” is sufficient for most purposes.
…
18. If your submissive takes a light smack on the butt as a cue to begin Primal Scream therapy, you should invest in gags. Lots of them.
Of course here at Bondage Blog we’re all familiar with the joys of duct tape for bondage. But I’m not sure I’ve ever seen it wrapped around the model’s boobs quite this way:
Next I suppose is the taping-the-nipples-and-then-ripping-off-the-tape game.
From In Femdom.
From Tangy Sweet:
He didn’t ask me the first time. He simply got out the rope and demanded my wrists. I could have said no and he would’ve stopped, but I was playfully curious. I didn’t know then that it would open a door in my psyche that I didn’t even know existed. I didn’t know then that door would open into a world that had only ever just tickled the edges of my consciousness. I never thought I’d visit, let alone live there.
The first time, watching him stalk around the bed with the rope held loosely in one hand as he figured out the best way to bind me, I’d giggled nervously. I cracked jokes and felt my stomach flutter. But when the rope slipped around my wrists, when it pulled tight, spreading my arms and making it impossible for me to cover my breasts, my cunt, my face, the giggling and jokes stopped.
Exposed and feeling somehow strangely honest, he teased me ruthlessly; building me up and easing me back down over and over. He controlled not only my ability to move, but when and how I would cum. That night he drew out something inside me that had been only an unrecognized speck before. He fanned the speck until it glimmered brilliantly, set only to intensify with time.
That first time he bound my wrists and spread my legs without a word, he teased me until I panted and I moaned, until I begged him for release. When I came, I did it thrashing and pulling at the rope as the waves of it overwhelmed me.
