Bondage Blog

Excerpted from a post on one of the blogs at Bondage.com, this bit about the fun of wearing a corset, and what came after:

I decided to put on the yummy corset thingy that Amy got in Boston, and let me borrow.
…
Now being by my self, I couldnt get it laced quite as tight as I would have liked, but it got the point across. So he walks in and I’m in the corset, black bra and jeans. unloading the dishwasher. I know, how HOT is that!
…
He then tells me that he likes the corsety thing, and that I am to wear it tonight. Yikes! Now I don’t have it laced very tight, but spending hours with it on? Oi.

He wants to see how tight he can get it. He pulls tighter, and tighter. I can barely breathe. He likes. I like. So I spend about an hour like this. Can’t sit. Can’t bend. Need help getting my asskicker boots on. It was kinda cute seeing the Domly one on his knees helping me with my boots. (Gonna pay for that one I know.)
…
So since I already told about the time at the club, I will skip to the bits afterward. We come home, and he helps me remove the corsety thing. It has a zipper in the front, but believe me when I say this is a seriously mega corset. He lets the zipper down, and I swear I came right there. God what a blissful feeling to have that thing off. Weak in the knees kind of feeling. Ahhhh, sweet breath!

Here’s a fine old vintage erotic postcard from Germany:

She’s been bad, and must be punished…

Sometimes when my girlfriend is tickling me or hassling me in some minor way as we drift off to sleep, I’ll threaten to hogtie her and make her sleep on the floor. Indeed, I’ll go so far as to claim that we need a marble floor in our bedroom, so it will be properly hard and cold.

Of course, she doesn’t take me seriously, and says I’d never get any sleep from her whimpering and complaining.

When is when I turn the conversation toward her preference in ball gags. “Would you like the big soft chewy rubber one, dear? Or the small plastic ones with holes, like a Whiffle Ball? Or how about the one made from the pork-scented nylon chew toy bone for dogs?”

Just now I stumbled over a fragment of prose from one of the Gor books that reminded me of where I probably got the sleep-hogtied-on-the-floor threat:

I would allow Vika to share the great stone couch, its sleeping pelts, and silken sheets.

This was unusual, however, for normally the Gorean slave girl sleeps at the foot of her masters couch, often on a straw mat with only a thin, cotton-like blanket, woven from the soft fibers of the Rep Plant, to protect her from the cold.

If she has not pleased her Master of late, she may be, of course, as a disciplinary measure, simply chained nude to the slave ring in the bottom of the couch, sans both blanket and mat. The stones of the floor are hard and the Gorean nights are cold and it is a rare girl who, when unchained in the morning, does not seek more dutifully to serve her master. This harsh treatment, incidentally, when she is thought to deserve it, may even be inflicted on a Free Companion, in spite of the fact that she is free and usually much loved. According to the Gorean way of looking at things, a taste of the slave ring is thought to be occasionally beneficial to all women, even the exalted Free Companions.

From Priest Kings of Gor.

Elsewhere on Bondage Blog:

• Yoked Slavegirl
• Beautiful Naked Slave
• Wanting To Be Chained
• On Owning A Woman
• In Bondage On Gor: Slave Box

If you’ve ever looked at a roll of plastic cling film pallet wrap without considering the possibilities, it’s possible you’re without a hint of bondage poetry in your soul. The possibilities include:

That’s bondage model “Justine Joli” up on the post. From Hogtied.com.

Here’s a fictional account of an abolitionist lady tied and switched by southern “gentlemen”, from the erotic novel “The Memoirs of Dolly Morton”:

‘Very well’ said Stevens ‘Bill, you run to the barn and fetch the ladder. Pete and Sam, you go and cut a couple of good long springy hickory switches and trim then ready for use!’

I watched, terrified, as the ladder and switches were brought, then all the men went into the garden. The ladder was fixed in a sloping position against the rail of the veranda and Stevens took up position near it, holding one of the switches in his hand, while all the other men stood around in a tight circle so all would have a perfect view of what was going to be done.

‘Bring out the prisoners!’ said Stevens.

Some of the men took hold of us by the arms and led us out of the veranda to receive our cruel and indecent punishment. I was trembling and crying but Miss Dean was calm and silent. Stevens said to her:

‘As you are the boss you will be whipped first. Tie her up boys!’

She was seized by two men and laid upon the ladder, her arms being stretched to their full extent above her head, her wrists tied with thick cord to the rungs of the ladder, then her ankles secured in the same way. She had not made the least resistance nor had she uttered a word while being tied up but now she turned her head and, looking over her shoulder at Stevens, said:

‘Can you not at least whip me without removing my clothes?’

‘Nope..certainly not!’ he replied ‘You wuz sentenced to be whipped on your bare bottom and that’s what you’re gonna get! Turn up her clothes, boys!’
…
I was being held by two men close to the ladder and thus was a witness to the full shame of her unveiling. Miss Dean was tall and slim with slight build. Her hips were very narrow and her bottom very small, but it was round, well shaped and fairly plump. Her thighs and legs were well formed though slender, and her skin a delicate ivory tint, smooth and fine in texture.

The men pressed closer to the ladder, and I could see their eyes glint with desire as they stared at Miss Dean’s naked buttocks. Stevens, after gazing for a few moments, exclaimed with a laugh:

‘Je-ru-salem! What a tiny bottom she’s got! It aint no bigger than a boy’s! Darn it men, perhaps she IS a boy!’

It was meant for a joke. It amused them and they all laughed, one man calling out:

‘Well Jake, you are in the right place to find out if she’s a woman or not!’

‘Why so I can, now that you mention it’ drawled Stevens, affecting to be surprised by the suggestion. Then he thrust his hand between her legs.

Miss Dean flinched convulsively, uttered a startled cry , then looked round with an expression of disgust on her face. Eyes flashing she exclaimed:

‘How dare you touch me there! Take your hand away! Just whip me and let me go!’

She writhed and twisted in anguish but Stevens kept his hand in the cleft of her thighs , saying with a coarse laugh:

‘She’s a woman sure enough, boys! I got my hand right on her hairy slit!’

Then he said to the outraged woman:

‘My hand won’t hurt you. But if you make any more complainin’ you’ll find something bigger and harder between your legs! Now I’ll get on and flog you right away and its my guess you’ll soon be begging for something else instead!’

He withdrew his hand and Miss Dean ceased to struggle, her head drooped once more and she lay silently awaiting her shameful punishment.

Stevens raised the switch and flicked it about, so as to make it hiss through the air, then he brought it down with considerable force across the upper part of her bottom; the tough hickory spray making a sharp crack as it struck the firm flesh which quivered involuntarily under the stinging stroke.

The Brothers Grimm was a quickly-forgettable movie. But at least it had bondage in it. Typical sloppy movie bondage, sure, but bondage nonetheless. And when it’s the tasty Lena Heady in the ropes, worth a quick look:

Thanks to Rhapsody in Red for finding the image.

From Stick Tight [link broke and was removed]:

He pulls the rope tighter until my arms and legs are stretched to just the brink of discomfort.

“Now move, baby,” he says.

When I pull at my arms, my legs stretch open wider. The rope connects all four point of me and movement of one point is at the expense of the others.

“That is so good,” I say. “It is perfect.”

“You say that now,” says Stick. “But you will be begging me to let you go in two minutes.” He pulls the ropes tighter. “Think I’ll start here,” he says, straddling my leg and putting his hands on my feet.

Where he begins to tickle me.

And then I am shrieking. And writhing. And pulling frantically against the intractable tethers.

Elsewhere on Bondage Blog:

• Kinky Feather Roses
• Tickling Is Not Always Fun
• Ren Fair Bondage Foot Tickling
• Tickle Bondage In Japan
• Tickled With The Violet Wand