Bondage Blog

Maybe this is where the Water Bondage folks got some of their ideas:

“I will not eat the gruel of bond-maids,” said Aelgifu.

“‘You will eat it” said the Forkbeard, “or you will be stripped and put to the oar.”

She looked at him in horror. “That will not violate you, my pretty” said the Forkbeard.

In this punishment the girl, clothed or unclothed, is bound tightly to an oar, hands behind her, her head down, toward the blade. When the oar lifts from the water she gasps for breath, only in another moment to be submerged again. A recalcitrant girl may be kept on the oar for hours. There is also, however some danger in this, for sea sleen and the white sharks of the north occasionally attempt to tear such a girl from the oar. When food is low, it is not unknown for the men of Torvaldsland to use a bond-maid, if one is available on the ship, for bait in such a manner. The least pleasing girl is always used. This practice, of course encourages bond-maids to vie vigorously to please their masters. An Ahn on the oar is usually more than sufficient to make the coldest and proudest of females an obedient, eager-to-please bond-maid….

— from “Marauders of Gor” by John Norman

Elsewhere on Bondage Blog:

• Yoked Slavegirl
• Slave Transactions: The Bondage Mechanics
• On Owning A Woman
• In Bondage On Gor: Slave Box
• Bondage Switching For A Slave

One of the things I like about Hogtied is that they don’t get in a rut. Sometimes they come up with creative and inventive bondage postures that I’ve never seen before:

This one’s fun because she must feel very precarious perched on those blocks, and under great incentive to stay on them. Yet she can’t really fall — if she slips off the blocks, she’s still tied to the bar and her weight will be mostly supported by it.

Elsewhere on Bondage Blog:

• Flexible Slavegirl, Hogtied

While searching for something else, I found this bondage fragment on a search-engine-spam page:

…removing the handcuffs, they doubled her over the leather horse and fastened straps around her wrists and ankles. As Gloria spun a wheel beneath the horse, it began to rise. Copious quantities of sex-sweat bubbled out of the…

They had me until the “sex-sweat”.

Here’s a fantastic vintage bondage postcard featuring a pretty prisoner, from Usenet. This image would originally have been hand-tinted, but to my eye it looks like somebody’s been at the colors with Photoshop as well. Still, pretty:

Here we go: a nice shot of Xena, Warrior Princess, all chained up and being hustled along by two goons. Gabby, in foreground, looks determined as only she can:

When I first read the following as a young lad, it made a powerful impression on me. Most of the girls in my life were at least as verbally abusive as the lovely Aphris of Turia, and despite the obvious flaws in the plan, I was pretty impressed with the fantasy of stuffing them in a leather sack until their attitude improved:

“Do you not recall,” asked Kamchak, “the banquet of Saphrar?”

“Of course.” she said, warily.

“Do you not recall,” asked Kamchak, “the affair of the tiny bottles of perfume and the smell of bosk dung — how nobly you attempted to rid the banquet hall of that most unpleasant and distasteful odor?”

“Yes,” said the girl, very slowly.

“Do you not recall,” asked Kamchak, “What I then said to you — what I said at that time?”

“No!” cried the girl leaping up, but Kamchak had jumped toward her, scooped her up and threw her over his shoulder. She squirmed and struggled on his shoulder, kicking and pounding on his back. “Sleen!” she cried. “Sleen! Sleen! Sleen!”

I followed Kamchak down the steps of the wagon and, blinking and still sensible of the effects of the Paga, gravely held open the large dung sack near the rear left wheel of the wagon.

“No, Master!” the girl wept. “You call no man Master,” Kamchak was reminding her. And then I saw the lovely Aphris of Turia pitched head first into the large, leather sack, screaming and sputtering, thrashing about.

“Master!” she cried. “Master! Master!” Sleepily I could see the sides of the sack bulging out wildly here and there as she squirmed about. Kamchak then tied shut the end of the leather sack and wearily stood up. “I am tired,” he said. ” I have had a difficult and exhausting day.” I followed him into the wagon where, in a short time, we had both fallen asleep.

— from “Nomads of Gor” by John Norman

Elsewhere on Bondage Blog:

• Slavegirl Soccer
• Victory In Slavery
• Helpless In The Slave Sack
• More Gorean Bondage
• Bondage Switching For A Slave

It looks like this bondage nurse from Wired Pussy is reluctant to open her mouth — do you think she doesn’t want to be gagged?

Not that struggling is going to do her any good.