Bondage Blog

A night of drinking leads to public bondage with a headband. Good clean bondage fun.

This picture comes from the “shove her hands into a loose tangle of clothesline” school of rope bondage. But it makes up in vintage cuteness what it lacks in technical bondage chops:

Found on alt. binaries. pictures. erotica. vintage.

Here’s a couple of pirate captives in this detail from Morgan’s Prisoner, from a 1903 book of pirate illustrations by Howard Pyle:

Did you hear the one about the prostitute who enjoyed bondage?

It turns out she was usually strapped for cash….

Remember Koonago? The peculiar Japanese anime style artwork featuring miniature women? Like so much Japanese erotic art, the “women” in question tend to be drawn with an ambiguous mixture of child-like and fully-adult body features. But the Koonago fetish appears to be all about reducing the sexual threat or challenge of members of the opposite sex, by reducing them to a fantasy size where they are trivially easy to control. As such, the fetish has something in common with bondage, and there’s frequently some overlap:

This is from John Norman’s “Renegades of Gor”, but you could call it “Pretty Publia Goes Sailing”:

Publia lay before me, on her stomach, over a pile of rope, aft on the Tais. Her head was down. Her neck was chained to a ring in the deck.

“You?” she said.

“Yes,” I said.

“Please be kind to a woman who is now only a slave,” she said.

I laughed, softly.

She shuddered.

She was pretty, lying on her belly, over the ropes, her head down.

But yet, I thought, as she is a slave, surely she should be permitted to beg for kindness.

“Do not hurt me,” she begged.

“That is muchly up to you,” I said.

“To me?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said. “I do not have any intention, at least at present, of hurting you. On the other hand, if you prove to be in the least disagreeable, do not fear, I will not hesitate to inflict discipline, and severe discipline, upon you.”

“I understand,” she said.

“You were once Lady Publia, of Ar’s Station,” I said.

“Yes,” she said, frightened.

“Who are you now?” I asked.

“Publia,” she said, “a slave.”

“Lift yourself, Publia, slave,” I said.

She cried out, softly, perhaps not anticipating the sternness of my grip upon her.

“Master,” she said.

She clutched ropes in the coils on which she lay. “Ohhh,” she said, suddenly. Then she began to gasp, and make helpless noises.

The moons were full. The slave was pretty. It was late. We were two days yet from Port Cos.

I then crouched beside her, and turned her, and lifted her. I held her knees up, close to her belly. Her body was a small, curvaceous delight. I then put her on her back, on the coils of rope. I bent over her and then, with one hand, behind the back of her neck, gripping it, lifted her head, bringing her face beneath mine, forcing it there. I then kissed her, and let her lie back on the ropes. Her eyes were wide, and soft, and frightened.

Dangled naked and upside down in a cold basement, hosed down with colder water, kept wet and shivering while masked men ask the same questions over and over: What a scene!

Don’t worry, it’s a Water Bondage fantasy for a hot summer day, not something snatched from the headlines.