Bondage Blog

More from Beasts of Gor:

“Greetings, Master,” said Thimble.

“Greetings,” I said to her.

She was dressed, save for her bondage strings, in much the same way as most of the women of the red hunters, bare-breasted, with high boots and panties. Thistle, however, behind her, was naked, in a northern yoke and on a leather leash. The northern yoke is either of wood or bone, and is drilled in three places. The one Thistle wore was of wood. It was not heavy. It passed behind her neck at which point one of the drilled holes occurred. The other two holes occurred at the terminations of the yoke. A leather strap is knotted about the girl’s wrist, passed through the drilled hole at one end of the yoke, usually that on her left, taken up through the hole behind the neck, looped twice about her neck, threaded back down through the center hole, taken up through the other hole at the end, usually the one at her right, and tied about her right wrist. She is thus fastened in the yoke. From each end of the yoke hung a large sack.

“We are going to pick moss and grass,” she said. Moss is used as wicks for the lamps. Grass, dried, is used for insulation between the inner soles of the boots and the bottom of the fur stockings in the winter.

“That is good,” I said. “Why is Thistle yoked?”

“It pleased me, Master,” said Thimble, first girl. There was little love lost between the girls.

“Was she insubordinate?” I asked.

“She said a sharp word to me,” said Thimble.

“Did you switch her, too?” I asked.

“Of course, Master,” said Thimble.

“Excellent,” I said. Discipline must be kept in the tent.

I looked at Thistle. She met my eyes, briefly, and then looked down. She was quite attractive. I had not as yet had either Thimble or Thistle.

“Is Imnak finished yet with the new slave girl?” I asked, referring to Arlene.

“I think so, Master,” said Thimble, smiling. “At least he has tied her to a pole behind the tent.”

“Why is that?” I asked.

“I do not think she is much good, Master,” said Thimble, one slave girl appraising another.

“Do not let me detain you from your labors,” I said.

Thistle, suddenly, knelt down before me, yoked, and put her lips to my boot. Her head was jerked up by the leash in the hand of Thimble. Her eyes were moist “Master!” she begged.

“Come, Slave!” snapped Thimble, and pulled her to her feet and dragged her away, behind her. Thistle looked over her shoulder, at me. I gave no sign of response. She stumbled away, on Thimble’s leash. I smiled to myself. Thistle, as I had expected, was the first of the girls to begin to understand and feel her slavery.

This little bondage story (Handcuffs, by Teresa) has nice bondage-in-public imagery in it:

A few years ago, I went up to San Francisco to visit some friends of mine. The night I got up there, she wanted to take me out to a club.

..

We went out to the club, drank quite a bit, and danced just as much. One guy I danced with said that he had something he wanted to show me, but it was out in his truck in the parking garage. We left the club and went into the parking garage out to his truck, all the while I was swaying from all the drinks I had, but I knew what I was doing.

When we got out to his pickup, he opened the door and took something out, hiding it behind his back, tucking it away in his back pocket. Taking me by the hand, he led me towards the back of the pickup (he parked back end first), lifted me up and sat me down on the edge of the truck (he didn’t have a gate on the back of the truck). He then got up onto the back, lifted me onto my feet and began kissing me.

I was backed against the truck cab when I asked him what he was going to show me. He then took out a pair of handcuffs and dangled it in front of my face. I smiled and asked him what he intended to do with it. He cuffed my left hand and began kissing me deeply again. He lifted my arms over my head and cuffed my other arm, stretching my body, and securing both my hands over my head to an overhead pipe!

If not for those high heels, I would probably be on my very tip toes! He then proceeded to unbuckle my jacket, still kissing me, moving down my neck, until he reached that area between my breasts and then traced circles with his tongue. He reached around behind me, and I could tell he was fiddling with the snap and zipper of my skirt.

I asked what he thought he was doing, all the while feeling a bit nervous that someone would catch us, and at the same time, feeling very much aroused. My nipples were hard, and with them sticking out just over the edge of my bra, right up against the lace tops didn’t help in relieving some of that “sexual tension” which began to multiply.

My skirt fell to my feet, and I kicked them out of the way, as he began to kiss all around the tops of my tits, avoiding my nipples. I was squirming, trying to get his mouth on my nipples. I knew I was moaning with anticipation and I tried to quiet down a bit, but it was at that time he took a nipple into his mouth, sucking hard.

…

At that moment, a car drove out of the garage, its lights just illuminating my form for an instant. I froze in place, my pussy dripping with desire. There I was standing handcuffed to an overhead pipe, my jacket wide open with my tits draped in only a half-bra, nipples hard and poking out over their tops, a garter belt decorating my midsection, and sheer black lace-top stockings accentuating my legs, while 4″ high heels kept me from hanging from those pipes.

I then felt his tongue dart quickly inside my cunt, jumping me from my stiff posture. I closed my eyes, as he knelt in front of me, taking one of my legs over his shoulder, he began to eat me. My mind reeled. I licked my lips, eyes still closed. Moans escaped my mouth. I rocked into his face, trying to get him to go as deep as he could with his tongue. My nipples and clit ached with ecstasy.

“Fuck me,” I whispered urgently.