Couches Are Not Alway Comfy

Try that on for size!

Her struggles had reduced noticeably since the beginning of her ordeal. At first she thought it was a typical burglary, the type of thing you see on television all the time. He was obviously only interested in money, so she did not feel too threatened as he began to tie her up. She would give him her widest eyes and plead for mercy. He would apologize for having to having to restraint her and then leave her to wriggle free of the loose ropes he bashfully applied. He was not bashful though, he was brazen. His confidence became clear after her hands were already tied. She thought the next rope was for her ankles, but he tied it around her waist. He then pulled it through her crotch, pulling it uncomfortably deep. She protested and received a huge ballgag strapped into her face as a reward. As she began to drool all over herself she began to think this man was no gentleman robber. The realization sunk in more as he pulled her arms together behind her back and tied them in place. He seemed far to skilled at this for just a bungling thief. Her hopes for etiquette ended when her tore open her blouse and fondled her bared breasts. She began to struggle now. It was not longer a game, it was all too real. She was already too helpless at this point to fight much let alone prevent her wrists from being drawn sharply to her ankles.  She felt concerned for the first time as she writhed helplessly on the couch, but he was not done. He pulled a stocking over her face and tape it in place. Before she could even wonder what they hosiery was for he pulled her head back to her elbows and tied the stocking off. She really started to struggle now. This was not lounging on the couch in a few ropes. This was not waiting demurely until someone arrived to help her free. This was true helplessness and extreme discomfort. She could already feel her fingers being to tingle and the stocking was crushing her nostrils. She could barely breathe. She could barely move. She should have resisted more in the beginning, but she misjudged his intentions entirely. He did not want her money. She struggled less and less as she tired and strained to breath. She could hear noises and knew he had no left her. She could not bear the thought of being left alone like this and actually felt a little relieved to know he was still around. Her relief faded though when she saw him pull in a four-wheel dolly with a platform about the size of a hogtied damsel. He indeed did not want her money. He wanted her, and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it!

A component of predicament bondage that I enjoy is finding a point called "the suck." I first heard that term working with Nyxon, and I have used it ever since. There is a part of many restraints where things go from, "I can handle this" to, "holy shit, hurry up and get some footage." The model starts her timer and does whatever internal meditation they choose to get them through the next 5, 10, 15 or more minutes. It is literally a point where the model starts to hate the position and would want out right away if not for them being so damn awesome. I used to think it was when I tied the elbows, but this is not often the case. So many people are so flexible and mentally durable these days that they can go a long time after their elbows are tied. I have discovered though that a stocking on the head always brings "the suck." Most people do not like having their vision obscured. Even less like having the stocking against their nostrils. It just really puts someone into a much more helpless state. 

Image courtesy of Give Me the Codes PLEASE - Part Three with Illustrious Rouge available at http://www.clips4sale.com/38048/8432435.

Hannah's Lost Bondage Bet

Ten more minutes?!?!

How the hell was she going to get out of this? It had already been 20 minutes of struggling trussed up like a holiday goose, over an hour counting when that bastard start meticulously applying rope to her naked body. What kind of rope was this anyway? If felt like it had sand glued to it, like little saws were digging into her skin every time she moved. She could deal with it in general, but those ropes he pulled tightly into her crotch were becoming very difficult to deal with. There are just some things that you do not want prickly rope dragging back and forth against. She had precious few options though. The ropes held fast despite all of her efforts, and the numbness in her hands made her fingers useless. She was little more than a lump of glistening flesh and taught rope at this point. The ball from the harness gag was still deeply wedged into her mouth. It pried her jaws opening and the strain was cramping her jaw muscles. She could not even prevent drool from flowing freely down her face let alone form anything close to a coherent word. Her throat was hoarse as well. She tried periodically to attract attention to herself, but her noises became less and less noticeable. She doubted anyone in the next room could hear her at this point let alone someone passing by outside. The worst part was the blindfold. She had no idea where she was in the living room. The sensory deprivation made minutes seem like eternity. There were scissors and a cell phone only yards away, but she had no idea where they were. Even if she did she had no way of making her way to them. The only thing she could do was wiggle less and less as each minute passed. There was always a chance that her motion would loosen a knot or make a rope slip. Miracles happen right? She would arch or twist or kick her legs, and a flaw in this torturous restraint would surface. That minor flaw would be her chance to begin working her way to freedom. Just because the first 20 minutes had result in nothing did not mean that it could happen. Right, all of that active and fervent wriggling produced no results and her barest of motion now would make all the ropes unravel. She had lost. She had 40 more minutes to go, and she could do little more than rest on her side and wait for him to come back and collect his reward. All of her bragging about being able to escape anything meant nothing. Was he even still there? He had won the bet before the timer even started, and he probably just left his prize on the floor alone, helpless and waiting for collection an hour later. She had 40 minutes to go and no energy left. All she could do was curse herself for such bravado and contemplate agreeing to model for him free for the next five shoots. She had 40 minutes to wait and then 40 hours of free jacked bondage waiting for her. She was never going to make a bet ever again.

I started making my own natural fiber rope out of jute a while back. I try to rotate my hobbies to keep up interest and things that need physical dexterity are a form of meditation for me. I decided to try my hand at home-made rope-making, and I am very pleased with the results. As with anything new some poor girl becomes the test model for my new hobby. I had already used the rope on Angelique, and she described the rope as having "tiny knives" all over it. It was time for another "Hogtie from Hell" in the rotation, so Hannah received the full treatment. Fully nude there were no barriers between her skin and the scratchy rope. After hundreds of feet of prickly rope and a crotch rope pulled in tight she struggled non-stop. Every movement dragged against the rope, but she knew the rules. If she stopped moving I would add a minute every time until we reached an hour. Unfortunately for her I needed 20 minutes instead of my usual 7 for the challenge because of a custom request. Hannah was up to the task. She never stopped moving and thanks to a secure harness gag she never complained once ... at least not that I could make out through all that grunting and drool!

Image courtesy of Hannah's Hemp Hogtie Hell with Hannah Perez available at http://www.clips4sale.com/38048/8395541.