Rubbed the Wrong Way

The only rope that did not hurt!

She tried to contain the mass of spit in her mouth. She curled her lips around the large ball and breathed steadily through her nose. She worked against the ropes hoping just one would slip or just one knot would start to loosen. It was an effort in futility that she had repeated for almost an hour. Her body ached and her fingers tingled. The more of her that went numb the more other areas began to throb. She continued desperately to try to free herself, but discomfort was the only reward for her fervent struggles. She grew tired, but she had to keep going. Each minute drew her farther and farther from the hope of ever freeing herself and ever closer to a shameful surprise she could never expect. She gyrated in the ropes and tensed against their tightness. Fingers without feeling flexed. Arms on fire swayed back and forth, and shoulders bucked against ropes that would never yield. The struggles were taking their toll, and the sweat glistening on her body grew heavier with each movement. She began to notice a familiar sensation. It was those damn ropes between legs, pulled deeply inside her and up against her womanhood. They rubbed with each movement. They stimulated her. She paused from her struggles to let the rising subside, but the clock caught her eye. Her hour was almost up. He would be back to take her away. All would be lost without escape and so she struggled again with renewed fervor. The sensation grew but still she struggled. She writhed and moaned, and the sensation grew. She pushed her hips into the tight ropes over and over, and the sensation grew. She needed to get free, she fought the ropes and the sensation grew. It grew and it grew and it grew and then ... she was out of time. The flood came over her and waves of sensation flooded her body. Her entire body shook with spasms. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, and she opened her mouth wide. The drool drained from her face, flowed from her chin and ran down her chest. She screamed into the ball as saliva bubbled and sprayed into the air. She panted, and tried to catch her breath. She still had time to get loose. She could still be free. It was then that she heard soft clapping in the shadows. He emerged still applauding her show. He had been there the entire time hidden behind the bright lights. The bastard had watched every movement and witnessed the agony of her predicament. Escape would have to wait. She knew this little show was far from over.


Crotch ropes are a necessary element of predicament bondage in my opinion. I correct myself, tight crotch ropes are necessary. They add a certain element of helplessness for sure because the damsel cannot even prevent a rope from going between her legs. The predicament comes into play because struggling will always remind a girl that there is a rope between her legs. It might hurt. It might chafe. It might feel like awesome times twenty, but a girl will always know it is there. That is the essence of a predicament for me. The damsel needs to struggle, but the struggling will always let her know there is a crotch rope and just where it is rubbing!

Strict Bondage and Tight Gags

Wenona strains without any gain!

Everything about a certain set says strict bondage and a tight gag. The predicament above features Wenona as the damsel in distress. She plays the role well and understands that the best acting comes from good direction. In this case the director is white nylon rope pulled ultra-tight and a gag strapped in not one but two notches past the normal. I refer to this as the minimalist approach, but my version of minimalism results in a scene of true helplessness.

In the image above every rope around Wenona is pulled tight. Every loop is neat. Every knot is unforgiving. The bondage forces exertion. The exertion tenses her muscles and build a sheen of perspiration all over her body. The ballgag is pulled just tightly enough into her mouth that these exertions force shortness of breath and moaning. Her pants and moans allow drool to run freely from her mouth, down her chin and onto her chest. Her body is over-sensitized from a tight crotchrope digging in deeply enough to stimulate but not so much to cause pain. Her nipples become fully erect as blood flow is diverted to her skin. Even the air flow from the vent is enough to continue the stimulation on her nipples now.

Acting the part at some point is replaced by becoming the part. I do not have to tell her to struggle. The bondage and gag have compelled her to struggle. Her tensed muscles start the release of endorphins. She cannot even feel the ropes now, but she can certainly feel the slight tinge of euphoria coming over her body. She no longer fights the ballgag and lets is sink deeper into her mouth forcing out even more drool. She gyrates in her chair forcing the crotchrope to continue rubbing against her, forcing the air to continue wafting against her engorged nipples. There is no longer agony from the ropes, only the body's desire to keep the endorphins flowing and maintain the sweet sensations she is no lost among. Struggling is now automatic.

So it goes on for long minutes. Wenona left her mental script of, "wiggle, moan, arch, moan, try to drool, big eyes" a long time ago. The ropes and gag have done their work. The have held fast and produced a chain reaction that turned her into a real damsel in distress. She is no longer struggling against the ropes and gag but with them. Drool flows freely down her chin as she moans not from a script but from the ropes rubbing against her over-sensitized skin and that crotch rope pulled to just the right tightness working against crotch. Her movements are no longer about release but about maintaining the sensations. She is almost shocked when I say we're done. Her look is one of being snapped out of a trance with perhaps a little disappointment added.

There are many ways to make a girl helpless with strict bondage and tight gags. A truly fun way is to tie them in a way where their struggling creates a set of events that make them want to struggle instead of feel like they have to struggle. It is not voluntary. The events compel the girl to so so, and that means they are damsels in distress in the truest form. So close to escape but never reaching it because struggle becomes about struggle for the sake of struggling instead of struggling for the sake of freedom. In essence though are those sensations not the true freedom? A little release of endorphins and a little, "ah, that was nice" to recover from a rough day can do wonders I would think.

Image courtesy of Welded in White with Wenona.

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Anime angles

I wish I could remember when I started shooting extreme up and down angles. It probably stems back to my years of drawing comic panels. In a drawing extreme angles portray action. In video they do the same thing.

I've found over the years that the extreme upward angle gives the feeling of isolation in the scene. When you film at eye level it gives the impression you're seeing what the antagonist is seeing. Extreme angles put the perspective in the scope of the damsel being alone and helpless. It's a neat feeling for video as long as you don't mind break dancing all over the floor to shoot it right.

Since I have a propensity to tie peoples ankles apart the models will often splay their knees apart as they struggle which gives what I call the anime angle. If you've seen enough anime and manga you'll know what I'm talking about. Wenona was great for this. She knew where the camera was at all times and made sure her knee never got in the way. It really served to isolate her in the scene as a bound, gagged and utterly alone damsel. It is also one of my favorite scenes from FC two years ago!

Welded in White courtesy of Ted Michaels Damsels.

I like drool

I'm sort of fascinated by how things change when it comes to fetish tastes. The term I use is that your tastes will "graduate." I say that because my experience is that people's likes start at some base and then evolve; they tend expand and intensify. What do I mean? I used to like simple bondage that promoted a certain innocence and that graduated into ultra-strict bondage as I realized that it's not really being tied up if the girl gets loose. I'd have people wiggle around, they'd get loose and I'd think, "damn I'm a really bad villain, let's fix that." I felt a little guilty at first, but I started to enjoy the intricacy with rope work that strict bondage allowed. Where am I going? Well, I used to not like drool until at some point my tastes graduated. What could be more helpless than a damsel in ultra-strict restraint, her jaws straining with a huge ballgag and so helpless she can't even stop from drooling all over herself.

With that in mind I give you Wenona in Weld Her to That Chair and letting loose some strands of drool that would have made it to the floor if the chair and her crotch hadn't gotten in the way. Wenona is a gal in total control of her body. She is tanned, toned and can kick your ass. About 200 feet of ultra-cinched rope and a fat ballgag though, and she had zero control ... a helpless lass able to do little more than wiggle ... and yes, drool all over herself!

And now I'm back to getting a custom script out for a look-see, working on samples and as always editing clips!