Every Hogtie Is Different from the Last But No Less Strict

Mental note: choose truth next time and not dare!

I tie restraints a little different each time, so it's always nice to go back and review earlier shoots. So much of tying a girl up for me happens on the fly. I know that I will do a hogtie, but I have no idea of the mechanics of the position ahead of time. It starts and then evolves into the final restraint based on spontaneous factors. I know A and I know Z, the hell with how I am going to get there. I have a damsel that can handle great restraint. I am a rigger that knows how to tie someone up. I trust that we will both get to a place that look spectacular.

I do restraint on the fly. I find that for me the fluid results is far better than a meticulously planned position. So many things happen during a restraint that throw off a rigid plan. I like to go with the flow. I know where I am starting and let the river take both of us. It will go to the right place if I trust in her ability to take restraint and my ability to apply restraint. As such my hogties are always a little different each time I do them. I need to secure some rope, so I add something. I have some rope left over, and I do a decorative coil or a wrap of some sort. I need her to arch more, and I add a cinch or two in a place that I haven't before. It's great for me to have a mental inventory of all these variations because at the time all my brain remembers is I hogtied a damsel.

The image above is a great example. I have hogtied Angelique more times than I can count. I have used nylon rope, cotton rope, jute rope, duct tape, electrical tape, stockings, white rope, red rope, black rope, brown rope and the list goes on. Every time the restraint is different. The river takes us both to the same destination of ultra-strict restraint, but that journey is different. This hogtie took some turns that changed the look. A rock appeared and we veered to the left. We hit some rapids and needed to paddle hard back to the right. Some small and not-so-small obstacles demanded we steer the raft where the river wanted, not where we planned. I glanced over and could not see my scissors when I wanted to cut away the pantyhose that would not fit in her mouth, so I just taped over the wad over her lips. It made for a great gag. I felt like her arm ropes would slip so I used decorative loops and cinches to hole them in place. The look was great. I needed a rope for the hogtie and was out, so I untied her knees to use that rope. The knee spread allowed for a much more severe arch in the hogtied. A dozen or more elements of that hogtie happened because we hit on-the-fly challenges and just went with the flow. The result was one of my favorite hogties!

Image courtesy of Packed Mouth and a Jacked Hogtie with Angelique Kithos. Available at http://www.clips4sale.com/38048/10578825.

Bondage Bluff Becomes Strict-Restraint Tell

Um, you can just wrap it instead of pulling it so tight!

Bondage shoots are like a poker game where the damsel has to deal with the hand the producer deals her and play it until the end. Folding is always a possibility, but most models only tap out under the most unpalatable circumstances. They play their cards, no matter how poor the hand, until the winner rakes in the pot. Of course the win for the model is release. Any number of bad cards find their way into a damsel's hand. Her arms might go numb up to the point of tingling and stay that way. She may shift just enough for the blood flow in her hands to return fully bringing "the fire." Her shoulders and jaw might ache, but she plays her hand like it is a winner. The viewer sees what she wants them to see. They see distress and sensual struggle. They hear moans and groans that could just as easily say, "let me go" as well as, "my panties are getting wet despite my shame!" The model shows the ultimate poker face, the face that the viewer needs to see to believe the scene.

One expects the model to bluff with the viewer. One does not however realize she also bluffs with the producer. She wants them to think she is made of iron. She needs them to feel confident that she can be bent but not broken. She assures them her mouth can accept almost anything to silence her for the audience. Most models though have not played poker with such high stakes before though. They know the basics and have enough skill to pass for the viewer, but they have not played a pot through with a really bad hand. Even worse they have no idea what to do with such a bad hand. Their bluff is betrayed by a tell, a subtle hint that they are not longer playing the hand. It is the hand that is playing them. Every damsel has their own tell. It is a reflex, an anomaly, an action that goes against the normal script they play out during a scene. It is subtle and easily missed but knowing the model it becomes glaring.

Angelique showed her tell on our first shoot. She talked about how she could handle any gag. She had been gagged with almost everything, had seen it all and was ready for anything. I strapped a ballgag into her mouth, a huge ballgag. She did what most damsels do and locked her molars into it, preventing it from going all the way into her mouth as I fastened the strap. I then crushed her elbows together. She was flexible even at that point in her bondage career but had never experienced the shoulder-wrenching sensation of having her elbows rubbing against each other. As she mentally tried to process this new feeling I took the strap on her ballgag and pulled it two notches tighter. She gasped. The huge red orb was now deeply locked into her mouth, and her jaws pried open. I was not done though. I took out Microfoam tape and began wrapping it around her face. I pulled each wrap as tightly as possible without snapping the tape before laying it over her mouth. The tape squeezed her face and pushed the ball in her mouth even deeper into her face.
Her tell was obvious at this point. A crease emerged between her eyebrows. Models hate that crease and avoid it at all costs. It is the kind of crease that millions of women try to remove by injecting Botox into their faces over and over. Once set in place, it is there forever. Angelique would never purposely use that expression. In the poker game that is a bondage shoot her bluff had become a tell. Her cards now laid bare she could only ride the hand out until the end hoping beyond hope that I would not raise and even worse, go all in!

Image courtesy of His Dreams Became Her Bondage Nightmare with Angelique Kithos. Available at http://www.clips4sale.com/38048/10177341.

Angelique is hogtied tight again!

What do you mean we can go a little tighter?

I have always cinched nylon rope as tight as possible. People might things that jute or cotton rope is the most brutal because it is thin and does not slip, but nylon is more brutal because it is more slippery. When something has more give I pull torque, tug and tie it as tightly as possible to lock everything in place. When I tie with all-natural materials things lock in place without much effort. There is not reason to tug them tighter. With nylon every little slip subconsciously compels me to pull and pull some more until I pull it to tension and all the slip disappears from the synthetic fibers. Tied strictly nylon is just as unyielding as natural fiber rope and because it has no give it is far more restrictive to a poor damsel.

Angelique dressed for a set in a shiny, black catsuit, and there could be no better contrast than shiny white rope. Jute would not show well on video and cotton rope looks dirty to me against black. No, it had to be nylon rope and shiny microfoam for the gag. She struggles against me as I tied her which forced ever rope to be pulled as tightly as possible. It wasn't long before the tightness sapped the struggle from her, and I was restraining her without resistance. I could pull every wrap of rope as snug as possible, cinching things down to an agonizing level of constriction. I let her struggle before the hogtie just to loosen her up. I prefer to hogtie a girl when she is limp from being tired. A damsel with tense up when I put on a hogtie, and this works against me. I can pull a tired damsel tighter, pulling that arch to higher and higher levels. Once she started to sweat I knew it was time and stepped in to finish the hogtie. I pulled her crossed ankles to her shoulders until she grunted. I then pulled some more until she started to arch. She groaned, but I pulled even more. I kept pulling until her wrists were under her ankles. Her chest was high off the floor as were her knees, and her struggles were not reduced to that of an obscene rocking bundle of helpless damsel. She began to sweat even more, to the point of it dropping off her face. She could not rest on her chest or with her legs. All the strain was on her back as she balanced on her hips using every muscle just to endure. I left her for six or seven minutes. Her facial expressions told me that she was truly struggling from the start, but she had little choice in the matter. As a bead of sweat fell from the tip of her nose I called it and stepped in to release her. Nylon rope is not a damsels friend. Of course it did not deter Angelique from letting me hogtie her again for the next set. She is funny that way.

Image courtesy of Brutal Backarch for the Bitchy Burglar with Angelique Kithos. Available at http://www.clips4sale.com/38048/10512947.

The safe word is not "GRNNMMPPHHHH!!!"

UNNGGAHL!

She had a bad feeling about things from the start but missed the chance to put a stop to it hours ago. She wore the same rope bonds now that she had worn for over five hours. Her arms were throbbing and her jaw ached. Sweat glistened on her smooth skin. She could barely move anymore. No amount of muffled pleas, screams or mewling brought any respite. Her glares only encouraged the same ass slapping that her lack of movement brought. Each time she tried to express her displeasure through furrowed brows, each time she tried to say "enough is enough" by stopping all movement the assault on her bared and exposed ass began again. One hard smack after another rained down on alternating cheeks until she screamed into her gag and began struggling again. She pulled the ropes deeper into her sensitized skin as she arched and twisted. She was exhausted but the stinging and burning from the most recent of eight harsh spankings proved a great motivator. Sweat dripped from the tip of her nose and she rocked back and forth on her stomach. How had she let it come to this? His idea for tonight's bondage challenge seemed a little strange, but the others were always fun. It is remarkable how much just one change can make to a girl's evening. They always used a safe word. It made all the discomfort and pain go away. She had only to utter one word clearly, and he would release her and take her to dinner. That should have happened over four hours ago. Why did she ask for a better gag? Her own words from the start of the evening ran through her mind. She was overconfident as always and demanded that they would sleep like this if she could not get out. She told him to not be soft. He was to tie her tighter than ever. The position should be something where she could barely move. She told him to not fall victim to her glares, to not be fooled by her big, brown eyes. That was when he stuffed the huge pair of panties into her mouth and taped them in place so tightly her eyes bulged. She gave up twenty minutes after they had started. All she had to do was say, "uncle." All that came out of those panties crammed into her face was, "unngahl." She said it over and over realizing that it was not the safe word. It was a garbled mash of nonsense. She became concerned and then panicked. She tried everything she could think off to get him to understand that she could not say the word. It was no use though. Her only choice was to keep struggling and hope that he would get bored. She struggled as he ate in front of her. She struggled as he watched television. She struggled as he got ready for bed. She struggled because each time she stopped the next spanking was worse that the one before. At least she could rest now. He going to sleep. She lay at the foot of the bed, sweaty, hurting and helpless. She moaned into her face full of panties. She had at least eight more hours of this ordeal ahead of her, so she put her head on the hard floor, closed her eyes and heard him say, "Kind of odd you picked a gag that made it impossible to say the safe word." With her eyes still closed the tape over her face shifted ever so slightly. If not for the darkness a smile could be seen underneath.

Image courtesy of He Put a Ring on Her Finger and Rope Around Everything Else with Enchantress Sahrye.

Rope, tape, more tape and ... struggle!

Just take my money and leave already!

She could not believe her eyes. He had already spent a good twenty minutes tying her, taping her, groping her and wedging things into face that mother nature never intended to fit into a mouth, and he pulls out a roll of duct tape. Her wet and reddened eyes bulged over that tape wrapped tightly around her face. She tried as best she could to gurgle anything comprehensible past the three-inch orb of hard rubber jammed into her mouth. She would give almost anything just to be able to clearly say enough already, but she could not. He took her advice to heart. She was unable to communicate anything and very helpless. It appeared that is was about to get much worse. The rope was more than enough to keep her out of trouble. It efficiently welded her legs together and crushed her arms behind her back. She was not even able to stop him when he began fondling her breasts. She hated him for that, but she knew it would happen. Who wouldn't sample such perfect tits once the owner was completely helpless? She chastised him more for principle than anything else which earned her the ballgag. It was so huge he had to rock it back and forth to fit it past her teeth. Even without the strap pulled to the very last notch she would never have been able to dislodge it. He took it one step further when he wrapped tape around her face several times. He pulled every wrapping as tight as possible, and it squeezed her face like a vice. She felt it a bit extreme to start taping over every rope with electrical tape, but he made a good point about hiding the knots. He was after all only taking her advice, so she couldn't be too upset about his innovation. The breast bondage did piss her off a bit though. Wrapping her tits up so tightly had nothing to do with preventing her escape. He was just being a pervert she thought. That brings things to the now. He held the duct tape in front of her and then starting wrapping. The loud noise of tape coming loose from the roll echoed through the room, drowning out her fervent and muffled protests. He covered all of her other bonds before completely taping her arms into a duct-tape glove. He even taped her arms to her chest and waist. He was really taking this much too far, and she was thankful that she had nothing left to be tied or taped. Or so she thought. Imagine her surprise when the stocking slipped over her head. She begged him with wide eyes to stop, but he taped it in place anyway. The duct tape encircled her mouth, her eyes and even went around her chin and head. She was blind, mostly mute and very, very helpless. It was only then that he whispered in her ear he would to send help in three hours. Three hours! What the hell man?!? Then again it was her idea. She came up with the idea to be tied up. As she thrashed on the couch and slid down to the floor she recalled how he robbed her and then wanted to lock her in the closet. She hated the dark and begged him to tie her up. He did not like the idea, but she persisted. As she writhed on the floor she cursed his ingenuity. How was she to know he could make a girl so helpless. How was she to know he would use everything he could find to make her more and more helpless? She rolled on her side and then tried to roll to her stomach. Extreme discomfort shot through her breasts and she immediately rolled back onto her side. The pain in her arms and breasts forced her to stay on her side and not move. That bastard! He was more than a pervert, he was a mastermind. The breast bondage and arm bondage made sure she would stay right there on the floor. He had plenty of time to make his escape. He could max out her credit cards, pawn off all of her valuable and most likely even get out of the state before anyone found her. She was in for a long night for sure and even worse ... she really had to pee.

I sometimes forget that I don't have to use everything when I shoot, but I can't help myself sometimes. JJ has remarkable flexibility and endurance which gives me so much time to keep adding and adding more and more. If I had not gagged her so tightly she probably could have gone hours like that, but that is the challenge. My tasks is to get her to a state where that last five to seven minutes of video is a challenge. We accomplished that, but it took most of the rope, most of the tape and the biggest ballgag I own!

Image courtesy of Tie Me, Gag Me, Just Don't Put Me in a Dark Closet with JJ Plush.

Always stretch before you shoot

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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.

Heeled, Hosed and Helpless

My Nose Starts Itching Now?!?

The poor girl did little more than lie on her side and grunt into her gag since she managed to roll over. The ropes were too tight, and the position was too restrictive. All she wanted was a few drinks and some relaxing fun at the hotel bar. He seemed nice enough but after several rounds he pulled the inevitable, "let's take this up to my room" routine. She gracefully excused herself to check on a "sick friend" and headed upstairs. He followed her into the elevator though and before she even realized what was happening he was shoving her into his hotel room. She tried to get away, but he physically outmatched her. His hands squeezed her breasts and slapped her ass as she writhed in his grasp. She gasped as the first ropes starting sinking tightly into her flesh. Each knot meant escape was that farther away. By the time her hands, feet, chest and ankles were tied she had only one shot at freedom, but he took that away by shoving a huge ball into her mouth and strapping it in place behind her neck. She began to drool immediately as he bared her huge breasts and began wrapping rope tightly around them. They ballooned and shifted shade to an angry red. She had never felt such discomfort, but he kept winding the rope until her tits were hard and sensitive balloons. She could hardly believe it when he wound rope around her elbows so tightly they touched. Her shoulder ached, but there was no escape from the helplessness and discomfort. He removed her gag, and she pleaded for mercy. He responded by shoving a huge pair of panties into her mouth and tightly taping them in place. It squeezed her head and pushed the panties deeply into her mouth. She had no time to reflect on gag's severity as he pushed her to the floor. He pulled her ankles to her chest forcing her to sharply arch. Her huge breasts barely touched the floor. She grunted from the strain as he cinched things off, but he was not finished with her. He pulled stocking over her head, taped it in place and used it to pull her head sharply back. He told her he was going back to the bar for a couple of shots of whiskey. She was alone. She could barely move but needed to relieve some of the pressure from her aching breasts. She mustered all the energy she had and starting rocking back and forth until she fell to her side. She was a motionless, panting, grunting and moaning bundle of flesh on the carpet, and all she could do was endure. The position was too secure. The ropes were too tight. She had no option but to wait. She shifted every so slightly in her bonds and groaned. All she had to do was wait.

Image courtesy of Bound to Serve His Every Wish with JJ Plush available at http://www.clips4sale.com/38048/8350887.

A Girl, A Couch and a Jacked Restraint

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Nyxon Lies Down on the Job

How are you lighting this? I want you to get my good cheek!

She had already worked at the bonds for two hours sitting on the carpet, an effort that had chaffed her bared buttocks to a rosy red and uncomfortable state. The carpet fibers felt like needled with every movement, and the skin on her ass felt like it was on fire. Her arms were tingling, numb and of no use in changing her position. She looked at the floor a couple of feet down, but it might as well have been 20 feet. She took a deep breath, tensed every muscle she could and let herself fall to her side. Time slowed as she rolled over and began moving towards the ground. She lifted her head away from the rug, grit her teeth into her gag and waited for the eternity it took for gravity to suck her to the ground. Her shoulder drove into the rug with a loud thump as she yelped into her gag. She saw stars, and pain shot down her arm. The jolt stopped at her elbow. Everything below the ropes holding it against the other had no feeling anymore. The initial shock faded, and she began struggling again in earnest. She lifted her ankles and kicked them at the air. She could feel the ends of the rope hitting her calves as she did, and it renewed her faith that escape was possible. Although she could not feel them her fingers wiggled ever so slightly, and she continued to kick. Her ass cheeks glowed hot and red from rug burn, and her shoulder ached. She chewed into her gag, and spit drool from her mouth as she cried out in help. She kicked and wiggled and moaned and fought with all her might, and it amounted to ... nothing. The knots held. The ropes still dug deeply into her soft flesh. The gag silenced her just as cruelly as before. A coil of rope fell by her face and she yelled out in surprise. He was back, and her plight was not over. A second coil, a third and then a fourth fell to the ground by her. Her predicament it seemed was just beginning.

In a world full contorted cuties it is refreshing to do a four-point restraint every so often. Ankles, knees, wrist and elbows is a staple of any rigger's toolbox and often leads up to the much-loved hogtie. There is just something about a simple but tight restraint that gives a girl enough wiggle to let you know sterner measures may be necessary. Nyxon is a great example. Left to her own devices she will pick at any knot, test every rope and find some way to turn your clever restraint into a pile of ropes on the floor that she stands over smiling at the camera. This is what gets her into so many predicaments at my place. She just has to force my hand. Lifting her ankles off of the ground and wigging her buns for the camera is never enough. She just has to try and escape, and I just have to bring in more rope to put her to the test.

Image courtesy of Tied, Taped and Taken - Part One with Nyxon available at http://www.clips4sale.com/38048/8232245.

Some Hogties Are Harder Than Others

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Gigi Learns She Hates Being a Mummy!

The door? That son of a bitch is leaving!!!

She had no idea how long she had been like this. Seconds seemed like minutes, and minutes seemed like hours when one is blind, almost deaf and unable to move. Her fervent struggling had long since ceased, replaced by a battle just to endure the increasing tightness of her predicament. The electrical tape squeezed her like a vice now that she had no strength to fight. She could only manage short breaths anyway, not enough to fuel meaningful struggle. The heat was unbearable. He had encased her in nylon before taping her. It seemed a kindness at first, a measure that prevents the tape from sticking to her skin. The double layer of nylon and tape kept in all her body heat though. It built up, and sweat drenched her body. Her neck was stiff, and she lifted her head to stretch it. She was afraid to roll on her back again. There was so much drool in her mouth, and it triggered her gag reflex when she rolled from her side. She could not afford another coughing fit like before. She almost blacked out the last time, and breathing took all her concentration. First one breath, then another. She focused on her breathing. She forced the air in and out despite the tape crushing her chest. In then out, steady and sure she kept telling her self. First one breath, and then the next. What she would not give for just one pillow at this point. Her neck was so sore. There were pillows about the room, but she had no idea where she was at this point. They might as well be miles away instead of mere feet. She could not roll anyway. The predicament had defeated her. It forced her to stay silent and immobile. She could do nothing but breath and wait for the return of the man that had done this to her. Anything would be better than this though. She welcomed his return despite what could be in store. She would hear the door at any moment. He would make things worse, but he would release he from this. That was all she cared about. What came next was no concern. All that mattered was an end to this. He was not a villain. He was going to be her savior. He would end this predicament, and that is all that mattered. She breathed in and out, and waited.

There is a subtle satisfaction to a restraint that wears a girl out instead of just defeating her. Anyone can make a damsel tap out of a position. It is much harder to create a scenario that slowly wears them down to the point where they can barely move anymore. They want to keep going. They want to struggle and moan and keep the film rolling. They cannot though. Their bonds have sucked all the energy from their limbs and all the spirit from their heart. The only thing they are left with after ten minutes is the ability to lay there and hope their lack of movement does not result in an addition to a position that is already made its point.

Image courtesy of Mummified and Freaking Out with Gigi Lynn available at http://www.clips4sale.com/38048/8157811.

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!

Reflections of Bondage

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I Can't Be Found, Not Like This

At least he left my panties on me!

She struggled against the tight ropes, but her attempts grew increasingly feeble. The position and strictness of her bonds drained her energy quickly leaving her dangling from her wrists and whining into her gag. All she would have to do is scream when the doorbell rang, but there would be no rescue at this time of night. It was already far too late for visitors or packages or cherub-faced girls selling cookies. She was not even sure she wanted to be found this way. It was not enough to bind her so securely and uncomfortably. He had to cut off her expensive dress as well. She dangled there practically naked, her body beaded with perspiration and drool flowing from her gagged mouth. If only she could reach a knot, just one knot, but he made sure none were near her hands. Her fingers were useless anyway. They had gone numb ten minutes ago. Her struggles exhausted her, and she focused her remaining strength on not falling over. She feared dislocating her shoulders if she fell. The ropes crushing her shoulders together pulled her shoulders back so sharpy. Kerri did not even know that was physically possible, but she hung there a very pained and helpless proof of her own physical flexibility. She heard him upstairs again rummaging through her things. Panic suddenly overtook her. What if he wanted more than her valuables? She hung there ready and on display, and the only thing between her and his advances were a very skimpy pair of panties. He came downstairs with a pillowcase full of her things over his shoulder. She looked at him wide-eyed over her shoulder as he put down the sack and moved in behind her. Slowly he pulled down her panties as she cried into her gag. He slid them off of her ass, down her thighs and left them hanging off the ropes at her knees. Adrenaline overtook her exhaustion, and she thrashed in her bonds despite the pain. Then he laughed and smacked her hard on the ass. "What kind of creep do you think I am?" he asked. He told her that he would call the police to free her in an hour, and he wanted to make sure the boys at the precinct got a good show. Then he left after whispering something into her ear that haunted her for years to come. Then he left her to wait, pained, tired and knowing full well that in an hour she would become the most traded evidence photo in the history of the precinct.

A fun storyline for me focuses on the shame that a damsel feels at the thought of rescue. The bondage is brutal, and they naturally want release. The cost of freedom though is discovery in a very shameful state. The villain stripped ur heroine naked and left her contorted into an exposed position. The contrast of a need for release against the fearful anticipation of being found in such a state is a true mental predicament.

Try Not to Move Too Much

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Can I Go Now? I'm Done Stealing ... Honest!

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Her Tale of Hubris

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Custom Clarifications

Long legs!

I want to say up front that I love customs and shooting them. They often divulge from my normal material and provide and interesting break from that material as well as an interesting challenge. They also allow me to contact and work with models that I would normally not work with or not work with as often as the customs allow me to.

I do find though that anything not clear in the minds of people is far too open to interpretation and miscommunication. As such I find it helpful to publish more meaningful guidelines for custom videos to allow better communication and faster delivery of requested custom videos. I present these to help any interested understand the process better. I will say up front that if I seem grumpy or accusatory in any part it is not my intent. It is a first draft as an a decades-long manager my communication has a tendency to sound like a marching order if I am not careful!

I will say up front that the email responses that both Angelique Kithos and I receive highlight attention to detail, adherence to script, quality of video, attention to post-editing, attention to sound editing and an overall higher quality than expected. We spend more time preparing and editing than is required and that results in a better product. I get knocked for delivery times and the below is an effort to improve that.

 General Guidelines

1. If interested in ordering a custom video or if you have questions about the process please email me at tedmichaelsdsamsels@gmail.com with the header of "Custom Inquiry". This helps with two things. I have a special email folder your email with automatically be sent to. It also reduces the chance that an email will end up in my spam folder. I check my customs folder multiple times a day but my spam folder only once every two weeks. I am too busy to check my spam folder daily or even weekly. If you tweet me I will just tell you to email me.
2. Avoid all caps in your header. It will result in your inquiry going to my spam folder and can result in up to two weeks before I respond to you.
3. After receiving your email I will thank you, try to answer any questions you may have and ask follow-up questions. Details about duration of the video, number of models desired, specific content, number of restraints, number of locations/scenes and the intricacy of any story plot are highly helpful during the first email.
4. I try to work within budgets, but I do not respond to insulting offers. Models cost on average $100/hour. Asking me to shoot a custom that requires two hours and giving me a budget of $25 is not going to work and is a waste of everyone's time. If you cannot afford it, you cannot have it. Customs are a luxury item. If you cannot devote $100 for a video or $75 for a photo set at a minimum please do not contact me.
5. If you request a specific model and she is not available or available in a timely manner I will ask if you wish for me to follow-up with secondary candidates. Please do not waste my time on this. I frequently get this request and then a pass. The time I take to follow-up is money and pulls me from other things.
6. If you require a specific model other than Angelique Kithos or Hannah Perez a minium of a 30-minute minimum custom is required.
7. Special requests are the responsibility of the requester. Torn clothing is an extra cost. Props that I do not already own are an extra cost. A special color of tape that I do not have is an extra cost. All materials for a mummification are an extra cost. External shooting locations that require driving time are an extra cost.
8. A custom gives you rights to view for personal use but not sell or redistribute in any manner. Models do not like giving their personal information on releases to people they do not know or have never communicated with. I do not like seeing material I own the copyright to being pirated. If you wish to own the material this will need to be discussed with the model and will involved much higher pricing than normal rates.
9. I reserve the right to use any material created for my website and stores. That is built into my pricing. Customs that utilize elements (fake blood, fake beatings, fake bodily fluids) that I cannot use on my store or website will involve an extra cost.
10. I reserved the right to delay delivery of a custom if special edits are necessary to make the model look her best. I am working currently on a custom where the model has a nasty blemish that I am removing in post-edit. It is taking time, but I will not risk release of this material as screenshots that a custom requestor might release violate my model release stating that material will not be released that diverges from the images she already publishes on her portfolios.
11. I reserve the right to be sick, have a family and have primary employment opportunities. If delays on my part become too lengthy I will discuss pricing discounts on future customs.
12. Customs requiring multiple models mean that any model after the first are at my discretion to choose. Coordinating schedules and pricing becomes too difficult after that. I will do my best to include everyone you desire, but I will be very honest as to the costs that this will incur for you (flights, lodging, day rates).
13. If I indicate that a model is uncomfortable with an element please do not ask if she will change her mind. My personal shooting guideline is that when a model says , "No" then I will not bring it up again. I will not violate my personal rules of integrity for a custom.
14. I do not have a "harem" of women sitting idly by waiting for requests orders. Please understand that it can take weeks, even months to get my shooting needs into their schedules. If you cannot wait at least three months and demand a specific model you will have a high chance of getting impatient and wanting to move on after sucking up a lot of my time.

Pricing/Durations Guidelines

1. Customs require a minimum of ten minutes. I you desire a six-minute custom the pricing will be identical to a ten-minute custom.
2. Pricing for strict bondage is $100 for each 10-minute block. Special pricing is available for customs for 60 or more minutes. I will negotiate on price, so please do not hesitate to inform me of your desired budget.
3. Certain elements can effect price. S&M elements, erotic elements, messy elements and anything requiring lengthier wardrobe and make-up adjustments can incur extra costs.
4. Pricing includes finalizing a shoot with model(s), filming, editing and full post-processing. I shoot on high-end equipment with quality lighting. I do not produce dark and grainy customs with muddled sound. I guarantee to spend more time polishing the final product than the actual shoot time.
5. Please refrain from constant emails after I shoot a custom. I you have not heard from me for a week, please feel free to ask for an update. I do not have time for a hundred emails each day asking for a status update as that takes the better part of a day to handle, time that should be spent filming and editing.
6. Any request that requires more than ten emails will require a non-refundable $50 deposit. An request that has exceeded an hour of my time will require a non-refundable $50 deposit. I simply do not have the time to engage in lengthy conversations that may not result in a customs (and many inquiries do not result in a custom). My time is money. The best way to avoid this is to be clear and present as much information as possible up front.This deposit will go towards payment for the final custom and is not an additional cost. If you back out of the custom later, you will lose this deposit.
7. Non-bondage, non-erotic customs have different pricing structures. Please do not hesitate to inquire in your initial email.

Other Thoughts

1. Please keep all emails in the original email chain. Starting new email chains, posting to me on Twitter/Facebook or contacting me at other emails makes it very difficulty for me to keep everything straight. This results in delays and possible errors in the custom.
2. Be nice, be professional!

I know this will change, but I kind of wanted to get a first draft out there. I will have a new custom page up at my website soon, and it helps to get something out there for people to start emailing me and going, "what the hell Ted, this makes no sense" or "thank you, that cleared up a lot of questions."

Image courtesy of  She Begged the Burglar for Tight Ropes Then He Took All He Wanted with Angelique Kithos available at http://www.clips4sale.com/38048/6562651