April A-Z Blogging Challenge: B is for Bondage

The Meme Master Post

B is for Bondagage, Nice and tight

Well, we’re diving right into the “Adult Content” warning I had to put on my A-Z link, aren’t we? *Cough*

I can’t remember the first time I encountered fictional bondage, but it was probably a Year’s Best Fantasy & Horror anthology – where I got most of my early erotica.

I remember very clearly when someone first used the term “S&M” around me – I can’t tell you who he was, but he was the friend of friend, on a mall not-quite-double-date. And when I asked what it meant, he said “spaghetti and meatballs.” 😛 😛

I don’t think he expected me to know the words. But at that age – early teens – I was all about the words.

Buying my first handcuffs, discovering newsgroups (alt:binaries:pictures:erotica:bondage!)… it’s all immensely personal, and yet seems entirely natural to me. I’m not sure I can say much more about this in blog format, so… have a microfic.

This is one of the scenes that started Addergoole. It’s set in Tir na Cali, in a school open to American kids with Californian bloodlines.

~

She’d agreed to be his slave for a week, because he’d said she couldn’t handle it. She wasn’t going to give in now, even if she was beginning to worry that he might be right.

She’d had only the vaguest idea of what that meant. There were slaves in the school, of course – this was California; there were slaves everywhere – but none of them… well.

She shifted from one knee to another as surreptitiously as she could. He ignored her, as far as she could tell; he was probably focusing on his game. They all seemed to be ignoring her. She wasn’t certain, not truly, if she preferred that to being paid attention. She had never been so exposed. Or so helpless.

It was a good thing that their weekly D&D game was in his room; otherwise he might have carried her down the hall like this. As it was – well. She couldn’t walk, that was certain. She could feel the corset pushing into her ribs, pushing her breasts upwards. She could feel the stilleto heels pushing two ridges into her ass. She could feel the way the gag distended her mouth and pushed against the back of her throat, the straps on either side of her nose, the way the buckle pressed against the back of her head. She couldn’t see any of it, not with the thick blindfold covering her eyes. But she could feel it all.

He’d used so much leather. Her arms were laced behind her back in mitts that went straight to her shoulders. Her legs were strapped together in ten places. Even the heels of her shoes were tied to each other – he’d let her watch that one.

She shifted again, trying to get the heel out of her ass. She’d told him she could handle this. She was going to handle it.

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