Apparently they had a hell of a celebration in 1938 in Hampton, New Hampshire, celebrating the town’s 3rd centennial. It involved dressing up in colonial clothing and putting somebody in the pillory. Never let it be said the town of Hampton doesn’t know how to party!
Elsewhere on Bondage Blog:
We all know that the Japanese prison system has a reputation for being fairly hard core. If the “inspection night” protocols in the dorms at the women’s reformatory are any guide, that reputation is fairly earned:
Elsewhere on Bondage Blog:
I submit to you that there was more kinky shit going down in public in Riverside County, California in 1950 than you had previously believed. No, seriously. A slavegirl auction every night, right out in the open air as part of the Arabian Nights pageant at the county fair in Indio. Don’t believe me? I have the receipts, in the form of this two-page spread in a 1950 Eye magazine:
Elsewhere on Bondage Blog:
The central conceit in F.E. Cambell’s Chained Melody is that Melody and her man make big cash by having him “sell” her as a permanent slavegirl to not-very-experienced assholes who don’t know how to keep the kinky little escape artist secure. So she promptly escapes and goes home:
The resolve to be a firm master stiffened his backbone. Instead of allowing her a chance to recover the use of her hands, he pulled them behind her, crossed them, and bound them with one of the ropes he had taken from her legs. He tied the knots as well as he could but it was obvious that the bondage was not as tight or as secure as that which had been on her when he accepted delivery. Still, he seemed satisfied that she would remain helpless. Besides, even if she managed to work off the ropes, there was still the handcuffs and chain securing her ankle to the wall.
This man fully intended to be a firm master, keeping his slavegirl under constant control and knowing who was boss. But he was not without compassion. Before leaving, he unbuckled the gag strap and gently pulled the ball from her mouth. There were red marks on the cheeks at each side of her mouth to show how tight that gag had been.
With a sigh of contentment at owning this fine new toy, her lord and master turned and left her bedroom/cell.
For awhile the girl just lay there, crying softly to herself. The crying lasted only as long as she could hear any movement in the house. And after the noises stopped, she lay on her side, quiet but not asleep. Finally, much deeper into the night, she moved.
First she slid from the bed to the carpeted floor. Then she made her way in the dark to the bathroom door. The light switch worked and she pulled her chained ankle in the bathroom as far as it would go. She closed the door until it was almost closed, held open only by the chain laying on the floor. Bending over, she lowered her crossed wrists down the back of her body. The wrists cleared her bottom easily and went down to her knees. There she lifted the foot without the handcuffs and placed it between her arms. Then the other foot Finally she straightened up, bringing her hands up until they were in front of her face. Reaching up, she worked her fingers into her long, very full head of hair just above one ear. When they withdrew there was a very small blade held between the thumb and one finger. With wrist bent down, she managed to cut one rope around her wrists, then another and another.
Three were enough, so she carefully placed the blade on the counter and worked the ropes off her wrists. With hands free, she replaced the tiny blade in the hidden hairpin.
A slim length of stiff wire came from a hiding place on the other side of her head. The end was bent at a right angle, which allowed her to use it as a pick on the handcuffs locked around her ankle. From start to finish, the escape had taken only five minutes. She replaced the pick and stood up with a deep breath. That part had been easy. Now she had to find her way out of a strange house while naked, and somehow get to a safe place.
Back in the bedroom she picked up the bottom of what had been her bikini, then discarded it when she found the strings tom out on one side. Naked it would have to be.
It would have been nice to search the house for clothing but she didn’t know where she would find any, save, of course, for the bedroom of the man who had bought her. And she wasn’t going to go looking in there. So she made her way out into the dark and cold night wearing only a look of determination.
The car was waiting a short distance away where it could watch the house but not be seen easily. The man sitting in the dark car picked up a flashlight when he saw the pale shape of a naked woman leaving the house. The brief gleam from that flashlight held with fingers over the front told her where safety was. In a minute she was sliding into the car, putting her arms around the man and kissing him passionately. It was the same man who had bound and gagged her, then given her away.
“Any problems, sweetheart?”
“No. He made the mistake of not checking for the blade or pick.”
“Fool.”
Elsewhere on Bondage Blog:
This unfortunate bondage cutie is the supposed patient of Dr. Ziska in a 1925 Lon Cheney horror movie called The Monster:
Via Kinky Delight.
Update: Whoopsie! It turns out we’ve seen this one before.
Elsewhere on Bondage Blog:
