I try really hard to only “favorite” something if it is either a piece of art with personal significance to me, OR, if it’s a piece of art that speaks to me with such a compelling erotic and intoxicating voice that I just know I’m going to write up a report about it and share it with everyone.  I pass on “favoriting” a LOT of really amazing art because (1) there are so many super talented artists producing so much yummy stuff!, and (2) there are only so many hours in the day and I don’t want to wind up like Mistress @Julanni who has like a million gazillion notifications piled up all around her torture chamber/playroom making it hard to move the Saint Andrew’s Cross over by the window where I like it in the morning.  What?  I like a view.   Anyway….point is, I something has to be SPECIAL for me to “favorite” and write it up.

Y’all, this one is extra special.  😊

BAM!  Check it out.  It’s another masterpiece by one of my new favorite artists @jonut21   Now, you might recall that I recently wrote up a story about a crazy self-bondage session I had a long time ago (before I was the world’s greatest bondage escape artist) inspired by one of JONUT’s works.  If you don’t recall, then freaking go read it.  It was really good!  Anyway, the story I did focused on the technical aspects of the scene JONUT drew.  I was focused on the ropes, the use of the bed, gravity, etc., and how they combined to form a seemingly inescapable problem for me. 

But that actually only scratched the surface of what made the image so hauntingly compelling to me!

Compare that piece to this new one and you’ll see what I’m about to be talking about.  Isn’t there just such a potently unnerving quirkiness to it?  The colors are kind of dulled out pastels like a rainbow that had grown tired and lost its shine.  It gives the scene a bright and “safe” first impression that slides into the back of your throat and makes you sputter and choke on it.  It’s like when you take a drink from a closed cup and think it’s lemonade and find out that it’s milk.  It’s not bad.  But it’s unexpected.  It shocks you.  It takes over your senses and makes you recalibrate.  

Now I want to talk about texture.  See how almost everything in the images has a soft, round edge?  Fabrics are full and puffy.  There are frills and lace.  Hair is tick and teased up.  The damsel has plump, full, muscular features.  She is young and fresh.  You can imagine yourself leaning into her and sinking into her warmth and bounty.  But then there’s the tethers.  They are straight and sharp and uncompromising.  Their power is undeniable.  The rest of the scene makes way for them to cut through the image and snag the limbs of the damsel in merciless tight grips.  It takes a moment to appreciate this, and I’ll say it another way to help.  Step back.  Just look.  There is a sense of flowing movement all around.  The characters shift their weight.  Curtains billow silently.  Dresses sway gently.  But the bondage lines, the tethers, are stationary.  They hold firm exactly where they were drawn.  And the damsel, everywhere that her body is touched by the tethers, is also locked down tight and immoveable.  The rest of her is free to writhe to whatever extent her flexibility will allow, but not where she is bound.

Her soft, comfortable, colorful, undeniably desirable body is stretched out to it’s maximum limits helpless and almost breaking under the force of the tethers.  Just look.  Isn’t she a personification of vulnerable?

Yeah, visually, this shit does it for me in a major way.  I’m moving on to the “feels.”

This might be because I used to masturbate regularly to the scene from Small Soldiers where Kirstin Dunst got tied up and gagged by a mob of toys led by a toy solider voiced by Tommy Lee Jones (was that and over-share?), but I am insanely turned on by the idea of being dominated by non-sentient and utterly unsympathetic forces.  Incidentally, the works by @Lady-Sarah-Ines completely tap into this by virtue of her Dominant characters having complete and total ambivalence toward the targets of their amusements.  Get into my head with me for a second.  Think about it.  Someone or something wields absolute control over your freedom and they don’t even care enough about you to being doing it as punishment.  You’re just an object.  You couldn’t matter less.  Like…fuck…I’m all chills.  Because, when “they” don’t even see you as a person, or when “they” themselves aren’t bound by ANY rules or morals or codes, then that means there are no limits to what might happen to you.  This really could be the end or freedom and the start of the life of enslavement you both dreaded and lusted for since you were a little girl watching Kylie struggling bound in the back of a wagon in the animated movie Quest for Camelot.  

Alright, alright, I’m doing my rambling thing.  Let’s get into this picture…

I thought about writing up a whole story about a young college student who went to visit the kind old ladies who never get visitors and then….   But you know what, I’m not going to write it all out.  I want to let you fill in the blanks and I’ll save you reading my version and the few thousand words it would take to recreate what you can see in the image.

For reasons we don’t know, the damsel came to THIS house never suspecting anything was amiss.  But things WERE amiss.  She left herself open and exposed and was subdued.  Let’s say she ate or drank something that rendered her unconscious.  That’s the easiest way to explain that fact that she’s been stripped down to a lacy black thong.  Good God, soak in her body.  Her rich tan glorious skin held and molested by the cold, lifeless pale wrinkled bony hands of her abductors.  My stomach turns and my heart races and my damp parts start to pour out dampness.  This is a nightmare but I can’t help myself or fight off my arousal.  The textures contrasts.  The colors.  The ambivalence toward me and my agony are all combining to put me right the fuck in my place. 

The only place where I can be my true self.  Helpless.  Right here in the image…  Continuing…

Let’s roam around the image now.  Start at my wrists.  They’re far apart and high above my head. 

One is in a tight fist as a I cringe from unwanted touches all over my body.  I try to pull it down through the cuff (more on that in a second) but it’s locked in 3-dimensional space right where it is.  The other hand strains and grasps out for ANYTHING in desperation and disbelief at what’s happening.  This CAN’T be happening.  My God.  This HAS to be a mistake…  But it isn’t.  And see how the “motion lines” denote my frantic efforts to struggle.  But like I said earlier, the tethers cannot be persuaded to budge.  All of my writhing can do nothing to save me.  My body is held fast.  And lastly, as my mind begins to cut through the initial shock, and as I process just how bad my situation is, I can’t help but notice these leather cuffs are not just some off-the-shelf dog-collars repurposed on the fly to kidnap me.  These are thick and padded for long-term wear (maybe permanent), double-stitched, reinforced with double rivets in the straps, tapered for maximum surface area friction to ensure I cannot twist or loosen myself, and they have been uniformly tightened like vises from just below the heel of my palm down below my terrified pulse.  These “innocent” old ladies have high quality purpose-designed bondage gear and it may be custom made just for my captivity.

Let’s move down below. 

Sure, we can stop on my ass for a moment.  It’s such a fucking perfect ass.  JONUT, you are the master of ass-illustrations!  My captor can’t help but taste my quivering terrified ass with her vile lips.  My barely clad privates try to curl up inside me away from her groping hand.  I have to get away before they start to use me…god…but these tethers!  Here, in my center of gravity, I am stretched the tightest.  We just barely see “motion lines.”  My whole body, athletic and energetic, fully engaged in a mission to resist, can only just barely wiggle out a few motion lines.  Oh lord help me.  What will I do???

All the way down we see my pretty, pointed feet stretching down for the floor inches below them. 

As with my hands, you can see the struggle in the positions of my feet.  Toes are curled up on my right foot where I flex and cringe in disgust at what is being done to me.  The toes of my left foot spread out and stretch down seeking purchase to gain leverage or at least a sense of stability so I can settle my emotions and my thoughts.  My panic is overcoming me.  I’m weightless yet I’m being crushed by forces pulling me apart while I’m being explored and ravished all over.  Continuing, as with the wrist cuffs, these ankle cuffs are heavy duty.  They feel like extensions of my body, they’ve attached themselves so firmly.  Minutes into struggling, I am now certain this is hopeless.  There is no way for me to free myself.  If I could look down and see them, the steal rings anchored into the floor would destroy me.  Are these sick old women or are they demons, so have torturous bondage infrastructure installed right here in their living spaces.  It’s terrifyingly absurd, how they have no concern at all about being out in the open area like this.  What are they capable of?

And then my searching toes remind me of another question.  How did these two old ladies even lift me into this position?

Let’s zoom in now on my face.  My bulging eye is pure panic.  Besides the “motion lines” we also see the “shocked expression lines.” 

Also please see the strain in my flexed shoulder.  It’s such a nice anatomical detail in the depiction of a suspended spread-eagled damsel.  And the artist is very smart about including just a few select details like this one to create realism in an otherwise unreal scene.  Now also see my tormenter’s grotesque face and clueless eyes.  Her kiss looks dead and emotionless.  It’s like she’s searching for feelings that have drained from her body ages ago.  She’ll never find what she seeks and so my torture and captivity will never end.  Also, inches away from my pitiful primal desperation, she does not even make eye contact.  She’s looking down and off to the side as though she just remembered something else.  She has no urgency.  Why have urgency.  I’m never going to leave, anyway. 

And the last fine detail I’m going to share is the gag.  See, I think the wrist and ankle cuffs suggested a sinisterness as opposed to these women simply being sick or delusional.  But this single strip of tape used to silence my last-ditched screams for help is even more cruel.  This tape holds my lips so tightly.  Regular duct tape doesn’t do that, at least not for long.  These women took the time to procure a supply of industrial strength damsel-silencing sticky tape.  Silencing a damsel is a form of erasing her humanity, by the way.  Speech is one of the main difference between a human and an object.  How demoralizing to be so reduced by a small rectangle of tape.  How frustrating to know that if you could only just shout and be noticed, or perhaps reason with the abductors and bring them back to sanity, maybe you could save yourself from a never-ending nightmare.  But you thrash your head and shift and curl your lips looking for any small weakness but the tape just clings to your more until eventually you actually make the gag worse by curling the tape up into the space between your lips so the tape now looks like a mold of your silly damsel mouth.  See that straight line between my lips under the tape?  That’s the line showing the last of my struggling.

And now I can weep.  I’ve tried everything else.  I surrendered so fast.  My life changed from a do-gooder young girl of promise to a spread out exposed object used and explored by two half-interested half-dead women who seem to have lost the cognitive ability to understand or recognize the hell they’ve created and trapped me in. 

And this is in the first few minutes.  This won’t end soon, or easy. 

See, THIS Is the dark beautiful power that mixes with my submissive nature to create passion and lust and pleasure and pain that make me feel alive.

Not everyone will relate to all of this.  I hope it’s been interesting, though.  Thanks for reading!





XOXOX