Powerotics BDSM

Not that the fix I was in wasn’t bad enough! It was. The ropes were cutting away at me like angry little animals, and for all I knew I might stand against that pillar all day and all night. I might even be forgotten and just left there! But the thing I was most concerned about was not having any clothes on. If I could only have looked ahead a bit I wouldn’t have worried about being bare.
But I belonged to a world. In that world girls were never naked. If they went to a doctor or a hospital or were being punished they were not naked.
I’d overheard a good deal of debate as to whether it was right and proper for a man to see his wife in what was awesomely called “the altogether”.
Girls in their teens giggled about this quite a lot and wondered about themselves whem the time came. It seemed to us that Auguste Rodin was the only man alive entitled to a good look at a nude female. Even te word “nude” was considered a bit risque.
I was bound to feel all sorts of emotions about being unclothed. There was a terribly hot shame… I expect the blush contributed. There was chagrin and a simply cringing embarrassment. On top of these was guilt. I don’t know why I felt it but I did! My world said that if a girl was seen naked  she had commited a sin, a really awful sin. It didn’t seem to matter how it happened. It was her fault. I tried to reason myself out of this one but I couldn’t. I tingled all over from that blush… or maybe it was conscience!
I had to make an effort of will to stop wondering what I looked like tied naked to that column. I know what I look like, of course, but I was worried about that bit of me I’d never really examined myself… between my legs… a girl just doesn’t push a mirror between her legs… or lay on a table or something! Lord Halcyon had seemed terribly interested. But when I did push that worry out of my mind I started to hurt from the ropes. I knew now I could never get loose. That made it worse. I had to stand there and endure.
I was tied so tight and in so many places! I started to wonder if Miss Carruthers was a kind and sympathetic as she’d seemed through that awful Nigel business. Poor dear Nigel!
I started to cry again. I didn’t bother about the tears. I let them flow where they wanted. It was there the door opened.
This time it was a girl.
She was pretty, about my own age and dressed in some sort of uniform. Not like any uniform I’d even seen… there wasn’t much of it. She carried a glass of water.
“I expect you’re thirsty.” she said in an everyday voice.
I did not get untied. She held the glass to my lips as I eagerly drank. With the last gulp I realised I would not be getting the drink unless I had to stay where I was a lot longer.
“My name’s Trina Simard. I’m a prefect.” She smiled at me brightly. “You came yesterday, and your name’s Sharon Tredgold.”
“How do you do”, I said absurdly. “Are you going to untie me?”
“Of course not, silly.” She grinned as though I’d made a joke. “You don’t really expect me to, do you!”
“I don’t see why not.” I said warmly. “I hurt… terribly.”
“Well, I’m not. So there!” Her voice chided without anger.
“Cover me up then. Use that sheet.”
“I can’t do that either. You are new, aren’t you?”

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Dangerous gags

One of the problems with television series and movies is that it makes some things seem harmless and hardly dangerous. Gags are close to the number one position in that area and every year especially children die, because their playmates - when playing cops and robbers - thought a gag wouldn’t do any harm. And it is not just children. In the - unlikely and rare by the way - event a person dies during a BDSM scene it will almost always be either the result of breathplay (strangulation) or the result of a dangerous gag.

The most dangerous toy, in the hands of someone inexperienced, is a role of duct tape. Depending on the type this may indeed make breathing through the mouth entirely impossible and all you need is a simple nose blockage of some kind for the sub to die!! If you use duct tape, at least punch a few holes in it.

Another dangerous way of gagging is to put cloths into someones mouth. This will obstruct all air channels, including the back of the nasal inlets. And while this may sound bizarre, some people actually use cotton, socks, pantyhoses, underwear and even old newspapers in an effort to gag there submissive.All of this kills! Especially when used in combination with duct tape.

Finally, another type that does not belong in the hands of inexperienced people (in all honesty, experienced people are of the opinion they should not be sold at all) are inflatable gags - rubber balls or balloons that can be pumped to size. They will almost always be pumped to a size that is dangerous. The balloon adapts to to the inside shape of the mouth, fills it entirely and blocks all airways, including the channel that allows for breathing through the nose. To make things worse, they will usually form part of some sort of mask or leather harness or belt, making it impossible for the submissive to even try and push them out far enough to be able to breath in the event of an emergency.

Futhermore, such iflatables may very well make it impossible for the saliva to go anywhere else BUT the lungs. Meaning the slave will choke on her own saliva and die!

As always, we have no intention to scare you away from gags, but you should be aware of the health risks and dangers to be able to make the right choices. And THEN gags - and other forms of mouth related torture and teasing - can be a lot of fun.

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Tags: ballgag, gags

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Gags and silence

It is impossible to fully silence a submissive - or anyone else for that matter - with a gag, regardless the type. Once you stuff the mouth to the point where making noises is entirely impossible, the victim has probably died or very likely will very soon.

In the BDSM-situation the objective of the gag is to humiliate, both through creating the saliva problem as well as through the fact that any more or less coherent speach is impossible and reduced to funny sounds.

The third main objective is to remind the submissive in a physical way that she is not supposed to talk.

Some types of gags may serve other purposes as well, such as to bite in (to help fight or cope with the pain or anxiety), stear (in pony play) or train (for oral sex).

Finally, a gag very frequently serves as a pacifier in the same way it does for babies. Being able (or being allowed) to suck on something can be comforting.

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Tags: ball gag, ballgag, gag, gagging

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Gags and breathing

Ballgagged

Inflatable gags and some very large penis shaped dildo gags excluded, gags - as in “things put in your mouth” - will not interfere with your (sub’s) ability to breath. There’ll almost always be room enough to let a sufficient amount of air flow around the gag. And - unless she has a cold - she can breath through the nose as well. The fear of not being able to breath is largely psychological and - although not very rational - something that most slaves will have to learn to overcome.

What does limit the ability to breath are attempts to try and swallow the saliva. And these attempts are largely futile, which is the main objective of a stick-in-gag. As soon as the slave lets the saliva just drip out of her mouth - yes humilating, but again, that is one the main objectives - there is enough room and freedom for the air to move in. Kinda cruel, isn’t it. But then, cruel choices is what BDSM is all about.

Choking is another gag related problem and it’s origin usually is - again - the saliva problem, in combination with fear (of being unable to breath). If gags are something new to you, ask your dom to train you. It is really not as bad as it seems, but you may have to get used to it and that may indeed take a while.

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Tags: ball gag, gag, gagging, gags

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Ballgag

There is a book to write about gags and other mouth-related stuff. BDSM and the mouth is not just about gags and even if it was, there is so much to write about - and do with gags. Much photographed, hardly ever used properly and to their full potential and surrounded by thousands of urban legends.

Ruling out some persistant urban legends and misunderstanding is probably the best thing to do first, so, here goes:

Sizes

The average gag you can buy in a shop is too big for effective use. This is especially true for almost all penis-shaped gags.

They have been designed by people with no experience in power exchange, usually only made to appeal to certain fantasies and create sales. So, whatever you do when you go out to buy a gag: buy a small one.

A gag that is too big will be too uncomfortable to keep in for any length of time (and usually that is exactly what you WANT a gag to be used for), because it will create cramps in the jaw muscles and a gagging effect if it is too long. There is no need for the gag to go in any deeper than halfway down the tongue.

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Tags: ballgag, gag, gagged women

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He made it sound reassuring, as though I might have been worrying that the ropes were loose and I’d inadvertently lose them. I frelt myself drifting from reality in the same way I’d done with Chartreuse. I made my next plea as piteous as I could.
“But I want to! I want to be free. I don’t want to be tied up like this. I can hardly move.”
“Excellent.”
“But, sir, I’m naked!”
“So I noticed.”
This absurd exchange brought Lord Halcyon as close to a smile as he allowed, and me close to tears. His comments didn’t seem particularly for me, they were just generalised exclamations. Sharon Tredgold was naked and she was tied. Jolly good! I was a filly up before the judge.
“Why have you sent me to Presteigne, Lord Halcyon?”
He did not bother to answer. Instead, he slowly circled my pillar and me. For a moment I thought he was untying a knot, but my hope plummeted when I realised he was just testing. He ended up where he could get a full frontal view. I could tell he was getting a tremendous enjoyment out of looking at me. My blush held steady. I longed to cross my legs and clasp a hand over each of my breasts.
“This isn’t a school at all. It’s some sort of prison, isn’t it, sir? No school would do this to me.”
A faintly raised eyebrow was all the acknowledgement I got out of that shot in the dark. What he did say seemed irrelevant.
‘I’d suggest, Sharon, you exercise complete obedience. Your Headmistress is a delightful woman. Charming and… competent.”
He gave me a quite impersonal nod and went away. He even closed the door. I don’t think anyone knows aloneness until they’ve been tied helpless and left in a locked room. There’s a unique sort of awfulness about it that dissolves a girl’s courage. It did mine.
In telling about this I expect I sound young and girlish and juvenile. Well, I’m not that old and it was startling and shocking. But the one thing nakedness did for me was to tell me very clearly I was female and a woman. A young woman, maybe. But all my breasts and… and things…! It was like being introduced to myself.
I don’t pretend to be clever or have a literary style. I’m just trying to tell this in the way it impinged on my mind as it happened. If I seem a bit casual here at the start it’s because the horror was later on. It hadn’t
started yet.

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You know you’ll die, but you don’t! You know you can’t bear it but you do. You know you’re going to scream but you keep quiet. All I wanted to do was vanish, disappear, have the floor open and swallow me up. I knew I couldn’t bear to have Lord Halcyon come any closer and see me naked, and tied, and not able to move an inch… or cover a thing!
Lord Halcyon’s such a handsome man, and so grown up! Not that he’s that old, I don’t suppose he is. But he’s one of those men who have no age. You suspect he’s always looked the way he does now and always will. It’s the serious intent way he studies you that makes you feel he’s senior and wise.
He radiates power. You can feel it. Or maybe it’s just me! But that’s how Lord Halcyon has seemed in the few times I’ve met him. There was always something in the way he looked at me that made me conscious of being a girl.
I felt myself trying to shrink as he approached, absurdly striving to hide behind my bonds. For Lord Halcyon to see me naked… especially the way my legs had been seperated, was just not possible! It mustn’t happen! It mustn’t… it mustn’t…!
“Good afternoon, Sharon.” His voice was as unemotional as when I had last heard it.
“Good afternoon, sir.” My poor little girl’s greeting sounded silly but respectful.
“You are looking well.”
My blush must have reached scarlet proportions and touched my navel. I’ve never felt more desperate.
“Please, Lord Halcyon, drape that sheet over me. I’m… I’m…”
“You are, aren’t you! And quite charmingly so. Why the sheet? Are you chilly?”
There was a hint of a smile on his straight lips. His eyes roved up and down the naked girl who was Me. “I should be covered, sir.” I said firmly. “If you’ll be kind enough to untie me I’ll do it myself.”
It was the strangest thing, as though I had not said a word. Lord Halcyon continued to examine me in a preoccupied sort of way as though I was a thoroughbred racehorse he was paying a few thousand guineas for and didn’t want to be diverted by idle chatter. He did not smile. I’d never seen him manage a really proper smile, just a hint of something on his lips. My sheet lay on the floor. I remained tied to the pillar.
“You’re a very beautiful young woman, Sharon.”
The way he said it was an unemotional assessment of Me. I felt docketed. “Please, Lord Halcyon, I’d like to be untied.” I managed a sort of desperate emphasis.
“Miss Carruthers did well, didn’t she! You’ll never wiggle out of those ropes, young lady.”

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Trina rose and posed herself for me as might a mannequin. Her body had the same pert femininity as her face. As she turned slowly I was shocked to observe older and faded weals blended in with the more recent scarlet bars upon her back and across her curved bottom. She made much play with the shackles on her wrists.
“They didn’t need to chain you too.” I said resentfully.
“Oh but yes! I wouldn’t carry any message at all if I was just a girl in a school tunic.”
“I don’t want a message. I want to go home.”
“Of course you do!” She grinned confidingly. “I remember my first day, my first week. I cried buckets.”
“Why didn’t you run away? I’m going to.”
“Oh I did, darling. That’s when I got my first marks.”
“You mean we are prisoners, we can’t leave?”
“Well yes. I’m allowed to tell you that, Sharon. You can try if you want. I sometimes think a girl has to try before she believes it. But it’s awfully painful when you’re caught.”
“But Presteigne is a school! All these… terrible things! They can’t possibly happen in a school.”
“They can, y’know.”
“But classes… and other girls…?”
“Oh yes, they’re all here. But they’re in the newer wings. This is the old house.”
“I was supposed to learn French and Latin.”
Trina giggled. “Well, you actually may. But you’re one of the older ones. The older girls get called here quite a lot.”
“To be put in a cell? And chained?”
“It’s Lord Halcyon, y’know. Oh Sharon, I thought it would be easy to tell, a lovely giggle between us, but it’s not. I wish Chartreuse would tell you.” “What’s Lord Halcyon got to do with it?”
“Quite a lot actually. He’s one of the Governors. I’m not sure he isn’t the only one.” Trina looked at me pleadingly. “He’s awfully rich and… and… well, powerful.”
I fingered my chains and asked sarcastically: “Did he buy these?”
“Of course!”
Trina’s instant affirmative frightened me. The dark intent features of my legal guardian sprang vivid to my mind. The metal making me captive was his, not the Headmistress’s! My chains were suddenly heavy.
“You can’t get away, darling.” It was as though Trina had read my mind.
“Why are you happy?” I asked inconsequentially.
“Do you like girls, darling?” she countered with equal irrelevance.
“Of course I do.” I said puzzled. “If they’re nice, like you.”
“No other way?” The three words seemed urgent.
“What other way is there except liking, or not liking?”
She nodded soberly. “I expect you’re right. Oh, Sharon, it’s all so difficult.”
We talked, but when I drifted into sleep I was no wiser than before. If, in telling all this, I sound normal, it’s false. I was a terribly frightened little girl.

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There was a magic in my companions turning my steel chains into costly bangles. It infected me. I was feminine. I preened and made feline motions and mincing steps. Trina was frankly amused. Chartreuse Carruthers was ecstatic. “You’re so absolutely right, darling…” Her voice was ecstatic.
“But I’m a prisoner!” I said, breaking the spell.
I was kissed. The cell door was locked. The magic mistress waved airily as she vanished beyond my narrow range.
“Isn’t she marvellous!” said Trina.
I stood and stared. My eyes must have been wide as saucers. My fellow captive laughed and turned her back to me so that I might get a better view.
“There. That answer any questions for you, Sharon?”
“You’ve been whipped!”
“I have, haven’t I! Hard. The day before yesterday.” Her eyes were twinkling at my consternation.
“But it must have hurt terribly!”
“Oh it did! Something awful!” She was almost laughing.
I almost said, then why are you looking so cheerful? But it didn’t seem quite right. Instead, I blurted out selfishly: “Will I… will I be whipped like that?”
“Of course you wil, dear. You won’t be cheated.”
I ignored what I supposed was sarcasm, and asked the obvious. “But why? What did you do to deserve something so awful? Your back’s all crisscrossed with terrible marks.”
Trina turned to face me again, smiling serenely, hugging her secret. “I didn’t do anything, darling, except just be me.”
I stood. Trina sat. After a minute of a sort of stunned silence she laughed again and said blandly: “We don’t have to actually do anything, y’know… Chartreuse simply adores whipping girls.”
I sat down with a thump. Me at one end of the cot, Trina at the other. I expect my mouth was wide open. In a burst of sympathy at my bafflement she came, and taking my face in her chained hands, kissed me hard.
“It’s not all that easy to tell about, is it?” She said softly. “That’s why I’ve been put in here with you.” She clinked her links and motioned at her nudity. “Take a good look at me, darling. I sort of speak for Presteigne. I’m self-explanatory.”

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The metal band upon my throat held immense fascination. It was tremendously personal. Perhaps bacause of its power over me, or perhaps because of the chain by which it held me captive to the wall. Almost lovingly my fingertips traced its ornamentations and its scarcely perceptible lock. I shivered, but not with fear.
“I’m so glad you like it, Sharon.”
Miss Carruthers’ words brought me to my feet with a clatter. It was absurd but I was ashamed. Ashamed for her to see me thus. I felt a criminal in my nudity, my chains, and above all in my cell. True, it was she who had placed me thus. But the shame was real. I blushed.
“It’s beautiful”, I said in a little girl response. It was then I saw Trina. They were both smiling at me through the bars, that same expectant affectionate smile that made no sense. But the reason I stood and stared
like a dummy was because Trina was as naked as I was and her hands were chained.
“We don’t want you to be lonely this first night, dear.” Miss Carruthers said brightly.
I stood, like an idiot, and watched the door unlock and Trina, without a word of prompting, walked into my cell to share my captivity. They both seemed pleased as punch. Miss Carruthers leaned negligently against the metal of the narrow aperture and glowed at us as though gloating over a pair of newly acquired pets. I felt a small clutch at my heart when I realised how near the truth the thought could be.
“I think it’s lovely for two girls to be able to talk.” said Miss Carruthers happily.
“I’ve been given permission to explain some things, Sharon.” Trina’s voice held excitement.
“You’re very lovely chained, Sharon. You wear them beautifully. Be a dear and walk for me.”
The request, or was it a command, seemed silly. But the chain from my collar was hanging limp down my back so I took my small hobbled steps towards her until it drew taut and snubbed my neck. Then I turned and made the same progress, or lack of it, in the other direction. On my return trip of several tiny paces, she breathed gently as though confirming something within herself: “Beautiful! Oh, Sharon, you’re lovely.”
I was lovely! The sudden knowledge struck me like a blow.
Trina sat on the cot and hugged one knee with her chained hands. I have never seen a girl look happier.
“Thank you, Miss Carruthers. Thank you very much.” My formal words sounded foreign.
“Do keep walking, Sharon, or just any kind of motion. I want to watch. ” The Headmistress sounded like a pleased child.

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