Chupacabra Terror: Dark, Busty Seas

Chelan Simmons as "Jenny" is bound to the galley in "Chupacabra Terror" (2005). Large, lovely breasts with ropes above and below them, and she does some vigorous shaking of said breasts in this scene. If she were topless it would be softcore porn. As it is, it's pretty damn good, a lot better than the movie that was the pretext for it.

This still image doesn't capture the beauty of this scene, because once the looney scientist on the right leaves, the writhing begins, and by "writhing" we mean furious waggling of ginormous hooters. It is tasty indeed. Too bad about the rest of the movie. It's a Sci-Fi Channel original movie, all right?

Chupacabra: Dark Seas is the story of what happens when a chupacabra gets loose on a ship at sea. Apparently, it kills people a lot. (I thought they were partial to goats.)

The brave captain, his beautiful daughter, the loony scientist and the hero try to track down the chupacabra, but they just can't manage to find it no matter how halfheartedly they search. Which is amazing considering the chupacabra is obviously just a guy in a latex suit.

Finally, the loony scientist decides to set a trap for the chupacabra, and he has excellent taste in bait: he chooses the beautiful, busty, blonde captain's daughter. (Er, it's not the captain who is beautiful, busty and blonde, which is good thing because he's played by John Rhys-Davies.)

What's more, the captain's daughter just happens to be wearing a VERY form-fitting shirt when the loony scientist puts the grab on her (did I mention she was busty?).

In short order she's tied on top of a steel table in the ship's galley, with some nice, bright lights shining on her so we can see every curve and rope and so forth. She's secured to some shelving that's bolted to the table (on a ship, everything has to be bolted down, so she's securely secured).

Best of all, her hands are tied behind her back, and she's secured to the table by a set of breast ropes that nicely set off her huge rack (see: busty). Our busty damsel squirms desperately as she attempts to get free of the ropes, apparently making a very rational decision that her best hope is to waggle her breasts rapidly from side to side in hopes that her incredible woman power will snap the ropes.

I won't reveal whether or not she succeeds. I'll just point out that her wriggling constitutes the only good scene in the entire movie. It's five minutes of gold buried in 90 minutes of slag. Surprising, how often that happens.

Dragonheart: Why Did They Bother?

Kara is bound to a tumbrel in preparation for being a dragon snack. Check out that very nice, tight, well-done bondage. Why did they bother? 
As we never tire of pointing out, shoddy bondage is endemic in movies and on television. But there's a whole 'nother category of scenes that's even worse, though it is mercifully rare. I'm talking about scenes where extremely good, well-done bondage goes completely to waste.

The scene above from Dragonheart is a great example. Check out the stringency of that bondage: ropes at the wrists and above the elbows! Wrapped in several layers! Tightly! Frapped, too!

You just don't see bondage that good in a mainstream movie very often. And this is the only elbow bondage scene I know of in a mainstream movie. But the thing is, you almost can't see it in Dragonheart. I had to work the freeze-frame function quite hard to get these caps.

In the scene, Kara the heroine (played by a delectable Dina Myer) is tied to a cart to be sacrificed to a dragon. There are a couple of good opportunities to show all the bondage as she's addressing the crowd, imploring them not to sacrifice her, but they are ignored by her in favor of fairly standard medium shots of her addressing the crowd seen from the front.

You know, a shot of her hands twisting helplessly in their bonds while the crowd cries out for her sacrifice would have been very dramatic. So there's excellent reason to show it. But they never do. You only see her from behind in split-second flashes as the dragon approaches, often obscured by the peasants in the foreground.

But here's the thing that really puzzles me: if they went to such lengths to tie up Kara so securely, why didn't they show it? Or to flip the question on its head, if they were just going to show brief fraction of second flashes of the bondage, why did they go to so much trouble to do it right?

You might hypothesize that the people who rigged the bondage knew what they were doing, but the director was oblivious to the dramatic potential of bondage imagery, except that later in the film there's dramatic evidence that he knows very well how to maximize the dramatic impact of bondage imagery. It involves a scene where Kara is once again restrained, this time chained to the walls of her dungeon cell by an evil king who has done her and her father very wrong.

When the evil king comes into her cell to gloat and sexually molest her, being evil, she rushes toward him, maddened by the sight of him, but is restrained by the chains on her wrists. Even so she struggles briefly against the chain in her lust to kill the king.

Very dramatic. Very nice use of bondage imagery. Now, why didn't they think of that in the dragon sacrifice scene? (I bet the king is saying, "Very nice, but you'll have to stretch out farther than that if you want to suck the royal cock."
As you can see, it's very dramatic imagery.

This isn't the only example of carefully and well done bondage imagery going complete to waste. It's not even the worst. A sharp-eyed DiD fan named Van once noted that in a scene from a defunct science fiction series called "Timecop" in which a damsel wearing a futuristic collar stands with her hands held behind her as it cuffed. Standard stuff, so far, hardly worth noting except for the futuristic collar. Van, however, spotted a dark line behind the damsel, and further observation revealed that it was a chain, in a line that would have run from the back of her neck to her wrists if they were bound behind her back.

Really nice futuristic collar and gag setup here. And it's even better than it looks, but you'd never know it unless you looked at the whole scene in extreme slow motion, because they never really showed it clearly, just a blink and you missed it image of a complex bondage rig.
Obviously, some very complex bondage rig had been devised for the damsel, because just linking the chain to the back of her neck would have choked her. But having devised this complex rig, they ... never showed it.

Why do directors waste effort like this? I'd like to go with animal stupidity, but the dungeon scene in Dragonheart argues against that. I dunno what the hell to think.

The Bacon Ball Gag

Likely effect of the bacon ball gag.

I've come up with something that is actually deliciously naughty to do with a hot bondage babe once you've got her all tied up, hot and bothered.

It involves the use of a ballgag for nefarious purposes.

Most women don't like to drool. They feel it is unseemly and undignified. Most men like to make women drool, especially within the context of sexual activity. The saying among men is, "If she drools, you rule." Typically, this does not refer to the use of ballgags or other bondage devices -- the idea is simply that if you give a woman orgasms that are sufficiently mind-blowing that afterward she just lies there with her eyes glazed, a thin trickle of drool coming out of her mouth and maybe wisps of steam coming out of her pussy, you are Da Man.

Which is true enough. But the nice thing about ballgags is, woman is going to drool whenever she wears one for any length of time, because the ball projecting into her mouth will trigger her drool reflex, and the hard surface of the ball won't absorb the drool (as a cloth cleave gag does). Plus, the ball won't block the drool from coming out of her mouth as a tapegag does.

No, with a ballgag the drool tends to slide out of the corners of her mouth and hang off her chin in long, sticky, embarrassing strands. As I noted in my article on why "drool rules" in addition to being annoying, this has some really nice sexual subtext (sticky stuff sometimes oozes out of what other pair of female lips?).

But some gals are going to fight the drool. They just don't like doing it. So here's a way to deal with that, or to increase your slave's drool to truly copious amounts: have her eat very little prior to your play session, so that she is quite hungry. But have her drink her fill of water.

Then, while she is gagged, cook something she really likes which has a strong, pungent odor, like bacon*, if she likes bacon. Finally, rub some bacon grease on the ballgag and put it back in her mouth.

She'll be drooling, and quite copiously. Call it "flavored gag discipline."

Of course, some guys like to rub their dick all over a ball gag before they put it in their slave's mouth. If THAT makes her drool a lot, you are a VERY lucky man indeed.

(And afterwards, you just might want to have some bacon on hand to slake the appetite you've created. Unless she's been insufficiently naughty, in which case you might wish to punish her by eating the bacon as she watches, with the bacon-flavored gag still in her mouth. Now, that's evil.)

*Don't try this particular food with a vegan, unless you're absolutely sure she's into being violated in this way.


For extra added fiendishness, make her wear a bacon bra and pull off the strips one by one and cook them to get grease for the bacon gag.

George Bernard Shaw: Early Blogger and Secret Bondage Pornographer???

George Bernard Shaw in his steampunk days, circa 1889.

George Bernard Shaw must have cleverly included bondage porn in his plays and his prefaces to his plays, because right about the time I started having curiously satisfying dreams of women tied up and getting thoroughly fucked, I was reading a lot of Shaw.

And prior to Shaw there were those famous bondage fiends Max Shulman, Robert Benchley, H. Allen Smith, James Thurber and Jack Douglas, among others.

I had no, repeat no, access to bondage porn of any kind prior to reaching adulthood, which was why I made my own. Like a lot of young adults of my generation, I thought I was uniquely perverted, for I had never encountered any references to Betty Page, much less seen a picture of her tied up and wearing a ballgag. She was well before my time anyway, but was the only mainstream icon of bondage prior to The Story of O.

The only bondage image I can recall from those days was the cover of a cheap pulp crime novel called, "Tonight, She's Yours" showing a bound damsel in a negligee anxiously watching a bunch of criminal types playing cards. And we're not talking whist or Old Maid either, these were Serious Bad Guys.

My primary recreational outlet was the public library of the rural town in which I lived. It was well stocked for a rural public library, but that's not saying much, I'm afraid.

My first love as a reader was science fiction and fantasy, but it didn't take me long to read every last book under that category the library had, especially in summer when my reading habit was a book a day, and if I hadn't had that library card I'd have been reduced to knocking over convenience stores so I could go to bookstores and finance my reading jones.

After science fiction and fantasy, my favorite kind of reading was humor. The library had a good selection of humor for a rural library, but ... it was, shall we say, kinda stale. That's how I got hooked on your Robert Benchleys, your James Thurbers, your Max Shulmans. (I'm pretty sure Benchley and/or Shulman were blacklisted during the McCarthy era. I guess the local witch-hunters never got around to purging the library of their pre-Commie writings, probably because they figured nobody reads that stuff. They figured WRONG, baby!)

Eventually I ran out of outdated humor collections and got really desperate. I asked the librarian about where else in the library I might find some yuks. She said she had heard George Bernard Shaw was funny (I think she saw me coming and decided to edumacate me). So I checked out a collection of Shaw plays and prefaces (Shaw always writes a lengthy preface to his plays, often an almost gossipy essay touching on politics, religion, etc. He would have been really comfortable writing a blog. If you read several of his prefaces in succession, it's obvious he was using them as a serial blog.)

To tell the truth, Shaw wasn't really a humorist like Benchley and Shulman, but he had a razor sharp wit and a real taste for skewering Victorian hypocrisy and pretense, especially in relation to class. And if there had been any Victorian hypocrisy and pretense around at the time, I would have been SOOO ready to work it over. If there had been anyone around trying to oppress others for rolling their "r"s or dropping their "h"s, I would have been SOOO ready with a witty epigram, or perhaps a bon mot or a mot juste. But I was living in the Deep South at the time, and although there was plenty of class oppression and hypocrisy floating around, most of it had to do with skin color (though the Deep South WAS and IS rich in sexual hypocrisy).

Unfortunately, Shaw's awareness of sexual hypocrisy arose during the Victorian Era (he was born in 1858, which means he would have been in his 20s and 30s from 1878 to 1898). In my day, pure-D Victorian hypocrisy has been hard to come by -- even in the Deep South we have long passed the point where arms and legs were referred to as "limbs" so they'd be less sexy.

I was like a fabulously well trained athlete in a sport that no longer existed. "42-man squamish! Anybody up for a game of 42-man squamish? I'll spot you the first kronger and STILL take you to school!"

The thing about Shaw, though, was that his prose was unusually crisp for the late 1800s, probably due to his experience as a playwright. His sentences, although sometimes lengthy by modern standards, weren't the polysyllabic trainwrecks that SOME conterporaries of his (Bulwer-Llyton, anyone?) indulged in. With very little change Shaw could probably have written a modern blog, if he'd been able to back off from the grammatical reforms he was het up on. (Shaw didnt use apostrophes, he wrote "dont" for "don't" and "wont" for won't and "cant" for "can't" -- he was just lucky the proper elision for "could not" wasn't something closer to the elision for "cannot.") And Shaw also used fonetik speling, which kuld take sum getting used to as wel. Especially with words like "marij" -- you know, that whole getting hitched thing.)

It's very hard to figure out where Shaw slipped in the bondage stuff that corrupted me, given that he was a notably asexual person and his writings tended to reflect it. As one critic put it, "Reading Shaw can teach you everything there is to know about human beings -- except that they have two different sexes." Although Shaw took on issues like romance, marriage, cuckoldry and prostitution in plays such as "Man and Superman," "Candide" and "Mrs. Warren's Professsion" he invariably did so in such a dry and philosophical manner that it really took some attention-paying to note that the plays had anything to do with sex.

Shulman, Benchley, Douglas and Ring Lardner, Jr., were more willing to deal with sexual subjects, but almost always in that 50s "take my wife ... please!" manner. Harbingers of the sexual revolution they were not. They might hint about some of the things that beatniks and jazz musicians got up to, but never all that explicitly. If you didn't already know what beatniks and jazz musicians were up to, you wouldn't learn it from them.

And I did not know what beatniks and jazz musicians were up to. They were too far before my time. They might as well have been flappers and stage-door Johnnies.

(Of course, there were all sorts of movies that make it perfectly clear that stage-door Johnnies hung around backstage at theaters and made goo-goo eyes at showgirls, but I never watched such movies -- they were all in black and white, and nobody watched those!)

Lest you think I am exaggerating about my ignorance, let me tell you how protective parents in the Deep South are of their kiddies. I was once in the Boy Scouts. I am not ashamed of it, I just didn't know any better. Anyway, this was one of those troops that did lots of camping and hiking instead of sitting around in a room talking about how virtuous they were, so they were several notches above many Scout troops. And we went on a long hike once. 50 miles, spread over a couple of days. In midsummer. In the Deep South. Nowadays, that would be considered tantamount to torture. We were under the impression that we were having fun. (Except for the kid who got prickly rash -- I believe he would have voted for the torture scenario.)

We were promised a treat at the end of the hike, a chance to see a movie for free at a theater. We figured that since it had been a long hike, it had to be something special. We were hoping it would be a recently released Bond film. That would be really cool. Explosions, shootings, car chases ... we were THERE for it.

What we got was ... and I am not making this up ... "Tammy Tell Me True." Somebody must have fished out of a closet somewhere, I mean, it had been a long while since it was a first-run movie. And what's more, not a movie to show to the sort of red-blooded Boy Scouts who go on 50-mile hikes! "Tammy Tell Me True" was a fricking GIRL SCOUT movie! Who did they think we were? We were furious! We had wanted ... we DESERVED ... a fricking Bond movie!

Many of us left the theater in disgust, after we'd scored our drinks and popcorn of course. We weren't crazy. But the Scout leaders and many parents clearly did not understand what an insult showing that movie to us was. They were that far out of it. Think a whole community of Flanderses. You won't be far off.

I never even saw a Playboy except as a cover on a magazine rack I could only look longingly at and never purchase. I knew that any attempt to purchase Playboy by a kid would result in finger-pointing, shocked expressions, fire alarms going off, SWAT team deployments, and possibly pursuit by crowds carrying torches and pitchforks.

And yet, I was creating drawings that looked very much like this image from Sex and Submission, except that it was very badly drawn, of course. (Let's say I was capable of creating something more than a diagram, but not anything anyone would confuse with art, fine or otherwise.) Where we these images coming from? My sex fantasies of course, but at the time I wouldn't admit that even to myself.

And the thing is, it couldn't be me or who I was that had anything to do with these dreams and drawings. It had to be the media, because as we all know everything that anyone does is a direct result of something they've seen on TV or the movies, or in the rare instances of readers such as myself, read in a book.

OK, I did watch TV but I just couldn't relate to it. In TV land, women walked around dressed in revealing clothing in venues other than a swimming pool, and sometimes deliberately acted sexy. This was completely contrary to my experience. I learned early on that TV was entertaining, but had nothing to do with the real world.

OK, I did occasionally see women bound and gagged on TV, but it never occurred to me that such images had anything to do with my bondage dreams and fantasies. For one thing, they were fully clothed. For another, they weren't having sex with anyone, especially me. For another, they appeared not to be having a good time. And for yet anotherer thing, the bondage was generally badly done, brief, badly lit and incidental, even when the whole plot of the show was, say, a kidnapping.

I must admit, the time I saw Emma Peel tied to a chair while wearing a leather catsuit with waist cutouts in a rerun of the Avengers, I was quite struck. But I didn't think it was the bondage. I thought it was the sexy leather suit, and the sexy Diana Rigg inside of it. And to a large extent, I was probably right, especially about the sexy Diana Rigg.

Y'know, thinking about it, I do have a theory about why Shaw, Benchley, Shulman, Douglas and the guys slipped sexual bondage corruption stuff into their writings. (Though I still have no idea HOW they did it, due to the near-total absence of sexual bondage content in their writings.) There IS a thread that unites them all, for you see, George Bernard Shaw was a Fabian socialist. Now, why and how Victorian socialists were influenced by Fabian is the topic of another essay, one that makes even less sense than this one. But the fact that Shaw was a socialist and Benchley, Douglas and Shulman were accused Communists points to one and only one conclusion: it's all part of a dirty Commie plot to destroy the youth of America. The scheming bastards.

I rest my case. George Bernard Shaw was a secret bondage pornographer. It's only logical.

Did Helen Mirren Appear in the Roughie Western Hot Spur?

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The Perfect String Thong Bikini

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Danger of Mass Bikini Babe Abduction Scenes

Now that's bringing on the sexy cheese, baby! A mass bikini babe abduction scene from the defunct bikini cop "dramatic" series, "Acapulco HEAT."

Acapulco HEAT was by all accounts a very bad TV series. But it certainly had more than its share of damsel in distress scenes, often very sexy ones as it was about a group of swimsuit-wearing cops. (I'm sure there was a rationale for swimsuit wearing cops -- beachfront undercover cops, maybe -- but what sane guy would care, as the result is bikini clad female cops? Bikini cops, man! Bikini cops!)

It also had a memorable scene, the one pictured above, showing a mass bikini babe abduction. Baby, that's delivering the CHEEEEESE. Television genius!

But there's a danger in mass bikini babe abductions, especially if not all the bikini babe abductees are topnotch thespians: I am referring of course to the dreaded "damsel dimples."

Look at these women. They are all grinning like loons. They do not look like terrified damsels kidnapped by white slavers or whomever at all. They look like young women on a television shoot having a whale of a time.


Yah. Terrified, alrighty.

Surely their smiles must have lessened the dramatic impact of the scene somewhat. But remember what we are dealing with: a bikini cop TV series. There's not much they could have done to help it other than be their cute young selves, and it's hard to see how the show could have been hurt so long as they were mostly clad in bikinis and lookin' good, which they were.

Still, if you're a director it's always important to watch the background bikini babes whenever you're shooting a mass bikini babe abduction scene. The absurd fun of the situation presents a constant danger. You never know when the grins will start breaking out.