Ok, now let’s move on to the other end of this trope—the actual arrival of the monster / animal / creature.
The above, obviously, is from the original King Kong in 1933, back when Hollywood made movies with original storylines. This is the scene where the Ann Darrow character (played by, and nearly always referred to as, Fay Wray) is being sacrificed to Kong.
It illustrates a handful of themes that will keep coming back in the next few images. First of all, there is the ambiguity of getting devoured = getting ravished. (I’ve never really understood why Kong needed these little human dumplings…he ought to be eating gigantic Jurassic bananas or something.)
Second of all, there’s the undercurrent of all metaphors that we put on animals. With King Kong (and generally with the great apes) there is an implied racial metaphor, but it isn’t clear-cut. As many folks have pointed out, Kong might evoke white fears of blackness, but Kong is essentially the hero of the movie. All these metaphors blur into the general notion of “bestial” sexuality, which has nothing much to do with actual beasts having sex.
Finally, from David Rosen:
The Hays Office censored what it considered the objectionable scenes in KING KONG, which included one sequence on the island where Kong gently tears Ann’s clothes off, strokes her with his finger, and then sniffs it.
Sometimes, as in the classic Andromeda image and this piece by Grigbertz, the anticipated monster is just off to one side of the picture…
Ok, so….
The bound-alone-in-the-wilderness-at-night thing always suggests a monster / animal sacrifice story to me. After all, her human captors have left. She’s alone waiting for….something else.
By Shadowthorn.
The sign on her collar makes me think she was up for sale. No one was interested, though, and the nuns can’t keep inventory around for no reason. This is what they do with the ones that don’t sell.
I am reblogging this mainly for the combined artistic talent with total lack of awareness of human anatomy: noses, nipples, vaginas, anuses, etc.
While I like the aesthetics of super-complex “Japanese” bondage, I don’t usually have a narrative that goes with it. Really simple bondage is easier for telling a story.
I think if the villagers actually had to sacrifice a maiden to the dragon, it would look a lot like this. No shackles bolted to pre-drilled holes in the rocks, or elaborate knotwork. Just a scared, skinny girl out in the field, with her wrists tied to a tree.
So this is the first of a couple themes that I want to move towards as we put dragons behind us: the more generic outdoor-sacrificial-bondage trope.

In 1974, Gary Gygax produced the game Dungeons and Dragons. Aesthetically, it was very much derived from J.R.R. Tolkein (and other authors who were in turn Tolkein derivatives). But structurally, it was a radically new genre: a “board game” with no board, centered on a story-teller whose story was modified by the players.
I wasn’t even born in ‘74, and by the time I learned about Dungeons and Dragons, it had a spawned a whole slew of its own derivatives: role-playing games. They had also acquired a somewhat noxious reputation as escapist pursuits for geeky white boys (and, in other quarters, Satanic suicide cult demonic wa-wa).
Dungeons and Dragons had (and has) a fairly signature aesthetic, which easily spilled over into the erotic. This drawing is a perfect example.
Andromeda, who we’ve seen before, is sort of the ur-example of the dragon sacrifice in the west. Although her problem is actually a sea monster, strictly speaking.
While her peril-bondage scenario is always dark/erotic, Picou really takes it up a notch.
ricp:
Henri-Pierre Picou
Andromeda Chained to a Rock, 1874
(via werusdarkworld)

The recently late Edward Woodward in The Wicker Man, one of the classic horror films. Complete with virgin sacrifice, although the burning alive version, rather than the stabbing version.
Cthulhu cultists. Technically, I suppose Cthulhu doesn’t much care if his sacrificial victims are virgins or not. But I like this picture ‘cause I think it’s a boy tied to the stake. And, y’know, Cthulhu.

I used to read comics. Sometimes I still do.
One thing that always bothered me about comic books was how the covers would pose what I considered to be a narrative challenge: the hero is about to be shot, twice, in like 1/1000 of a second. And then the KKK-Nazi-cult leader dude will impale the virginal heroine with his stiff, quivering sword. It’s inescapable. How will they survive?
And then, inside the comic itself, this setup never actually happens, so the author doesn’t have to solve the problem on the cover.
Fucking A, man.