Cross Bracing Table Legs Novels & Stories

he announced with a hint of pride. Amira and Tasha looked around, eyes wide. "Your BDSM room," Tasha muttered, both in awe and disbelief. The room was dimly lit, bathed in a soft, red glow that cast intimate shadows. The walls were adorned with deep reds and blacks, creating a mysterious and inviting atmosphere. Sturdy furniture was scattered strategically, each piece meant for a specific purpose. Tasha’s gaze swept over the St. Andrew’s Cross, its dark wood polished and imposing. "That’s the St. Andrew’s Cross. It’s a classic. You can be restrained standing up, arms and legs spread out. Very... exposing," Lucas explained, noticing her interest.

All had their own motors and were designed for easy one-man operation. I explained that I was starting her with the tension table. It acts like a medieval rack to stretch a body and limbs out while presenting a body for sex in the 'bent-over, from-behind' position. The device was actually desk-sized. Feet were secured to a base platform on the legs of the table, they fit into movable pieces that looked much like front of a shoe. These had wide leather straps that wrapped around the feet and lower leg then laced up, so really the bottom half of the calf was secure. The bent-over occupant rested on a padded bolster that motors could move up-down, in-out, or change the angle. The arms were stre

She swallowed it down like medicine and crossed the table before taking the opposite seat. The chair was reinforced to hold her giant stature better. Thick, reinforced legs. Broader back. Special joints that should hold her weight. Should. It was still small, however. And still creaked under her weight with a long, wooden groan that broke the silence like a reluctant sigh.

It amazes me every time he uses it. He adjusts the brace on his leg and pulls a small oil can out of another pocket. He adds a few drops to the ankle of his brace and moves his foot around until it stops squeaking. When he’s satisfied, he puts the oil can back in his pocket and leans one elbow on the table with a sigh.

"It looks like a torture device." "It is a specialized orthopedic brace!" I cried, my eyes darting around as I improvised. "For the Navarino Spine! My back... it is as crooked as the mountain roads of my village. Without this aggressive chest-binding corset, I would collapse into a heap of bones before I could even serve your tea!" Julian blinked. "A back brace? That wraps around the front?" "It is the only way to support the lumbar!" I insisted, stepping toward him with a ferocious, "offended" energy. I held the tan elastic up, showing him the heavy-duty velcro and the steel rods.

A dom and a sub are doing something complicated with wax that I try not to let myself stare at. Kir steers me directly to the stocks. They’re made of oak and look like the kind you see in pictures of public squares from three hundred years ago, except clean and oiled and built by someone who knew exactly what they were for. The crossbar is hinged. The wrist holes are padded. The neck hole is padded. There is a low step in front, so the sub can rest their weight on it and not be hanging from their own collarbone. I look at it.

thought Cory to herself The object before the last place setting consisted of two vertical brass rods anchored by tripods at their end and a third horizontal rod rested between them, joining them. Sort of like a bridge o,r perhaps, a…perch?

I set up the table that I would use. The table was like that at a hospital to deliver babies. the bottom would fall away and the legs being strapped in would be able to be split apart. The fun part of this table was that with a flick of a button I could have her standing up or if she was laying down on her stomach I could have her bent over. I decided for this session, because I would want her back. I would start her on her back.

I suspected a person would lay face down on the padded piece giving access to their butt but certainly didn't appreciate the details. "Okay, I agree," I told him. With a smile, he took my wife by the elbow, and now resigned to her fate, she allowed him to direct her to the device. Like I guessed, he had her lay face down on the bench and then stand up as he made some height adjustment. When he finished, he put her back in place, and then from a nearby table he took some objects and I looked on as he connected her ankles and wrists to the crossbars. The simplicity and effectiveness of the design was evident as my wife's pretty ass now protruded before me on full display.

I heard the familiar, heavy clink of the leather straps near the table legs. Before I could even protest… not that I wanted to, he reconnected the ankle straps around my cuffs, tightly binding my legs wide apart, locking my thighs in a completely open, vulnerable position. Then, he grabbed my wrists, pulling them forward and securing them to the metal rings at the front of the table.