Cross Bracing Table Legs Novels & Stories

“Easy kitten. I’ve got you.” I stopped struggling and caught my footing, giving him a nod of thanks. He let me go, moving closer to the bed to turn on a lamp. Soft pink light filled the room and I looked and the large wooden black X I had just bumped into. “What is it?” “A saltire’s cross.” Bash said, moving to stand behind me. “It’s used for tying someone down and teasing them.” I looked over to the metal table beside the cross. Rows of knives were neatly arranged onto the tray, well they would have been if I hadn’t just bumped into them.

"Hold the table, Elara! If you slip now, I can't reach the artery!" Abram’s voice cracked, a jagged rasp against the roar of the timber snapping in the hallway. He jammed his boot against the base of the heavy oak desk, bracing his weight as the floorboards groaned.

The sun also was setting now and i could only imagine what the view will be like when it's completely dark in the sky. Wooden tables were set on the floor,many of them right along the edge to give the customers the best view.On the side where the hotel stood was a brightly lit bar with men and women mingling in front of it with drinks in their hands. "Wow,beautiful"then i breathed. "Come on I reserved us the best table,"he said pushing on my back a little. I almost stumbled forward but managed to catch myself from falling.I couldn't embarrass myself now although with the dim light i doubt anybody would notice still I have to be careful.

I hoped what we were going to do would get it out of my system once and for all. Scott took a shower and changed into his poker clothes, usually shorts or jeans and a polo shirt. Done, he showed me what else we needed to finish. He had brought some foam padding home and he showed me all the surfaces it would cover. I would apply some padding, put the leathery vinyl over it and around the wood edges and use a staple gun to staple it down to the wood on the opposite side. Essentially everywhere it would touch the slaves body, me, it would be padded. The insides of all the holes on the stocks wherever a head, wrist or ankle would go through, on the exterior of the St. Andrew's cross, and the be

Padded along the surface. "Sit on the table," Alex said. I looked at it. Half my height. Not even. The proportions of it were not immediately making sense to me and I said so. "It is quite small," I said. "Half my height at most." "I will check on that." He moved to the side of it and reached underneath and pulled something out. A fitted extension, built in, drawer style, one section for arms and another that unfolded for legs, the whole thing locking into place with a quiet precise click that said this had been designed with specific intention and someone had thought about it in detail.

Restraints next from a side table drawer, black leather cuffs with silver buckles. He dragged her to the coffee table, glass-topped and sturdy, positioning her on all fours facing the windows. Wrists cuffed to front legs, ankles to rear spread wide, ass high, pussy exposed obscenely to the city lights. The leather bit her skin, cool at first then warming, immobilizing her completely. Every shift tugged, heightening vulnerability.

The edge dug into my sides, and I winced. “Serves you right,” he growled. “You should’ve thought twice before stealing from our mall. Now get on the table and spread your legs—and do it fast.” With a heavy sigh, I climbed onto the table, which creaked under my weight. I lay on my back, the cold wood pressing against my skin, and spread my legs. “Wider,” Bryan growled. I spread my legs as far as I could. Heat flushed through me, and I felt so fucking exposed.

Later. A couple of quick flips and Brad had the table set up in the only open space in the small cabin, which made the cabin seem infinitely smaller. What had reminded her of an old folding cot her dad took camping was now a comfortable-looking massage table with a beautiful leather cover and a form-fitting attachment at one end with a hole for her face. Cain knocked on the door as Brad was locking the table legs in place. “You timed that right,” Anne said. She held the door open for him and Cain walked in with two large tote bags. “Brad just got the table set up.”

“We do, but we don’t encourage it. Like i said ma’am, our equipment needs specifications to function at their utmost best. We do have others that don’t necessarily need these specifications, but they’re few.” “Can I see them?” I pressed, she looked behind me then. “They’re on our left.” she gestured, making me turn too. Roman already standing in front of the left equipment rows. No word from him all these while. “The St. Andrew’s cross will be just the one without specifications. Alongside the bondage chair, restraint tables, queening chair…so on.” Hmm. The queening chair. I moved towards it a little. Taking a full look at the normal, comfortable looking chair, but with a large gaping hole u

Terry stepped into the cabin light. He had changed into a pair of dark gray sweatpants and a heavy black Blizzard hoodie, but he looked completely massive, his six-foot-three frame instantly making the train car feel cramped. His left leg was entirely encased in a rigid, high-tech black medical brace that locked his knee straight. He was leaning heavily on a single aluminum crutch, but his posture wasn't defeated. It was menacing. His grey eyes were like twin chips of flint as they locked onto Vance Brooks. "You're screaming at the wrong person, Vance," Terry said, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that vibrated through the floorboards, completely cutting through the corporate tension.