The Brass Bedstead

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The Brass Bedstead (b&d)

story may be copied or posted, without changes or

omissions, for non-commercial purposes only (meaning no

charges, no profits, which rules out a lot of deadhead

pseudo free sites). Please keep the author tag attached

along with this notice, and let me know where you've

sent it or if you like it: albert.vines@yahoo.com

Disclaimer: This story contains graphic descriptions of

sex. It is definitely NOT for anyone under 21 or who is

offended by such material. This story is fictional and

any resemblance to anyone dead or alive is purely

coincidental. I welcome comments and suggestions from

readers : albert.vines@lycos.nl

The Bed

This was inspired by someone called Ariel and her desire

for a brass bed. It's actually consensual and non-

violent.

I never set out to buy an old-style brass bed. It wasn't

something that really suited my apartment, a modern,

sparse, almost clinical building in a riverside

redevelopment. Then late one night, surfing the

channels, I stumbled across a scene in a film that gave

me my inspiration.

The film was low-budget sexploitation. It told the story

of a woman whose relationship with her husband was based

on mutual loathing, right up to the moment where it

almost got violent, at which point they'd stare into

each other's eyes, fall into bed and make mad,

passionate love. Not at all clich'd. Oh no. But one

scene stuck in my mind. It was filmed from floor level

outside the doorway, looking up into the room. And there

was the bed, an old, brass bed. He had thrown her face

down onto it, her head towards the camera and then he'd

thrown himself on top of her. In his blind passion he

tore at her clothes (as I'm sure we all would). The

woman brought herself up onto her elbows and clamped her

teeth round the rail across the foot of the bed. She

closed her eyes and the camera zoomed in onto her face,

seen through the brass framework, a picture of agony and

ecstasy, leaving you with the feeling that some mutually

enjoyable anal sex was next on the agenda.

Art should always inspire and this film (though in fact

artless) did just that. I set out to obtain such a bed.

It took a lot longer than you might think, but in the

end I got one to my liking. Why did it take so long?

Well, what I wanted was big (in the end I got king-size)

with a stout horizontal rail at the head and the foot

between tall bed-posts topped with finials. It needed to

be substantial too, I didn't want something that looked

the part but would collapse under the type of strain I

had in mind. I anticipated some electrical stimulation

too, so the more brass the better.

I ended up with a repro-antique that cost several

thousand dollars. The only steel in it was the mattress

platform, a stiff, steel angle holding a sprung steel

mesh. The brass posts bolted to each corner are held

apart by slightly curved horizontal rails. At intervals

of about a foot along the horizontal rails, vertical

brass rods descended towards the floor. It was perfect.

I had to re-design my bedroom, but a makeover was

already overdue. The bed took pride of place in the

centre of the room. It was a remarkable, solid brass,

invitation to debauchery. Now for the piece de

resistance.

I created a bit-gag out of the horizontal rail across

the foot of the bed. It was simple to do; two layers of

leather wrapped around the rail, held in place by small

straps on each side, each strap also attached to the

ring of a modified bit gag Why did I use the rail

across the foot of the bed? Well, the rail across the

foot of the bed was about nine to twelve inches lower

than the equivalent rail at the head of the bed. Which

gave the required stretch between the bit gag and the

posts. I strapped a small yacht pulley to each of the

bottom posts at the finial, through which a white cotton

rope, the thickness of my little finger, ran down to

black, heavyweight rubber, wrist restraints. A vision

formed in my mind of a swimmer, trunk out of water in

the butterfly stroke. This was the position I was after!

At the head of the bed I fixed the pulleys halfway down

the posts, at the junction between the horizontal rail

and the post. Some experimentation with the height of

the wrist restraints led me to my next refinement. I

found a supplier of gymnasium equipment through the

Yellow Pages and chose some cubes of expanded

polystyrene foam covered in a tough PVC cloth. I checked

the positions of all the pieces personally, then I made

some small adjustments to fit my first conquest.

Julie

I chose Julie as my first 'model' because she likes to

be treated roughly, then she spends hours telling you

exactly how it was for her. This can be tedious in the

extreme, but when you start on a project such as this

some user feedback is helpful. Otherwise you risk

dislocated joints spread across the floor in front of

you. I may be cruel but I'm not stupid. That sort of

result starts a train of events that begin in a hospital

and end in a cell. I knew that Julie liked it rough and

Julie knew I could deliver sex the way she wanted it,

although she had no idea how much more there would be in

store for her further down the road. One day soon I

planned to take her over the edge, into something she

never dreamed of.

Julie's about as close to the average English girl as

you'll get, slim and almost flat-chested. She has a cute

waist and long legs, which focuses your eyes nicely on a

well-rounded arse-end. I told her over a drink one

lunchtime that I'd bought a new brass bed. She works not

far from my office, so we often have lunch. Her eyes lit

up and she wanted to visit there and then. I played

hard-to-get for about a week, by which time she was

promising me the time of my life. I made it clear that

she'd feel the effects for some days; this just made her

more determined and more licentious. Finally she said

she'd do anything I wanted, anything at all, just show

her the way to The Brass Bed! What could I say?

It's an impressive bed on its own, without the

modifications I'd made. Julie was in awe of it from the

doorway, by the time she got up close she was slipping

out of her shift dress and kicking off her shoes. She

saw the wrist restraints first, then she took in the

bit-gag. She looked towards me nervously and paused in

her haste to undress. I smiled what I thought was a

wicked smile; she told me later I looked embarrassed. I

must practice my wicked smile more. Luckily my reaction

overcame her apparent worries and she finished her strip

with a flourish by throwing her underwear over the other

side of the room. With a wicked smile (which really

looked wicked!) she asked "Are we going to play horsey?"

"I think we are. You said you'd do anything I wanted,

anything at all. So now's your time to deliver. To coin

a phrase, Adopt the position."

"On one condition, you know my limits, no trips to

hospital and no broken skin. OK?"

She looked more serious now, so I followed her lead and

looked serious too.

"OK".

It was enough to get her onto the bed on her knees; with

one hand either side of the bit gag she bent forward to

try it for size. Her jaws opened and she moved her face

forward to take it between her teeth. Her tongue was

pressed back and down beneath the bit. Her jaws closed

tightly onto the bar. She opened her mouth and lifted

her head back to look me in the eye "Please don't hurt

me, I swear I'll let you do anything if you promise not

to hurt me". This was her litany last time we enacted

out such a scene. I smiled and nodded reassuringly from

beside the bedpost. Then my face took on a sterner

expression as I said "I won't damage you, now get back

onto that rail". Julie complied. I moved to the bit gag

and fixed her head to my bed.

Her hands still held the rail, her back arched up to the

base of her spine, a few inches higher than her head. I

carefully ran my hands through her hair, chestnut brown

and totally natural. I smoothed it from her temples and

gently pulled it back into a pony tail. Then I slowly

plaited it, from her temples to the nape of her neck in

a French plait. Her eyes were opening and closing, her

breathing began to quicken. From the hair at the nape of

her neck my fingers travelled the short journey to the

sides of her breasts, then touched her lightly across

the base of each breast, before drifting each palm

across her hardening nipples. Her eyes now closed, and

remained closed as she drifted along on a sexual high. I

took her left hand first and moved her wrist across

towards the restraint. Her eyes remained closed. The

stiff latex of the restraint closed upon her slender

wrist. This was the point of no return. As I buckled the

strap across the top of the restraint I knew I had her.

With her mouth strapped to the rail she couldn't reach

this wrist with her right hand. If she realised this,

she gave no indication. I moved to the other bed post

and drew her hand towards the restraint. This time there

was a slight resistance, not wanting to go too willingly

to her fate. I gripped her wrist more tightly and held

it still while I wrapped it in rubber, buckling a strap

to seal it in place.

Julie's arms were now held out from her body, towards

each side, though still bent through ninety degrees at

the elbow. I took up the slack on each rope; first one

arm and then the other straightened and stretched

towards the small pulleys fixed to the post-head

finials. I fastened the rope end to the bar. Her eyes

opened but did not focus, she seemed to stare at the

junction between wall and floor. Her breathing was now

quicker and deeper than before, her skin beginning to

flush from her jaw to her neck. I took off my clothes

while watching her from one side. Her focus never

shifted. She was, quite literally, staring into space.

I took a sleep mask from my drawer, one I'd picked upon

an overseas flight. I crouched in front of Julie's face

and watched her eyes swim back into focus. "I'm going to

blindfold you now. Don't be afraid. OK?" Her head was

immobile, her only way of communicating was with her

eyes. She gently closed them, awaiting the feel of the

cloth over her face. I took this as an affirmative and

duly obliged.

Julie had parted her knees to bring her backside down

and straighten her spine. Her sex glinted, slickly

waiting for my attention. It must have surprised her

when I didn't touch her there, but instead took each

knee and brought them back together. A few loops of the

cotton rope around the tops of her knees, cinched tight,

brought her arse higher again. I took one of the padded

foam blocks and forced it between the bed, the base of

her ribcage and the front of her thighs, forcing her

knees back slightly, away from her trunk, so that she

now appeared more stretched, less comfortable and much

more expectant. Now I could finish her restraints. I

took the ankle cuffs attached to the bed head and

slipped them around each bony joint. A shackle clipped

the two together and I tightened the rope to maintain

some tension.

I moved back to the foot of the bed and looked at her

from that angle. Her shoulders and neck seemed sculpted

out of flesh, taut, stretched sinews that would soon

burn with pain. I could see all that I needed to see.

Some small adjustments to the position, some subtle

changes to the sequence in which the knots are

tightened, and I could have her screaming in agony. My

hands moved back to her hair, twisting her plait in one

hand I could see the discomfort move through her neck

and jaw. I desperatley wanted to play with her pain,

pinch and poke into those straining joints. Next time

maybe. For now I moved back to Julies knees, releasing

the rope cinched into the flesh above her knees. My

fingers trailed up her thigh, my hand cupped her right

buttock, as my thumb circled over her anus, picking up

the slick, slippery fluid from her drooling cunt and

spreading it around her trembling sphincter. Her

buttocks were smooth and soft, the silky smooth skin a

pale porcelain shade of cream. I couldn't resist a slap

or two, bringing a flush of pink to the creamy flesh.

Julie moved her knees apart, not to lower her rear this

time, but instead to open herself up to me. My fingers

moved to her clitoris and within a minute or so her

orgasm came and her cunt bucked against my hand. I

obliged her and moved my fingers deep into her, feeling

her inner flesh move as the sensations washed through

her.

As her orgasm subsided I knelt between her calves and

held my cock to her cunt. Without any finesse I opened

her cunt lips and pushed my cock deep inside. I fucked

her like an animal, my pelvis banging against her thighs

and buttocks. My hands held her hips, feeling the bones,

pulling myself into her. I watched the glistening length

of my cock slide out and in again, until my orgasm came,

throbbing through my cock and tightening my balls. I

fucked her hard and deep until the feeling subsided. I

moved back and my cock slipped from her. I sat back on

my haunches and watched my cum ooze from her cunt and

slide down the inside of one thigh.

I sat on the side of the bed and looked at the tableau;

my mind was already moving over the possibilities. The

temptation to fist her was so strong, I wanted to scoop

up my cum and lubricate her ring with it, to watch my

fist force an opening into her anus and open like a

flower inside her. But this was Julie and she had her

limits, not many, but those that she had I respected. I

reluctantly released her ankles from the restraints,

then moved back to take a last look at her face, fixed

so solidly to my beautiful bed. I was going to have some

fun with this new toy.

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