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Everything is taut and compressed against the leather and wood.When she first strapped my down, after hours of drilling, screwing and measuring, she was overjoyed.Today, as on most days, it's a pair of her used panties that are crammed into place under the strap.I think these are a pair she played tennis in earlier this week, because the sharp tang of her sweat is strong against my tongue and in my nostrils.Finally, my head and mouth are taken care of with a single half inch leather strap that comes up around my cheeks and between my teeth.On its own this wouldn't totally prevent noise, but she always uses it together with packing material for my mouth.It's about 7 feet on each side, with matt white painted walls.On the right side are a few simple cubbyholes for my clothes.
The space beneath it is separated from the room by a solid steel mesh, creating a cage like space. And when she has company she doesn't even like me to even have the minimal movement that the tiny caged space affords.My wife added the cushions after telling me that she didn't want me to be in any unnecessary pain.Of course, her definitions of when pain is and is not necessary probably wouldn't match most other peoples.Most nights I sleep in that cage, under the shelf, lying on a thin mattress placed on the floor. She says it's because I might kick the bars in my sleep and disturb whoever she's with.But I think she really just gets off on the thought of me immobilized. Unable to move a muscle while she fucks just a few feet away.
At regular intervals, set through slots in the wood, are shiny black leather straps with chrome buckles.