The Brass Bedstead (b&d) 

Copyright Albert Vines 2002. All rights reserved. This 
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@yahoo.com 

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.