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At the back is what my wife likes to call my toy chest.
It's a large heavy black metal box and holds all the straps, whips, clamps and gags that she enjoys using on me.
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.
On the left side, about halfway up the wall, is a thick wooden shelf bolted firmly to the walls at each end of the closet.
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.
Four narrow ones are provided for each of my arms and legs, spaced evenly down the limbs.And my head and neck rest on a leather cushion fastened down in the same way.Over the last couple of years I've worn depressions in them that match up perfectly to my compressed body.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.
It's about 7 feet on each side, with matt white painted walls.