The Chair (3)

Getting curious? Nervous about that desk chair? Well, read on.

 

The next morning, after Ron left, Ann approached her chair. She looked under the cushion. Nothing. No hole, no soft spot, no hiding place. She inspected the cushion as well. The only thing unusual about is is that it didn’t have one of those pesky “Do Not Remove” labels on it. The only thing that even looked like a tentacle was the Kracken carved on the back. As she never sat on that part of the chair, she couldn’t figure out how it could be part of the problem. Instead of writing, Ann headed downtown to the library.

“Can I help you?” asked a chubby librarian.

“Um… I’m looking into the genre of fiction known as Tentacle porn.” Ann figured the best way was to be upfront about what she wanted.

“Oh yes. Shokushu goukan. Very popular in the Manga novels. Japanese.” She started walking towards a wall full of paperbacks. “You’ll find lots of it here.”

Ann was left to look through a variety of comic books. Then she went on the Internet and found out more. One of the earliest artworks about it was by Hokusai in 1814, and showed a woman being taken by two octopuses. Ann shuddered. She discovered that the erotic writers loved the genre as well, which was something she’d known, but not in the depth she did now. Then, she saw a footnote at the bottom of a story.

“It’s real. They’re real. Be careful!”

Ann spent another hour trying to find more information. Nothing. She checked out a few books and headed home.

On Thursday, she showered, put on a pantie liner and then after placing a plastic bag over the seat, she sat down. An hour later, she’d finished her contract piece and was ready to start on her erotic novel. Forty minutes later, she gave up. It was useless. No mojo. No story.

“Fine!” She pulled the plastic off and sat down. Nothing. She went and removed the pantie liner. Still nothing. Finally, she pulled up one of her erotic writer blogs and began to read. Oddly enough, the first story was about aliens with tentacles. She laughed.

An hour later, she began to feel horny. She’d been so nervous that all her joy had dried up at first. As her pussy dripped, she felt that oh too familiar tickling sensation. Before she could do more than open her legs, a tentacle thrust up hard. It filled her pussy so fast, that she bumped up off of the seat. As she cried out in surprise, a tentacle dripping with ooze, filled her mouth. While a tentacle traced up her belly to pinch her nipples, another one thrust into her ass. The first orgasm hit and wave after wave of them followed until she overflowed with juices. She was on the verge of passing out when the tentacle pulled out of her mouth. She coughed with the surplus of air, and didn’t notice at first that the tentacle was typing on the computer.

“Don’t Ever Do That Again!”

“Do what?”

“block me from touching you!

Ann bit back the snarky remark, and nodded instead.

“You can and will be punished.”

Ann wondered what it could do to her that it hadn’t already done. That’s when a tentacle came down hard on her nipple. She cried out. The typing tentacle zinged towards her face and stuffed itself in her mouth while the other tentacle continued to slap her nipples. Then the tentacle in her ass began to expand and grow thick. She cried out against the tentacle blocking her mouth. While it hurt, and tears ran down her face, she was helpless. After thirty minutes of this, the pain stopped. A tentacle gave her an orgasm that left her dizzy. There was one more message on the screen when she was able to concentrate.

“I can and will hurt you. Do not disobey me.”

Ann shuddered and went to go stand in the shower until the water ran cold.

Friday, she sat down at the computer and began to write. It wasn’t long before the tentacles began to wrap around her body. Invading it. She shuddered with the first orgasm, and tried to keep writing. She cried out when her ass was taken, and within seconds, a tentacle filled her mouth and began pumping juices down her throat. She swallowed rather than drown. Yet this time she was able to keep on writing until she came to the end of the chapter. Then it made her come in savage swiftness that had her arching upwards as best she could. She lost track of the orgasms. When it was done with her, it left her wet and worn out. She nearly crawled to the shower to clean up.

On Saturday, Ann was alone. Ron had left early for a conference. They’d made love the night before, and he’d mentioned on how good she felt in his arms. Ann smiled, but didn’t mention the daily fuckings by the tentacle chair. What amazed her was that in spite of feeling as if she’d been fucked by an elephant, her pussy was nice and tight.

She got up, showered and headed off to American Office Furniture. She parked the car and after a moment’s hesitation she headed into the store. She hadn’t gone ten feet beyond the doors before Will appeared at her side.

“And how are you enjoying your chair ma’am?” He smiled at her.

“I… um.. need to talk to you about that chair.” She looked around, and there were a few customers nearby.

“Ah yes. Come this way ma’am.” Will took her by the elbow and led her back to the area where she’d picked out her chair. When they were alone, he let go of her elbow. “Now what exactly did you need?”

“Did… did you know that chair does things?”

“Why yes. Of course.”

“That… that tentacles come out of nowhere and.. and..” She couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence.

“And fill you, make you come, ravish your body?” he said softly.

“Yes!”

“Why of course.”

“You sell these chairs to unsuspecting people?”

“Well, we only sell chairs such as these to those who deep down desire that very thing. For you must remember, you chose your chair. We didn’t force it upon you.”

Ann stopped mid thought. “What? You’re telling me I want to be raped by some sea monster?”

“Not exactly.” Will checked to see if the desk was covered. “What you wanted was a chair to sit in while writing erotica. The kinds of erotica that will get you published and edge on the extreme of tantalizing. I offered you a genrally erotic chair first, yet you said it wasn’t quite right.” Will turned and pointed to the chair she’d sat in first. On the back were couples making love in various positions. It reminded her of a Kama Sutra painting.

“Are you saying that the chair read my mind?”

“In a manner of speaking. More like smelled your pussy. It’s amazing. Writers come in here looking for a chair and while they say they want to write about fairy tails, they end up writing bondage or hard core porn. The chair knows, and rejects what they say for what they want.”

“But do they want raped? Fucked? Beaten?” She’d been looking at some of the other chairs and realized that some of the scenes were clearly about sex, but not the kind she’d ever want.

“Ah, this is the crux. They come looking for a chair, because in their minds, the way one writes, or sits while writing makes the difference between a good story and a reject slip. You yourself said you needed ‘just the right chair’ in order to get your ‘mojo’ flowing.”

A cold shiver ran up Ann’s spine when she realized he was right. She had thought that. She’d externalized her writing skills. “But… this is all so strange. It’s almost like selling your soul to write.”

“Indeed, it is. Some of our customers have become famous after purchasing a chair from here.”

Ann shuddered. “Who?”

Will smiled. “Ah, let me see.” He began listing off names, or titles of books. She recognized them and that cold shiver ran down her spine again.

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Oh no. we keep a very good list. Just in case a writer passes, we need to be able to collect the chair.”

“Does anyone ever give a chair back?”

Will smiled again. “Some try, but very few succeed. When they make such an attempt, their popularity falls, and of course writers can be such vain creatures. Anais turned hers in and was back for it in a month. Anne stuffed hers in a closet for two years, and Ernest… Poor man.”

Ann tried to grasp what he was telling her, and then it struck her full on. “You mean that if I give back my chair, I’ll never be published again?”

“Nor write. It’s part of the contract you made when you sat in the chair.”

“I never made any contract!” Ann’s voice raised at this point and Will took her by the arm and lead her towards the back of the building.

“Yes, you did. You may not have spoken it out loud, but you made a deal. The chair heard. When you sat down, you sealed the deal with the first orgasmic drop.”

Ann was trying to think of something, anything to say when she realized that they had left the show room floor. The warehouse was dimly lit. “Where are you taking me?” She tried to stop, but realized that Will was much stronger than he looked.

“I’m taking you to the wood shed. On rare occasions, people do choose the wrong chair. They are lacking in focus when they choose. So, we bring unsatisfied customers to the shed. There they can try a variety of chairs. If one works better, we exchange it with no trouble. We will always work to satisfy our customers.” He grinned at her as he said it.

Ann tried once more to pull away. “No! I don’t want to try another chair. I… I want to give mine back.”

“I don’t believe you ma’am.” Will pulled her into a building that smelled of wood, furniture polish and faintly of sex.

4 thoughts on “The Chair (3)

Add yours

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: