Archive name: Chair Smother.HTM (M/FFFF,
Facesitting, Farting, Humiliation)
Authors name: Smotherfan ([email protected])
Story title: Chair Smother
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This work is copyrighted to the author and
the Smother World Organisation © 2003.
Please don't remove the author information or make any changes to this
story. All rights reserved. Thank you
for your consideration.
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Authors Note:
This work was on a discussion board, I liked it and wrote my own version,
that’s a bit harder than this but still read and enjoy.
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Tom was a
twenty five year old office worker. Since he was a child, Tom had fantasies of
women sitting on his face. He envied the inanimate objects like chairs and
couches which women made themselves comfortable upon. He was, of course, a
human being. But Tom wanted sexy women to treat him as if he weren’t. He hoped
that when he died he would get reincarnated into a piece of furniture so that
women might plop their beautiful butts on him without even thinking about it.
If he were a chair instead of a human being, thought Tom, women would perceive
him as something to sit on. It was a fantasy Tom doubted would ever come true.
Each morning at the office, Tom anxiously waited for Heather to arrive. Heather
was a secretary where he worked. Her desk was positioned directly in front of
his. Heather was a tall blonde with the most beautiful ass he’d ever seen. She
looked of German descent, with glowing golden skin and long, shapely legs that
reached up to meet her perfect ass. Tom usually arrived at the office early so
he could watch Heather come in, walk over to the fortunate leather chair by her
desk, and plop her butt down on it. Oh, how he wished he could be that chair!
In particular, he wished his face was the seat of her chair. He imagined
himself looking straight up, a part of her chair seat, as she arrived at work.
She would say a cheerful hello to everyone, then she would come over to her
chair—his face—and probably stand over him while she chatted with her
co-workers. Meanwhile, Tom would be gazing up under her skirt, up the length of
her thighs to her panty covered butt. He would know that at any moment she
would decide to sit down. Her legs would suddenly bend and her generous ass
would descent to his face. If he were Heather’s chair, thought Tom, he would
spend many hours mashed under her butt cheeks. But as much as he fantasized
women using him as something to sit on, he doubted if it would ever happen in
real life.
One night after work, Tom decided to stop at the public library to try to find
some information on sado-masochism in particular, facesitting. There were some
books in the sociology section, books like the Kinsey research studies on human
sexuality that interested him. He knew that there were women out there who loved
to dominate men. He knew that there were women out there, somewhere, who even
loved to facesit men. Thought he didn’t know any personally. Many women are
impassioned with having their pussy licked; however that wasn’t Tom’s passion.
What he desired most was to be smothered under the merciless ass crack of a
woman. He was also aware of a clothing fetish he had. If a woman wore a skirt
of tight jeans when she sat on him that would be his ultimate pleasure. Of
course, there were plenty of prostitutes who would do it for money. But what
Tom wanted was to somehow meet women who did it because they loved the feeling
of a man’s face under their ass. He wanted to meet women who would sit on him
out of a sense of superiority over him.
It wasn’t long before closing time, and there weren’t many visitors in the
library. Tom was squatting down, leafing through a book on the lowest shelf,
when he heard footsteps. The footsteps were the click clack of a woman’s heels.
He remained squatting down, but glanced up as a shapely woman dressed in a
rather tight tan skirt stood in front of him. She scanned the top row of books
on the shelf opposite him. She had shoulder length blonde hair, and she stood
in a way that gave Tom a great view of her fabulous ass. She scanned the top
shelf for a book she was looking for, and then her head and torso slowly bent
forward as she searched the lower shelves. Tom continued to leaf through his
book—trying to appear inconspicuous, but excitement tingled his groin. The
woman was bent over so far her big round butt was a mere foot from his face.
She had an awesome ass. Tom couldn’t stop staring at it. Then, much to his
pleasant surprise, the woman backed up and her butt connected with Tom’s
upturned face.
“Oh, excuse me,” said the woman, realizing her butt had just touched a human
face.
“No problem,” Tom said, politely. No problem was right! What an experience. For
a brief moment, the woman had stuck her ass right in his face. She pulled a
book from the lowest shelf and stood up, reading it. She turned a few pages of
her book and then looked down at Tom, who kept glancing up at her. She had a
lovely face. Her hair was done up nicely and her body was toned. Tom guessed
she was maybe 5’7” tall, thought she looked much taller from his low vantage
point. She was about forty but had the body of a woman of twenty. The woman
sighed. “I’m tired,” she finally said to Tom. “I told my daughter I’d try to
find some books she’s doing for a school paper.” She glanced around the aisle.
“I wish there were something to sit on around here.” Tom could only shrug. He
wished he could be a chair for her. But then she said something that sent a
wave of excitement through his groin.
“Too bad you aren’t a chair,” she said to him, chuckling. “I could sit on you.”
“You can sit on me,” he muttered.
“Excuse me?”
“Nothing,” said Tom.
“Oh, I thought you said I could sit on you,” she said, coyly. She knelt down
next to Tom and seemed to study his face a moment. Then she looked at the book
in his shaky hands. “Is that the Kinsey study?” she asked him.
“Uh-huh,” Tom muttered.
“I’ve read it,” she said. “…Ground breaking research done on human sexuality
back in the fifties.” The way she spoke openly about sex intrigued Tom. “What
are you into?” she asked, nonchalantly.
“Um… Sado-masochism, I guess,” said Tom.
“Wonderful!” she exclaimed. “Submissive, right?”
A chair is about as submissive as you can get, thought Tom. “Yes, I guess so.”
He replied.
“I knew it,” she said. “I can usually tell… interesting… are you into
facesitting?”
Tom cleared his throat. “Yep,” he croaked.
“How convenient,” said the woman. “Maybe I can use you for a chair.”
It was like a dream come true. He had just met a beautiful woman, a complete
stranger, expressing a desire to sit on him.
“You can if you want,” said Tom.
“Good,” said the woman. “Lay down on your back, Mr. Chair, and I’ll sit on
you.”
”Here?” said Tom. “In the library?”
“Why not,” said the woman. “You’re only a chair, and I need something to sit
on.”
Tom lay down on his back and the woman stood over him. He gazed under her
skirt, up the length of her thighs to where her nylons were attached by straps
to black panties.
“Think you could handle it If I sat on your face?” she asked.
“I can handle it,” said Tom. “Like you say: I’m only a chair.” “The woman put
her legs together and started to sit down. Tom watched her round butt loom in
closer and closer to his upturned face. The fabric of her skirt clung to her
ass. She placed one butt cheek on his face—as if testing out her “chair.” Tom
couldn’t believe what was happening. She rose up a few inches and Tom got a
whiff of her womanliness. Then she swivelled her hips, sexily, and sat down
square on his face, settling her full weight on him. He couldn’t see what she
was doing, but he could hear pages turning. The woman was actually looking
through her book while sitting on his face!
“It’s nice having you here to sit on,” said the woman. She was acting so casual
about smothering his face in a public library, Tom thought he was dreaming. His
face mashed down under her butt, his chest heaved for air, and the woman seemed
unconcerned—as if her comfort was the only thing of importance. Tom felt
drowsy. He felt like he was about to pass out, when he heard more footsteps.
Someone was coming. She quickly removed her ass from his face. Tom gasped in
air and managed to get up from the floor just as another woman entered the
aisle. The woman looked at Tom’s red face and grinned. Then she proceeded on to
another aisle.
“I’m Jody,” said the woman who had just smothered his face.
“Tom,” he replied.
The woman jotted something down on a slip of paper and handed it to him. “Come
to my place tomorrow night,” she ordered him. “I want to sit on you some more.
Tom’s next day at work was a tough one. He could barely concentrate thinking
about what the woman had in store for him that evening. He arrived at her house
with excited anticipation, as well as some anxiety. What if she really hurt
him, sitting on him as she had at the library? She had all the outward
appearance of an upper-middle class lady. But the casual attitude she had
towards using him as a human chair was disquieting. He expected her to be
dressed in stiletto heels and a leather bikini. He expected to be led into some
kind of dungeon in the basement. He was surprised to see her dressed similar to
last night. When she answered the door, she was wearing a simple pink pleated
skirt that came to a few inches above her knees, and high heel sandals which
showed off her shapely calves.
“Come in, Tom,” she said, cheerfully. “Glad you could make it.” She was
carrying a uniform of some kind. She unfolded it. “Put this on,” she told him.
The uniform turned out to be a jumpsuit of sorts. It was gold with black tiger
stripes. Tom did as he was told. It was a loose fitting garb and rather
comfortable.
“Over here,” she said, motioning towards a couch. “I’m re-upholstering my
couch. You should work nicely for that purpose.”
“Tom stared at the couch in disbelief. The couch was upholstered in the same
gold and black design he was wearing. It was a rather low couch. He lay down on
it, and his face was several inches below her knees as she stood over him. His
uniformed body, now exactly matching the design of the couch, made him feel
like he was a part of the couch he was laying on.
“Yes,” she said, and smiled. “You’re going to make a lovely couch cushion. She
turned her back to him, twirled her skirt over his face, and sat full on his
upturned noggin. Tom’s face was completely engulfed in her white pantied butt.
His nose was mashed into the thin satin panty that was the only thing between
him and her ass crack. She settled her full weight on her tortured “couch
cushion” and crossed her legs. She was, quite literally, using his face as a butt
cushion. She sat like that for about half a minute and then shifted her ass
backwards so that one leg, the leg that was crossed over the other, squished
onto his nose and mouth. He was able to peek out with one eye at her tanned
thigh. Her legs swayed a little from side to side—as he had seen so many women
do when they sit on something. Her body felt hot and heavy as she smothered
him. She shifted her ass to his chest and positioned her skirt so she could
look down at him, and he could look up at her dominate presence. Her tight
stomach gently rose in and out. She was breathing easily. He wasn’t. Higher up,
her breasts pushed her blouse into twin white mounds. Still higher was the
underside of her chin and lovely face. Tom felt totally dominated. The globes
of her butt pressed heavily onto his chest and stomach. He felt strangely
confused. How could a woman with such a splendid body, a body he was sure
didn’t weigh over 130 lbs., seem so heavy?
“Am I heavy?” she asked. The words were flat, as if the question was
irrelevant.
“Uh-huh,” Tom gasped.
“Get use to it, Mr. Chair,” she warned. “You’re going to be a part of my couch.
You’re here to be sat on.” She looked away from him and teased at her hair. “I
wonder where Michelle is,” she said, as if talking to herself. Finally, she got
up and relieved Tom of his burden. Maybe this human chair thing wasn’t such a
good idea after all, he thought. Then he remembered her mentioning she had a
daughter
“Michelle?” he asked.
“Michelle… my daughter,” she said. “She’s eighteen, a senior in high school.
She should be home soon.” She walked away from him, but she returned shortly
carrying a hair brush.
“Is Michelle going to sit on me, too? He asked, trying not to appear too
excited.
“Michelle can sit on you if she wants to,” said Jody. “That’s what you’re here
for, isn’t it? To be sat on.”
“Sure,” said Tom, now even more excited about the prospect of an eighteen year
old high school girl sitting on him. He wondered if Michelle would torture his
face as casually as her mother did.
Jody stood over him, brushing her hair. “You’re going to be sat on a lot before
we’re through with you,” she said, and then she turned around and planted her
butt on his face again. He heard a noise at the door. Someone had come in.
“Michelle,” he heard Jody say. “You’re late, as usual.”
“Sorry, mom,” said a youthful female voice.
Jody stood up There was a beautiful young girl staring down at him.
“Oh, cool!” she exclaimed. “The new chair slave.” The “new” chair slave,
thought Tom. What happened to the old chair slave? Tom was delighted to see
that her daughter, Michelle, resembled her mother in many ways. She had a
flawless complexion, a youthful glow, and silky blonde hair that reached to
mid-back. She was extremely beautiful. She was dressed in a short, blue pleated
uniform skirt that suggested her attendance at a private school. Tom loved the
way her ass fashioned the skirt into a gentle curve that met with her tiny
waist.
“I went over to Lisa’s house after school,” she told her mother.
“You should have called,” said Jody. “You know I worry.”
“Sorry, mom,” said Michelle. Tom expected her to comment on his unusual
presence in the house. But Michelle was acting as if it were commonplace to
have a man on their couch dressed the same as the couch. She came closer to
where he lay and turned around, still talking to her mother. “I’ll call from
now on, mom,” she said. “I promise.” Tom watched anxiously as she placed a
delicate hand about the hem of her skirt. She lifted it up, slightly, exposing
smooth thighs. Then, as if her were not even there, she flipped her skirt
backwards over his face and sat down hard. He got a glimpse of her white panty
covered butt before it mashed down on his face. As Tom lay there, crushed under
her youthful body, Michelle carried on a conversation with her mother.
“Can Lisa come over and sit on the slave?” she asked.
“Of course she can,” said Jody. “He’s here to be sat on,” she repeated.
Tom was beginning to feel less like a human being and more like an object.
Obviously, both these females were use to sitting on a man. Michelle got up,
and Tom breathed in precious oxygen. But his freedom was short lived. Jody
approached him and planted her own ass on his face again. “He seems to be a
good chair-slave,” Jody commented. “He hasn’t protested too much, so far.” He
was once again enveloped in the darkness of her ass crack. His nose mashed
down, and the couch beneath him groaned as she shifted her weight around. “I
hate it when they protest,” she added.
“Me, too, mom,” said Michelle. “The only reason they’re here is so we can sit
on them. And then they protest: Oh, don’t sit on me… Oh, I can’t breathe…Oh,
you’re too heavy…Isn’t that irritating.”
“Is sure is,” said Jody. She moved over on his chest and stared down at Tom.
“Are you going to be a good chair-slave and let us sit on you?”
“Sure,” groaned Tom. He loved the feeling of being engulfed in their
womanliness. He loved feeling totally inferior to them. But he had to admit to
himself it was more painful than he had imagined it to be.
“Good,” said Michelle. “I’m going to sit on your face, again.” Her mother moved
over and sat on his cock and stomach. Michelle towered over him, gave her skirt
a flip, and sat down full on his face. Now Tom was made to endure the weight of
two lovely female bodies atop him.
“You should be upstairs, studying,” said Jody. “I know, admitted Michelle. “Can
I take the chair-slave with me?”
“Well… I suppose so,” said Jody. “But if he gives you any trouble, let me
know.”
“I will,” said Michelle. She arose from her fleshy seat. Tom was told to follow
Michelle upstairs to her room. Michelle ordered him to lie on her bed, face up.
Tom obeyed. Michelle removed her skirt and blouse and stood over him. Then she
got a pair of blue jeans out of the closet. She sat on Tom’s face as she took
off her sneakers, wiggled into the tight blue jeans and put on a sweat shirt.
Then she ordered Tom to come over to her computer desk and lay his head, face
up, on the leather chair. Tom did, and stared at the denim covered butt that
would be crushing down on him. Michelle sat on his face, and Tom remained
wedged into her tight, jean covered butt as she punched at the keyboard. She
arose slightly, just long enough for him to catch a few breaths, and then sat
back down. Tom continued to function as her computer chair for the next hour.
Finally, her mother came upstairs and told Tom to go home. But his orders were
to return tomorrow night, for they didn’t like their chair-slave to be away too
long.
Despite the fact that his head and chest hurt from being sat on, Tom couldn’t
help himself from returning the next night. As he lay on the couch, adorned in
his gold and black uniform and feeling much like the couch, itself, he wondered
what the evening would bring. Jody, dressed in tan shorts, was the first to sit
on him. Then Michelle came home. She had her friend, Lisa, with her. Lisa was a
bit shorter than Michelle. She had brown hair and big brown eyes, and a nicely
filled out figure. Both girls still had there school outfits on.
“This is our chair-slave,” said Michelle, proudly nodding at Tom.
“Lisa giggled. “Do you really sit on him?” she asked, curiously, and giggled.
“Of course,” said Michelle. “That’s what he’s here for.” She pranced over to the
couch, swishing her skirt as she went. Then she turned and sat on his face. She
reclined back and crossed her legs. “He’s fun to sit on,” she said. “Want to
sit on him, Lisa?”
“Oh, I couldn’t,” said Lisa. “My butt probably stinks.”
“So what?” said Michelle. “He’s only a butt cushion.” She lifted her fanny off
his face a few inches. “You can even fart on him if you want.” She passed gas
right into Tom’s face. Both girls giggled. Michelle got up, and Lisa approached
the couch.
“Sit on him,” urged Michelle.
Lisa pulled her skirt up a little, as she had seen Michelle do. “Are you sure
you don’t mind if I sit on your face?” she asked Tom.
“That’s what I’m here for,” said Tom, anticipating contact with her magnificent
bottom.
“Okay,” she warned. “I hope I don’t squash you.” She flipped her skirt
backwards and sat down gently on his face. At first her panty covered butt
barely touched his face, as if she were afraid to put her weight on him.
“It’s okay,” said Michelle. “Sit on him.”
The couch creaked as Lisa settled her full weight upon his face. Then the twin
mounds of Michelle’s ass crushed down on his chest and stomach.
“Got room on him for me?” he heard Jody say.
“Sure, mom,” said Michelle. She edged closer to Lisa, and Jody sat on his cock and
upper thighs. She wiggled around on his stretched out rod, obviously enjoying
herself. This is incredible, thought Tom. He was actually being used as a couch
cushion by three sexy females.
The following night was a Friday night. Jody told him to be there promptly at
Later in the evening, a new guest arrived. Tom gasped when he saw who it was.
Heather from the office approached him.
“This is our new chair-slave,” said Jody to Heather.
“Tom!” she gasped. “What are you doing here?”
“Oh, I’m just lying around, getting sat on,” said Tom. His excitement had
reached a feverish pitch. Heather… How often he had fantasized her sitting on
his face. How often he had wanted to be her office chair… Heather was standing
over him. She was wearing a black evening dress, well above the knees and wide
at the hem. “Are you going to sit on me, too?” he asked Heather, nervously.
“Get this,” said Heather to Jody. “Your chair-slave wants to know if I’m going
to sit on him.” She took the hem of her dress and lifted it up. “Of course I’m
going to sit on you.” She swivelled her hips in a semi-circle, her dress flew
over his face, and she sat down. It was the end of a perfect evening, thought
Tom as he smothered under her perfect ass. But then he began to panic. Heather
wasn’t getting up. Finally, she got up—but just long enough to twirl around,
showing off her new dress to the other women, and then returned her ass to his
face. Heather chatted with the other women as she sat heavily on his face. Tom
began to feel faint. Just before he lost consciousness, Tom was thinking: You
just never know about the secret desires of women… You just never know.