Chair Smother
by Smotherfan

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 8:00 She said she was having a small cocktail party. She wanted to be sure he was part of the seating for her lady guests. Apparently, Jody was a member of a club made up of women who loved to facesit men. About twelve women, ranging in age from Michelle’s age to Jody’s arrived. All of them were dressed nicely. Some of them wore evening dresses with wide hemlines, others wore black spandex outfits. Tom spent the night receiving the bottoms of all the women. Tom was flooded with a mixture of pleasure and pain, but he feared for his life. Some of the women were so engaged in conversation with each other, they nearly forgot he was smothering beneath them.

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.