My Chair

A friend of mine came to my house and after the grand tour asked me where I got "My Chair", this is the story.

*Please note there is not a lot of sex in this story, there's some almost sex near the end. On the up side there is great potential for sex because of this story. It's a long story. Please leave your Constructive comments. I have posted a pick of the chair to aide in the fantasy process.

Let me tell you about my chair. It is not an antique chair, it is neither expensive nor ornate, it is just a chair. There is only one thing special about this chair and that thing is what this chair does to my imagination. In my mind it is my bondage chair. It is where my dark fantasies come to life; it's my warmth when I'm alone at night. It is a special chair.

When I first saw my chair it was buried knee deep in on old estate my husband had purchased. The woman who had lived there was a serious packrat, keeping everything under the sun, (that includes the kitchen sink—I think there were 6 of those). Yes, I first spied this chair in a dark corner of a decaying front porch, cover with encyclopedias, 15 year old newspapers, cobwebs and rat crap. At first all I could make out through the gloom was a rounded piece of wicker barely peering over the rim of a fish bowl. Moving closer and donning my gloves, I began to clear away the debris. Finally after much peril and dangers untold, I unearthed it.

What a filthy, corroded, painted chipped mess she was. My husband deemed her trash; I told him I was keeping her. In my eyes she was beautiful, rounded curves, good height and nice arm rests. She was a 1960's Wicker rocker, black with a swivel base. Her once fluffy cushions, now worthless, home to countless cockroaches, were trash-- but it wasn't the cushions I was interested in. Nope it was the frame. I wanted that frame.

Tossing the cushions aside, (OMG was that rat noises I hear? YUCK!), sending dust flying everywhere, I grasped the armrests and pulled. Hubby said he needed some air and went back outside. I pulled and pulled some more, it was not budging. What the hell was this thing bolted to the floor?

As a matter of fact it was, very curious to my perverted mind. Who would bolt down and old rocker? It wasn't worth stealing, in my imagination, I could see the young hippie girl dressed in a peasant dress, with her long flowing hair, probably coming down from an LSD trip, blindfolded, straps holding her firmly to the chair and the bolts firmly holding the chair to the floor, but I digress.

I needed some tools! Going outside I locate my husband and ask for a wrench and a screwdriver. He looks up at me, like I'm speaking fluent Japanese, and of course wants to know what I need tools for after all I am a WOMAN. I roll my eyes at him and tell him I need them because someone bolted the chair to the floor. He, of course, doesn't believe it and accompanies me back to the porch. He (being the macho man he is) grasps the arms and gives it the old college try—it doesn't budge but a disk or 2 in his back does.

"What the hell?" he exclaimed.

I sighed," Told you it was bolted."

He gets exasperated easily, so the idea of him helping me is quickly abandoned, which is FINE by me. Alone again I begin to work on the bolts; they popped out easier than I had anticipated, thank God. Finally with last bolt removed I tried again to pull the chair, this time it moved right away sending me flying backwards on my ass. Guess it wasn't that heavy!

You know how some people think that sunlight shows up every flaw? Well I find I must agree, for my chair looked like shit outside. Thick (really thick) cobwebs hung from her slats and a host of identifiable insects crawled out of her crevasses. Still it was nothing that some bleach, insect spray and a can of paint wouldn't fix. Grabbing the garden hose I open the flow all the way blasting bugs and webs everywhere. Once that was complete a spray bottle filled with bleach (well -- I am going to sit in it you know). After the bleaching, 3 cans of Combat bug spray, and then it was break time.

I call to my husband that its lunchtime and we dine in the yard out of our cooler. As we eat he asks me why I want this chair so bad, he doesn't see anything spectacular about it. I am afraid to tell him why. So I tell him because I think it's cool. He thinks I'm strange (HA if he only KNEW).

By the time we finish lunch the chair is dry enough to paint. Rummaging in the dilapidated shed behind the house, I find two newer cans of Almond colored spray paint. I would have preferred black since the chair was already black, but I'll take what I can get and Almond is what I got.

Giddy, with unidentified, excitement I paint my chair. It takes both cans to cover all the black, but the effort was well worth it. Now my chair was very pretty (and insect free). Done with my project for the moment I hunt down hubby to see what he's up to. I find him upstairs in the attic looking through old suitcase stuffed with books. I don't mean just a few suitcases I mean 135 suitcases, PACKED with books. All kinds of books, big ones, little one, fat ones, and thin ones, hard back, paperback, first editions, last editions. Books, books and more books. Did I mention this old lady had some books? Jesus!

"I've about had my fill for the day Hon, how 'bout we call it quitting time and head home?" He asks me.

"Sounds great to me, don't for get we need to get my chair in the van." I reply.

"Chair, Chair, Chair. Christ Cat are you obsessed or something?"

"Yeah, or something, can we get it in the van?"

Loading the chair was no problem after all it was light and almost completely dry.

The ride home was silent. He was probably thinking about work and making profits and I was thinking about my chair and the kinky fun I could have with it. Pulling up our drive he asked me where I plan on putting the chair. Upstairs of course I tell him. I'm getting rid of that recliner, I never really liked it. I know he doesn't really care where I put the chair as long as he doesn't have to carry it. He helps me get it out of the van then abandons me for a hot bath.

There are 13 stairs leading to the top floor of my house. Yep counted each as I huffed that chair up them. Reaching the landing a song comes to my mind, 'At last, my love has come along, my lonely days are over and life is like a song.' Yeah, I know I really do need to get out more often! But my chair was home, and to me it was Christmastime in the city!

Dear me, first we have a recliner to deal with, and deal with it I did. Pulling the throw pillows from it I push it to the top of my staircase lay it down gently on it's back and shove. What a racket it makes sliding down the stairs.

My husband bolts from the bath naked dripping and shriveled, "What in the Sam hell was that?? Are you alright?"

After several assurances that I am ok and showing him the recliner at the bottom of the stairs (surprisingly still in one piece) he retreats back to his bath. Now it is just the chair and I. (Now I will have you my pretty.)

I drag her into position, stuff a pillow in her seat, and plant my sweet ass right smack dab in the middle.

I slip into dream land. My private land: a land filled with sighs, moans, pants, chains, ropes, gags, blindfolds, dark alleys, forbidden passageways, screams, passions, commands, strong fearless men and chairs...

Ah what a splendid place to be....oh so yummy....

Ah I'm going off again aren't I, so sorry. Let's get back on track; I'm sitting in my newly acquired chair dreaming as I wait for my turn to bathe...ah sigh...Drifting...chair...

I'm sorry I just can't seem to stay focused. I was waiting for the bathroom and the next thing I know is the room is dark. I am in my chair and I am naked. It feels weird to me to be naked in this room as I am usually only naked in bed. I wonder where you are for all I hear is silence. I try to raise myself but am stopped by a hand on my shoulder. Started I give a small shout, reaching for the hand; another hand clamps itself across my lips. Naturally both of my hands now go to my mouth where they are grasped at the wrist. I hear a growl in my ear-no words just noise – but I know what it means and I won't move. I am not afraid, I know it is you, but aroused and curious about what you are intending. Some of my curiosity was vanquished when I hear the clicking of handcuffs. Now I knew we'd be having fun.

Still holding both my hands you place the cuff around one wrist and draw it above my head to the back of the chair. You slip the open end around the sturdy wicker frame and insert my other wrist into the remaining cuff. Now I am at your mercy, and I love it. I love it that you want me this way. Now I feel myself getting wet. Hardly ever am I naked and bound before you. Still standing behind me you slip a blindfold over my eyes and turn on the lights. I gasp knowing I cannot see you but you can see all of me. Now I fidget, trying the cuffs and checking the play. There's not much. I hear you growl again in my ear, goose bumps form all over me and my nipples get hard. A moan escapes my own lips as my head blindly turns looking for you, seeking your lips, your tongue, any part you will give me.

You walk in front of me and nudge my knees apart, I feel you stroke my thighs and my legs, which have minds of their own, fall open wide. Lifting my legs up you put them on the seat of my chair occupying the space that my thighs formally possessed. Gently you secure first one ankle then the other to the base of the arm rests, but you are not finished yet, taking my knees you loop rope around them and secure them to the back sides of the chair. Now I am very exposed and pretty secure. My breathing is heavy in anticipation; my mind is going a mile a minute. Never ever have you tied me so secure, augh , so open. I am embarrassed I know you can see all my flaws. I am so fucking horny cause I know that you did this to me. You wanted me this way. Naked. Bound.

You saw inside my mind as to the truth of this old chair and you did not run...

You gently stroke my face, my mouth finding your palm laps at it, bites at your finger tips; you know I want to fuck you NOW! I feel you push something against my mouth at first I think it is your cock but then I realize you have gotten my old thin braided leather belt and are using it to gag me! OMG, I gush fluid, my pussy is now dripping and you haven't really touched me sexually yet!

You tie it behind my head and to the back of the chair, stripping more freedom from me. I moan uncontrollably trying to shake my head, over whelmed by these feeling you have forced upon me. You pet the top of my head and whisper in my ear, "I love you. I think you are beautiful.''

I hear you walk away and rummage through a drawer for something. You return to me and I sense you bending over me leaning over the side of the chair, you are fully clothed I note, you mess with something located on the wall near the floor. When I hear the steady hum I know what you've done. You got that big ass super vibrator and plugged it in the wall! You bastard you know what that thing does to me. A melted mess in minutes! Oh God Oh God. You turn it off, I'm sure you can see me relax. The relaxation is short lived. You lay the vibe of death on my chair facing my wet exposed pussy and push it towards me till contact is achieved. I am beginning to protest as best I can, moaning and trying to wiggle. You slap my thigh lightly and tie the vibe to the slats running under my chair. Kissing my mouth around the gag you flip the switch.

There are no that I can find that describe what I felt at that moment, I was helpless, blinded, you took my voice and I loved it. I loved it .

I tried to fight the vibrations by they were undeniable, unrelenting, unstoppable. The orgasms were undeniable, unrelenting and unstoppable. I orgasmed a river, then an ocean... All you did is watch, do you like watching me? Do you like watching me come over and over until I beg for mercy? Do you? I'd like it if you did.

How did you figure out my fantasy, to be forced to cum, to be your sex toy, to be tied in this chair? In the distance I hear you speaking, "I think I see the great unseen potential in this chair"

"Cat! Hey Cat! Earth to Cat, I'm out of the bath you can get in now."

So that's my story. I didn't have to bathe I'd tell you more. I know it's not fair to be all tied up in knots and left seating in your chair, but I really must go. If you really want the very end you'll just have to let me know.