Debbie and the Chair

Debbie hated the chair.

She hated what it meant, what it represented: submission. It meant her husband James conditioning her, changing her, twisting her mind like putty, reprogramming her to be his perfect sex slave. James hypnotized her when she sat in the chair. It appalled her, the things she did when she was under his control, completely mindless, helpless, powerless.

It was an ugly chair. It wasn’t much, just an old, oversized school chair: a metal frame bent into four legs, a simple flat wooden seat, and a wooden backrest. James had made one addition; he’d carved a crude spiral into the backrest, to remind her of what the chair was for. When she sat in the chair the spiral pressed into her spine, a constant reminder of his power over her. How many times had he ordered her to play with herself in the chair? How often had she involuntarily polished the chair with her gushing juices?

Debbie glared at the chair from across the room, its innocuous form stood dormant, yet in her mind it pulsed with invisible waves of subliminal commands, drawing her, pulling her toward it. She had to resist it! She knew the instant she sat down, every thought would fade away, every inkling of disobedience and distress would vanish, and her mind would open, like a flower to the sun.

The chair held no special powers, it was only the focus for their hypnosis sessions. At least, that was how it began; Debbi sitting in the chair trying not to act bored, while James swung a pocket watch in front of her eyes, reading off a list of prepared commands from a paper they’d written together, to spice up their marital sex life. It was so ridiculous, so cliché, so… effective. Neither of them had expected it to work, that first time’ but now, after so many repeated uses, after James had inserted all those instructions of obedience, compliance, and service into her mind, Debbie knew she would be lost instantly if she sat in the chair. She would do anything and everything James desired, perform any sexual act he wanted. He was voracious in bed, demanding; not always gentle, yet ever so loving.

Debbie took a step towards the chair. She couldn’t be mad at James; after all, she had wanted this too, in the beginning. She remembered the times James put her under, made her touch herself to prepare her body for him; he would caress her, play with her breasts, suckle them, lick her nipples; it was her favorite form of foreplay, and he was a breast man. Her hands unwillingly removed her blouse, unclasping her bra; they went on the floor beside her as she began kneading her tits.

Debbie edge closer to the chair; it called to her. James often told her to masturbate in the chair, her body obeying his orders without question, without thought; her fingers moving to stroke her clit, rub her pussy, finger herself to orgasm while he whispered his commands into her open, compliant mind. Most of the time she never heard what he said while she was in the chair; the words slithered through her ears and across her brain like water skittering over a hot skillet. But she always obeyed, she had to; the chair made her. And she knew that one orgasm in the chair would be followed by more in the bed. She had to be naked to masturbate in the chair; her skirt and panties followed her the rest of her clothes to the floor.

Debbie stood beside the chair, looking down at it. Its draw was relentless, compelling. Once she sat down it would have her; her will would melt, like smoke puffed away by hypnotic breath, compounded over many turns in the chair. It would capture her soul once more, subsume her mind, take hold of her body, turn her into a sex toy for James’ pleasure, obedient to her conditioning. All it would take is a moment of weakness, a slackening of her resistance, and she would once more become the perfect, loving sex toy of a wife she longed to be, wanted to be. Just sit in the chair.

Debbie relaxed into the chair, feeling her mind drift away. Master would be so pleased; the chair always made her feel such pleasure, and she was eager to surrender to it, so she could give that pleasure back to her Master.

Debbie loved the chair.