by Michael Jade
Short Fiction/ Erotica/Paranormal/Haunted object/Dubcon
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An erotic short story...
Trapped and pleasured by a possessed chair! Wendy’s antique
store has made her all work and no play, and sex is little more than going
through the motions. Then she inherits a unique piece of furniture, a chair
that has a mind—and hands—of its own. Business becomes pleasure whether she
likes it or not when Wendy finds herself in the hot seat.
Excerpt:
The chair was deep, almost surrounding her with comfort, and she relaxed into the soft warmth. In the midst of feeling content and sleepy, the heat of arousal began seeping back in. Wendy’s eyes were fluttering closed when she felt the first tickles of a faint caress. She gasped and sat up for a look around.
“You’re imagining things,” she said.
She leaned back, both her hands gripping the smoothly curved arms of the large chair. Her palms ran along the ridges and curved detail, and the artistic carving slid so sensuously over her skin.
The mysterious touch returned, only this time, the firm grasp of fingers wrapped powerfully around her wrists. Her eyes shot open in a panic, and she glanced down to see spindly, wooden fingers emerging from the carved relief in the arms of the chair. They curled around her, securing her arms in the cool, hard prison.
“Oh, my God,” she said, struggling to free herself.
She tried to stand, but more hands shot out and grasped her ankles. Wendy shrieked and writhed, but it was no use. She was trapped.
“What do you want?” she cried out in alarm, as though the chair could answer her.
Hundreds of sleek, wooden fingers sprouted, coming to life to stroke her everywhere at once. The restraints on her wrists and ankles were still tight and unyielding, but the other fingers delivered soft caresses around her like a cool, hard prison.
Her towel was
methodically pried away, and with a good tug to get it from beneath her, the
cloth slid to the floor. Her skin was still damp from the shower and a prickle
of sweat from her struggle. Unhindered by the thick towel, the hands increased
the tempo and rhythm of their exploration. She felt her pulse quicken with a
frightening arousal as her own body began to betray her. The fingers slid and
over her nipples, and pleasure heated her stomach. Her senses inflamed, and a
soft moan escaped her lips. How could this be happening? Maybe she was
dreaming. Yes, that must be it. She’d been so exhausted that she’d fallen
asleep and was dreaming of the chair.
