No. I examine the chair first.

You go examine the chair.

The first thing you notice is that it's shape is intensely erotic. First, it has contoured holders for the legs, and a wrap around section that is shaped to fit around your back. The chair is designed to wrap around the occupant, hugging him or her.

Second, the contours for the legs hold the legs spread apart, exposing one's privates.

"That's positively indecent," you mutter to yourself.

Please sit in the chair.

And third, in front of the chair is a bench. Looking at the grooves on the floor, it's apparent that after sitting in the chair it will slide forward and lock smoothly with the bench, trapping the sitter with soft rubber contours covering his or her ("why am I adding 'or her' to all my sentences," you wonder. "this doesn't mean I'm starting to think of myself... but no. Of course not. My pronouns are she/her, of course... I MEAN HE/HIM!! You slap yourself.") entire body from the chest down.

But worst of all is the seat. It looks like the seat from Jack Hewitt's office. It's shaped for ass cheeks with a ridge running down the center and with a hole in the middle. The chair will separate and cup one's cheeks, with the hole directly against the anus.

And you know what's coming out of that hole. You remember what you saw when you pressed the button in Jack Hewitt's den.

And you have to admit, the thought of it... of sitting in the chair... the thought of it is turning you on.

Meanwhile, the bench is bare, except for a series of sliding panels. On the wall in front of the chair is a computer monitor surrounded by light bulbs. It's blank and the bulbs are dark.

Please sit in the chair.

The voice commanded.

You can't deny the fact that you are getting aroused by the idea of sitting in the chair and having your anus exposed to the hole. You run your hands over the contours. They are made of soft, somewhat pliable rubber, covered with a slightly oily film.

Please sit in the chair.

The voice commanded.