This is the original/long-form version of the story that was read so fuckin’ sexily by Ellie Copter at Hysterical Literature of Entranced 2017. This may or may not have been inspired by the massage chair in my old office, whooops. First published on MC Stories September 2017.
Jenny had been on the job for a week when the office got the massage chair, and for another week before she tried it out. It was part of the firm’s new employee health and happiness initiative, along with the new fancy drinks and snacks in the break room, and the inspirational posters going up all over the office that said things like “You deserve to feel good” and “Relax and work right” and “Pleasure is productive.” Still, she held off trying out the fancy-looking massage chair for a bit, out of fear that her new coworkers would think she was slacking. Eventually though, after she saw that the management really was enthusiastic about all of their employees feeling relaxed and well taken care of, and after she saw enough coworkers leaving the massage room with blissful smiles on their faces, she decided to try it for herself.
The massage chair was off in a side room, behind a folding screen, facing a wall. The rest of the room was desks and chairs that were mostly not in use–one man sat tapping away on his computer in the far corner, a serene smile on his face. Feeling a little self-conscious, Jenny slipped behind the screen. After a moment of consideration, she kicked off her shoes, and settled herself into the chair.
Without her even needing to press a button, the chair whirred to life. The footrest adjusted itself incrementally upwards until her bare feet rested perfectly in it, and the seatback adjusted itself similarly. And then the chair started to massage in earnest: the rollers somehow found all the tenderest parts of her back and pressed into her with just enough pressure; the footrest rumbled a massage into her feet, the headrest into her neck, and pneumatic sacs inflated on either side of her arms and her legs, squeezing them deliciously.
She lost track of how long the massage lasted. At first, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about how she was here relaxing in this loudly whirring chair while the rest of the office worked, while there was someone working just yards away behind a flimsy folding screen. It became harder and harder to focus on those thoughts, though, and soon she was lost in the sensations, delighting in the feeling of all of the tension in her body being rubbed away.
When the chair clicked back into silence, Jenny drifted back to herself slowly. A blush rose in her cheeks as she remembered her guilt about the rest of her coworkers hard at work while she luxuriated in the massage chair. But she did feel much better, she noticed, much more focused now. Maybe pleasure really was productive, she thought to herself with a smile as she rose on unsteady legs, slipped her shoes back on, and returned to her desk.
* * *
Three days passed before she next used the massage chair. Those three days had been enough for her guilt to return, but she’d had a stressful commute that morning, she told herself, and could use a treat. She deserved to feel good.
When she slipped into that side room during her lunch break, there were more employees seated at the desks, happily typing away. Jenny tried her best not to think of them hard at work as she ducked behind the screen and settled into the massage chair.
Just like the first time, it adjusted itself to her body so that it cradled her perfectly, and then went about its work, buzzing and rumbling and kneading and rolling in all of the right places. Jenny relaxed into the sensation. It just felt so fucking good. She felt a particularly stubborn muscle knot in her shoulder loosen itself and moaned aloud.
Immediately she blushed scarlet and sat bolt upright, listening hard, peering through the screen: had anyone heard her? But there was no motion beyond the screen, no sound but the steady clicking of keys, and slowly, Jenny relaxed back into the chair, into the lovely feelings that ran through her body as the massage coaxed her tension away.
She lost track of time again, and at some point became dimly aware that the vibrations of the seat as it massaged her buttocks were... affecting her in other ways as well.
She could feel the slightest hint of those vibrations rumbling through her pussy and, if she focused, the sensation became more intense. It was still very subtle, but God it felt nice, just one more good sensation mixed with the rest of the chair’s touch.
Warmth and wetness grew between her legs. Jenny was rocking her pelvis against the chair very slightly, she realized, trying to get more of that vibration that was so tantalizingly close and yet so far away. The more she focused on it, the more her pussy cried out for it; the more she relaxed into the massage, the better those vibrations felt.
Another blush rose in her cheeks, but she was too awash in relaxation to do anything about it, or even care all that much. Instead, she sat in the chair, feeling the tension in her muscles melting away, acutely aware of her cunt and the pleasure there, and lost herself.
When the chair finished its cycle, Jenny returned to her work flushed and distinctly damp between the legs.
* * *
It was another week before Jenny could persuade herself to use the massage chair again. She definitely thought about it frequently, when the work piled up on her desk or she noticed a crick in her neck from staring at her computer too long. But then she would think about the pleasure she had felt in the chair the last time and blush bright red to remember how she had been squirming where she sat in a room full of other employees. But when the crick in her neck started spasming down through her shoulder, she decided to try the chair again anyway. I’ll just make sure not to get turned on, she thought to herself. Should be easy enough.
A pair of large cushioned headphones hung on the seatback, and a sign on the wall proclaimed, “Guided Meditation for Relaxation: Relax and Work Right!” With a shrug, Jenny donned the headphones before settling into the chair–there couldn’t be anything sexy about a guided meditation, she reasoned, and maybe it would help her stay focused on not getting aroused. At the very least, it would block out the soft but ever-present sounds of the other workers. (The room had been steadily more full every time she had peeked in over the last few weeks, with more and more chairs occupied by industrious Employees. There were even a few that Jenny recognized who had sat near her before, but had evidently since been transferred. Jenny didn’t think much of the fluctuations in the seating plan, except to feel more self-conscious imagining that many more eyes on her.)
The headphones fit snugly over her ears, blessedly muffling the other sounds of the room. When the chair started its machinations, music started playing as well, soothing ambient music with a soft pulsing bass beat that panned from left to right and back, and a curious echo that made Jenny’s head swim. Somehow, it was suddenly difficult to pay much attention to the people on the other side of the flimsy screen.
A warm voice started speaking to her over the low rumble of the chair: “The purpose of this guided meditation is to help you relax, and to feel as good as you possibly can. You don’t have to do anything but listen and follow. Now, take a deep breath in...”
Automatically, Jenny inhaled deeply. Breathing in time with the recording was remarkably liberating; she didn’t need to worry about anything at all, even breathing, all she had to do was listen and follow, listen and follow...
“Relax the muscles in your neck,” the voice told her, and she did. “Loosen your shoulders,” it said, and she complied. “Let your body melt into the chair,” it told her, and without any conscious thought, her muscles went slack. The chair kneaded her body and the voice guided her mind and the beats pulsed in her ears. The rest of the world faded into the background; there was only the relaxation and the pleasure of this moment.
“Relaxing makes you feel good,” murmured the voice; “It feels so good to feel so good.” Unconsciously, Jenny gave a low sigh of agreement. The chair was massaging her in all of the perfect ways, and it felt so good, and it felt so good to follow the voice...
“Don’t think, just feel,” said the voice in her ear, and agreeably, Jenny let her conscious mind slip even further away. All that mattered was how good her body felt right now, how her back seemed free of knots for the first time all week, how the buzzing of the chair radiated ever so slightly through her cunt and how her hips rolled automatically and luxuriously against it.
“Pleasure is productive,” reminded the voice. “Enjoy this pleasure now. Let your body feel all the pleasure it can. You deserve it.” Were the vibrations getting stronger, or was she just more acutely aware of how good they felt? It didn’t matter, all that mattered were the exquisite sensations in her body, all that mattered was following the Voice, all that mattered was pleasure...
When she finally floated back to herself, the chair still, the headphones silent, Jenny was blissful. This was the least self-conscious she had ever been while leaving the chair, she would realize later, though right now she wasn’t thinking of much of anything. The rest of the day at work flew by as she accomplished task after task with a happy smile on her face.
That night, lying in bed, she idly reached into her panties and started stroking herself. She was already wet–or maybe she was still wet? Light touches became more insistent, and soon her hips were bucking of their own accord and she was fucking herself in earnest. When she came, gasping silently, it was with echoes of that Voice in her head as it whispered pleasure, pleasure, pleasure.
* * *
After that, Jenny’s visits to the massage chair became more frequent. It started being the best part of her day; she could settle down, slip those headphones on, and lose herself for... she was never sure how long, exactly, and it didn’t matter; it felt exquisite, and she returned to work relaxed and smiling, with a comforting wetness between her legs.
The Chair felt so good, and drove away all of her distracting thoughts; after a session, her head was pleasantly empty, free of distractions, leaving her to focus fully and completely on her work. Her manager, and then her manager’s manager, started praising her productivity, the quality of her output, her friendly and accommodating attitude in the office. With each of these compliments, Jenny glowed with pride and resolved to be an even better Employee.
After about a week of arriving early so that she could start her day with an extra long session, Jenny came in to that side room to find yet another modification to the Chair. On the seat, extending basically straight up, there was a nondescript protrusion, maybe half a foot long and an inch thick, with ribbing up and down its length.
Jenny was unperturbed. She smiled a dreamy hello to the other Employees in the room–almost every desk was filled now–and pulled the screen closed behind her. She put the headphones on first, considering the strange new addition to the Chair, and within moments had her answer. Without hesitation, she stripped off her underwear, hiked up her skirt, and positioned her lips over the new attachment. She was already slick and ready–these days she was always wet before even starting a session–and slowly, with the Voice murmuring encouragements in her ears, she lowered herself down and let the Chair fill her.
It was exquisite. She settled back against the Chair, feeling the bit inside her flex and adjust along with the headrest and the footrest as the whole apparatus molded itself to her body. As the Voice instructed her to listen, follow, breathe deep, let go, Jenny sank into the sensations. The Chair rolled out her back, squeezed her arms and legs, thrust ever so slightly inside of her, vibrated softly against her clit... With every touch, at every point where the Chair came in contact with her body, there was pleasure.
The appendage seemed to expand like the pneumatic sacs that cradled her arms and legs, inflating itself to an impossibly perfect girth. Her breath caught and she gave a low moan. When the Chair started vibrating softly inside her, she gasped. How was it possible for her body to feel this relaxed even as such delicious tension mounted in her? Her back, her arms, her legs, her neck were completely limp and loose, but pleasure and pressure were building between her legs. It was slow and languorous and gradual, as was everything in the Chair, but at this angle the seat was buzzing directly against her clit–or else the seat had adjusted itself to meet her along with the rest of the Chair–and, was it her imagination, or were the vibrations getting stronger? Her hips rocked of their own accord, seeking more contact.
The Voice was still speaking, something about “more” and “better” and “relax” and “pleasure”, and the words flowed directly to her cunt, intensifying the sensations. The Chair began to pulse inside of her, and the vibrations on her clit changed to match the pace. With every pulse from the Chair, Jenny whimpered ecstasy.
Her hips were moving faster now, grinding against the seat, forcing that attachment deeper inside her. All conscious thought had long since vanished, there was only bliss and pleasure and pressure and need, and the Voice reminding her how good everything felt.
“Allow yourself to feel all the pleasure radiating through your body,” the Voice told her, and she gasped; “Allow yourself to feel twice as good,” it said, and Jenny moaned long and low as the pleasure in her body miraculously doubled. “Feel how good it feels to serve the Firm.”
The thrusting inside her was growing faster and more insistent, the vibrations against her clit steady and increasingly powerful. “Pleasure is productive,” repeated the Voice, and Jenny felt her pleasure growing as she rocked her hips helplessly and mouthed along: “Pleasure is productive, pleasure is productive.”
“Let go of all your tensions, your worries, your thoughts,” coaxed the Voice in her ears. “Relax your body and your mind. There’s no need to resist something that feels good; give yourself over to the pleasure.”
With each pulse of the Chair, Jenny moaned, the pressure in her body nearly unbearable. “Give yourself over to pleasure, give yourself over to the Firm,” the Voice instructed, and she could feel her body straining to obey, to give in, to give over, to release.
“Let go of yourself, give in to pleasure,” said the Voice, and the Chair sped up, and Jenny whimpered and mouthed the word “please.”
“Let go of yourself, be one of us,” it said, and somehow the Chair sped up still more, the vibrations tearing through her body, and Jenny was nearly coming apart at the seams, she wanted so badly, she wanted, she needed to–
“Let go,” the Voice commanded, and all at once the pressure burst within her, and Jenny convulsed and cried out, and came and came and came.
* * *
Some amount of time later, she didn’t know how long, she caught her breath, grinning dazedly, and extricated herself from the Chair. Rising on legs that felt like jelly, she pushed back the screen and almost stumbled, but an Employee standing there caught her by the elbow. She smiled her thanks at him. She was dimly aware of another Employee slipping past her and starting to wipe down the Chair.
The Employee who now held her arm guided her through the rows of tables and chairs to her new desk. Jenny noted that her laptop, her files, and all of her belongings from her previous desk had been brought over. There was also, sitting on the chair, a fresh pair of underwear.
Jenny smiled–the Firm was so considerate–and slipped them on.
She busied herself with setting up her workstation, and soon lost herself in work. Some time later, she didn’t know how long, she heard the shuffling of the screen being moved aside, the whir of the Chair as it sprang to life. There were soft sighs and moans of pleasure from the person in the Chair, and the sounds struck Jenny right between the legs.
The vibrator built into her panties clicked on and buzzed deliciously against her clit. Jenny sighed happily as she rocked her pelvis against her seat, felt those vibrations, listened to those moans. It felt so good to feel so good, to be such a good Employee, to listen to someone else becoming a better Employee. It felt so good to serve the Firm.
Her work could wait these few minutes, she knew, and would be better for it.
After all, pleasure was productive.