Freelancer - Chapter 2
"Uuuughh..." John grunted and started to breathe freely again, his chest heaving with effort. It always took a toll on his lungs to breathe through the small cracks that appeared when she moved on top of him. He needed to put a lot of effort to push the air out and even more to breathe it in.
It wasnt the end of another session. It hadnt nearly been long enough, although it seemed like an eternity. John could tell the time a bit better now thanks to his 'work' experience. No, she wasnt done with him yet. She was probably taking a bathroom break or even just stretching her legs out. She often complained that it was too painful for her to keep sitting on his face. That he wasnt the comfortable seat that he was paid to be. She would get up and look at him, as if demanding a resolution or at least a reason.
John would hesitantly look up at her face and apologize. Not like there was anything else he could ever do. He was still ashamed to look at her after she had objectified him in this way. Maybe a few hours would let him gain his composure, but right off the butt? No. His head would be flooded with short term memories of how - just moments ago - she was denying him his precious breath and refusing to get up even when it was apparent he really needed a break.
It had been over two months since he had started working under Dr. Westwood. Literally. It was the longest he had ever held on to a single job. All things considered, he was now pretty well off. He had more than enough money for all the basic amenities such as rent, food, alcohol and even some money in the way of savings. He just had to put up with the part where his job was sucking the life out of him. But then again, who really liked their job? Isnt everyone complaining about how their soul is fading away at some cubicle job?
John would have no complaints if things had remained the same as it had during the first couple of weeks. Human beings were resilient creatures after all. He developed the discipline required to stay still under her even when his primal instincts said otherwise. He finally perfected the way to breathe under her without disturbing her too much. Save for the unavoidable saliva stains that he left on her sexy butt cheeks, he would say he was getting pretty good at his job.
There was no saying when it became as hard as it was these days, but if John had to guess, it would be that day. It was a particularly less crowded afternoon. She had almost no clients that day and spent most of the time typing away at her computer. John never knew what she was typing. It was not his business. His business was to lie still. And so he did, listening to the "click-clack-click" sounds coming from above him as the good doctor typed away.
That day it was particularly hard for him to breathe. It seemed like an accident. Just a problem with the way she way sitting. Her butt was too far down his face. His eyes were still submerged under her velvet-soft butt. However his mouth was now somewhere in the middle, where his nose used to be. And his nose no longer had its privileged position of nesting right in the middle. Instead of the soft pressure her anus used to give, it was harder and insanely more painful now. Her tail bone was resting too close to his nose bone.
He still managed to survive without puhsing her off, but the pain was too much to keep on bearing. What was worse was that more pain meant that time moved slower relatively. He all but held his breath in anticipation of her getting up again. But she didnt! It was then he realized that she liked this new position. It couldnt be comfortable for her at all, but it was enough that it was hurting him.
Half an hour or so into it John really couldnt take it anymore. He tried struggling gently, try to appeal to her kind side. She must have one! But no such luck. John didnt know what to do. On one hand he felt like throwing her off his face and quitting his job right there. So what if he didnt get paid? This was unbearable. As a human being he should have the freedom to stop doing this. On the other hand, he had made it this far. This was just one bad day. In the end he decided to keep at it.
But the decision did not come easy. John felt himself overcome by emotions. He was ashamed at himself for letting this woman use him this way. Humiliated that she was hurting him so much and so easily! Then out of nowhere, the tears started coming. It was all just too much. His tears had nowhere to go. They spread out from his eyes and into her pants-clad butt cheeks. It was as if a dam had finally broke.
He started weeping openly (or as openly as one can with his face shut off perfectly by a butt). His breathing lost its slow steady pace and he heaved in air forcefully making loud hissing noises. He was forcefully sucking air even though there were no opening to provide him with air. Saliva started oozing out of his mouth and this together with his tears made her pants considerably wet. John knew he had let Dr. Westwood down. This realization only made him cry harder.
Her pants were almost completely wet now. This made breathing even harder if that was possible. He made small fart noises with her butt when he pushed the air out of his mouth. All subtelty had gone out the window now.
Rachel did not get up immediately. She could hear him crying under her and she knew she would have to do something soon. She could get up and let him have the rest of the day off. She was human after all. She enjoyed hurting him, but to make a grown man cry? She didnt know if she wanted that. But if she showed mercy now, she would be limiting what she could do to him. What about the next time he cried. Was she to let him off then too?
For now she was procrastinating. She gently nibbled on her pen (a bad habit picked up way back in school) and peered down at whatever she could see of him. She considered the alternative. She could draw a line in the sand. Make it clear to him that he had to keep at it no matter what. She made up her mind. It was easy once she made the decision. She was already angry at him for making her pants wet and being so loud under her. A woman is supposed to sit with dignity!
She sighed and got up, making a small wet 'slurp' noise as she did. She looked back down at his face and winced. She quickly hid it, and replaced it with a stern expression before he opened his eyes. His face was all puffed up and red now. His nose was almost completely flattened, but tried to regain its shape slowly.
John lifted his head off, cupped it in his hands and started crying even harder. He could not hold on to any thought. Earlier there was only pain but now that the pain was suddenly gone, his emotions filled the gap and overwhelmed him.
Dr. Westwood was not fazed by any of this. John could clearly feel it. "I said, get up and sit on the patient's chair!" she said, without raising her voice. John hadnt heard her the first time. He didnt think he could obey her now either, but to his surprise he found himself sitting on the chair. It was as if his body had moved on its own. "Ok now look at me" she said, again readying her flashlight.
John couldnt do that. Not after... no. He simply couldnt. But once again his body chose to obey Dr. Westwood over him. He opened his bloodshot eyes and looked at the doctor. She did her examination gently probing different parts of his face, feeling out bruises. John winced when she touched the sore spots and cried out in pain when she tried to straighten his nose.
"Ok you're fine. But before you go back under-" she paused and made sure that she had his eye contact. "Before I sit on you again I need you to remind me what your job is. Can you tell me what your job is?" She was patronizing him. "T-To be your seat" he said, his voice hoarse from all the crying. "And what's the one thing a seat needs to do?" she asked again, her voice strict and steady. "Not move." John replied quietly.
"Good." Rachel seemed satisfied. John expected her to punish him or even fire him or cut his pay. She didnt do anything of the sort. What she did was worse. She went away for a while and came back wearing another pair of pants. The same ones she was wearing the day they first met, John noticed.
"If you make this one wet I'll cut your pay in half" she said and gestured at him to lie down again. John understood. His body understood even better, as it moved on its own and resumed position. She approached him and swung her left leg over so that she was now standing over him. She didnt look back down. Slowly and deliberately she sat down, once again in the same painful position as earlier. John knew this was his place now.
____________________________________________________________________________
That incident was over a month ago. He had been sitting up, gently massaging his neck while lost in thought. The sound of a toilet flushing brought John back to his senses. Turned out he was right about her taking a bathroom break. The rhytmic "click-click" sound of her heels was approaching. He felt a heavy feeling in his heart.
Dr. Rachel Westwood walked back into her clinic and went over to a filing cabinet to search for some files. John hastily put his head back up on her seat. Some more ground rules had been established in the two months that he had been working for her. Whenever she was in the clinic, John had to have his head lying face up on her seat. She shouldn't have to gesture at him to assume position. He was a seat after all. Not a person.
Before he had put his face back, he managed to catch a glimpse of her. She was looking as sexy as ever, without even trying. She wasnt dressed up. She was dressed casually and yet he could see that she an insanely desirable woman. There would surely be men who would do anything for her. "But would they let her sit on their face for hours on end?" John asked himself with a sad smile.
Hot as Dr. Westwood was, John didnt feel aroused by her. Not anymore. She gave him nothing he wanted from a girl. She never touched him with her hands. She always commanded him with her voice or her gestures. Very rarely she might kick him gently, if he was struggling under her. But that was the extent of their physical contact. Well that and the firm weight of her butt constantly on his face. But somehow that didnt count. That wasnt an interaction between two people. That was just a lady sitting on her seat.
She barely even looked at him these days. It made sense. Do you always look at your seat before you sit? Add to this the fact that she hurt him really bad on a daily basis and it wasnt hard to explain why he wasnt exactly popping boners when she was around.
Rachel was taking her time in returning to her seat. Not that John was complaining. He caught a glimpse of her jean-clad butt as her lab coat whipped by. Jeans really brought out the innate beauty of her butt. If you could see her jean-clad butt and nothing else, you could still tell that it belonged to someone special.
But as she finally gathered her documents and approached him, he felt he only thing he did feel around her any more. Fear. Fear of how heavy she was going to be. Fear of how she would keep sitting mercilessly even when he was struggling for his life under her. Fear of just how worthless he must be to her, for her to keep on hurting him like this.
She swung her leg over his torso in a practiced motion, and stood bending over her desk, arranging her files, making sure she had everything. She wouldnt want to get up once she had sat down. Satisfied with her documents, she all-but dropped down on his face. She didnt bother to align her butt with his face anymore. She had the gist of where his face should be, and the rest was up to him. It was John's job to turn his face an inch to the left or right to make sure that her butt bhagwaned right on the center. It wasnt a choice. She demanded it.
He had to use his eyes to do this adjustment, but somehow close them in time before she sat down completely. The times when he had his eyes open when she sat down, the pain was on another level. WHat's more, he felt that his eyes would get permanent damage from rubbing againts her butt. He coudlnt even close his eyes because the bulk of her weight would be resting on his eyes.
She was wearing jeans again. Usually she had a separate collection of pants that she wore to sit on his face. Wouldnt want to dirty all her clothes with the occasional saliva drip. But recently she had also added a pair of jeans to that collection. Needless to say it hurt a lot more with the jeans.
As her butt crashed down on his nose. He gasped out inaudibly with pain and heard her stiffle a giggle from atop his face. Dr. Westwood tried to keep it strictly as a business transaction.
It was lot harder with jeans. The main problem being that there was no place for his nose to go. When she was wearing something soft, it almost seemed like the act of her sitting on his face was something God Himself intended. How else do you explain the perfect fit? It was as if his face being plugged into her butt was its natural state.
The jeans however, didnt allow his nose to go anywhere. It would be flattened, which was unbearably painful. John soon developed his technique though. He just had to make sure his nose would bend to one side. It wasnt that this wasnt blindingly painful, but it was better, relatively. Her rough butt settled on his face with a finality as she lifted her legs up and rested them gently on his stomach.
The only bright side to this was that he could breathe a little easier now. No matter how her butt was resting on his face, he could still sneak in breaths. The jeans retained the shape of her butt for the most part, instead of filling up the shape of his face.
Unfortunately, Dr.Westwood also had advantages to wearing jeans. It barely hurt her at all to keep sitting on him now. Which meant that she didnt feel the need to give herself any breaks. She would sit almost continuously the whole time.
The first few minutes would be tough. Really tough. It was everything he could do to not throw her off. There were even moments when he felt like hurting her back somehow. He would quickly put those thoughts out of his mind. But after a while, his face would start to go numb. It would become so that he couldnt feel his face at all.
Except when she moved in the slightest. When that happened all the pain that he had been ignoring would return ten-fold, causing him to clench his fists in agony. Right now she was lost in thought and was gently shaking her legs without noticing it. Even this small movement made John's situation a lot more painful. Didnt her mother teach her to not shake her legs while sitting?
He was panting now, his nose rubbing against her butt with its movement. He could feel his skin getting chafed. John felt that there would only be bone left on his face after she was done. But from his experience, no matter how painful the session was, the damage was never as much as he thought.
Thankfully a client walked in and snapped the doctor back to her senses. She sat still now, performing the check up and writing out medicine. John too put aside all his pain and lay painfully still as the doctor did her job. This was his place now he realized.
___________________________________________________
The day could not have ended sooner. Rachel got up, almost reluctantly,when it was time to close her clinic. John didnt gasp when she got up anymore. He maintained his position, lying face up and breathing gently. The session wasnt over until she said so.
"Alright I'm done for today. Fill up your duty sheet. I'll be back." she said and walked off without looking at him. John stood up, catching hold of her chair for balance. It took him a while to get used to being a walking talking human again after a session. When he finally came to his senses, he walked over to the sink in the clinic and washed his face, looking at himself in the mirror. His face looked different, he realized.
Not that different from yesterday, or even the day before. The change was gradual. But he could certainly see there were differences. And not the good kinds either. He wasnt handsome to begin with, but now even though he couldnt pin point what was different, he just looked.. bad. He wondered what he was doing letting this girl do this to him.
"Its all for the money. You need it." He reminded himself as he correctly filled out his duty sheet. Maybe , just maybe he should think about quitting this job now. Sure, she paid well, but was it worth it? He had some savings now although not enough to make rent for more than a couple more months. But surely he could find something else before that?
Of course he could. If nothing else, this job had taught him discipline. He could do well at any soul-sucking job now. He would serve the hell out of those fries! He would welcome the opportunity to greet people with a smile, instead of being ignored all together.
John made up his mind. He had to quit. And he had to quit before he changed his mind. At that exact moment, Rachel walked back to the room. Instinctively, John's eyes darted to the floor. He still couldnt face her after a session. He handed her his duty sheet and stood looking down as she perused it and then signed it. It was a Friday. He would be getting paid. The perfect day to stop. All he had to do was collect his pay and let her know.
Soon enough, Dr. Westwood wrote him his weekly paycheck. He accepted it without looking at her and cleared his throat in an attempt to speak. But the words didnt come as easy as he had thought. It should be easy. Two small words that would net him his freedom from this.. this slavery! Just say "I quit!"
But he couldnt. Why couldnt he? He surely hated every moment she dominated his face as a seat. He surely felt emasculated and wanted it to stop. There was no positive side except the money. Or was there?
Before he could say anything however, Dr. Westwood asked him, "By the way you can still come over tomorrow if you want some extra cash. I wont be running the clinic, but I can use you at home too. Your choice." She waited, looking at him for a response. John seemed confused, as if he was undergoing some internal struggle. "I guess right after a session is a bad time to ask huh? Never mind then" she said with a hearty laugh and proceeded to show him to the door.
"I'll come!" John said, surprising himself. Why did he say that just now? He was about to quit! Instead he had just agreed to work overtime! His fear of Dr. Westwood grew to a new level. This woman had changed his mind about quitting without so much as an effort. Was he.. was he never going to get out?
As he reached home and crashed into his bed, he curled up into a ball. He couldnt understand himself anymore. He could still call her and tell her it was over, but he knew that was surely not going to happen. He was going to wake up the next day and go back to doctor's house, letting her use his face as a seat again. As he drifted off to sleep, this horrifying thought of not being in control turned to one of comfort instead. He had found his place. And maybe his peace as well
developer is still working on some errors. also reply here if you think anything is missing than before. developer is aware about image and other issues and trying to solve it asap