Emperor Computer Chair Novels & Stories

Bianca’s POV I sat on the sofa, giggling with Charles and enjoying his company. It was different and I felt indulged. A table caught my eyes: it was a modern black L-shaped executive desk swivel chair adhesive height office chair. It was stunning and exquisite, just like a dark night in the middle of the night covered in darkness and solitude. I couldn't help but think of Charles. It would be good to change the office, it contradicted his personality: It gave off a boring and disdaining personality.

He took a low salute before arranging himself in proper rest upon the most pricey looking thrones that he had ever seen in his life. He was born with a silver spoon around every meal at all times and that filthy rich status had only bloomed further during his adult life. But never had he fantasized to spend his billions of cash unto making a chair this expensive, judging only by the amounts of precious stones that decorated the entirety of one chair. And he could see thousands if not more of this exact replica scattered at uniformed spaces around the spacious hall of discussion. This daring man was of course Senator Max Eleasar. And Maru has already quite noted this person even before they s

Impossibly different. The old, creaky chair he’d complained about for months was gone. In its place sat a sleek ergonomic one—black mesh back, adjustable arms, the kind of chair executives fought over in budget meetings. A new monitor stood on the desk—larger, curved, crystal-clear. A small potted plant sat in the corner—something green and low-maintenance. Even the air smelled faintly of fresh lemon cleaner. Nathan’s gaze dropped to the desk. A lidded coffee cup waited there, still steaming. Beside it, a small folded note.

“What are these for?” “Think about it.” Cheryl suggested. Reese continued to watch the younger man with amusement as he continued to eat his apple. Wayne let the strap fall and he jumped back as if it had bitten him. “Is that…? Is that a sex chair?” Cheryl groaned as she buried her face in her hands, her dad simply chuckled as he finished his apple and tossed it into the trash can before using a wipe to clean his hands. “It’s not a sex chair. It’s simply an armchair.” He tossed the wipe into the trashcan also. “That we have sex in.”

This was the table of judgment. Blake remembered that this all started with him sitting on the House Leader’s Chair, still looking more like a throne than a chair. It’s high backing and seat, with a leather cushion and wooden sculptures on each end—one of an Eastern Dragon and the other of a Phoenix, both looking about to rise from the back. The arms are carved, connecting each animal using its tail. The legs were cut in the likeness of the legs of the two animals. If it weren’t for this chair, his life would have been more mundane than what it is today, and he would be none the wiser of a world of cultivation within this world.

Just a few, carefully selected pieces of modern sculpture that seemed to echo the cold, angular lines of the room. Lucas's chair was a sleek, black leather, with a subtle recline that suggested he spent a lot of time sitting there, surveying his kingdom maybe. The chair seemed to be molded to his body as if it had been custom-made for him. When Emily finally spoke up, saying "Uhmm, sir?" to get his attention, Lucas slowly swiveled his chair around, his movements economical and precise. His eyes narrowed slightly as he took her in, his gaze piercing and intense.

In business, higher profits come with higher risks, which he was surely prepared to handle. She smiled at Sandy, "Don't worry, it's under control." Then she lay back in the electric recliner Malcolm had sent her a few days ago, pressing a control button on the right side. The chair began a neck massage. "This is quite comfortable. Want one for yourself?" Emily closed her eyes contentedly. Sandy, sucking on a lollipop, replied, "Looks like you've got everything figured out, so I won't worry unnecessarily." She walked over to the chair, patting the leather, "Sure, get one for me and one for Donna Stone, too. When she comes back and sees both of us have one, and she doesn't, she'll definitely

I am going to enjoy the peace of it myself. My desk was a huge red cherry wood. It had drawers on both sides, marble accents, and a paisley looking design around the edges. It was very similar to the one I had at my home office. The chair was huge and looked like it was going to be really comfortable to sit in, even though I was sure that I would be in my lab more than in here. There really was nothing that I could complain about. I may add some color to the room to give it a feminine touch, but other than that, I wouldn’t change a thing about it.

However, my current mood and situation does not leave enough room for me to sympathize with other people. “I am an old man already. I want you to take over the throne as soon as possible, and more importantly, I want to see the face of my grandchild. You will do your duty and pick some women to bed in order to produce an heir!” the Emperor replied sternly. His words were final.

His gaze sweep around the table, and when it lands on me, I feel it in my bones. Without a word, he pulls out his chair and settles smoothly into it. My brain short-circuits and, like a fool I am, I sit down too without waiting. Only after my butt hits the chair do I realize Heather and Violette are still standing, staring at me in silent horror. The Emperor clears his throat. “You may sit.” He orders in the kind of voice that makes mortals kneel.