For some moments Alice lay on the ground, too stunned to move. What had that all been about? Who was the woman in red?
A crack and bang echoed through the trees, followed by a triumphant: ‘Now I’m rid of you!’
An image from the book came back to Alice of a figure half flying, half running in a very similar way to that she had just seen. Of course, it was the local version of the Red Queen. That would fit if she had arrived in a twisted version of the Looking Glass scenario, though as she knew to her cost she could not take the book as a firm guide. As the White Rabbit had warned her at the start of her first adventure, Underland was a mad place, and people and places changed here in strange ways. What was the Red Queen doing zapping insects, and when did she get a laser gun, or whatever it was, built into her sceptre?
Alice was just climbing to her feet when there was a flicker of red through the greenery and the Queen was striding back along the path and dropping out of the air onto the ground. Her eyes were narrowed and her face was a mask of suspicion as she looked Alice up and down.
‘What have we here?’ she said as though half to herself. ‘A native child? No, a girling. How fortunate. I was seeking a girling. But not one so strangely dressed, or even dressed at all.’ She circled round Alice. ‘Another spy, perhaps?’ She sniffed. ‘But you do not smell like one of her creatures. Who are you, girling, and where are you from?’
But Alice was temporarily speechless, not only from surprise but because the Queen was far more beautiful than the original illustrations had portrayed her. Like all the human inhabitants of Underland, the Queen was very tall, though perfectly proportioned, and seemingly built to a slightly larger than normal scale. The top of Alice’s head would not reach her shoulders. This alone would make her imposing, but it was her eyes that caught the attention. They were large, clear and dark-lashed, not brown but true feral red. Intense, passionate and dangerous, they complemented the perfect firm full scarlet bow of her lips. Her nose was strong and slightly aquiline and her cheeks high, reinforcing the impression of an imperious and commanding nature. A slender neck was emphasised by a pompadour of upswept hair, on top of which was perched a red filigree crown. The long gold-embroidered crimson silk dress she wore under her cloak moulded itself about the curves of her slender body and small but prominent bust. The dress was ankle-length but slashed up the front. As the Queen moved it parted to reveal a slice of creamy smooth thigh.
As the sceptre jabbed at her chest Alice recovered herself and said quickly, ‘My name is Alice Brown and I’m from Wellstone.’
‘And I am Her Royal Highness Magenta Alizarine Fuchsine Carnelian, Queen of Stauntonia,’ the Queen replied grandly. ‘I see no collar on you so I claim you as my own.’ She smiled for the first time: a calculating, hungry, masterful smile. ‘Now remove those ridiculous clothes. It is not right a slave should be dressed in front of her mistress.’
There, she’s said the ‘S’ word already, Alice thought. Hardly five minutes in Underland and already she was the property of another! It must set some sort of crazy record. At least last time she had resisted a little longer. But she was not the same innocent as she had been. The Queen’s eyes were boring into her: imperious and expectant. Alice’s heart gave a little leap as a sickening sense of inevitability crept over her. How stupid to think she could avoid the fate Underland held in store for anybody of her sort. It just took a little courage to make the transition …
Heart pounding, her insides turning to jelly, Alice pulled her T-shirt over her head, then unclipped her bra and dropped it to the ground. Her full pale breasts hung bare and free, her nipples standing up proudly, as though welcoming their release. Taking a deep breath she unbuttoned her jeans, hooked her thumbs through the waistband of her panties and slipped both down to her ankles. She sat down and tugged off her trainers and socks, then shed her jeans and pants.
Slowly she stood straight again, so the Queen could see both her golden pubic down and pale trembling buttocks. A lingering instinctive reflex told Alice she should try to cover herself, but she ignored it and let her arms hang passively by her sides. She must abandon coyness and shame now.
‘Spread your legs,’ the Queen commanded.
Alice obeyed, splaying her legs wide and automatically clasping her interlaced fingers behind her neck to show off her breasts to best advantage. It was a display posture she had learned under the tutelage of the Mad Hatter and March Hare, known in Underland as Topper and Lepus: girling brokers and trainers.
The Queen walked round her, looking Alice’s naked body up and down with almost clinical intensity.
‘Bend forward. Display your rear aspect.’
Alice bent over, her legs still splayed, raising her bottom high and resting her palms on the grass, acutely conscious of the open air caressing her exposed groin. Looking back up through her legs she saw the Queen’s gaze lingering on the open cleft of her buttocks, the dark pit of her anus, the golden-feathered mound of her lovemouth split by the impudent crinkled tongue of her inner lips.
A growing thrill of dark pleasure coursed through Alice as memories of her slave training flooded back. She had felt like this before. Would she once more straddle that narrow dangerous divide between helpless outrage and perverse delight? Oh God, she was getting excited! Now she was lubricating. The Queen would see the exudation on her vagina and know her for what she was: a submissive, a natural slave and a plaything for any with the force of will to use her. And the Queen had just such a will, of that Alice was certain. She would be putty in her hands.
‘Stand straight,’ the Queen said and Alice obeyed, trembling now with nervous excitement. Suddenly it was important that the Queen approved of her.
The trefoil head of the sceptre brushed over her pubic feathers and idly ran along her cleft. Alice groaned as it teased her. The Queen withdrew the sceptre and brought the tip, glistening with Alice’s secretions, up to her nose. She sniffed thoughtfully, then smiled.
‘I smell passion which is good. And your looks are most pleasing. But these feathers. I have not seen the like on a girling before. Are they natural to you?’
‘Well, it’s a long story, Your Majesty, I …’
‘You will address me as “Mistress”,’ the Queen said sharply. ‘You are slave to my person above all else.’
Alice shivered at the words. ‘Yes, Mistress. Well, there was a potion I took when I was in Underland before and the effects haven’t quite gone away. I came back to find a cure.’
‘Back to Underland?’ the Queen frowned. ‘Where is this “Wellstone”? Is it not in the Boardland or over the far hills? That is where girlings usually come from.’
‘Wellstone isn’t in Underland, Mistress. It’s in the Overworld.’
The Queen’s frown deepened. ‘I have heard tales of this “Overworld” compared with which perfect nonsense would seem as sensible as a dictionary.’ She moved a step closer, looming menacingly over Alice, her red eyes almost seeming to glow. ‘Are you lying to me, girling?’
Alice gulped. ‘No, it’s real, Mistress,’ she said, her voice breaking into a shameful squeak. It was hard to concentrate with those magnificent eyes shining upon her. ‘There’s a doorway. It’s just along the path …’
‘Very well then,’ the Queen said. She reached out and her slim strong fingers tipped by long red nails closed about a handful of Alice’s golden bob of hair at the back of her neck. ‘Show me this doorway to Overworld and perhaps I will believe you are not in league with those insect spies!’
As Alice walked back along the path, her head held stiffly in the Queen’s grasp, fearful thoughts ran through her mind. What happens if the door won’t open, or is gone? She realised she had no idea how long the portal between worlds she had apparently opened would last. If it had vanished could she return via another mirror somewhere else?
But the door in the oak tree was as she had left it and opened without any resistance. The Queen, pushing Alice ahead of her, ducked her head under the doorframe a
nd they stepped into the reversed version of Alice’s room. Alice glanced anxiously at her mirror but there was no sign of life on the other side.
The Queen, seeming even larger within the confines of the room and making it appear drab and cramped by comparison, was looking round her curiously. ‘Is this the Overworld? Very strange.’
‘It’s sort of a transition point between here and there, Mistress,’ Alice explained. ‘It’s actually a copy of my bedroom. That’s the real one, which is in the Overworld through there.’ She pointed at the mirror.
The Queen stepped over to examine it, running her fingers over the glass. Suddenly she withdrew them as though the contact was painful. ‘Yes, I can feel its otherness. So the Overworld really exists. But how did you breach the dividing barrier?’
‘I just kind of imagined there was a way between my world and this, Mistress.’
The Queen looked at Alice with growing interest, as though assessing her for some purpose only she knew. ‘Was it as simple as that? An exercise of will alone?’
‘More or less, Mistress,’ Alice admitted. ‘Of course it helped that I already knew Underland existed.’
The Queen looked at her intensely, her red eyes seeming to lance right through Alice. ‘And you returned to Underland to find a cure for this odd affliction of yours?’
‘Yes, Mistress.’
‘And how badly do you want it?’
‘Very badly, Mistress.’
‘What will you do to get it?’
Alice gulped, feeling herself being manoeuvred in some way while being helpless to prevent it. ‘Anything, Mistress.’
‘Then take me into your world!’
Alice blinked. ‘S … sorry, Mistress?’
‘Take me into your world, then bring me back. Show me it can be done. I command you!’
Those red eyes had her in their spell. Hers was not to question, just to obey. Dumbly Alice nodded and, having no real idea what she was doing, took the Queen’s hand and walked up to the mirror. I know it’s possible, she told herself. She thought of her world, her bedroom. It was not a reflection before her but another place. Taking a deep breath she stepped through the mirror … and the Queen stepped through after her.
She was back home. It was as easy as that!
Even as she felt a dizzy sense of elation course through her, a little voice inside her said, You’ve no idea what she wants you to do for her. She can’t be as powerful here as in Underland. Now’s your chance to get away!
But the Queen’s hand was closed firmly about hers, strong and cool. Somehow Alice could not even muster the will to make an effort to prise apart those slender red-tipped fingers and tear herself away. Besides, did she really want to escape whatever fate held in store for her back in the world of slaves and submission?
There was a faint murmur of voices from downstairs and a whiff of freshly brewed coffee. Her mother must have a visitor. Please don’t come upstairs because there’s no way I could explain what’s going on right now! Alice thought.
The Queen was sniffing the air and wrinkling her nose. ‘Your world has a foul smell compared to which a dungheap would seem as fragrant as a rose garden … what was that?’
A pantechnicon had driven past on the road outside and the rumble of its engine had penetrated the room as its blocky shadow passed across the curtains.
‘Just a lorry. A mechanical device for carrying people and goods about, Mistress,’ Alice explained. ‘Like a cart but without horses.’
‘How do you live in such a place? It is no wonder you choose to return to Underland.’ An edge of alarm entered the Queen’s voice. ‘You have proved yourself, girl. Now take me back!’
In a dream, Alice turned and stepped back through into Underland with the Queen at her heels.
On the other side the Queen sighed in relief, breathing deeply and looking exultant. She smiled at Alice, who felt a thrill of delight in the warmth she saw behind it.
‘I had need of a girling, but I never expected to find one with your ability,’ the Queen said. ‘Serve me well and you will have your cure. That I promise.’
‘Thank you, Mistress’,
‘Now we go to my pavilion. Come!’
And she strode back outside into the green Underland wood, with Alice trotting helplessly after her like a faithful dog.
Two
AS ALICE FOLLOWED obediently after her new mistress she silently strove to come to terms with the strange and sudden turn of events. She was a slave again. Well, she knew more or less what that entailed; pain and pleasure. But it was vital that she did not let herself surrender completely to its intoxicating combination. She had to hold a little of herself back or else she might lose track of her own objectives and never return home. Nevertheless, she would do whatever it took to find a cure, both for her own and her parents’ peace of mind.
Her parents! Presumably when her mother found the house empty she would think Alice had gone out to see a friend or something. But if she did not return that night … oh no! They knew she had been worried about something and would think … well, any number of unpleasant things. She would put them through even more anguish! But there was nothing she could do about it now. She would just have to hope it worked out in the end. Meanwhile she had to concentrate on getting herself through the next hours or days, however long it took.
I’m the Queen’s slave now, she told herself. So I’d better act like one!
Yes, she was just a girling doing what came naturally. It was surprisingly easy to push her other life into the background. She felt herself slipping into a submissive state of mind where, paradoxically, she was free to live without mundane worries and only obedience mattered. Underland had always seemed more real than her own grey world. Had she been born in the wrong set of dimensions, or was this the only way to get here?
The Red Queen’s pavilion was a red-and-white-striped tent with a high conical roof and round walls, reminding Alice vaguely of the tents medieval knights lived in while camped about a jousting tournament. It nestled in a small dark clearing in the woods and was half smothered by a mass of ivy, which coiled about the guy ropes and across the roof like thick shaggy ropes. Was it intended as some sort of camouflage, or had the tent simply been there a long time?
More strands of ivy twined about a ring of a dozen statues that circled the glade. They were life-sized, carved in white stone and portrayed either men in armour carrying swords and maces, or else in long robes wielding ornate staffs. They were not mounted on plinths but rested directly on the ground, where the encroaching ivy made it appear as though the earth was trying to reclaim them. As Alice followed the Queen into the tent she noticed they were finished to a minute level of detailing.
The interior of the tent was carpeted with a scattering of thick rugs while its sides were hung about with tapestries depicting marching armies and battle scenes. A thick pile of silks and furs served as a bed. There were a couple of large brassbound wooden trunks and a single ornate chair. On a low table was set a huge golden platter piled with bread, fruits and slices of meat, and a matching golden pitcher and pair of goblets. Placed against the tent side was an odd device formed of curving strips of wood bolted together to form a broad U-shaped frame, standing a little higher than Alice’s head. Its base was mounted on a thick spindle rising from a solid stand, and pairs of cuffs dangled on chains hanging from heavy hooks which ringed the tops of the frame posts. Beside it was a rack holding a selection of chains, shackles and various corrective instruments, all of which Alice eyed anxiously.
But the focus of the interior seemed to be a chessboard inlaid on its own table, the squares made of red and white ivory divided by thin bands of gold. Taken pieces, also in red and white ivory and beautifully carved, were lined up on opposing sides of the board. Apparently the game was nearing a finish because there were very few pieces left in play.
‘You cannot be my slave without a collar,’ her new mistress said briskly. She sorted through the items on the rack until she
found a plain steel collar with a single large securing ring. ‘There,’ she said with satisfaction, ‘solid and practical. Come here, girl, and lift your hair out of the way.’
Alice did as she was told and the Queen closed the collar about her neck with a click of some hidden spring. It fitted snugly, not too tight but nonetheless heavy and bringing with it a sense of confinement. Its metal hardness enclosing the soft flesh of her throat contrasted with the exposure of the rest of her body.
‘Beautiful,’ the Queen said, admiring the collar as though it was an expensive necklace. ‘Now onto the frame, girl. I want to examine you properly.’
With a little shiver of perverse anticipation, Alice stood on the base of the frame between the arms of the ‘U’. The Queen buckled thick broad cuffs about her wrists and adjusted the chain links over the hooks so that Alice’s arms were raised and outstretched. Then she took down the second pair of cuffs and secured them about Alice’s ankles. With easy strength she lifted and bent Alice’s legs up and out and hooked their trailing chains beside those securing her wrists. From the rack the Queen then selected a plain length of chain which she threaded through the ring on the front of Alice’s collar. Drawing on the ends of the chain until they were taut, she hooked them over the frame tops, doubling Alice over a little more but also supporting her neck and head and relieving a little of the strain on her arms. Alice was now slung in mid-air between the arms of the frame dangling from her wrists, ankles and neck, with her head raised a little higher than her bottom. She could feel the tendons at the back of her knees standing out under the tension, but most of all she was conscious of how completely her enforced posture exposed her groin, thrusting out her mound of Venus and opening the crinkled star of her anus.
The Queen took a step back and admired this blatant display. ‘What a pretty creature you are. It’s been so long since I’ve had a girling to play with. I acquired a few during the last game, I recall.’ She frowned. ‘How long ago was that? No matter …’
Alice In Chains Page 2
