She began to undress, untying her cloak and tossing it aside, then unbuttoning her dress. With a whisper of silk it slipped down to the ground and she was naked except for her slippers and filigree crown.
The Queen was pale and perfectly formed, her skin the lightest shade of pink. Her legs were long and slender and seemed to go on for ever. Her waist was trim, her navel deep and her breasts, perfectly rounded and small only in comparison to her size, carried cherry-like upstanding nipples. Between her thighs burned a close, tight pubic bush as fiery as the hair on her head.
Alice stared at her, helplessly aroused. The Queen smiled at Alice’s own painfully swollen nipples. ‘Do I excite you, girl?’ she asked.
‘You … you’re very beautiful, Mistress.’
‘Yes, I am,’ the Queen said with sublime self-assurance.
She stepped onto the base of the U-frame so that she stood between Alice’s stretched thighs. Alice felt the heat of the Queen’s body and was aware of her own response in her loins. She was dripping with excitement and scenting the air with her intimate perfume. Weighed down with her troubles she had not had sex or even masturbated since she had returned from her first trip to Underland, which suddenly seemed an age ago.
The Queen gracefully knelt down to bring her face level with Alice’s groin and examined her pubic mound.
‘A novelty,’ she commented as though half to herself, ruffling the soft feathers with her fingertips, ‘but not unpleasant to the touch.’ Watching Alice’s face intently she teased her fingertips into her cleft, parting the tender pink folds of flesh and toying with the little bud concealed between them. Alice stifled a little moan as her clitoris pulsed harder under the expert manipulation and the liquid heat grew in her loins.
‘You quicken nicely,’ the Queen observed. ‘Are you unchanged inside, I wonder?’
Two fingers slid up into Alice’s vaginal passage, testing the elasticity of the ribbed sheath of hot flesh. Alice shuddered and tugged at her bonds; unable to quell the automatic uninhibited responses drilled into her, which were now inexorably reasserting themselves. No girling could resist such expert and confident handling, and she knew she was at heart a girling, with all the slavish sensuality that implied.
The Queen withdrew her fingers from the warm clinging embrace of Alice’s passage and sniffed the exudation that glistened upon them. Then with an approving smile she licked her fingers clean, saying languidly: ‘Such sweet oil.’
She reached between Alice’s widespread thighs and pried them wider to expose her anus. Alice yelped as long red nails bit into her skin. The Queen examined the tightly crinkled bottom mouth, noting its nervous contractions.
‘A neat little pucker, perhaps ripe for plugging. How well used is it?’
She ran a teasing fingernail round the fleshy wellhead which tightened and then opened under the intimate stimulation, as though in a welcoming pout. The inquisitive finger dipped again into Alice’s slippery wet cleft to lubricate itself, then drove into her anus. Alice moaned as she felt the questing finger explore the smooth pliant duct of her rectum, but she was quite helpless to prevent the intimate examination. Nor could she stifle an instinctive clenching of her anal ring as the intruding finger was withdrawn, which made it seem as though she was trying to hold it inside her.
‘A hot tight hole, but not inexperienced,’ the Queen pronounced, standing up and wiping her finger clean on the inside of Alice’s thigh. ‘I’m sure much can be made of it.’ Once again she stroked the delicate pubic cap of feathers. ‘And this growth is the result of a potion you took?’
‘Yes … Mistress,’ Alice said, struggling to keep her voice level. ‘I had to escape from Queen Redheart. She wanted to execute me …’ Alice briefly related the events that had led to the dramatic conclusion of her first visit to Underland.
‘A curious tale,’ the Queen said when Alice had finished. ‘I have heard of the excesses of the Redhearts. But then all the Cardians are rather coarse. They would play almost any game. So very common. And to think she would execute such a delightful creature as yourself.’ She smiled. ‘Why, I can think of a hundred better uses for you.’
She pressed even closer to Alice, her hips brushing the insides of Alice’s thighs. Red pubic hair and golden feathers mingled. She ran her hands up Alice’s body until she cupped her breasts. ‘Will you submit to me?’ she asked, kneading the hot, heavy, pliant mounds and pinching their rubber-hard nipples.
‘Ahhh … yes, Mistress,’ Alice gasped, unable to deny her new owner anything at that moment.
‘Good,’ the Queen said. ‘I will hold you to that.’
She stroked her hands along the length of her sceptre, which now Alice realised she had not put down even while undressing. Before Alice’s eyes it began to change shape, shortening and thickening. In moments the metamorphosis was complete and Alice gave a little gasp as she saw it had become a double-ended ribbed dildo with a golden ring of prongs about its middle section. Apart from their colour, the double shafts looked uncomfortably realistic, complete with veins down their sides and bulbous tips straining through rolled-back foreskins.
The Queen spread her legs apart and fed one end of the dildo into the red-lipped cleft of her auburn pubic mound. A dreamy expression came over her as the shaft vanished inside her until the middle ring of golden prongs was pressed into her furrow, leaving the rest jutting from between her thighs in an impudent upward curve. She stepped between Alice’s thighs once more so that her captive could see the artificial erection in all its intimidating majesty.
‘Would you like the other half of this inside you, girl?’
Alice thought it might split her in two. ‘It may be a little big for me, Mistress.’
‘We shall see. But first I must test your resolve. Through suffering I will bind you to me. I need to forge you to my purpose, little tool …’
From the rack she selected a rubber paddle blade with a wooden handle.
‘I don’t want to break that pretty skin, but I do want you to suffer,’ she said as Alice’s eyes widened in alarm. ‘This should produce a satisfactory effect. Don’t attempt to hold back your feelings,’ she commanded Alice. ‘The sobs and tears of a girling in torment are so attractive.’
Gazing at the anticipatory smile on the Queen’s face, Alice realised the simple, frightening, wonderful truth. The Queen was as mad and mercurial of temperament as any other Underlander, and Alice was her plaything.
The Queen squared up to Alice and swung the paddle. It connected with her taut buttocks with a meaty smack, causing Alice to jerk convulsively in her chains and give an anguished yelp.
‘Was that painful?’ the Queen asked.
‘Yes, Mistress.’
‘Extraordinary! Why, I’ve known pain compared to which that would be a lover’s kiss. Now this is painful …’
And she swung the paddle with such force that the shockwave rippling through her flesh made Alice’s breasts bounce spontaneously before the follow through set her body swinging like the gondola of a fairground ride. Alice shrieked at the top of her voice, then recovered her breath in a series of racking sobs as hot tears burned in her eyes and began to trickle down her cheeks.
‘That’s more like it,’ her mistress said with approval, examining the broad scarlet band flaring across Alice’s bottom cheeks. ‘In fact I think the bloom of well-chastised flesh is quite my favourite colour,’ she declared, raising her arm to deliver another blow.
Smack! Smack! Smack! The paddle beat against Alice’s tender posterior from the left, the right, upwards and down.
Alice writhed from side to side and swung forwards and back between the supporting arms, bawling and sobbing as she did so, surrendering herself to the pain, feeling the Queen’s pleasure in her display and drawing comfort from it. She knew what was to come. This was merely Underland foreplay.
Her whole bottom and the underside of her thighs felt as though they were ablaze now, and her anal ring tightened and relaxed in nervous pulsations
. Though her pubic feathers might have taken a little of the sting out of the blows, her labial pouch still burned with the fire, its punishment for pouting so provocatively from between her thighs. Through the haze of pain she felt her nether mouth gaping wet and wide with excitement and her inner lips swelling perversely.
Then the searing blows stopped and she hung limp and dizzy in her chains. Her abused bottom pulsed with waves of heat and pinprick ripples. The Queen was bent over her, stroking her body, running her fingers into the open hollows of her armpits, scooping her heavy breasts together and kissing her nipples then her cleavage where sweat had run under their folds. Her red lips brushed across Alice’s blushing cheeks, her tongue flicking over the salt trails that streaked them. Then those cherry lips were crushed against her own, the Queen’s probing tongue forcing its way into Alice’s mouth to curl and tease about her own, then sucking it out to nip between her white teeth. The Queen’s hot sweet breath invaded her nostrils.
When the Queen raised her head, trailing little threads of saliva between Alice’s lips and hers, there was a flush of pleasure on her cheeks. ‘You screamed most prettily, Alice,’ she said, her hungry eyes burning deep into Alice’s own tear-bright orbs. ‘Now you must beg.’
‘B … beg for what … Mistress?’ Alice gasped.
‘You know what.’
Alice did know. Her eyes fixed on the huge dildo protruding grotesquely from the Queen’s pubic delta; so frightening yet so desirable. ‘Please … put it up me, Mistress. Screw me, fuck me! I don’t care if it hurts. I’m empty. I want it. Shove it in hard. All the way … aahh … aaaahh!’
The Queen had cast aside the paddle, grasped Alice’s bobbing hips and thrust the huge dildo up into her. Her cuntmouth stretched into an ‘O’ of surprise and almost choked on the monster as it forced its way inside her slick passage. Its fat head grated past her pliant inner rib walling. Her stomach bulged to accommodate the intruder, which now felt as warm as living flesh.
Alice cried out in delicious pain. It would burst her, split her poor suspended body in two! Then the bristling ring of prongs jabbed into her taut love lips and erect clitoris and pubic hair rubbed against her own downy growth and she realised she had taken her half of the dildo inside her. She and the Queen were coupled, their pubic lips kissing either side of the dildo’s middle ring, their juices soaking between the prongs and dripping to the floor.
The Queen began to thrust with her hips, sucking out the shaft a little way and then pumping it back into Alice, watching the heavy fluid roll of her breasts, every helpless twitch and flutter of her slave’s eyelids, the clenching of her teeth and the drool that escaped her lips. Alice felt the shaft pulsing inside her as though it was alive. But it was no longer smooth. Somehow it was changing shape. It was masturbating her clitoris from the inside, even as the prongs tormented it from without. Her loins were heavy with burning pleasure but she was too tightly plugged to let it out!
‘Give yourself to me!’ her mistress cried.
In panic and joy the orgasm exploded, saturating Alice’s body and senses. It was a release without release and seemed to last for an eternity. Alice convulsed and screamed again and again, thighs straining, knees bending as she impaled herself on the Queen’s dildo. Only when she was utterly spent did she finally hang limp as a rag from her bonds and let her consciousness slip away.
When Alice recovered her senses she found she was uncuffed and sprawled at the foot of the torture frame. The Queen, still naked, was standing over her. She nudged Alice with her toe.
‘Onto your knees, girl!’ she commanded, and Alice obeyed.
The Queen was holding her sceptre, now returned to its normal form. No, not quite, Alice realised. What had been a trefoil tip was now a slender golden figurine. Even as Alice stared in puzzlement the Queen pushed it closer for her to see.
‘Does it remind you of anybody?’ she asked.
Alice peered at the figurine. It was a young woman standing very straight, chains binding her ankles and circling her waist, securing her wrists behind her back. There was a collar round her neck. She gaped at the tiny ecstatic face.
‘That’s me!’
The Queen smiled. ‘Yes, Alice, it’s you. Shaped inside your body by the force of your pleasure. And now you have admitted it is so: here, if you’ve said a thing, that fixes it and you must live with the consequences.’ As she spoke she reached out and plucked a single golden hair from Alice’s head and deftly tied it about the figurine. ‘And now the bond, forged in pain and pleasure, freely asserted, is sealed with a token. This is you and as I control it, so I control you.’
Alice sprang to her feet. The Queen had not said she should rise, but she knew without words it was what she desired. She stood ready, expectant, eager and utterly helpless to resist. The Queen’s will was now her will. Her body and mind were now her tools. This was not slavery but almost total assimilation. A tiny insignificant part of her knew what was happening but could do nothing to prevent it.
‘A little test,’ the Queen said.
Like a robot, Alice marched out of the tent with the Queen behind her and began running round and round the small clearing just inside the circle of the statues. Knees lifting high, breasts bouncing, she made her circuits while the Queen watched in approval.
Suddenly Alice veered off into the trees. There was a large tangle of brambles in front of her and, screwing her eyes shut, she threw herself into it, shrieking as the thorns pricked and cut and tore her skin. Rolling out the other side of the bush she scrambled to her feet and ran on, heedless of the stinging pain and raw red scrapes and blotches and the dozen broken thorns now lodged in her burning flesh.
Alice ran back into the camp and round the statues until she stopped before one depicting a warrior armed with a shield and mace. The carving was perfect in every detail, even down to the weave of the man’s tunic and his eyelashes. He was crouching on one knee with his shield raised protectively, perhaps warding off a blow about to fall on him. His mace was held outwards as though frozen in mid swing.
Unhesitatingly Alice bent down and began licking the head of the mace, which was a large ball studded with small pyramidal spikes. That uncontrolled part of her shivered in anticipation, but it made no difference to her actions. Standing up she clawed apart her outer labia with her fingers and ground the soft pink inner flesh now exposed against the stone mace head. The studs jabbed her flesh, tormented her clitoris into renewed erection and scraped and teased the mouth of her vaginal passage. Whimpering with pain she clasped the shaft of the mace and rotated her hips, oscillating the slippery folds of her nether mouth about the spiked ball as though passionately kissing it.
This cruelly enforced masturbation rekindled her slavish capacity for sex, even though she had only spent herself so recently. The pain gradually melted into mounting lust and fiercer rubbing against the mace head despite, or perhaps because of, the pain. Is this my doing or hers? she wondered desperately. Then she cried out and convulsed, soaking the mace with orgasmic discharge.
Only then did she feel the Queen’s will leave her and slumped like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
‘Most satisfactory,’ the Queen said. ‘I think this proves my control is total. There is a stream over there. You may wash yourself and then return. If you attempt to run away I shall know it instantly through the sceptre. While you are close by you are under my absolute power at all times, do you understand?’
‘Yes, Mistress,’ Alice said weakly.
Alice sat in the stream washing off her scratches and picking thorns from her body. None had caused any serious damage and she knew the minor wounds would heal quickly enough, but her mind was still disturbed. She had never known such a sense of utter helplessness. Many times others had wielded complete control over her body physically and she had relished the sensation of being forced and broken through carefully applied pain and pleasure, of being dominated and finally submitting to their will. But it was her choice to do so, while this wa
s mechanical joyless obedience. And why was it necessary at all?
As evening fell Alice attended the Queen, who lay sprawled naked on her bed of silks and furs. Alice was as attentive and subservient as she knew how, desperate to avoid another taste of control through the sceptre figurine, which the Queen toyed with as Alice served her with wine and a selection of fruits and bread from the platter. The vague idea of trying to snatch it from her hand passed through Alice’s mind, but she could not summon up the courage. She knew how strong the Queen was and the penalty for failure would no doubt be hideously unpleasant. But would she ever put it down? As evening became night it appeared not. It was almost as though the sceptre was part of her, in the same way she still had her filigree crown on. Alice wondered if she would sleep in it.
The Queen began a little game with Alice. She took grapes from the fruit selection and tucked them into the furrow of her pubes and commanded Alice to dip for them. Soon the Queen was laughing at the sensation of Alice’s burrowing tongue hooking the fruit out of the warm wet pocket of flesh.
She seemed more relaxed as time passed and the suspicious anger that had filled her when they had first met was now almost completely gone. Perhaps she had been lonely, Alice thought. There was no sign of anybody else sharing the tent. She had mentioned having other girlings in the past but there were none to be seen now. How long had she been camped out here in the woods?
‘You are a pretty and sensuous creature,’ the Queen declared, tousling Alice’s hair and smiling at her face now wet with royal exudation. ‘I hate to part with you but it must be done if we are to win through. Tomorrow I will send you on your mission. But afterwards … well, we shall see.’
‘Mission, Mistress?’ Alice asked hesitantly.
‘The task I have prepared you for, girl. You shall learn all you need tomorrow. Now let me feel your tongue again …’
Alice slept between the Queen’s splayed legs with her hands cuffed behind her back and her face buried in her mistress’s sweet sticky mound of Venus. There was no doubt the woman had masterful power in abundance. If only she used it properly she could make Alice her devoted slave for life. But why go to the trouble of establishing such artificial control over her? And what was this mysterious mission?
Alice In Chains Page 3
