Alison's Wonderland

by Alison Tyler

  Sweat prickles under my arms and I hope I don’t turn too pink too soon. When I groan my pleasure, David slips two thick fingers past my underwear. “You’re not meant to be enjoying this,” he says, and he hooks his fingers inside me, rubbing so perfectly I can’t help but groan again. “Hot little slut,” he says approvingly.

  He steps back, releasing me with his hands but not his eyes. He whips off his tie, his gaze never once leaving mine. Sneering, he cracks the strip of cloth in the air, clearly relishing his own brutal purpose. I can see strength flex in his torso beneath his shirt and his sweat smells good and manly.

  “Turn around,” he says. His voice is scarily tender. For decades I’ve wanted someone to talk to me like that.

  “No,” I whisper.

  In the small silence that follows, I wonder if I’ve gone too far. If I had a living heart, it would be thumping in fear and excitement right now. Anger darkens his brow and I know I said the right thing because he doesn’t tell me again. Instead, he spins me around, hissing that it wasn’t a fucking question, it was an order. He twists my arm, pushing me face forward over the stack of pallets. His thighs press against mine, holding me still as he clasps my wrists behind my back. I wriggle and kick, knowing it’s futile.

  “Get off me!” I say as I feel his looped tie tightening on my wrists. He tugs, binds and knots, deftly trapping my hands. Grabbing a bunch of my hair, he arches my neck backward.

  “It wasn’t a fucking question,” he says again, and I hear the rasp of him unzipping. With one hand, he pushes my toga up, then yanks my underwear down, exposing my cunt and cheeks. The tip of his cock is stout at my entrance, then he surges in, packing my wetness with his solidity. His thrusts are ruthless. “Not. A fucking. Question,” he snarls, pumping away at me.

  I protest and he immediately makes a gag of my hair, ramming pink snaky lengths across my mouth. He pulls as if my hair’s a bridle and I splutter and cry, hating the texture and the taste.

  “Shut up,” he hisses. “No one’s gonna take any notice of your screams.”

  And I come so hard, my clit nudging at a hump of fabric as decades of wanting shiver and clutch. I’m left feeling as limp as a rag doll, and all I want to do is take it as he rams on and on into my soft swollen hole. I let him come—I think it’s only fair—then I do what I always do: kill.

  Or at least, that’s my intention. As my strength swells, I break free of my bondage and whirl around, attacking so fast he barely sees it. I slam him against the wall, my toga unraveling, and latch on to his neck. It’s bristly with stubble and when I puncture his skin, that familiar coppery warmth floods my mouth. I’m almost lost to joy until sanity pricks my greed: the sex was incredible, I want more from him.

  So as his pulse fades in my veins, I snick my wrist and press the wound to his lips, giving him a new kind of life. I don’t know if his sweat will be pink, but if it is, so what? We will unite, defective or not, and in our monstrous limbo, we’ll face the world together. When I take away my wrist, David smiles, the pallor of death already lightening his skin. And I know at once how we’ll survive. He will join me as a living statue, David in a fig leaf, the beautiful brute I turned to stone.

  Managers and Mermen

  Donna George Storey

  “Do you want to go for a ride?”

  Her liquid warble makes it sound like an invitation, but the glint in her green eyes tells me it’s really an order.

  There will be consequences if I don’t obey.

  And so I straddle her tail at the widest part—where a human girl’s hips would be—and squeeze my thighs around her. It’s not so different from riding bareback, except her scales aren’t warm like horseflesh. They’re cool and slippery and they tickle my tender parts through the crotch of my swimsuit. I wriggle a bit, trying to get comfortable, but it only makes the tingling sensation more intense.

  “Hold on tight,” she warns, and immediately shoots off through the water. My upper body rocks like a broncobuster’s as we speed through the swaying seaweed. I have to grip her with all my might to stay on. My legs are aching and I can feel the powerful muscles of her tail rippling between my thighs. Soon her once-cool skin is plumped and warm, pulsing faintly. Or is it just me?

  She swoops into a grotto and rears up to a stop. I fall forward and clutch her shoulders, panting. My veins sing with adrenaline.

  In one swift movement, she twists around to face me. The slick twirl of her tail between my legs sends electric jolts through my body.

  “Keep those pretty legs squeezed tight,” she says, her eyes boring into me. “You don’t want our ride to end yet, do you?”

  I shake my head. What else can I do? She has me trapped in her lair, under her spell. I watch, enchanted, as she hooks her fingers under the kelp straps of her seashell bra and rips them away to expose her full breasts. Her skin is creamy, like a human girl’s, but the nipples are strange—a luminous jade-green.

  “Kiss them,” she commands, lifting her breasts in offering. Again, I have no choice. This is her realm, her laws.

  I bend forward and take one shimmering nipple between my lips. The salty tang of nori fills my mouth. Suddenly I’m ravenously hungry. I tug on her, harder, as if I can satisfy the growing ache in my belly that way.

  “That’s lovely, keep up the good work,” she sighs, but then her voice takes on a sterner tone. “Except it’s not really work for you, is it? I can feel what’s going on down there. Your secret muscles are all fluttery and you’re wet inside, too. You like playing with another girl’s breasts, don’t you?”

  Still suckling, I nod. I must always agree, always do her bidding. But she’s telling the truth, too. I do like this.

  “You are a naughty girl, but you’re making me all fluttery, too.”

  Indeed, her tail is gyrating gently, pressing up against my clit, then circling away. I can tell from the way her eyes glow that she’s enjoying every second.

  What comes next takes me completely by surprise.

  I hear it before I feel it, her leathery tail fin landing a perfect blow on my ass cheeks. I stiffen and cry out.

  She smiles.

  The second time is more of a caress, as she slides the tip of her fin under my swimsuit and tears it smoothly away from my flesh.

  My jaw still gaping in shock, I meet her gaze. Her eyes seem to reach down inside me. I feel a tugging deep in my belly, rising up my spine as if she’s sucking down all my soft, secret parts like an oyster. As my body grows lighter, she seems to take on more substance. Her cheeks grow rounder and ruddy, her lips plump and full. I realize it is not my flesh that nourishes her. She is feasting on my mind, every dirty fantasy that has ever floated through my brain. She knows me. No other being has ever known me so well.

  “That’s right, I do know what you want,” she says, her voice echoing through the water. “You want to suck my tits while I spank your ass until your cheeks are all red and tingly. You want me to spank you until you come.”

  I’m so weak with lust that I can’t even manage a nod in reply. But a moan seems to suffice as I bend to take her nipple in my mouth again. I grope for her other breast with one hand and cup my own with the other, my thumb flicking the tip, already sensitive and tingly from the salt water.

  I’m ready. Now.

  Smack.

  I swallow down a yelp as her stiff paddle meets my buttocks. My bare cunt skids over her scaly skin, and the prickling sensation ignites into a steady burn.

  She punishes me again. And again. The fin makes an obscene slurping sound as it strikes, like a pussy being fingered fast and hard. I grind my clit into her, my whole body shaking, a sob rising in my throat. I’m close. Very close. The next one will take me over the edge. I know it. She knows it.

  Which is why she pauses at that very moment. I’ll have to beg for it. I always do.

  Suddenly a car door slams in the driveway right outside the bedroom window.

  I freeze, a bullet of fear piercing my belly. A moment later, I hea
r a key in the lock of the front door.

  Fuck, it must be Anton, even though he’s not due back from work until six or seven. It’s either my husband or a burglar, and in my panic I almost wish it were a break-in. I wouldn’t owe a criminal any explanation for why I spent the afternoon with my hand down my pants while he had to sit through endless seminars on effective management techniques at his new company.

  My chest heaving like a fish out of water, I yank up my shorts and pull my T-shirt chastely over my breasts. Too late to hook my bra or do the zipper. The footsteps have reached the bedroom door.

  I stretch and sigh, feigning the yawn of a woman just waking from a nap.

  “Ah, the lazy life of a masseuse.” Anton bends over me for a quick kiss. He fishes his wallet and keys from his trousers and tosses them on his dresser, then takes off his watch, the things he does every day when he comes home from work. He has no clue that his wife has spent the last hour cavorting with a piscine dominatrix.

  I exhale with relief. I might just get away with my little afternoon infidelity.

  “Shiatsu classes don’t start for three weeks,” I remind him. “Until then my only job is to be your love slave, right?”

  It’s a risky move, but I’m feeling bold. And horny. If he has to come and interrupt me just when things are getting hot, the least he can do is help finish the job.

  He pauses, fingers at his shirt buttons, eyebrows lifted hopefully. “Love slave, huh? As a matter of fact, that is my preferred job description for you. Lucky for us the seminar finished early today. The facilitator had that Friday-afternoon golfer’s gleam in his eye.” Anton’s eyes gleam, too, as he looks down at me.

  I’m expecting he’ll go into the walk-in closet to hang up his suit, so I can at least zip my shorts, but unfortunately, my come-on line was a little too successful. He undresses quickly, draping his suit and shirt on the armchair, then peels off his briefs. I can’t stop staring at his hard-on, a thick, red baton, floating in air as if by magic. My mouth starts to water. On summer days his dick tastes saltier, like a big pretzel stick.

  He slips into bed beside me, and I press myself against him, hoping he’ll be too distracted to notice I’m already partially undressed.

  It seems, however, that my luck has run out.

  He’s already reached under my T-shirt. “Hey, what’s with your bra?”

  “I unhook it when I nap,” I answer quickly. “It’s less constrictive.”

  His hand drops to my shorts and slithers through the gaping fly. I know my panties are damp. Sopping, actually. And there’s no mistaking that briny fragrance of aroused female.

  “Okay, Stef, what were you really doing when I got home?”

  My stomach clenches with guilt and a touch of fear. Which is stupid because he knows I masturbate when he goes on business trips. He certainly wanks when he’s away. But it’s different to be caught in the act with no excuse except the old saying “Idle hands do the devil’s work.”

  “I was just doing what you do in those hotel rooms while you’re watching porn movies,” I say, trying my best to sound cool.

  “Actually, I don’t waste money on stupid movies. There’s plenty of good stuff for free on the Internet.”

  Anton laughs and I join in, a touch too heartily.

  Then I ask shyly, “Do you mind?”

  I’m not sure why I feel so guilty about this. As if I’d actually cheated on him with another woman.

  “Not at all. I’m sorry I missed the show.”

  “I think we can put on a better one together,” I whisper as I turn toward him. I cup his balls and walk my fingers back to the sensitive strip of flesh between his legs. Stroking him there always stops any conversation short.

  He sighs and his thighs ease open. “So, what were you thinking about when you were doing it?”

  My fingertips pause on their journey back to tease his ass crack—which would surely have distracted him from unwanted questions. What do I say now? Of course, I’ve shared a few fantasies with him before. Crushes on movie stars. Doing it on the beach. But getting an ass-searing spanking from a lesbian mermaid was something else altogether. Besides, Anton was a swimmer in high school—his team came in third in the state finals. If he knew his doggie-paddling wife had nautical yearnings, he’d probably laugh himself silly.

  “I wasn’t thinking about anything,” I say. Even I know it sounds unconvincing.

  “Come on.”

  “It’s true.”

  Anton closes his legs, forcing me to pull my hand away. “You know, we had a presentation about people like you in the seminar today.”

  His tone is playful, but I feel my body tense. “What do you mean?”

  “Difficult employees. They’re a challenge. And I have to say your performance as my love slave leaves a lot to be desired right now. But the facilitator explained that each employee has a different working style and if the manager modifies his communication tactics to meet those needs, the result can be a mutually beneficial outcome.”

  I can’t restrain a derisive snort. “You’ve lost me there, honey. Can you put that in words your more simpleminded workers can understand?”

  What happens next catches me totally unawares. Anton plants a nice smarting slap right on my ass. Which is not nearly as surprising as what follows: an embarrassing gush of wetness between my legs and my involuntary cry of pure arousal.

  I swallow hard and look away, struggling to pull myself together. “Is this what they’re teaching you in that seminar?” It’s meant as a clever comeback, but my voice is husky and my heart is pounding.

  Anton tilts my chin up. Our gazes lock. He knows. My whole body blushes with arousal and shame.

  “Were you thinking about having sex with someone else?”

  It’s my chance to confess and come clean, but perversely, I shake my head.

  He slaps my ass again.

  “Tell me the truth.”

  I wonder, fleetingly, if this new managerial tone will have the same effect on his employees as it has on me. By now I’m so aroused I can barely breathe.

  “I…can’t do that,” I stutter.

  “Then,” he replies, his voice calm, “we can both agree that you need serious disciplinary measures. Pull down your pants and lie on your stomach.”

  I’m his love slave, I have to obey. Hands shaking, I struggle out of my shorts and panties and position myself as instructed. He reaches under my T-shirt and takes my nipple between his fingers. In a perfectly timed motion, he tweaks my nipple just as the first smack lands square on my ass.

  I grind my pelvis into the mattress and groan.

  He spanks me again. A wave of heat rolls from my cunt to my nipple and back again. The bed is already soaked and my ass cheeks burn, as if they’ve been baked under the glowing orange coils of a toaster oven.

  Instinctively I push my buttocks up for another.

  “Forget it,” Anton says. “No more until you tell me what you were thinking about while you were fingering your pussy. In detail.”

  I gulp. I’m too worked up to think of a good lie now. But what would he do if he knew what really went on in my head?

  “It’s kind of…kinky.”

  “All the more reason I should know. Girls who think about kinky things need a spanking to teach them a lesson,” he insists.

  Well, if he’s going to put it that way, what else can I do?

  “It was sort of a lesbian fantasy.”

  “You were doing it with another girl?” His tone is even, utterly professional. I have no clue what his real reaction is.

  “Not a girl exactly. A mermaid. And she made me wrap my legs around her slippery hips and suck her nipples while she…she…”

  “Spit it out, Stef.”

  “She spanked me with her tail and…she said she wouldn’t stop until I came.”

  He sucks in his breath. “Well, I think we already know the appropriate method to deal with a fantasy like that. I just want to make sure we’re on the same pa
ge. That’s key for good manager-employee relations. Do you know what I’m going to do next?”

  “Spank me?” I whisper.

  “Yes. More specifically, I will spank you while you straddle me just like you did with your girlfriend. But of course, instead of a fish tail, I’ve got a very hard cock here and I have to figure out what to do with it. Do you have any ideas?”

  “Fuck me?”

  Anton chuckles. “You know, honey, you’re turning into a very cooperative worker after all. Climb on.”

  I swing a leg over him and settle onto him. My flesh makes a soft sucking sound as he slides in. His thick cock feels so good pressing against my swollen walls that in spite of my hunger for new and sharper pleasures, I start to ride him in the usual way, with quick thrusts of my hips.

  But things quickly take an unusual turn. He aims his first slap right into my sensitive ass crack.

  I cry out, my muscles gripping him convulsively.

  He makes a low grunt of approval. “Good work. Let’s try that again.”

  The next blow is harder, driving my clit against the rough hairs on his belly. I grit my teeth and clutch him tighter.

  “Did you suck her nipples while you rubbed your cunt on her?”

  “Yes,” I admit breathlessly.

  Smack.

  “Bad girl. You deserve to have your ass spanked until you come.”

  I feel no shame now. With each slap, I grind my clit on him and then push my ass out again for another sweet shot of that intoxicating cocktail of pleasure and pain.

  “Do you like this? Is it as good as it was with her?”

  “It’s better,” I confess. And it’s the truth.

  Anton grins up at me. “Well, that’s the response I was looking for. I guess I can stop spanking you now.”

  “No, don’t stop,” I plead before I’m really aware of what I’m saying.

  “Oh? You mean, you want me to keep spanking your ass?”