Fifty Shades of Alice in Wonderland

by Melinda DuCham

  “And who are you?” the Queen said, her voice loud and mean.

  “I’m Alice. I found your ball.”

  Alice held it out, meekly. The Queen slapped it away, and it went rolling under another hedge.

  “You shall not speak unless spoken to,” the Queen said.

  “But you just spoke to me.”

  “Silence!” the Queen ordered, pointing a finger at Alice’s face. The Queen’s nails were glossy and red. “This croquet party is private and can only be attended if you have an invitation. Do you have an invitation, Alice?”

  Alice wasn’t sure whether or not to answer. She didn’t like being yelled at. It added to the humiliation of being naked in public. She wished, more than anything, to just disappear.

  “You refuse to answer?” the Queen asked. “So be it. Guards! Off with her clothes!”

  One of the men in the Queen’s croquet game, a man in khakis and a polo shirt, approached Alice and grabbed her arm. “My Queen,” he said, “she doesn’t seem to be wearing much in the way of clothes.”

  “Is that so?” the Queen asked.

  “Just a hat, boots, a garter belt, stockings, and a demi bra, Your Majesty.”

  “So it seems. Tell me, why are you dressed that way, slut?!”

  Alice was shocked by the vulgarity. “I’m not a slut!”

  “You are certainly dressed like one,” the Queen said.

  “But these are the only clothes I have!”

  “The only clothes you have? If those are your only clothes, then you must be a slut!”

  “But I’m not!”

  “Seize the slut!”

  The next thing Alice knew, guards were holding both of her arms, stretching her out so she could no longer cover her body. The Queen approached, then spent a moment looking Alice up and down. Her gaze felt like a laser, burning Alice’s skin wherever it focused.

  “Everyone, look at Alice’s bare breasts,” the Queen said.

  The crowd came in for a closer look. Alice struggled, but was held firm, exposed to all.

  The Queen reached out, pinching both nipples. “See how her nipples are erect?” the Queen said. “Who but a slut would have erect nipples at a croquet game?”

  More murmurs, many people agreeing. “Yes, she does.” “Those nipples are certainly hard.” “Only sluts get horny playing croquet.”

  “But you just pinched them!” Alice said.

  “And look at these boots!” the Queen said. “Thigh-high leather with spiked heels! Who but a slut would wear spike heeled boots to a croquet game?”

  Again the crowd mumbled in agreement.

  “But you’re wearing spike heeled boots!” Alice cried.

  “Mine are red,” said the Queen.

  “What is the difference?” Alice said.

  “More proof!” triumphed the Queen. “Who but an oversexed slut couldn’t tell the difference between black and red?”

  “I swear, I’m not a slut!” Alice declared.

  “Oh, really?” the Queen asked, smiling. She glanced down, below Alice’s belly. “You have no hair down there. Who else but a slut shaves off all of her hair?”

  “That wasn’t me!”

  “Of course it is you. I’m looking right at it.”

  The Queen ran her hand down Alice’s belly, between her legs.

  “So smooth,” the Queen said, gently working a finger inside of Alice.

  Alice’s lower lip quivered. “Please don’t.”

  But the Queen didn’t stop. And even after all of the days’ erotic encounters, Alice felt herself responding.

  “Everyone!” the Queen said, “look how wet this little slut is.”

  The crowd got even closer. Alice wanted to die. Her face burned bright red, her ears felt aflame, but the Queen’s fingers were expert in how they coaxed pleasure out of her. Her Majesty seemed to know exactly where to stroke, and how long and hard. Alice was helpless to control her body, which began to gyrate to match the Queen’s fondling.

  “Feel her nipples,” the Queen ordered the crowd. “She how hard they are.”

  A procession line formed, one stranger after another lining up to tweak and stroke Alice’s tortured breasts.

  “And how wet this slut is!” the Queen declared. “Touch her and see!”

  The guards lifted her up, spreading her legs apart. Alice watched, horrified, as hand after hand began to caress her most sensitive parts. Some began to take pictures. Some tasted her with their tongues. Men and women. It was the most embarrassing, humiliating moment in Alice’s whole life, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop her hips from moving.

  “Such a greedy little slut.”

  “She’s so wet.”

  “Look how badly she wants it.”

  “Feel how tight she is.”

  “Shaved and spread open for all to see.”

  “She should be ashamed.”

  “Do you hear how she moans when I touch her like this.”

  As the never-ending line continued, Alice felt herself getting closer and closer to the point of release. She tried to stop it. Nothing in the world could be worse than having an orgasm while all of these people watched. But even though she shut her eyes and tried to think other thoughts, Alice’s body kept responding to the groping, the teasing, the licking. And though she didn’t want to admit it, the comments and the eyes on her were making it more intense. Somehow embarrassment magnified the pleasure, making it impossible for Alice to calm herself down. It was unbearable, and Alice knew if she did come, it would destroy her.

  Then someone began to kiss her mouth. Someone with soft, full lips and a clever tongue. Alice opened her eyes and saw it was the Queen.

  “There is nothing wrong with being a slut,” the Queen said, smiling. “But you should own it. Let it empower you. Sexuality should be enjoyed, not repressed. And no good can come from pretending you’re something that you’re not.”

  “But I swear, Your Majesty!” Alice said, her voice getting higher and louder because she was so close to the edge. Someone worked fingers inside her while another licked her most sensitive spot, right where her lips met. Both nipples had wet, hungry mouths on them, kissing and nibbling. There was even a finger in her bottom or maybe it was something more, she couldn’t quite tell. The sensations, coupled with the taunts and stares and pictures being snapped, were overwhelming Alice until she was afraid she’d start screaming and never stop.

  “You really believe you aren’t a slut?” the Queen asked.

  “Yes!”

  “Everybody halt!” the Queen ordered.

  At once, the crowd stopped their groping of Alice, immediately backing away. The guards released her. Alice’s whole body quivered, and she was panting like she’d just run a mile. But even though she’d been very close to climaxing, Alice was grateful to be left alone. She knelt on the lawn, covering up her breasts, trying to stop shaking.

  “For lying about being a slut,” the Queen declared, “Alice is sentenced to a public paddling!”

  Alice’s relief turned to raw terror. “What? No! Please, no!”

  Instantly, Alice was grabbed and dragged across the croquet ground and taken to a large open area where a strange sort of table awaited. Alice recognized it from Pilar’s Pink Room of Bunnies. The sight of it caused Alice’s throat to seize with fear.

  A spanking table.

  The table was made of wood, the top and the kneeling rest covered in padded, black leather. Alice was forced to her knees and bent over, her wrists fastened to the table’s legs with leather cuffs. Her legs were also spread and cuffed to the terrible device, and Alice felt both afraid and demeaned, especially as the onlookers began to ooh and aah at her. A moment later the Queen appeared before her.

  She was holding a wooden paddle, similar to the kind used to play ping pong. It was heavily varnished, making it shine in the afternoon sun.

  “So, slut, how many times shall I paddle your bare bottom?”

  Alice couldn’t take her ey
es of the paddle. To be spanked with that… in front of all these people… it was too much.

  “Well?” the Queen demanded. “How many times?”

  “None! Have mercy, Your Majesty!”

  “Perhaps I shall. But you must show your queen obedience, Alice. Can you do that?”

  “Yes.” Alice was so frightened her whole body shook.

  “Tell me how many times I should paddle you. If the number is too tiny, I shall multiply it by ten.”

  Alice had no idea how to answer. She hadn’t been spanked since she was a child, and the experience terrified her. What did the Queen think was too tiny a number? Five? Ten?

  “Twenty,” Alice said.

  “Twenty,” the Queen cooed, rubbing her hand across Alice’s back. She cupped one of her buttocks and held the paddle up to Alice’s lips.

  “Kiss the paddle, Alice.”

  Alice couldn’t imagine anything more outrageous. Kissing the very implement that was about to cause her pain was intolerable. But then the Queen was flicking her fingers across Alice’s most sensitive parts, coaxing a moan from her, and Alice pursed her lips and kissed the wretched paddle.

  “Now lick it, Alice.”

  “Please, don’t make me.”

  “Lick it and make me believe you like it, or your ordeal will get worse.”

  Alice didn’t believe her ordeal could get any worse, but the Queen was using a flicking motion with her thumb, a movement so intense it felt like Pilar’s back massager. No longer trying to resist, Alice gave the paddle a long, slow, sexy lick, as she felt dozens of eyes burning into her. If that wasn’t bad enough, the action made Alice somehow lose control of her hips, and they began to buck involuntarily, pressing up against the Queen’s hand.

  Alice was so embarrassed she wanted to die.

  “Look! The slut licks the paddle!” the Queen declared.

  The crowd gasped.

  “And look how she moves her hips!”

  More gasps, and some camera flashes. This was intolerable. Alice’s whole body burned with a blush, but she still couldn’t stop wiggling her bottom.

  “Alice, I have sentenced you to be paddled for being a slut. The number you have chosen is twenty. Is that your final number?”

  Alice wasn’t sure how to answer. The Queen’s fingers were making it impossible to think. Was this a chance to save herself from the number being multiplied by ten?

  “Forty!” Alice squealed, praying it was high enough.

  Another gasp from the onlookers.

  “You heard her! Alice begs to be paddled more times!” the Queen said. “Who else but a slut would do that?”

  And then the Queen’s lovely fingers were withdrawn, and she walked behind Alice, continuing to pat and caress her buttocks, which the spanking table position high in the air for all to gape at. Then the Queen began to recite a poem, which made perfect sense given the situation.

  Twinkle twinkle little slut,

  Now we’ll spank you on your butt,

  Everyone will stand and watch,

  As you bare your hairless crotch.

  “What is with you people and your stupid rhymes?” Alice asked.

  The Queen raise the paddle high, and Alice was infused with the same kind of adrenaline-fueled fear as when she was at the doctor’s and about to be given a shot.

  “Wait!” Alice pleaded. “Shouldn’t I have a safeword?”

  The Queen paused. “A safeword?”

  Alice nodded frantically. “If things become too painful, I say the safeword and you stop.”

  “But my dear, a paddling is supposed to be painful.”

  “Please, Your Majesty! You must allow me a safeword. I beg you.”

  The Queen’s brows furrowed, and she said, “Fine. Your safeword is more.”

  “Thank you, Your—”

  A loud crack! thundered across the croquet area as the paddle landed on Alice’s left buttock, cutting off her next word.

  Surprisingly, it didn’t hurt much. Pilar’s spanking had carried more weight and force. But the surprise and suddenness of the blow made Alice cry out.

  The second and third strikes came quickly, and now a definite heat had settled into her bottom. Strangely, it matched the heat between her legs, and by the fourth smack Alice realized with great astonishment that she wasn’t minding it too much.

  With five and six, the stinging began, but Alice was able to bear it.

  At seven smacks on her left buttock, Alice really began to feel it. The Queen wasn’t hitting her any harder than before, but each seemed to build upon the last. Though she wasn’t able to tune out the gawking crowd around her, Alice had begun focusing on the lick of the paddle, the sensations it produced. She found herself anticipating the next blow, almost willing it to come.

  But the Queen didn’t swing. Instead, her hand moved between Alice’s legs and begin to stroke rapidly. Alice cried out, the pleasure from the caress and the sting from the paddle blending together until they seemed to be one and the same.

  “Tell the crowd, Alice,” the Queen purred. “Are you a dirty little slut?”

  Alice shook her head. She could never say those words. They were too embarrassing, too vulgar. She would have been humiliated to say them to Lewis, whom she planned to marry some day. But to this group of strangers? Naked and bent over a spanking table? No way could she debase herself like that.

  “Very well,” the Queen said, and then began a flurry of paddle strokes, so fast they sounded like applause. Alice’s legs were tense, her muscles locked, and she set her jaw and tried to brace herself against the onslaught, but it came so fast that all she could do was cry out. Right when Alice was certain she couldn’t bear another blow, the Queen switched buttocks, focusing on the right one and giving the burning left one a rest.

  But all too soon, her right rump began to heat up and sting something mighty. Alice struggled against her bonds, trying to pull away from the paddle, but there was no escape.

  “More!” Alice yelled, reaching the peak of her endurance. “I beg you!”

  The Queen stopped, and Alice let out a long sigh of relief. The sigh became a moan as the Queen roughly jammed two fingers inside her, working them in and out.

  “The slut begs for more,” the Queen said, “even though she has completed her sentence!”

  “No!” Alice cried. “Please don’t.”

  “How many more would you like, slut?”

  “No more, Your Majesty! Please! I beg you!”

  “A thousand? I can form the crowd in a line, give them each a chance to paddle your splendid bottom.”

  “No! Don’t! I… I…” Alice squeezed her eyes shut. “Five more!”

  “The slut wants five more!” the Queen shouted.

  The audience cheered.

  “Count them, Alice. If you lose count, we shall start over.”

  Again the paddle struck Alice’s tormented bottom, lighting it up as if she’d sat upon a stove.

  “One,” she said, fighting tears.

  “Louder.”

  “One!”

  The Queen returned her two fingers to Alice’s honey hole, thrusting once and making Alice gasp. Then the fingers were removed and the paddle came down again.

  “Two!” Alice yelled.

  The Queen’s fingers again entered Alice, this time pumping in and out twice. Then the paddle once more.

  “Three!”

  Three lovely strokes, and once again Alice’s bottom began to buck. When the paddle hit the fourth time, Alice moaned, and she couldn’t tell if it was from pain or pleasure.

  “Four!”

  The Queen’s delicious fingers penetrated Alice four times, using a downward angle that hit a spot Alice had never felt before. A spot inside her, just behind the clitoris, that was so sensitive it felt as if it was her clitoris being stroked. Through all of her adventures that day, no man had managed to hit that spot.

  “That is your G-spot,” the Queen said, wiggling her fingers.

  Alice s
creamed. She was very close to coming.

  “No one knows how to please a woman like another woman,” the Queen said. “I know your body better than you do.”

  Then the fingers were withdrawn and the paddle came down for the fifth time, and again Alice screamed, her bottom ablaze, her womanhood dripping wet, waiting desperately for the Queen’s fingers to return.

  But they didn’t.

  “Look how she wiggles and writhes!” said someone in the crowd.

  “Such a little slut!”

  “She loves the paddle!”

  “Look how wet she is!”

  “She’s about to come!”

  Alice was about to come. She needed to, so badly. The taunts only made her desire worse.

  “The sentence is complete!” the Queen roared. “Release the prisoner!”

  The guards quickly unstrapped Alice’s wrists and ankles, and all Alice could think was, No! Please don’t stop now! I want more!

  Alice fell to her knees, desperately wanting to beg for it, but her shame overwhelmed her need.

  “Look at you,” the Queen said. “Trembling and on the verge of a glorious orgasm. Now do you admit you are a slut?”

  A hush fell over the crowd. Alice glanced at them, saw their judging stares, and her face turned bright red and she was forced to look away, toward the spanking table.

  If I tell the Queen no, will she spank me again? Alice thought.

  “No,” she said, trying to look defiant. “You must spank me again, Your Majesty.”

  The Queen smiled. “No, Alice. That does not seem a fit punishment for you. If you won’t admit what a dirty little slut you are, I have a different sentence for you.”

  Alice’s mind reeled. At this point, anything the Queen did to her would be glorious.

  “Tie me up and tease me?” Alice asked, shuddering at the memory.

  “No.”

  “Force me to suck a man’s member?” Alice’s loins tingled at the thought. “As he licks me?”

  “No.”

  “Force all the men here to make love to me?” Alice asked. The very idea was almost enough to cause her to swoon.

  “No, Alice. Because you fail to embrace your inner slut, you are hereby sentenced to…”

  Alice held her breath.

  “Public masturbation!”