The crowd applauded.
Alice cringed. This was dreadful. Simply dreadful. Alice had never masturbated before. And to do this in front of a crowd of people… there was no way.
“I can’t,” Alice said.
“You can. And you will. Stand up!”
Alice stood on shaky legs. She was still wildly turned on, but an orgasm was the furthest thing from her mind. She couldn’t do something so personal, so private, in public. Especially since she didn’t know how.
“Please, Your Majesty,” Alice whispered. “Anything but this.”
“Face the crowd,” the Queen ordered.
Alice did, but her head hung in shame.
“Look at them, Alice. As you touch yourself, I want you to look at each man and woman in turn. If you break eye contact at all, I shall extend the sentence.”
Alice’s lower lip trembled, and she looked up and stared at a tall man with a mustache.
“Put your finger in your mouth and suck it, Alice,” The Queen said.
Alice forced her index finger between her lips. She was so mortified her knees knocked together.
“Get it nice and wet, Alice.”
Doing this, while the man stared, felt dirtier than anything Alice had done all day. She wanted to close her eyes, pretend she was somewhere else, but the Queen’s threat loomed large in her mind.
“Pinch your nipples with your other hand,” the Queen ordered.
Alice continued to suck her finger, and with her free hand lightly tugged at her left breast.
“Harder, Alice. Stroke them and tweak them, one after the other.”
Alice did, a tiny shock of pleasure rippling down to her loins.
“Look at everyone in the crowd, not just one person. And moan while you play with your breasts.”
Alice looked at a woman next, someone older with short, blond hair. She moaned as the Queen told her, feeling like a bad actress reading for a part.
“Now tease yourself with your wet finger. Circle it around your clitoris, but don’t touch it.”
Alice trailed her hand down her breastbone, leaving a trail of saliva. She touched her public bone, just above her clitoris, and began to draw a circle around it.
“Slower,” the Queen said. “And don’t stop tugging those nipples.”
Alice slowed down, moving her eyes to the next person. A man. A very attractive man, with a broad chest and strong arms.
“Moan. And gyrate your hips.”
Alice let out a louder moan, and began to move against her wet finger. Having this cute guy watch her was the height of embarrassment, but at the same time Alice was having a hard time circling her clitoris without touching it.
“Now move your hand from your nipple and slide a finger inside yourself.”
Alice couldn’t do this looking at the handsome guy, so she turned her attention to the next person in the crowd and saw it was the Duchess. Like Alice, the Duchess was also touching herself, one hand fondling a generous breast, the other up under her skirt.
“Flick your clitoris like I did to you,” the Queen said.
Alice did, and this time her moan was sudden and very real.
“Move your other finger in an out.”
Alice obeyed, surprised at how intense the feeling was. She tore her eyes away from the Duchess and looked at the next man in the crowd. It was Cheshire, who, as could be expected, had whipped it out and was tugging mightily on the tip. Rather than be shocked this time, Alice felt some inner need to excite him. She began to move her hips faster, and her moaning became rhythmic, animal grunting.
“Now tell the crowd what a dirty little slut you are.”
“I’m…”
“Say it.”
Alice glanced at the next person, Pilar, who was giving her a happy thumbs up. She worked herself harder, the orgasm which had eluded her minutes ago now building up again.
“I’m… a…”
She looked at the next person and realized it was the Hatter, only this time he was wearing a fireman’s helmet and bunker pants, his hairy chest bare. He gave her a sly smile, then winked.
“A dirty little slut, Alice,” the Queen said. “Tell everyone.”
“I’m… a… oh… oh…”
The March Hare stood next to Hatter. He was wearing the top of his bunny costume, but not his bottoms. And speaking of bottoms, Maus was behind the Hare, and he seemed to be entering him the same way he’d entered Alice earlier. Alice had never seen two men doing such a thing before, and for some reason it made her even wetter.
“She gives amazing oral love!” a male voice yelled. Alice sought it out, and saw Dick, waving at her from the crowd. “You are so beautiful, Alice!”
Alice’s hands worked faster, knowing just which spots to touch. She flicked her index finger. She found her G-spot. The wave inside her was coming up fast, so fast, and in just a few more seconds she was going to—
“Halt!” the Queen ordered. A moment later she was on Alice, grasping her wrists.
Alice cried out, her hips still bucking, desperate to be touched again.
“You may not come until you admit what you are.”
“Please, Your Majesty.”
“Say it!”
Alice was sooooo close. She again stared at the crowd, many of whom were now masturbating. Alice tried to pull away from the Queen, but her grip was too strong. Then she tried to press against her, desperate for release.
“SAY IT!”
“I’M A DIRTY LITTLE SLUT!” Alice bellowed. And upon saying the words, something within her snapped, and she began to orgasm without any stimulation at all. It doubled her over, making her whole body shake, and the Queen put her hand between Alice’s legs and Alice began to scream without any control at all, “I’M A SLUT! I’M A SLUT!” over and over until the pleasure became so unbearable she collapsed onto the lawn, the whole world spinning, her juices squirting out of her and drenching the Queen’s hand.
For a moment, it seemed as if time stopped. No one moved. No one spoke.
Then, incredibly, the entire crowd broke out in thunderous applause.
And Alice, for the very first time ever, wasn’t embarrassed anymore. In fact, she felt glorious.
“Take a bow,” the Queen said. “You were splendid.”
Alice bowed, and suddenly she was surrounded by people, patting her on the back and congratulating her.
“Good work,” Dor Maus said.
“I knew you had it in you,” Dick agreed.
“Look how far you’ve come,” said Pilar. “I’m so proud of you.”
The compliments seemed to go on and on, until the Queen yelled, “Enough! Back to croquet!”
A moment later, the crowd had abandoned Alice, leaving her behind as the game continued. Alice didn’t know what to do next. Follow them? Search elsewhere for home? Certainly home had to be somewhere.
“That was a terrific performance, Alice,” Cheshire said. He was clutching his cell phone. “I recorded the whole thing. I think I’m going to wank to it right now.”
“I saw the Hatter and the Hare,” said Alice.
“And Dor Maus, too. I know.” Cheshire pointed to his phone. “I got it all here. Was hiding in the bushes.”
“They couldn’t help me.”
“It looked like they helped you plenty,” Cheshire said, waggling his eyebrows.
“They couldn’t help me get home!” Alice said.
“You still want to go home? Don’t you like it here?”
“I do. But I have responsibilities. A job. A boyfriend.”
“The quick one? Why would you want to go back to him?”
“Because I love him,” Alice said.
“I see. Well, I suppose you could ask Mock Turtle. He’s self-important, and far too eager, but he might set you on the right path.”
“Where do I find him?”
“Just click your heels together three—”
“You already used that joke,” Alice said, sighing dramatically.
“Thank you, Cheshire.”
“You’re welcome. Would you mind if I took just a few seconds of video of you bending over?”
Alice was about to refuse, but then she thought, why not? She bent over for Cheshire, wiggling her bottom, not embarrassed in the least bit. She even spread her cheeks and sang what she knew of the theme to Happy Days.
Cheshire immediately dropped his cell phone and began to abuse himself with reckless abandon. Part of Alice feared he’d actually tug it completely off. But rather than worry about that, she nodded a quick goodbye and went to the Duchess, who was waiting for her turn at play, twirling a croquet mallet in her hands.
“Duchess, do you know where the Mock Turtle is?” Alice asked.
“Hello, Alice. Splendid show you put on. I’m having another lipstick party tomorrow, if you’d like to attend.”
“Thank you for the invitation, but I do need to see Mock Turtle. I was told he might help me return home.”
“A possibility. But he might not assist you. I’m afraid he only cares about himself.”
“Please,” Alice said. “I’ve been here a long time. I’m sure my boyfriend is getting concerned.”
“Very well. Follow me.”
Alice followed.
Chapter 6
The Mock Turtle’s Story
“So what exactly is a Mock Turtle?” Alice asked the Duchess as they strolled through the woods. “Is it another dreadful pun?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“Is he going to recite silly, pointless poetry to me?”
“Probably.”
“Is there any way to skip it?”
“On an ereader? It isn’t easy. See the clearing in the trees there? It leads to a beach. That’s where Mock Turtle lives. Good luck to you, Alice.”
The Duchess gave her a warm hug, and then left. Alice continued on through the clearing and saw a man standing next to a large body of water. At first glance, she thought it was Lewis. He had the same build, same features. But the face was different. Where Lewis had a sweet smile and beautiful eyes, Mock Turtle looked as if he’d just sniffed something unpleasant. From forty feet away, Alice could see his scowl. It was so disconcerting that she considered turning around and going back.
“Who goes there?” he yelled, spotting her.
Alice almost ran. But she didn’t. The old, frightened, unsure Alice would have. But she was the new bold, fearless Alice, who got what she wanted.
“I’m Alice. Are you Mock Turtle?”
“Who wants to know?”
Another lunatic. “Me,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Alice.”
“Approach so I may look at you.”
Alice tromped across the beach, her sharp heels sinking into the stand, but she managed to reach the man without falling over.
“Those boots are hardly proper attire for the beach,” he said. “But they make your bottom and legs looked superb.”
“Are you Mock Turtle?”
“I am.”
“But you aren’t a turtle. You aren’t even a furry.”
“A what?”
“You aren’t wearing a turtle outfit.”
“What about my mock turtleneck sweater?” he asked.
“You aren’t wearing one.”
“But I have one, at my house. It’s blue.”
Alice folded her arms, becoming annoyed. “You’re called Mock Turtle because you sometimes wear a blue, mock turtleneck sweater?”
“No. Mock Turtle is my pen name. I’m a writer.”
Alice softened a bit. “Really? I love to read.”
“I’m a poet,” Mock Turtle said proudly.
“Oh.” Alice made a face. She should have known. “Poetry sucks.”
“Don’t disparage poetry. I shall make up a poem on the spot, about you, if you allow it.”
“How about I pay you twenty dollars not to?”
But it was too late. Mock Turtle began to recite.
Little Alice,
Stole a chalice,
Why’d she do it?
She won’t talice.
“Get it?” he asked. “Won’t talice? Tell-us?”
“It’s dreadful,” Alice said.
“Oh, I have worse than that,” said the Mock Turtle, and proceeded to prove it:
There was a girl named Susie,
Who drowned in a Jacuzzi,
She boiled like a potato,
And really tasted greato.
“If I had a gun, I’d eat it,” Alice said. “But I’d shoot you first.”
“Last one,” said Mock Turtle.
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
“Can I get that in writing?”
Mock Turtle launched into it:
When I need reference media,
I go to Wikipedia,
A dictionary is too slow,
And Wiki is much speedia.
“Ugh,” Alice said. “I think I actually threw up in my mouth a little.”
“A poet’s job is to provoke emotion,” Mock Turtle said proudly.
“You actually make money writing things like that?”
“Not yet. So far the snobbish literary journals have refused to publish any of my work. Do you know why?”
“They have standards?”
“Envy!” Mock Turtle declared. “They can’t stand that I have this talent, flowing through my veins, like some poet with poetry talent in his blood.”
Wow, this guy was clueless.
“I know a man named Nolan, who had a spastic colon—”
“You promised no more!” Alice said, shoving Mock Turtle to shut him up. “I need to get home, and I was told that you could help me.”
“Help you get home?”
“That’s what I just said.”
Mock Turtle tapped a finger against his chin. “Well, I could help you, Alice. But I’d want something in return.”
Alice narrowed her eyes. “Is it to recite another poem? Because I’ll turn around right now.”
“No. But you are quite beautiful, and I also couldn’t help but notice, quite naked. If you allowed me to make love to you, I could show you how to get home.”
Alice didn’t find Mock Turtle attractive, he was much too sour, but she was a pro at pity sex, and if she had to appease him to get back home, it didn’t seem like such a bad proposition. Besides, he might actually surprise her and be amazing at making love, like the many people she’d encountered that day.
“Fine,” Alice said. “Where would you like to—”
In a flash, Mock Turtle’s pants were around his ankles, and he was franticly rubbing up against her, trying to kiss her neck.
“Uh! Uh! Uh!” he groaned.
“Hey!” Alice said. This scenario was disappointingly familiar. “Slow down and we can—”
But it was too late. Mock Turtle had spurted all over her thigh, without having even entered her.
“That was the most unsatisfying experience I’ve ever had,” Alice chided him. “And that’s saying something.”
“Sorry,” he said, sheepishly looking at the ground. “It’s just that you’re so beautiful, and—”
“SEIZE HIM!”
Alice spun around and saw the Queen tromping down the beach toward them, surrounded by several guards. They immediately rushed at Mock Turtle, grabbing his arms.
“Your Majesty, what are you doing here?” Alice asked.
“The Duchess told me where you’d gone. This man has a seedy reputation, and as I’d suspected, my instincts proved correct.”
“What did I do?” Mock Turtle cried.
“Nothing!” the Queen retorted. “That’s the problem! Mock Turtle, I hereby accuse you of being a greedy, selfish lover, who cares not for his partner’s needs. If convicted of these charges, the penalty is…”
“Spanking?” Alice
asked. She wouldn’t mind seeing the annoying little poet spanked.
“No,” the Queen declared. “Death!”
“Death?” Mock Turtle, true to his name, turned green.
“Death?” Alice repeated. “You certainly take your orgasms seriously here in Wonderland.”
“Yes, we do.”
“But he’s just a pathetic, selfish lout who doesn’t know any better,” Alice said. “Surely death is too strict a punishment.”
“The trial shall begin immediately,” said the Queen. “Off with his clothes.”
The guards stripped Mock Turtle of his wardrobe, ripping it so severely Alice couldn’t salvage any of it to wear herself. Though, quite honestly, she was beginning to really enjoy parading around naked.
“Alice, I subpoena you as the star witness.” The Queen pointed at her. “This man’s life hangs on your testimony.”
“Be merciful!” Mock Turtle begged.
Alice looked from the Queen, to Mock Turtle, and back again, wondering what she was going to do.
“To the courthouse!” the Queen commanded.
Not seeing any other choice, Alice followed the procession.
This was going to be interesting.
Chapter 7
Who Stole the Tart?
The trial took place in a courtroom which was like no courtroom Alice had ever seen. In fact, it looked like a New Orleans bordello, or at least what Alice imagined a New Orleans bordello would look like, as she’d never been in one. Draperies of red velvet covered windows and walls, held back with ornate chains of gold. Plush carpet stretched wall-to-wall. Members of the jury lounged on opulent chaise lounges and wavy sex chairs and contraptions involving wooden crosses and leather swings and hanging chains. It wasn’t the least bit official-looking.
But Alice didn’t mind.
Her three tea partiers were there on the chairs, acting as the jury, Alice supposed. And they seemed to be the only three members. The Hatter wore a cowboy hat this time and nothing else but a pair of western chaps that framed his burgeoning manhood. The Hare donned his usual bunny suit, though still only the top half. And Maus wore the most beautiful ring around his beautiful masculinity and nothing else.
The Duchess was there, and Pilar too, standing next to Mock Turtle. But before Alice could truly get her bearings, a curtain parted and Dick strode in and stopped front and center.
Fifty Shades of Alice in Wonderland Page 9
