Alison's Wonderland

by Alison Tyler

  “How are we going to do this?” he asked.

  I walked up to him and turned around. “Undo my bra, then take off your clothes,” I said. I watched the other two as Raven fumbled a bit with the hook in the back. When my breasts popped free, Dominus Dave’s eyes seemed to glaze over. Math-Girl Flora tried to look away, but when I walked back to the table and began to put the harness and dildo on, she was watching just as intently as the other two.

  By the time I put a condom on the dildo and turned around, Raven was completely naked. For a second, I wasn’t sure what to do next, after all, I’d never done this before. I’d worn the harness and dildo at home, but I’d never actually fucked anyone with it. I was standing in the center of a strange room, wearing only white panties and a strap-on, and there was a skinny, naked young man in front of me. Nearby, his friends were watching.

  Let the games begin, I thought, and motioned him to the couch. I picked up the lube and caught up with him, grabbing his shoulder and spinning him for a kiss. Up close, those dark eyes of his were quite captivating, but I wasn’t about to become a captive. I spun him back around, bit the back of his neck and pushed him forward.

  The other two watched me lube up as if it was the most interesting thing they’d ever seen, and how could it not be? I reveled in their attention, slopping the excess onto Raven’s pale ass, grinning at his intake of breath. Holding his narrow hips, I moved in closer.

  It was easier than the first time I had anal sex, that’s for sure. It was like he trusted me right away. There was a brief moment of resistance, then he relaxed and in I went. Flora made the loudest noise of anyone, a long “Ooooo” as the dildo disappeared completely.

  Though I was tender enough at first, I couldn’t resist grabbing that long, glossy dark hair of his and pulling his head back. Keeping one hand on his hip, I gave him some deep, steady thrusts. It was kind of sweet how quickly he came. He turned to look at me as it happened, his eyes first fixing on my bouncing boobs, then meeting my own the moment his whole body began shuddering. I took him through what seemed to be a powerful orgasm, and I felt like the Queen of the World.

  I was putting a fresh condom on when he recovered enough to roll the big die. He needed a sixteen or higher to fuck me, and we all watched very closely. A four came up. I have to admit, I was half relieved and half disappointed. I was on a power trip, and didn’t want to relinquish a fraction of it. Still, there was something sweet and sexy about this quiet, skinny guy.

  Enjoying being the center of attention again, I picked up the twelve-sided die. “Now you’re 1 to 6,” I said to Flora, “and you’re 7 to 12,” I finished for Dave. It came up five.

  Flora closed her eyes, sighed softly and began to remove her clothing. She was all curves, and under her baggy sweatshirt were surprisingly large breasts.

  “Look at me, Flora,” I said, standing in front of her. My panties were wet now, but I left them on. I flexed some muscle. Cheerleading can be quite demanding, and I was strong. I reached down and stroked my dildo, putting on a show.

  “How—how do you want me,” Flora whispered. I had a startling thought. We were all juniors or seniors in college, but was this girl a virgin? Oh, my God—I didn’t want to take her virginity this way. Did I? Power trip or not, waves of conflicting emotion ran through me. I stepped right up to her and whispered in her ear.

  “You’re not a virgin, are you?” I asked. I put my ear to her lips.

  “N-no,” she whispered back. “At least, not in my—my pussy.”

  For some reason, the difficulty she had saying the word made me want to make sweet, gentle love to her. I stepped back. “Bedroom,” I said.

  Dave went in first, clearing the bed off. Gabriel followed. I knew they wanted to watch, I wanted them to watch, and I think Flora did to. She had watched me fuck Gabriel intently enough.

  I grabbed her hand and led her to the bed. “On your back,” I said, and she settled down. “Open your legs,” I said, still standing. She opened them, quite wide, her eyes never leaving mine. I knelt on the bed and touched her—there would be no need for the lube. Moving into position, I opened her gently with my fingers and she groaned.

  I took her like my best lovers had taken me, with a mix of tender compassion and animal lust. Our skin got warm, then hot, and our fragrances mingled and filled the room. The boys were dead silent, fascinated, probably absorbing how to do it right. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I lifted Flora’s leg, positioned it so each of us was grinding the other’s clit, and I fucked her for all I was worth. Quiet little Math-Girl got remarkably loud, yelling and thrashing as if electrified. I let myself come, just a little, as she came big for the second time.

  We all walked back to the main room for the next roll. A good orgasm suited Flora well. Her skin was flushed and warm looking, her dark nipples erect. She had put her glasses back on, but didn’t bother with any of her clothing. Moving to the table, she picked up the twenty-sided die.

  She rolled an eighteen. Again, I had mixed feelings. Under different circumstances, I would be delighted to let her fuck me, but I really was in dominant mode. I didn’t have to think about it long though, because she asked, “Can I fuck Dave instead?”

  “What!” said Dave, his voice a bit hysterical. “No way!”

  Flora was looking from me to him, her face defiant. There was obviously something between these two. I wondered if he was abusing his power as dungeon master. Did she like him? Or was this her way of getting some payback? Whatever it was, I wanted to make it happen.

  “Sure,” I said. “You can take my turn.” Dave was shaking his head. “I’ll jerk you as she does it,” I offered. “C’mon, Dominus—two women? You can’t resist that.”

  He looked confused. “Well, yeah, but…”

  I grinned. “You won’t have to tell it exactly the way it happened,” I said, walking right in front of him. My nipples were stiffening. I was digging the idea of watching Flora fuck this guy. Dave’s eyes went straight to my breasts and he looked mesmerized.

  I unbuckled the harness and handed it to Flora. “A three-some with two babes in college,” I said huskily, thumbing my nipples. “You’ll be telling this story for decades.” Out of the corner of my eye I saw a grinning Raven helping Flora attach the dildo.

  Dave seemed paralyzed as I undid his jeans. “Well, yeah, but…” he whispered.

  “Drop ’em and lean over,” I said.

  I felt a different sort of power as I held him in place while Flora got behind him. I positioned him right against the table that their game was on—his upper body sprawled across the map. Flora yanked his underwear down just enough—his jeans stayed pooled around his feet. Raven, still grinning, squirted some lube onto the dildo for her. She guided it to Dave’s opening and he whimpered but kept still when I tightened my grip.

  Slowly, firmly, she pushed.

  “No,” he said, squirming. “It won’t fit. I can’t…”

  “Relax,” I told him. I was feeling very strong, and held him fast. “Don’t fight it. Push back, let her in.”

  He stopped moving, but his knuckles were white on the table. Flora kept pushing.

  Dave’s voice came in guttural gasps. “Careful—gently—slow—wait, oh, Christ,” he said as she moved deeper and deeper.

  When her hips met his ass, she stopped and said, “Who’s the master now?”

  “Shut up,” he said, but I could see him stiffening. He changed position a bit, settling more of his weight onto the table. He moaned as she began to withdraw, but was silent as she thrust back in. Slowly, Flora picked up the pace.

  It wasn’t long before she was really going for it. Her eyes were intense, and she had him by the hips now, pumping hard. From his expression, he was lost somewhere in the foggy land between pain, pleasure and shame, and not sure how to get out. Little wizards and elves were bouncing onto the floor from the cluttered table. I squeezed some of the lube into my hand and reached underneath the two of them, finding his half-erect cock.


  I got the rhythm pretty quick, matching my strokes to Flora’s thrusts. In my fingers, Dominus Dave got harder and harder—I slowed down when I realized he was going to come.

  Dave didn’t look so pained or shamed anymore—he just looked blissed out. I put one hand on Flora’s ass, stopping her. Moving the other slowly over his dick, I said, “Tell her you want it.”

  He shook his head and I squeezed, grinning as I watched Flora lick her lips. There was a sheen of sweat on her face, and her chest was flushed from the effort, but she held still.

  “Tell her,” I said, “and we’ll finish you.” To make the point, I ran my slippery fingers down the length of him, and there was considerable length now that she had stopped—he was huge and throbbing. I moved the other hand between Flora’s cheeks and pressed a finger into her sopping folds. She twitched, and Dave moaned.

  “I want it,” he said, his voice husky.

  Flora let out a low growl, grabbed his hips firmly and began to thrust. Like a traffic cop in a busy intersection, I kept a hand on each of them, directing the action. Dave came first, spurting all over the floor before collapsing onto the table. I moved behind Flora and stuck two fingers into her. She ground her clit against the base of the dildo as she fucked Dave, who had become completely passive and was making soft O sounds with each thrust. When I bent my fingers just the right way Flora came, shuddering down across Dave’s back.

  I stepped back to survey my handiwork. Their game table was leaning precariously underneath them, and there were books, figurines, dice and bits of paper everywhere. The room smelled of fresh sweat and a whole lot of passionate body fluids. I was very pleased with my contribution to their fantasy world.

  I heard Gabriel step up beside me. “Awesome,” he said, and I nodded happily. When he had recovered enough to stand, Dave ended up rolling a nine, but didn’t seem to mind.

  Does power corrupt? It turned out a hot cheerleader with the right attitude could do amazing things to a group of lesser mortals. I left that gathering feeling quite impressed with myself. Of course, neither cheerleading nor youthful beauty last forever, and I learned a whole lot more sobering life lessons shortly after I graduated. Still, that was a hell of a time.

  I was an active woman, I still am, so I never did get into fantasy-role-playing games, at least not the kind with dice and dungeon masters. But good sex can be more powerful than a cheerleader even, and my little power trip ended up having quite an impact. More than twenty years later I’m still having good sex with Raven, though his long hair is long gone and I call him Gabriel, or dear, or Dad if the kids are in the room. We still get together with Flora and Dave, usually for dinner and a game of cards. Just the cards, no hanky-panky.

  Sometimes, when the game is going my way, I’ll catch all three of them looking at me, their eyes distant. I like to think they’re remembering me wearing only a dildo and a pair of wet panties, rolling their colorful dice to see who’s next.

  A Taste for Treasure

  T.C. Calligari

  There once was a tailor whose only treasures were his three sons and the nanny goat that had been his long-dead wife’s. The goat was fed well because it supplied the family with milk.

  The eldest son, a tall lad with raven-dark hair often took the goat to pasture. James was known for his good-humored tricks and many called him Jimbo. One day Jimbo and the goat strolled to a meadow ringed with daisies, and air so crisp it nearly chimed. After grazing all day, Jimbo gathered his crook and the goat, saying, “Well, goat, have you fed enough?”

  The goat answered, “Enough, enough, I’m very well stuffed. Meh, meh,” and shook its silvery head.

  James looked for one of his brothers pulling a trick, but when he found none he led the goat home.

  When they arrived, his father looked up. “Well, son, has the goat fed well?”

  James smiled. “Indeed, Father, she has.”

  The tailor smiled at his goat, their white beards nearly matching. “Ah, goat, you have fed well.”

  The goat gave a little leap, replying with its gravelly voice, “I am not stuffed. The leaves and grass were far too rough. Meh, meh…”

  The tailor glared at James and grabbed up a willow switch. “Liar!” he roared. “You would let her starve.” In a rage, he beat his son and drove him from the house.

  The next day, the second son, a stout lad with auburn hair and eyes that mirrored a placid lake, took the goat to feed. Jon strolled, never one to hurry, and eventually spied the same lovely meadow with the daisy circle. He led the goat within and took a long nap.

  But on return, the enchanted goat proved to be as ornery and the tailor drove his second son from his home.

  The next day, quite alone, the youngest son led the goat in search of a verdant pasture. Eric had hair as bright as a coin. Where the girls had teased Jimbo and laughed at Jon, they shyly eyed Eric for he was broad shouldered with green eyes that flared like emeralds and shards of topaz.

  He led the goat to the same enchanted glade and watched astutely. But it was as before and Eric, too, was ousted from his home.

  Jimbo traveled far and wide, taking work with a carpenter. When he was done with his apprenticeship, his master gave him a magic stick.

  Jon wandered a few long miles and took work with a rancher, herding cattle and horses and learning their care. When he left, the rancher gave him a magic riding crop.

  Eric traveled the farthest of all three, meeting a wiry, gray-haired tinker along the way who taught him to repair items from pots to wheels, to whittle wood, sing and play, spot a good deal from a dishonest one and many other tidbits of knowledge. When Eric reluctantly left, the tinker patted his shoulder and said, “Most of the treasures you need are in your head. But I’ll give you this enchanted cot, for it may serve you well along the road.”

  Many folk compared Lorilei to fire. Her luxuriant coils of hair caught the russet and burnished gold tones of autumn and held them. Lorilei was a season, when the best of summer’s abundance is still evident, colors growing rich and deep, bleeding together, with a hint of change hidden beneath the firmament. Any weary wayfarer sitting in her inn perked up at the scents of cinnamon and apples that seemed as much a part of her as her rich laugh. Her azure eyes reflected the nearby alpine lake, and a spray of red freckles over her nose and cheeks gave her impish charm. Many a man eyed the sensuous sweep of her hips and luscious bosom, commenting that she was meant to be loved.

  Those few who knew her for more than an innkeeper saw her as far more than fire. Flame is one element, a simple dimension in itself, but Lorilei was like the earth. At times she became as tumultuous as a volcano or as unsettling as an earthquake. Yet she could be as gentle as the tender shoot lifting its head to the sun.

  Traffic steadily crossed the little inn between two mountain passes. Lorilei had her pick of lovers, and had once even bedded a prince, curious to see how he compared to shepherds and farmers. When it came down to sweat and flesh there was little difference. He had pleaded with her to be his princess or at least his mistress, but Lorilei knew she was better suited to the country than a court built on coyness and demeanor. She loved hearing news from travelers passing through her small domain.

  Beyond all else, Lorilei loved magic. The rarest of treasures, it was elusive in a world where few still believed and fewer found it. Her charms fulfilled most men’s desires and were so memorable that with little coaxing she often gained enchanted items.

  She possessed a carved ruby bird that sang in sunlight, a fan that whisked soft breezes when commanded, a magic pillow always scented with fresh-cut lavender and an enchanted rooster crowing only at the hour she wished. There were other small trinkets: a peculiar painting of a mermaid that was always wet in the morning, and one or two pieces of unknown use. Lorilei pulled them out from time to time, to gaze upon their mysteries. She grew quiet and introspective when magic became scarce and even the most handsome man might go unnoticed.

  One day, Lorilei washed the linens, hummin
g as swallows swooped over the inn. She saw a young man striding up the path, carrying a small pack. He bowed gallantly when he saw her, his sensual mouth holding a smile that reflected a humorous glint in his eyes.

  “Greetings, fair lady,” said Jimbo, brushing back the wings of his black hair. “I am on my way to visit my father and need a room for the night.”

  Like a bloodhound, Lorilei sniffed the air, sensing something different, and replied, “Come right in. I’ll fix dinner soon and you can tell me of your adventures. Two ales on the house if you do.”

  In no time Jimbo settled in at a table with a few locals in the lanterns’ golden glow. His tales had everyone laughing or giving him a friendly slap on the back. Then Lorilei quivered, alert as a hare under an eagle’s glare, when Jimbo said, “When I took my leave of the carpenter, he gave me a magic stick and told me to say, ‘Stick, stick, show me your tricks.’ I’ve tried it and although the stick takes on an interesting texture and shape, I find little use for it.”

  Lorilei passed around some free ale, and when the last local staggered home, she closed up and was upstairs before Jimbo made it back from the privy.

  Using her master key, Lorilei quietly slipped into Jimbo’s room, leaving a small lamp burning by his bed. She quickly unlaced her emerald corset, pulling it, her skirt, blouse and chemise off. She draped herself over the sheets where the light’s amber tongue licked along her curves.

  Presently, Jimbo stumbled into the room, singing haphazardly, his hair mussed into curls. He was half-undressed, his shirt in his hands when he noticed Lorilei in his bed. “One of us has the wrong room,” he slurred.

  Lorilei smiled, running a hand over her hip. “There are rare occasions that I like to give my customers preferential treatment.”