Fifty Shades of Alice in Wonderland

by Melinda DuCham

  She closed her eyes for a moment, imagined Lewis’s weight on top of her, kissing her neck softly, his hands cupping her bare breasts, wrapping her legs around him as the tip of his—

  “Who are you?”

  Surprised, Alice let out a gasp as she opened her eyes and saw a man staring down at her from one of the mushrooms. He straddled it like a biker astride a motorcycle, and indeed he looked the type. Black leather pants. Black boots. A black leather vest over a bare chest. Several days’ worth of beard on his face.

  His voice was foreign—some sort of European accent— and Alice guessed English wasn’t his first language. His arms were muscled, and Alice noticed a tattoo on his shoulder, something that looked like a letter of the alphabet but upon squinting Alice realized was a caterpillar.

  “I’m, um, Alice.”

  The man didn’t reply. His dark hair was short, untamed, and he had the deepest green eyes Alice had ever seen. He glared at her like a lion glared at a gazelle. Even more self-conscious about her nudity, Alice lifted her arm across her breasts, tucked her knees together, and bent over to shield herself from his gaze.

  “I am Pilar,” he said, pronouncing it Pee-larr and rolling the r at the end. Alice figured he might be Portuguese. “Why are you in my mushroom field, Alice?”

  “I’m lost,” Alice said, close to sobbing. “Will you help me?”

  “Stand up straight,” Pilar ordered. Though he said it softly, Alice sensed the steel in his voice.

  “I’m naked,” Alice said, though she realized it was a silly thing to say. He obviously knew that already.

  “If you need my help, Alice, we need to trust one another. One way to build trust is for you to do as I say. How do I know you aren’t a poacher, in my field to steal my mushrooms?”

  “But I’m not,” Alice said.

  “Then stand up straight so I may see you aren’t hiding any poaching equipment.”

  Fighting embarrassment, Alice forced herself to straighten to her full height. She watched as Pilar swung his leg over the mushroom and dropped to the ground. He walked to her slowly, leisurely, the barest hint of a smile on his lips, and stopped when he was just a few feet in front of her.

  “Put your hands at your sides,” Pilar said.

  “But you can see I’m not holding anything.”

  “I see nothing of the sort. You could be hiding all kinds of things.”

  Alice wondered if she should run away. But to where? Back into the dark, scary woods? Into the field of mushrooms that Pilar claimed were his? Though Pilar seemed a bit strange, and rather intense, he hadn’t done anything that made Alice believe he would hurt her. Maybe he was telling the truth, and he just wanted to make sure she wasn’t a mushroom poacher.

  Alice dropped the arm from her breasts, feeling her face flush with shame.

  “You are beautiful, Alice,” Pilar said.

  She blushed even harder. “Thank you.”

  “Please remove your other hand.”

  “But I’m surely not hiding anything in there,” Alice proclaimed.

  Pilar stared at her. “As you wish,” he said. Then he turned and began to walk away.

  “Hey!” she called after him. “Please don’t leave me!”

  Pilar soon blended into the mushrooms, and Alice realized the fear of being lost and alone was far worse than the embarrassment of a stranger seeing her naked. So she hurried after him, running through the mushroom field, catching up just as he opened the door to a small, wooden shack with mushrooms sprouting on the flat roof.

  “Pilar! Please wait!”

  He had left the door open, and Alice took that as an invitation and hurried inside the cabin. The interior surprised Alice, because unlike Pilar’s rough exterior, this was pleasant, almost cozy. A fire crackled in a cast iron stove, where a pot of tea brewed, filling the air with the scent of peppermint. A large rocking chair, with a red blanket across the back, sat in the corner. Oil lamps on the walls cast a soft, orange glow over everything.

  As Alice was looking around, someone stepped from behind the door and grabbed her shoulders, giving her a terrible shock.

  “Why are you in my house?” Pilar demanded, his soft voice loud and firm.

  “I… uh… you left the door open… and I thought—”

  “I did not invite you in my house. You have no right to be here.”

  “I’m sorry. I’ll go.”

  He leaned in close, his face inches from hers. “Did you steal anything?” he asked, his breath smelling like peppermint tea.

  “What? No! Of course not! I just walked in a second ago!”

  “I do not trust you, Alice. How can I believe someone I cannot trust?”

  “But you must believe me! I’m not hiding anything!”

  “I should call the police. They have ways of dealing with liars and thieves.”

  Alice realized she’d never been this close to a man before, other than Lewis. Pilar was near enough to kiss her. She stared at his mouth, his cruel lips, unable to turn away. The damned throbbing between her legs was becoming unbearable, and without thinking she quickly pressed her mouth to Pilar’s, wanting more than anything to feel his tongue in her mouth.

  Pilar quickly pulled away. “What are you doing?”

  “I… uh…”

  “I did not give you permission to kiss me.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s just, I drank this potion earlier, and it is making me crazy.”

  Pilar raised an eyebrow. “A potion? Was it blue?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did it say DRINK ME on the bottle?”

  “Yes. Yes it did.”

  “And you drank it?”

  “Yes.”

  “What sort of fool would drink a blue potion without knowing what it was?”

  Alice didn’t know how to respond. She felt like crying.

  “This potion, which is making you crazy…” Pilar’s voice had lost the rough edge, and now was soft as a summer breeze. “Do you want to stop the crazy feeling?”

  “Yes. Can you help me?”

  “I can. But you have to trust me. Do you trust me, Alice?”

  Pilar released her shoulders. Alice glanced at the door leading back into the mushroom field.

  “You can leave if you wish,” he said. “The choice is yours.”

  Looking up into Pilar’s deep, green eyes, she said, “Yes. I trust you.”

  “Come with me.”

  Taking Alice’s hand, he lead her through his cozy cabin to a large, iron door.

  “This is my Pink Room of Bunnies,” he said.

  “How adorable.”

  “I can get the potion out of you, but to do so, you must be restrained.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “I must tie you up, Alice. That is the only way.”

  Alice released Pilar’s hand, taking a step back. “I don’t know. I—”

  “Do you know what a safeword is?”

  Alice shook her head.

  “While you are restrained, if I do anything you don’t want, you say the safeword and I stop.”

  Alice lowered her voice and whispered, “What is the safeword?”

  “It can be anything you want.”

  Alice tried to think, but the throb between her legs was making it hard to concentrate.

  “Alice, the blue potion, if you don’t get it out of your system, you will go mad. You could even die from it.”

  “Die?”

  Pilar nodded solemnly. “Unless you have release, it could make your loins explode.”

  “Gosh,” Alice said, shuddering in fear. “I don’t want that.”

  “Perhaps you should have considered it before gulping down some strange, foreign liquid. That was pretty damn stupid.”

  “Do loins explode a lot?”

  Pilar looked pained. “All the time.”

  Alice took another glance at the door, then looked at Pilar’s tattoo on his shoulder.

  “Caterpillar,” she said.

  “Yes?�
�

  “Yes what?”

  “You called me?”

  “I did?”

  “That’s my name. Pilar is short for Caterpillar.”

  “Oh. That’s an odd name.”

  “My parents liked insects.”

  “It’s still odd.”

  “You should meet my sister, Dung Beetle.”

  Alice made her decision. “I want to use Caterpillar as my safeword.”

  Pilar’s green eyes twinkled. “Excellent. Into the Pink Room of Bunnies, then.”

  He held open the heavy door and Alice was shocked by what she saw. It was a dungeon.

  Shackles and chains hung from the rafters. There was a table with leather straps on it, and a wooden wheel on the wall where a person could be bound and spun around. A steel cage was in the corner, and there was a collection of canes, riding crops, and whips on the wall. Looking at them made Alice feel queer and peculiar.

  There were no bunnies at all. And it certainly wasn’t pink.

  “Caterpillar!” Alice immediately blurted.

  “Yes?”

  “That’s my safeword. I want to quit.”

  “Why? We haven’t even begun.”

  “You mean to beat me with those whips and rods,” Alice said, pointing.

  “I hadn’t planned on it. Do you want me too?”

  “Why on earth would I want you to?”

  “Some people enjoy it.”

  Alice had never heard of such a thing. “You’re making that up.”

  “Not at all. See that strange-looking table there?”

  He pointed to something that resembled a small church pew, covered in padded leather. Alice had no idea what it was, but the sight of it made her uneasy.

  “What is it?”

  “That’s a spanking table. One kneels on it and bends over, and the straps hold them in place so they may be thoroughly spanked.”

  Alice was flabbergasted such a thing existed.”Why?”

  “Some people are naughty, and need to be disciplined.” Pilar stood next to Alice, snaking an arm around her waist, pulling her so close she pressed into him. “Have you ever been naughty, Alice?”

  Alice couldn’t quite find her voice. Her pelvis was tight against Pilar’s, and she could feel his bulge. She tried to squirm away, but he held her fast, and all Alice succeeded in doing was rubbing against it.

  “What do you mean?” she whispered.

  “Naughty girls should be punished. Tell me you’ve been naughty, and I’ll take you over my knee and slap your bare bottom right now.”

  Alice stopped trying to pull away. The potion was too powerful, the feeling building within her too good. She rubbed her hard nipples across Pilar’s rough leather vest, and tried to grind her hips against him.

  “Yes,” Pilar said. “You are naughty, aren’t you? Perhaps you need a spanking. Something like this.”

  Pilar brought his hand down on Alice’s naked posterior, and the loud slap was almost as startling as the contact. After a brief sting, her bottom began to warm up where he’d smacked it.

  Alice squeezed her eyes shut. She’d never felt like this before. This man, this complete stranger, had just struck her. She should go to the authorities, hire a lawyer, file charges. But instead, her whole body began to tingle, and though she hated herself for how she felt, Alice wanted more than anything for him to smack her again.

  “I… I am naughty,” she managed.

  Pilar rubbed the area he’d punished, and then moved his strong, thick fingers lower, between her legs. Alice gasped. No one had ever touched her there before. When she and Lewis made love, he just stuck it in quickly. And Alice had never touched herself. She believed those parts of her were dirty and strange, and treated them as if they belonged to another person.

  But Pilar did more than just touch. His index finger lightly stroked her from beneath, first the left side, then the right. She wondered if he had put something on his hand because it was so slick, and then she realized with utter shame it was her own juices.

  “Pilar…”

  His other hand came down suddenly, smacking her bottom again, and Alice gasped and her eyes and mouth opened wide. The mixed sensations were extraordinary. The tenderness of his fingers, the firm cruelty of his palm, combining together to make her writhe against her own will.

  Then Pilar’s finger began to slowly enter her.

  “I knew you were naughty, Alice.”

  “Yes,” she gasped as he penetrated deeper. “I am naughty.”

  “Do you want to know what I do to naughty girls?”

  “Oh, yes… Caterpillar.”

  Alice was abruptly released, so fast her legs couldn’t support her and she fell onto the floor. She looked up at Pilar, confused and ready to cry.

  “What is it? Did I do something?”

  “You said the safeword,” Pilar said. “So I stopped.”

  “What? No! I just… it’s your name, I was just calling your name.”

  Pilar’s face brightened. “Ah. I understand. So shall I spank you? I can place you in the stocks and whip your butt and thighs with a crop.”

  Alice couldn’t help but stare at the wooden stocks. She instantly imagined herself bent over, her head and hands trapped, Pilar behind her with a leather riding crop, punishing her bare flesh.

  An abhorrent, repellant image. So why did it make her quiver so? Why did she want to try it?

  “Never mind,” Pilar said. “That appears to be too advanced for you. We’ll begin with something easier. Stand up.”

  Alice waited for him to offer his hand, but he simply stood there. She slowly got to her feet.

  “Walk over to the wheel.”

  Alice glanced at the large, wooden wheel, braced against the wall like a giant clock. It frightened her, made her legs weak to the point where she thought she would fall again.

  “Walk to it.”

  Alice did, each step like walking through thick molasses. When Alice reached it, she saw the four thick leather straps on the edges, made to hold a person spread-eagle. In the center was an even thicker belt, meant to cinch around the victim’s waist.

  Alice trembled, her whole body shaking.

  “Lean against the wheel,” Pilar ordered.

  “I… I don’t…”

  Suddenly Pilar was behind her, one hand clutching her breasts, the other pressed to her belly.

  “This is for your own good, Alice,” he said, his fingers descending. “I’m doing it to help you. Do you understand?”

  “Uh…”

  Once again his finger entered her. But this time he began to move it in and out, like Lewis when they made love. But unlike Lewis, Pilar didn’t seem to be in a race to the finish. He moved slowly, luxuriously, until she wanted to beg him to move faster.

  “Lean against the wheel.”

  “Uh… uh…”

  “Alice.”

  “Okay… okay…”

  And the next thing Alice knew she was backed up against the terrible wheel and Pilar was strapping her into place. First her waist. Then her hands. Then her left foot. As he knelt down, stretching out her right foot, spreading her legs, Alice tensed up and began to resist. Pilar’s head was only inches away from her most private parts, and Alice felt shame like she’d never felt before.

  How could she have gotten to this point? A complete stranger, strapping her to a giant wheel? Even more embarrassing, her hips seemed to have developed a mind of their own, and they heaved forward toward Pilar as if trying to touch him.

  Then, suddenly, her other ankle was bound, and Alice had never been so exposed in her life.

  “Try to get away,” Pilar said.

  She strained. She pulled. But the wicked straps were tight, and she couldn’t close her legs, couldn’t get free. Alice was bound there, spread open before a man she barely knew, revealing parts of her even her doctor had never seen. Alice fought tears, a blush creeping up over her whole body, her sore bottom pressed against the rough wood of the wheel. This couldn
’t possibly get worse.

  Then it did. Pilar went to a cabinet and withdrew a length of white rope.

  “This is silk bondage rope I received after training with a nawashi in Japan. I am going to tie it around your knees and thighs to restrict your pelvic movement and spread you wider.”

  “Please, don’t. I beg of you.”

  But Pilar didn’t listen. He looped the rope around her right knee and up her thigh, then cruelly pulled it back against the wheel and tied it off. Pilar repeated the procedure with the left leg, the rope so tight it forced her pelvis forward. Alice tried to struggle, but it was no use. She had lost all ability to move her lower regions, except for the tiniest of circles.

  Pilar was so close she could feel his hot, peppermint breath on her. She chanced a humiliated look down, and could see his lips were almost touching her hair down there.

  “This won’t do,” Pilar said. “I can’t see what I’m doing. I must shave you.”

  “No! Please don’t, Pilar. Untie me at once.”

  But Pilar was back to his cabinet, and when he returned it was with a safety razor, a bowl, and a brush.

  He spent a moment twirling the brush in the soap bowl, making a lather. The brush had round, bushy bristles, and when it was sufficiently covered with foam he began to spread it on Alice.

  The lather was warm and smelled of sandalwood, and when it touched her she gasped at the sensation. It felt like washing, but not. When she washed herself down there, Alice used a soapy rag and was quick and businesslike. Pilar was gentler, slower. Alice felt as if he was dragging the process out, stroking her left and then right. Up, then down. Sometimes he missed the hair completely, going lower. Alice began to get lost in the rhythm. She closed her eyes, flexing her hips, trying to press into him. But just as she was ready to beg him to put a finger inside her again, Pilar withdrew the brush and began to shave her.

  Unlike the gentle rhythm of the brush strokes, the razor was cold, stiff, and unyielding. The pleasant sensations were replaced by panic. What if he cuts me by accident? And even worse, what will I look like when he finishes? A few deft strokes later, and Pilar was done. He brought a pitcher of warm water, pouring it over Alice, washing away the remaining hair and lather, leaving her as naked and vulnerable as the day she was born.