his response around the gag.
“Can you read that back?” the Queen asked.
“Mmphhh-mmmbbaa,” repeated Cheshire.
“Your witness,” said the Queen to Pilar. “Ask your questions.”
“Oh, he doesn’t have to answer to me,” said Pilar.
“Prosecution?”
The Duchess shook her head, now busy using the baton on herself. “He doesn’t have to answer to me, either.”
The Queen focused on Alice. “They’re right, you know. There’s only one person he must answer to, and that’s you.”
“But I don’t-”
“Then I will sentence him immediately, and judging from the evidence I’ve seen, the sentence is death.”
“But isn’t that for the jury to decide?”
The Queen peered at the jury box. Hatter was busy riding Hare, and Hare had his mouth full of Maus.
“The jury seems preoccupied,” the Queen said. “Mock Turtle, for the crime of ignoring your partner’s needs, I sentence you to-”
“Wait!” Alice shouted. She couldn’t let Mock Turtle die, not when she might be able to save him. She didn’t have a clue how she would do that, but if there was anything Alice had learned in her time in Wonderland, it was that being timid never got her anywhere. It was time to be bold. “I have some questions for Mock Turtle, and before he is sentenced, he needs to answer to me.”
“Very well, Alice. Ask away.” And Alice thought she could detect a note of pride in the Queen’s voice.
Alice tried to remember all the courtroom shows she’d seen on TV, but she doubted much of what she’d seen would apply here. Best as she could recall, Matlock didn’t have a sex swing. And on Law and Order, the judge never wore latex. Alice hadn’t seen Boston Legal, but she’d heard good things.
Alice looked around the room, hoping for a bout of inspiration, and she noticed an odd chair with a tall back, short legs, and a round seat with a hole in the center. It almost looked like a toilet, but there didn’t appear to be any plumbing, and it had another odd hole in the front at the base, and leather straps on the sides with buckles on them.
The ideas popping into Alice’s mind were embarrassing, or at least they should have been. But instead of embarrassment, Alice felt a renewed tingle between her legs.
“What kind of chair is that?” she asked.
“It’s called a queening chair,” answered the Queen.
“Why is it called a queening chair?” Alice figured if anyone would know such things, it would be the Queen herself.
“Because it will make you feel like a queen,” came the answer. “The accused lies on his back, beneath the chair, with his head and hands secured in place. The seat has a hole in it, directly above the prone man’s face. When a woman sits upon it, the man has complete access to her. She could sit comfortably there for hours.”
Alice swallowed the large lump in her throat, and waited until the shiver had passed. “If it would please the court, I would like the defendant to be locked into place under the chair.”
The Queen smiled. “Oh, it would please the court, all right. Very much.”
Dick escorted Mock Turtle to the chair and directed him to lie on his back, his face staring up through the space where the chair’s seat should be. His ball gag was removed, and his neck locked in place. His wrists were cuffed on either side of the chair.
“You’ll require this,” the Queen said to Alice, handing her a stiff, black riding crop with a fat swatch of leather on the end. “If he doesn’t follow your orders, give him a little swat.”
Alice approached the queening chair, her legs shaking. She stared down at Turtle, his poor ribboned member stiff and turning an angry purple color, his eyes pleading up at her through the oval hole in the chair’s seat.
“I’m sorry,” he told Alice. “Forgive me.”
And she almost did, right there, and was just turning to ask the Queen for mercy when Turtle continued with, “I’ve even written a poem to express my remorse.”
The frown creased Alice’s face immediately, and before he could begin to recite she moved to the chair and settled her bottom. It was a curious sensation, because the opening in the seat relaxed Alice’s pelvic muscles, so everything down there hung low, like a ripe fruit ready to fall from the vine. Alice could feel Mock Turtle’s hot breath directly upon her. She stared down, seeing his chin between her legs, and adjusted her position Right onto his mouth.
Alice wanted to rub herself all over him, grind upon him, force him to deliver the pleasure he’d denied her earlier with his selfishness and his haste. But she controlled herself.
Control, Alice thought. Is that what this has been about all along? Controlling our own lives, and the pleasure we both give and receive.
“Lick me,” she ordered Mock Turtle.
He began in such earnestness it was as if he’d been waiting his whole life for someone to give him that command. His movements were so frantic, Alice felt as if he had two tongues. First he began beneath her, toward her bottom, and then penetrated her stiffly, making Alice clench the queening chair’s arms and dig in her nails. Turtle’s tongue drew upward, but to the side, missing her most sensitive spot. Then to the left, slow and soft. Then the right again, stopping to once again pierce her opening.
“Higher!” Alice yelled. And she used the riding crop to give him a flick on his stiff manhood.
He yelped, and then began to lap at her most sensitive spot, using his mouth and lips and taking her into his mouth and sucking gently.
“Order him to clean you all over,” the Queen said.
“Lower,” Alice said, once again using the crop, this time on his inner thigh.
Alice moved forward in the chair, capturing his flicking tongue with her backside, as Hare had done at the tea party. But rather than just one lick, Turtle seemed intent to devour Alice. If she’d ever thought that part of her was dirty, it wasn’t after Mock Turtle finished his warm, wet assault.
She smacked him again with the riding crop, not because he was doing anything wrong, but because Alice simply liked doing it. Once again she changed positions, giving him full access to her clitoris, ordering him to suck her as he had before.
And then Alice felt the wave begin to crest in her again, and she pressed herself down onto Turtle’s willing mouth, eyeing his stiff member, wanting it to fill the ache inside.
“You may get off the queening chair and use him as you wish,” the Queen said, reading her mind.
Alice stood up, immediately dropping to her knees, and spreading herself wide, she slid down Mock Turtle’s stiff manhood. She cried out, and the jury and the rest of the courtroom began to applaud. It was then that Alice not only forgave Mock Turtle, but also forgave Lewis for his inexperience and naivete.
“I have reached a verdict,” the Queen declared. “Mock Turtle, you have been sentenced to…”
The entire court held its collective breath.
“To be trained by Alice!” the Queen ordered. “You shall remain her sex slave until you learn how to satisfy her completely. Case dismissed!
Alice smiled happily at the Queen’s verdict as she furiously rode the Mock Turtle’s member, with its ribbon tied around the base so he would stay stiff as long as she desired. He moaned in appreciation.
“Thank you for saving my life, Alice,” he said between grunts. “All I needed was someone to teach me what to do.”
And when she looked down at his face through the hole in the queening chair, he was no longer Mock Turtle.
He was her boyfriend, Lewis.
Chapter 8
