Fifty Shades of Alice Through the Looking Glass (Second Book of the 50 Shades of Alice Trilogy)

asked, looking at two naked women on the cover who appeared to be enjoying the activity.
    “Of course. But they’re shaped differently, so they don’t fall out. Sort of like an American football, with a base on the end so it doesn’t get lost. I think I’ve got the brand used in that video, if you’d like to see it.”
    Curiosity overcame Alice, and she nodded. The White Queen lead her past an aisle displaying various cuffs, restraints, hoods, whips, paddles, and chains, and to a whole wall of butt plugs. She selected a pink one, and held it out for Alice. It was roughly the size and shape of a lemon, with a flat base on one end.
    “That’s gigantic,” Alice said.
    “There are smaller models, for beginners. The anus is simply packed with sensitive nerve endings. Have you ever done any butt play?”
    Alice blushed. “Nothing quite so large.”
    “You think this is large? We have a lot bigger. In dildos as well. Take a look at this one.”
    The White Queen walked an aisle over, and picked up a box that held a dildo thicker than Alice’s arm.
    “That’s not a sex toy,” Alice said. “That’s a murder weapon.”
    “You’d be surprised how wide you can stretch when properly aroused.”
    Alice had been properly aroused countless times, but she didn’t think she’d ever be aroused enough to accommodate that abomination.
    “So you want a piercing?” the White Queen asked. “Where were you considering it?”
    “Um… well… the usual places, I suppose.”
    “And those are?”
    Alice fidgeted. Surely the White Queen knew. Why embarrass her by making her say it?
    “Alice, if you’re too embarrassed to say it, you probably shouldn’t get it done.”
    Oh. That’s why.
    “Well, my nipples,” Alice said softly. “And my… clitoris.”
    “Nipples! Excellent! A piercing will dramatically increase sensation. But clitoris? That’s so rare I’ve never actually done one. Very risky. Very precise. And that’s one part of the female anatomy that you don’t want to hurt or damage.”
    Alice frowned. “But, in the garden, I saw Daisy.”
    The White Queen nodded. “Ah, yes. That’s not a clit piercing. I do not recommend piercing the clitoris. Daisy has what is known as a
clitoral hood piercing
. She had a vertical bar inserted in the thin skin that covers her clit. It is the easiest, and quickest healing, of any genital piercing.” The White Queen leaned in closer like a conspirator sharing a valuable secret. “And the sensations are out of this world.”
    “Really?” Alice asked. “I don’t mean to be rude, but how can you know for sure, if you don’t have one?”
    “I have a clitoral hood piercing, a triangle piercing, a labia piercing, and a fourchette. But when my husband and I visit the Red Queen, I remove my jewelry, because she forbids it.”
    “She’s not a very nice person,” Alice said.
    “No. She’s a boring bitch.”
    “I thought you needed an open mind to become a queen,” Alice said.
    “That’s one way. The other way is to do what she did.”
    “What’s that?”
    The White Queen lowered her voice. “Defeat the Jabbercocky.”
    “I’ve heard of that, in a confusing poem. I—”
    “Please,” the White Queen said, holding up her palm. Her eyes brimmed with tears. “I don’t want to discuss the Jabbercocky, Alice. I had a terrible experience in the HDO, and don’t wish to recall it.”
    “I’m sorry,” Alice said. She was bursting with questions, but the White Queen seemed ready to sob.
    “It truly is a terrible place. I hope you are never sent there.” Then she brightened. “Now let’s get you up in the chair and poke some holes in you.”
    Alice had never liked needles, and while she’d felt rather confident on the walk over—wrong path and stinging nettles notwithstanding—the thought of having needles stuck into her most sensitive parts was quickly becoming a badder and badder idea. But rather than object, she obediently followed the White Queen past racks of lubricants, adult magazines, and love dolls ranging from cheap inflatable bachelor party gifts to full-sized models that looked more real than many of the people Alice went to college with. The piercing room was through a doorway draped with hanging beads, and there was a comfortable-looking leather recliner in the corner, next to a hanging print of a Georgia O’Keefe painting of a flower that looked more like something else. Upon closer inspection, Alice noticed someone had altered it; the