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

then hefted Alice up on his shoulder and walked into the Hall of Denied Orgasms. As he crossed the moat on the drawbridge and neared the entrance, Alice heard a cacophony of plaintive moans and groans coming from the castle. Sounds of sexual desperation. Begging, groaning, panting, and even some sobbing.
    Alice had to admit, terrified as she was, the sounds were pretty arousing.
    “Ah, listen to that,” Gnat said over the
clank clank clank
of his armored footfalls. “So much frustration. Remember our time in the orchard, Alice? The Jabbercocky is going to make that seem trivial. You’re going to be teased for so long, you’ll scarcely be human by the time it’s over. Just imagine it. Kept on the very threshold or climax, for eight full hours, without release.”
    “How about when the eight hours end?” Alice said.
    “Then you’ll come like crazy. I’m a sadist, Alice, not a monster. But even though it will undoubtedly be the biggest orgasm of your life, it won’t be worth all the torment leading up to it. The Jabbercock breaks even the most committed masochist and the most diehard submissive. Even those who ache for discipline and humiliation cannot withstand the Jabbercocky’s awesome power.”
    The cries became louder as they crossed the threshold. Alice craned her head up over Gnat’s shoulder to see, even though it frightened her to do so. She’d been expecting a dark, dank dungeon, with the suffering hanging on walls by chains, or in rusty iron cages. Instead, the hall was furnished quite tastefully in the Mediterranean style, lots of wood and earth tones, vases boasting lovely fresh bouquets of assorted flowers, soft lighting in the form of candles, oil lamps, and several skylights. It could have been a living room in a well-to-do home in Sicily.
    The accused were comfortably seated on chaise lounges, bound to them with matching leather cuffs and buckles. Alice counted seven unfortunates, each moaning and sweating and gyrating without relief as the Jabbercocky tormented their yearning genitals.
    The Jabbercocky also fit into the room’s decor, in a feng shui sort of way. It occupied the center of the round room, several meters high, surrounded by an assortment of potted ferns. Painted brown in color, this mechanical feat of wizardry was a clinking, whirling collection of gears and pistons and articulated machinations, with spiderlike arms that extended in all directions, attending to the torments of each of the bound victims. It also had a large smiley face painted on it, and under that a sign that read GOOD BEHAVIOR, WELL CHASTIZED.
    Gnat placed Alice on her feet and held her firmly around the waist from behind. She was aware of her naked bottom pressing against the metal codpiece of his suit of armor, and Alice fought a desire to rub her growing wetness up against him. If the sexual sounds of the punished weren’t arousing enough, the sight of them made her nipples tighten and her throat go dry.
    In the first chair, strapped and spread-eagled, was Rose, from the garden. One of the Jabbercock’s articulated arms had a buzzing vibrator on the end of it, and it alternated touching her pillowy breasts and the sensitive spot between her legs. Rose was bathed in sweat, straining against her bonds, saying to herself over and over “pleaseohpleaseohplease” while gyrating as much as her restraints allowed. But the Jabbercocky never stimulated her more than a few seconds before pulling away, as if it knew exactly how close she was to orgasm and wouldn’t allow it.
    “The Jabbercocky knows exactly how close she is to orgasm, but won’t allow it,” Gnat said. “The chair is monitoring her vitals. Pulse, heart rate, wetness, breathing, muscle contractions. As it stimulates her close to climax, it adjusts to pull away before she is allowed release.”
    “That’s horrible,” Alice said.
    “Yes. Isn’t it a turn on?”
    Alice refused to admit it was. But seeing Rose squirm, on the precipice of ecstasy, made Alice’s legs weak. She imagined herself in the chair, helpless in the throes of teasing, growing wetter and more crazed with each light touch of the vibrator.
    Seated next to Rose was Dodgson, from the park. The Jabbercock had an arm above his head, where a hanging mobile of women’s cha cha heels spun close to Dodgson’s upturned face. They were of various colors, some of the platform variety, others with plumes of ostrich feathers, others strappy stilettos.
    “The shoes have all been