Fifty Shades of Alice at the Hellfire Club (3 page)

When her hips were suitably secured, the captain once again tickled her nether regions with his beard. It was such a light, soft touch, Alice could barely feel it. But each stroke of his whiskers heightened her sensitivity a fraction. She squeezed her eyes closed and tried to focus on his beard, on it gently brushing her engorged clit, back and forth.

Just a little more, and I’ll come. Just a little bit more and…

The captain moved his beard away.

Alice clenched her fists and yelled. “No! You… you scoundrel!”

Blackbeard laughed, hard enough for his whole body to shake.

“So this is how you punish me? By making it even worse?”

Queequeg rubbed the bulge in his pants. “I seen the captain do this to one lass for two whole days without letting her come. Poor thing was in tears by the end of it.”

“That’s inhuman!”

Blackbeard stroked his facial hair, slick with her juices. “It’s called edging, dear Alice. Bringing you close, then stopping. It’s a form of orgasm denial, and it’s what will be done to your poor husband. What’s good for the gander is good for the goose. He’s to be edged until his balls ache.”

Alice felt a pang of pity for Lewis, but then the beard was back, brushing against her as soft as a spider’s web. She fought against the ropes. All she needed was a tiny bit more pressure. His lips or tongue on her. Even his chin. Something to rub against so she could relieve the insufferable heat.

But Blackbeard simply continued to stroke, back and forth, up and down, light as a feather. She had never felt so close to coming, but the brute knew just when to stop before allowing it.

“Bet you wish you still had that rabbit,” Queequeg said.

Alice’s voice was dry and cracked but she said, “Please. I have money.”

“And what do you mean to pay us for?’ Stroke stroke stroke.

“Lick me.”

Stroke stroke. “Lick you where?”

“Between my legs.”

“Call me crude, but I prefer it when women talk dirty.”

“My pussy.” Alice blurted out, feeling both emboldened and ashamed by the vulgarity. “Lick my pussy. I’ll pay you to lick my pussy.”

Stroke stroke stroke. “I could lick you and put a finger inside at the same time.”

“Yes… oh yes… finger fuck me while licking my pussy.”

“And maybe you’d like Queequeg to put his cock in your mouth.” Stroke stroke.

Alice remembered the feel of his stiff member against her toes. The thought of him in her mouth while the captain licked and fingered was so exciting it brought Alice to the very brink of orgasm. “Yes! I want to suck his cock. I want to suck both of your cocks until you come all over my tits.”

She wasn’t sure where the idea came from, perhaps faded memories of another adventure, but as the words left her lips, she realized that was exactly what she wanted. She wanted it so badly, she was panting.

“Admit you’re a horny little slut.”

“Yes,” Alice gasped, the words arousing her even more. “Yes, I’m a horny little slut.”

“Well, do you know what horny little sluts like you get?”

Alice knew. And she craved it.

“Horny sluts like me get fucked,” she said. “Please fuck me. Both of you at once.”

“Actually… what you get is this.”

Stroke stroke stroke stroke.

Alice screamed in rage and frustration. The two pirates laughed at her agony, and the damnable beard continued to tease her. She was almost ready to die of sexual frustration when the carriage door opened.

The trio looked up to see Madame Bovary, being helped into the carriage by a gentleman companion. The Madame wore a fashionable petticoat dress with ruffles, a black hat, and black, high heeled boots. The fellow wore a tailored black suit. He was swarthy, handsome, perhaps with some gypsy blood in him, and he had a glint in his eye that was either mischievous or cruel.

“Has she come yet?” Madame Bovary asked, looking directly at Alice.

“No, Madame.”

“And her husband?”

“Still asleep.”

Madame Bovary hiked up her dress and squatted next to Alice. The woman wore no undergarments, and was shaved down there.

“You’re suffering now, Alice, pleading for release, aren’t you?” she asked.

Alice nodded and stared at the woman’s uncovered femininity, which somehow aroused her even more. “Yes. Please help me. I beg you.”

“I know how you must feel. The longing. The lusting. Blackbeard certainly knows how to edge. He’s so good at orgasm denial it is practically criminal.”

Blackbeard tipped his hat. “I could continue for a few more hours, if Madame desires.”

“No!” Alice begged. “The contract I signed, it says I’m not to be denied my pleasure.”

“I know. It’s your husband who is to be edged and denied. I’ll be orchestrating that. But you’ve consigned yourself to something even crueler.”

“Nothing can be crueler,” Alice said biting her lower lip and shivering as Blackbeard resumed his incessant stroking.

Madame Bovary glanced up at the handsome man whose black eyes were roaming Alice’s naked breasts. “This is Mr. Heathcliff. He is one of our experts here at the Hellfire Club. He specializes in orgasm torture.”

Heathcliff squatted next to Madame Bovary and smiled pleasantly at Alice. “I’m going to make you come, over and over again.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Alice moaned.

“You would think so.” Heathcliff said mysteriously. “We’ll see how you feel after a full day. Release her, bring her to the Swing Room.”

Blackbeard finally stopped torturing Alice with his facial hair, and the pirates undid her bonds. Alice quickly reached for her special place to give herself release, but Heathcliff caught her wrists.

“Right now, all you can think about is coming. Very soon, you’ll be begging me to stop.”

Alice stuck out her chin, defiant. “I welcome that challenge.”

Heathcliff smiled. “We shall see. We shall see.”

The rafters in the Swing Room had all manner of hinges, ropes, and pulleys attached to them. Alice was strapped into a leather harness and she was hung two feet above the floor. It supported her weight comfortably, and her legs were in stirrups that kept them wide apart. Her wrists were fastened to the rope above her head.

“So beautiful. So defiant.” Heathcliff smiled. “I’m going to have fun breaking you. Taking you to wuthering heights.”

“Ugh.” Alice wasn’t sure what was worse, her unquenched lust, or the stuff that passed for humor in this story.

“Would you like some tea first? I have a special kind.”

“Let me guess,” Alice said. “Is it Bronte?”

“Three kinds, in fact.”

“Can we skip the terrible puns and get to the orgasm torture?” Alice demanded, trying to sound as defiant as he seemed to think she was. In truth, she was a little frightened. She’d been in a swing like this before, back in Wonderland, and the experience had been naughtily divine. But Heathcliff was so mysterious and sexy, that Alice wasn’t sure if being at his mercy was more on the frightening side or on the delicious side.

Alice settled on deliciously frightening.

“So are you going to make me come now?”

“So eager.” Heathcliff laughed and then knelt between her legs. “But within ten minutes, you’ll be begging me to stop. Pleading to rest and recover.”

She gave a little shiver, and clenched her bottom in anticipation. “What do you intend to do to me?”

“I’m going to start by eating you out, Alice. I have a particularly large tongue, and I’m quite good at using it. Many a lady in your current position has gone hoarse, screaming for mercy. No doubt you’ll soon wake your sleeping husband, and he’ll be able to watch your ordeal.”

The very thought of it was so electrifying that Alice almost came right then, but the mention of her husband made her curiosity pique. “Where is Lewis?”

“Just beyond that curtain,” Heathcliff indicated the partition hanging on the far side of the room. “Madame Bovary will be pleasuring him, but she won’t let him come.” 

“She won’t?” Alice remembered the exquisite torture of Blackbeard’s gray beard, and the orgasm that still eluded her. She’d signed the contract, but now the idea of putting Lewis through what she’d experienced felt cruel.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it? For Lewis to last longer? To consider your pleasure rather than selfishly caring only for his own?”

“Yes.” He had a point. She wanted their sex life to get better, didn’t she? And she was sure Lewis would want that, too. And when it came down to it, her arousal had engorged her nether regions and made her so wet that what pleasures awaited her were all she could really think about. She raised her feminine parts and tried to swing in Heathcliff’s direction. “That’s why I signed the contract. That, and the hundred orgasms I’ve been promised.”

Heathcliff laughed, deep and heartily. “Only a hundred?”

Alice pursed her lips. “You think me greedy?”

“Of course not. You deserve more than a hundred. And you’re about to get them.”

“More than a hundred?”

“Dear girl, you must not have read the contract’s fine print. You’ll be freed when you have a hundred orgasms, but only if your husband doesn’t come. If he does, your number is reset and you start over from zero. You might be here for weeks until he learns to control himself.”

Before Alice could overcome her shock at the pronouncement, Heathcliff buried his face between her legs. His tongue touched her swollen clitoris and hadn’t even begun to lick when Alice’s orgasm overwhelmed her.

She gasped and shuddered as she came, her whole body clenching in glorious release. It was one of the most powerful climaxes she’d ever experienced—no doubt because of all the previous edging—and after the contractions ended Alice felt herself on the verge of a second.

Heathcliff slathered her with a slow, fat lick, and another wave of sensation flooded her. It was even more intense, and he buried his long tongue inside her and held her buttocks, bouncing her on the swing as Alice cried out in ecstasy.

Weeks? Alice would gratefully stay here forever! Within a minute Heathcliff had eradicated years of mediocre marital sex. Hopefully he would teach Lewis his tricks so her husband would be equally adept with his mouth.

Alice let her head fall back as Heathcliff expertly went to work, bathing her privates with long, languid licks punctuated by short, stiff jabs inside her. It was so marvelous, so wonderful, that Alice wondered if it was all just a fantasy, because no woman could ever be so fulfilled.

A third orgasm shook Alice, leaving her out of breath.

It was amazing, wonderful, yet when the spasms subsided, she felt another need yawning deep inside, and more than anything, she wanted to be filled. “Make love to me, Heathcliff. Please. I need you inside me.”

Heathcliff didn’t answer. Nor did he strip off his clothes and fill her with his manhood. Instead, he merely continued to lick, his tongue seemingly insatiable. He pressed her hard against his mouth, focusing entirely on her clit, and a fourth climax overtook her.

Alice tried to close her legs—a reflex reaction because the multiple orgasms had made her sensitive down there. But the ropes and harness kept them wide open, and Heathcliff continued his oral assault.

She grunted, low in her throat. “I want… I want your… I want your cock…”

He coaxed another orgasm from her, and Alice shook in the ropes and tried to swing away from him. His probing, darting tongue had made her so sensitive that it was almost painful. She needed a minute or two to recover, to reset.

But Heathcliff gave her no mercy. If anything, his ravenous tongue increased in speed, forcing Alice to come once again, even though she required a rest.

“Please,” Alice said, trying to squirm away from his probing mouth. “I’m too sensitive. I need a moment.”

“Five down, ninety-five to go,” Heathcliff said between licks.

“I can’t… I…”

Once again, an orgasm crashed through Alice, gripping her whole body. Alice screamed again, Heathcliff forcing it out of her even though she fought against her bonds and his tongue.

It was both delirious pleasure and merciless torture at the same time. Alice no longer had any control over her body. It was as if she was an instrument Heathcliff was sadistically playing. He would make her come, she would beg for rest and try to get away, his licking painful on her sensitive bud, but he would keep at it until the pain became intense ecstasy once again.

“Too much… it’s too much…”

“We’ve only just begun.”

Alice squeezed her eyes shut. This
was
worse than the edging Blackbeard had made her endure. When orgasms were separated by a few seconds or minutes, Alice could have them all day long. But being made to come over and over again, without any respite, had turned orgasms into some kind of exquisite punishment. She didn’t think her body could handle any more stimulation, but Heathcliff wouldn’t let up. After she came, when her female parts were most tender, he would increase his speed and pressure, causing her body to clench and shake in an effort to get away from him.

But Alice couldn’t get away. She was his helpless prisoner, forced to endure climax after climax even as she pleaded for mercy.

“I can’t take anymore… I can’t… please…”

He took her sensitive clit in his mouth and sucked upon it, hard, while furiously assaulting it with his tongue.

“I beg you,” Alice begged, coming for the tenth time.

Heathcliff looked up at her, rubbing her sore, swollen clit with his thumb. “No mercy, dear Alice.”

“Don’t I have a safe word?” she moaned. “Something I can do to make this stop?”

“There are no safe words in the Swing Room, Alice. I will continue to force you to have orgasms until you reach a hundred, or until you pass out. How many have you had so far?”

“Eleven.”

“From now on, you’re to count them aloud.” He began to lick her again, with increased intensity. “Welcome to the Hellfire Club.”

Lewis awoke to the sound of a woman screaming, somewhere close by. A sound he knew intimately well.

Alice.

Even though his head was still fuzzy from sleep, he recognized this kind of screaming from earlier in their relationship, before their sex life had become perfunctory and routine. Alice was coming. Hard. And from the intensity of her cries, Lewis knew whomever was making her come was doing a very good job.