Alice: Lustful Transformation

Alone in her childhood bedroom, Alice huddles under a worn blanket, buried by an endless stack of crime novels and heavy dramas. The slash wounds on her wrists are finally healing, wrapped up in silken bandages—a decorative way to hide the evidence of her deeply troubled state. It’s been months since the devastating breakup with her fiancé, or rather, the day she realized he wasn’t ever going to call again. His sudden proclamation of not being in love with her, of never loving her, even after so many years of Alice devoting herself to him and his controlling ways, was traumatic. Not as traumatic, however, as being incapable of ditching the hideous depression, self-loathing and dark desperateness shrouding her once dynamic nature. Alice’s mother, a strong, intuitive woman extremely concerned about her daughter sinking further into despair, comes to her bedside. Unable to watch Alice continue to suffer in self-pity, she tosses her books and lays out a few bold statements. Alice is to get out of bed, clean herself off, pack her bags and leave for her Grandmother’s estate by the afternoon. The invitation to join her Grandmother can’t be denied—Alice is long overdue for a visit and there is no one more suited to restore her sanity. Alice tries to argue but resistance is futile. Her mother always wins, and ultimately, she is never wrong.

The forever long drive to Grandmother’s estate was difficult—every mile more daunting than the last along the treacherous roads. Rolling down the window, the wind flies in with an aggressive burst, unleashing the bandage from her left wrist, sending it far and away. Estate in view, Alice straightens up, swallowing a whimper. Driving up to the front steps, she is greeted by an elderly caretaker with glee in his eyes. He is clearly a servant, but not weak, like a man who knows his place and honors it. Alice doesn't remember seeing him before, but she was much younger last she visited, and mostly hid behind her mother.

Escorted to Grandmother’s chambers, she enters meekly, seeing the mysterious figure, dressed in layers of black satin and silk. Alice cowers under the intensity of her Grandmother’s stare. Ordered to come closer, Alice obeys, needing love and acceptance. Her firm hand takes Alice’s arm, removing the remaining wrist bandage, and frowning at the scar. Grandmother sizes up the young woman, touching her face, waist, hips. She gives her shaking granddaughter a kiss on the cheek, then pats her head. With an alluring smile, she invites Alice out into the moonlight for a stroll in the vast gardens. Together they recount childhood memories. The two walk arm in arm, chatting about the lush flowers, plants, love, betrayal and attempted suicide. Grandmother's speech is hypnotic. Alice breathes in the intoxicating scent of the blooms, pouring out an unnaturally sexy aroma, making her light headed, as they enter a spiraling maze of sculpted shrubbery. What is the meaning of the jagged scars on Alice’s wrists? What has happened to the daring, fiery, inquisitive young girl that she remembers Alice being? How could a smart, beautiful woman let anyone bring her to suicide? 

Feeling dizzy, Alice can’t answer, sadness filling her gut. The maze narrows and darkens as Grandmother’s inquiry continues. Her female descendants will not be blemished by Alice’s lack of judgment. She must make amends for her weakness, and her spineless fall from ancestral strength. In Grandmother’s eyes, Alice has failed the generations of self-made women who hone their power. Alice looks up into her Grandmother’s stern face, wanting to go back. She is still recovering and can’t digest this emotional assault. But Grandmother will not be redirected as she knows the time has come for Alice to discover her soul. 

Before Alice can utter another word, she is suddenly flailing, having been kicked by the gold toe of Grandmother’s boot, sent directly down a mystical hole in the ground. Alice picks up speed, falling, screaming, and begging for Grandmother to save her, until she lands in an ugly, unfamiliar place. It’s cold, dank, and devoid of color with rusted chains hanging from the ceiling. They rattle and sway in her direction, bizarrely sensing her presence. Alice retracts into a ball, howling for her mother, scratching at the scabs on her wrists until they bleed.

A weird, gangly man in white diapers swoops her up and carries her beyond a steel door. He dumps her on a cement slab for inspection. The room is loaded with metal probes and vicious-looking machines. Alice trembles, disgustingly curious but terrified. She asks for an explanation, but the man could care less about her questions. He has a job to do, instantly pushing her down, and turning on the vibrating probes. Exploring every inch of her body, she gasps as he pushes a thick probe between her thighs, touching her sweetness. Alice unexpectedly smacks him. He retreats, shocked but liking her advance, moving on to the next thing of fitting her into one of the machines. 

Quickly he straps her up, hands and ankles tied together, with legs thrown over her head. Alice demands to be set free, but he continues, securing her nimble body into the awkward position. Her shirt rips, exposing an innocent, white bra. The man rubs her backside, hands moving toward her breasts, teasing her nipples before clamping a chain to them. Alice doesn’t like this, yelling at him to stop, but she can’t fight back. She endures his continued play, fighting the pleasurable sensations before being dragged out of the room. The man pulls the machine down a long hall, covered in exotic pictures of naked women and men in bondage. In a candlelit tomb he dumps her. Kicking and clawing, she unties herself, before punching the weirdo in the face. She runs for her life back down the hall, finding an exit.

Fleeing out into a foreign world, she views the visceral landscape of a twisted culture. Acts of public sex and lascivious gatherings are numerous and abundant. Clothes are clearly optional, and over-the-top physical activities rule. Swept up by a well-hung, portly gang of sextuplets, Alice unsuccessfully uses intellect for an out. A high-flying trickster wagging his dripping member around, sees Alice resisting the gang-bangers, and barges in for a rescue. Grateful, Alice thanks him, as he dangles his goods against her leg, placing her hand on it firmly. The poor wanna-be virgin looks like a hungry waif and must be fed. Recognizing she is not a native, he kindly escorts Alice to a happier place, one, he tells her, where she will be safe from this free-wheeling sex-capade. Without thought, she trusts his word, and in a stroke, Alice finds herself sitting on the lap of a humping rat and a mad, fondling maniac eating at a public picnic bench. The Trickster joins them, too, helping himself to cream-covered cupcakes. Sticking his fingers inside one, he then feeds them to Alice, insisting she suck them clean. Alice accepts the oral invasion, sliding her tongue along their length, before sinking her teeth into his thick skin. The three attempt to pin her down, not ready to dismiss her new orifices from the feeding frenzy, until a cascade of scalding, steeped herbs pour onto their exposed tools, scorching quirky appendages. She flees once more, heading further into unknown territory, seeking shelter behind the door of a dark structure, arriving inside the musky opening of a kinky pleasure dome.

Shrieking as a whip cracks from one side of the dungeon, Alice sees a beautiful woman adorned in sexy leather. She struts to her, cattails dangling at one side. Several strange creatures illuminate, watching anxiously, ready for a naughty show. They are the slaves of this woman, this wondrous Dominatrix, on their knees, grinning wildly. She inspects Alice's supple youth, her cuts and bruises, and the hollow sadness in her face. Alice quivers with fear as the Dominatrix’s mouth kisses hers. Slithering tongue invading, she cups her chin with spiked gloves. Alice spits in defiance, afraid of this woman, this place, and struggles in her grip. The Dominatrix orders her minions to applaud and show gratitude for Alice. They do, eagerly in support of this explicit event. Eyes darting around the chamber, Alice freaks, screaming for the applause to cease, wanting to be safely back in her bed. But the Dominatrix has other intentions, yanking Alice upright by her hair, looking deep into her soul, stripping her bra and panties off. She teases her gently with the whip, tickling her most private places. Teetering between lust and dread, Alice has no choice but to accept the lessons of torture and pain. The Dominatrix purrs into her ear, but Alice doesn’t want to listen. Whoever falls down the hole falls for a reason, she tells her. That reason is called destiny.

In a wicked flash, Alice’s legs are pulled apart by twitchy straps, oddly alive, followed by her arms. The Dominatrix commands her to speak and say the words, “Please give to me what I need most.” Too frightened to make a sound, Alice attempts to repeat the words of the Dominatrix, tears streaming down her dirty face. The silence is unbearable, watching the Dominatrix take a powerful stance behind her, before cracking the whip against Alice’s bare back. She repeats the strikes again and again, to the point where Alice can take no more. Pleased with the whip marks, she smiles softly as Alice fights burning pain, readying herself for the second attack. 

The lashings travel down to her hips and ass, returning up her back, and ending at her shoulders. Alice recoils but the instinctive straps pull her up. The Dominatrix gets in Alice’s face, studying her fear, kissing her again, sexily pulling off her gloves. This time Alice doesn’t spit, but swallows, lowering her glance. Crack, smack, whack! The whip executes its kinky purpose, turning Alice’s chest, arms, groin and legs dark red. Bracing herself for more, Alice stiffens, but it’s not the whip that lashes, rather the tender caresses of the Dominatrix's bare hands on her body, up her neck, then SMACK! 

Repeatedly across her face, Alice is slapped. Thrashing from side to side, the humiliation is beyond comprehension. Entire body throbbing, Alice calls up her last shred of subservience, but she’s suddenly freed from the straps. Her limp body falls to the ground. A whip rolls to her, and Alice seizes the chance for revenge with a fierce strength she didn’t know she had. Inspired by Alice’s tenacious posture, the Dominatrix agrees to a showdown. The mutual striking blazes into a wild round of Dominatrix against rising submissive. Alice’s pathetic attempts morph into instinctive, expert maneuvers. In an exchanging of blows, the two dance. The Dominatrix is excited by this change of direction. The wimpy little mess of a girl fights back with energy and seductive zest, making the Dominatrix strip down as well, beckoning Alice to lash her breasts in a full frontal, aggressive display. Alice obeys, whipping, lashing, unleashing her guttural emotions, spewing out pain, filling the void with sheer, salacious aggression. The Dominatrix bends over for Alice, demanding worship. Groin to ass, Alice gyrates with orgasmic build, loving the shared pleasure, and brings the Dominatrix to an ecstatic peak.

The minions are enticed by their brutal affections, watching as the women intertwine themselves—sucking, licking, fingering, loving—with an edgy, powerful rumble. The leader makes Alice an equal, and the dungeon shakes at this moment, causing the minions to flee for cover. The two lovers pant in bliss, but only for a moment. Taking back her command, the Dominatrix pushes past her new lover, but Alice doesn’t falter. Instead, she is prosaic, catching her breath, on guard and yet still vulnerable. The Dominatrix casts Alice out of her domain. Alice retrieves her clothes, and is sent back into the rude world outside. Hungry, thirsty, wild-eyed, and dripping with spent lust, she takes her first, solid steps down a very unfamiliar road.

The sun rises on the curious path. There is much to explore, but the sultry, commanding spirit awakened within her craves a different type of adventure. What she yearns for is to exercise her power. In the distance, she hears her name being called out: Alice, Alice! She heads for the patch of grass coming into view, growing more and more lush. Entering the hedged maze, she comes face to face with the man who broke her—the putrid ex-fiancé. Ignoring his lame excuses, she quickly makes her move, binding his limbs, shoving him to his knees, and ordering him to worship her feet. He does, feeling the shame for his past behavior. Satisfied with that, she dictates his kisses to move up her legs, paying attention to her thighs. She demands a show of great affection for the pretty, wet gift he so stupidly gave away. 

Pleased with his performance, she notes the most important thing. At her hips, her healing wrists need his care. He must pay for the damages he created. Pushing his face onto what remains of the wounds, she insists on a sincere apology. His words mean nothing, and yet his rear spanked hard by the whip brings her great joy. Still on his knees, he succumbs to the lashing. Finishing him off, she fastens a leash around his pathetic neck. He walks like a dog at her heels, through the twisting maze, groveling, begging for a treat. In the hazy sunlight stands Alice’s Grandmother, pleased with what Alice has achieved on her journey inward, and the captive she brings for proof. In a whirlwind of light and air, the mystical world fades.

Alice strolls back to the estate, arm and arm with her proud and adoring Grandmother. Filled with a rush of childish questions, Alice implores her elder leader for the answers. What is true love? What type of flowers grow in winter? Where is it that our souls come from? How does it feel to own what no one can steal? Who would dare to question her strength again? When can she regain her coveted place amongst her elders, next to her Grandmother, the stealthy women she most admires? 

Grandmother wraps her arm around Alice’s excited and quivering frame. With a wistful glance, she invites her grandaughter in for tea. The night is still young for stimulating and provocative conversation.