Teatime

byWarmMilk©

Editor's Note: this is a resubmission of a work by the same author. If it sounds familiar, that is why.

A/N: As a warning, this one's a little bit different and far longer than what I've done in the past, but I think that if you're willing to endure a bit more story before all the action, you'll like it. And...maybe you'll want to have a bit of tea with me some time.

As always, all characters mentioned are over 18 and consenting adults.


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Click Here to listen. (12.5 min/mp3)

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You're late.

You're late.

For a very important date.

It's all I can think about as I sit on the couch, squirming in my ill-fitting costume. You made this date with me for tea, and yet I'm the one waiting. How is it that things you plan always turn out this way?

I stand up and check myself in the mirror. It's a control thing, I think. You keep me waiting because you know you can. I won't leave -- I can't leave. I need you. That's why I've been waiting patiently for an hour and a half, and that's why I've subjected myself to such a silly costume.

When you dropped it off at my house and told me your plans, I expected something simple, elegant, fun. I opened the box, however, and found a tiny version of Alice's dress from her adventure in Wonderland. I would have found it sweet, charming even, if it didn't come with crotch less panties and white, fishnet stockings.

You had spoken about a lovely tea party, something small and sweet, just like me. I never expected you to turn it into something kinky.

'Well...that's a lie.' I think as I remember last week's "innocent" dinner date. You seem to be able to give everything a kinky spin. Even the most innocuous slice of chocolate cake.

With a tiny sigh, I stare at myself in the mirror again and work on pulling down the dress enough to cover my ass. However, it's a never-ending dilemma. I pull the bottom of the full, blue skirt, and the white fringe covering my breasts slips down. You know my size, and this is definitely not it.

I hate you.

That hate quickly disappears, though, when I hear the doorbell sound. Carefully, I peek through the blinds first to make sure I see your car. I'd die if anyone else saw me in this outfit. After going through the proper verification, I swing the door open and stand to face you, legs spread, hands on both hips - like a very angry little girl.

"My lovely little Alice," you say as if nothing's wrong, and pat me on the head.

Before I can rant at you, you step inside and close the door behind us. I take in, for the first time, your attire. It's apparent to me that you're supposed to be the Mad Hatter, but you've certainly had the better pick of costumes. No extreme colors, no madness in sight -- just a polished black suit with large matching top-hat (quirky size label intact). In fact, the only weird thing about you is a neon green bowtie. And even that, coupled with your over all suave appearance, makes me flush.

"You..." I start, and then cover my cheeks. "You're dressed up."

You, my Mad Hatter, shift a large box in your hands and hand it to me.

"Happy Birthday!" you smirk.

I almost expect you to start singing as well, but then realize it's not your style. You take a seat without asking at the tea table I've set up, and cross your long, slim legs.

"My birthday is tomorrow," I tease you, and put the box out of the way for now.

"Well, a very merry un-birthday to you, my dear," you say, tipping your hat.

"Aw...to me? From you?" I ask cutely. "A very— "—cut it out," you wave me off.

I giggle at the silliness of all of this for a moment, but then take my seat across from you. I watch your eyes wander to the front of my dress, to the sheer fabric pulled tight over my breasts. I'm sure you can see my nipples through it, dark and erect, but I say nothing.

"Dress fits well, doesn't it?" you arc one brow. Suddenly afraid to speak, I just let out a simple "Mn."

We sit in silence for a long while, until you clear your throat. My eyes shoot up from the table, and you gesture to the place settings.

"I'm thirsty. Pour me something," you say darkly, and the wheels begin to turn in my head.

"Yes sir," I revert back to our normal partnership, of master and servant, and watch you smirk with pleasure.

I know how much it turns you on to have a girl like me under your thumb. A sweet, obedient, barely legal teen who loves to play with her daddy. You watch my every move as I get up and reach for the teapot. The china handle feels slick beneath my white lace gloves, but I do my best to keep steady. You push your cup forward while I pour and I try not to spill. It's hard though, when your large, warm hand trails up my bare shoulder, then to my hair, to fondle my dark curls.

"So cute," you murmur.

I shake a little at the sound of your voice, but manage to fill your cup without spilling a drop. I reach for sugar, but you wave me off and instead, point to the milk. I pour it again while you run my fingers through my hair. Then, I reach for a plate of strawberry tarts. Before I realize what's happening, you've slid your hand beneath bunches of tulle in my skirt, and around to those tasteless little panties.

I bite my lip and stay silent while your fingers creep inside me, spreading the smooth, freshly shaven lips of my pussy. My hands tremble as I pick a tart up from the tray. I know what's coming, and wet warmth begins to creep inside me, moment by moment. Unwilling to show you how wet I've already become, I start to squirm away a little.

I hear you chuckle, a deep sound from low in your throat, and then you cup your entire hand over the cheek of my ass. Tight, smooth skin warms under your touch and I submit.

Harshly, you push a finger inside me and I can't help but react to the mix of pain and pleasure. I clench around your finger and shudder. The tart slips from my fingers and onto your lap, strawberry side down. You pull away calmly; put your hands on your lap, and gesture.

"Now look what you've done, Alice," you stare up at me with that same dark look in your eyes.

"Clean it up," you tell me.

I start to reach for a stack of napkins, but you grab my hand at the last moment. With both hands, you guide me down to my knees, and position my head in front of your lap. I stare up at you, waiting, and you remove the tart from your pants. It leaves a gooey, red smear.

"Clean it up," you repeat.

Finally understanding, I lower my mouth to the front of your pants and feel it tent up a little through the fabric. Slowly, carefully, I run my tongue over the tasteless fabric and the sticky red jam. You watch my every move, twitching slightly as I close my lips around your hardon through the pants. I suck firmly and press down with my tongue just to feel you grow harder -- and make sure I've gotten every last bit.

"That's nice, Alice." You whisper and I take it as a cue to stand up. I smile at the large wet spot I've left behind, though I'm not sure if it's more me than you.

All of a sudden, you offer your finger to me, and I see it's sticky with jam as well. Without hesitation, I lean over and slide my tongue around the tip. Slowly, I begin to envelop the entire digit, and suck free the sweet strawberry jam. Your free hand plays with my hair again and you breathe out, hard. Even though I've cleaned you up, I keep sucking, filling my mouth with saliva, and wrapping my tongue around your thick, warm finger. I can taste a bit of myself on it - slightly musky and warm. I lower my eyes so you can't see how much it turns me on.

When I finally pull back, there's a thin strand of saliva trailing from the tip. You move your hand to break it and then carelessly wipe it off against my cheek.

"Sit down, Alice." You say coolly, as if I haven't affected you -- as if that tent in your pants is merely an illusion.

I watch you carefully as I take my seat next to you. You pour me a cup of tea and then slide it down the table to the fourth seat without spilling a drop.

"Switch." your voice is soft and sexy in my ear.

It's easy to understand your game, but suddenly I feel ten years old, hopping from seat to seat as you repeat the motion over and over until all twelve seats around the table have a cup of tea.

"Isn't this fun?" you rest your cheek on one hand so your top hat slips a little.

"Yes sir," I pant.

"Would you like a little more tea, Alice?" You smirk.

I know where this going and don't find it funny in the slightest.

"Well, I haven't had any yet, so I can't very well take more," I sigh.

"You mean you can't very well take less. You can always take more than nothing."

You pick up a teacup and pause for a long while before sipping. You watch me with a devilish smirk on your lips, and I know the way I appear to you. A scared, skittish little girl.

"Switch," you say again, and I move from my place six seats down to the chair you've pulled out right beside you.

Any other girl would throw a fit, or maybe even demand that you move, but I know better. This is our game, and you know the best moves. You always win, even if I let you.

So I sit, like a good little girl, and try to straighten the edge of my skirts. It's useless, though. The tulle is bunched up beneath my thighs and every move reveals to you my pussy, which is far wetter than it should be. I hate being so exposed, but find a bit of relief in the fact that you're paying more attention to your tea, than my spread thighs. For a long while, I just watch you, memorizing the sharp lines of your jaw, jet black hair, and curiously dangerous eyes. I love the way the lids cover them almost completely. They're without that common double fold, but to me, make a very sexy and unique tilted almond shape.

At once, you notice me watching you, and your eyes cut to the side. Your teacup is empty, and you're holding it by the pinky.

"More tea?" I jump up to serve you, but you grab me around the waist.

"Answer me something first, Alice," You press your lips to my ear again and drag me so I'm standing in front of you.

"Yes sir?" I place my hands flat on your chest and struggle to remain upright although you're slowly pressing me backward, onto the table.

"How...is a raven...like a writing desk?" you ask, then lower your mouth to my neck.

I push up against you, desperately, but once again, it's no use. You place both hands on my hips and seat me on the edge of the table. And once I'm there, I'm careful not to move.

"A-a raven?" I begin to babble once you take your seat.

You ignore me, and with a little smirk begin to slowly peel up the edge of my skirt. Once you have it bunched around my hips, you push my legs apart and reveal your lovely little treat.

"Why don't you just say what you mean?"

"I-I am—

"—you're not, Alice," you tickle your fingertips over the lips of my pussy, and then slide one over my clit.

"A raven...a-a raven..." I latch one hand onto your shoulder and you guide another long, thick finger inside me.

It penetrates my tight hole with little resistance, and makes a slick wet sound when you pull out. Gently, you repeat the motion several more times. In and out...in and out, finger fucking my little box with ease.

"If you can't answer me, Alice....I suppose that means I can do whatever I please," you say.

You pinch my clit and I bite my lips together to keep from moaning. I've wanted you from the moment you stepped the door -- I always do --but hiding that lust is the hard thing. You don't like desperate girls, and as the Mad Hatter, you're more willing to put me through your torturous games.

"Please...Mr. Hatter...sir..." I croak, but before I can get you to listen, you lower your head to my dripping slit.

Slowly, carefully, your tongue parts my dark folds and nestles into the sweet, pink treasure within. You feast on me elegantly at first, with just your tongue circling my clit and licking at my juices, but as I get wetter, it seems you can't resist. You reach behind me and your hands grip my ass to squeeze. I whimper and moan as you suck me in, drawing me closer, delving further into the depths of my sweetness.

You moan, tasting me, and it sends a shiver throughout my entire body -- from the tips of my toes up to my hardened, aching nipples. I reach up to touch them without thinking, without shame of the situation, and most importantly, without asking permission. I yank down the white lace neckline and bare my swollen breasts. I feel the tip of your nose nudging against my clit in a steady rhythm that drives me while, and I can't help but rub my tits in time with it.

"Oh sir..." I use my free hand to squeeze your shoulder. "Mr. Hatter...sir!"

But as I reach the peak of my orgasm, you draw away. I cry out in protest, but you lick your lips and ignore me.

"You're a very sweet girl, Alice," You lean back in your chair and smirk. At that moment, you definitely look "mad."

"But also very naughty," you add. "Turn over."

When I start to protest, you take it upon yourself to make me move. You scoop both hands underneath me, and rather ungracefully turn me over onto the table. Two china teacups slide off the table and shatter on the tile. Although I'm pissed, I know better than to let it read on my face. You knock the tray of tarts onto the floor with little sympathy for me, and deliver a spank to my upturned ass. It takes me by surprise, and I can't help but yelp. I brace myself for another, but instead you trail your hand lazily over my smooth skin.

Your fingers graze my wet slit from behind, but don't press in. Instead, they kiss and soothe. Yet, as soon as I adjusted to the feeling, you spank me again. You love teasing your Alice, don't you?

And so it continues. Over and over until I can't predict when the next spank will land, or how hard it will be. Finally, when you sense I can't take it anymore, you pull my head up by my hair. I can feel you crushing the perfect curls in your palm and the jingling of your belt being undone.

Here it comes, I think, surprisingly eager.

I lick my lips unconsciously and watch you fumble a little with the zipper on your trousers. You must be fucking raging, I think, to let me see you slip up that way. And when you finally drop those pants, I see it's true.

That gorgeous tool, your lovely length, stands straight out to greet me, though strained by the fabric of your briefs. Before I can fully reveal you, though, you lean down and force your lips on mine for a kiss. I always love it when you kiss me. Nothing gentle and romantic, but always full of passion and a tiny inkling of desperation.

Both of your hands move to the back of my head to pull me closer, and I feel your tongue slide between my parted lips. My own hand travels to your hair, and the silly top hat you have on drops to the floor. You seem less than bothered.

When our lips part, I'm gasping, but you're still searching me for more. Your mouth roams my collar and then down to my exposed breasts. The dark, stiff peaks seem to harden even more as you use your teeth to pull, bite, and nip. You lean in further and I can feel your cock rubbing hard against the inside of my thigh. I reach down, down into your underwear, and wrap my hand around it. So hot, so hard...I nearly moan just at the feel itself.

I stroke you once, and hear you gasp. It's a hot and sexy sound.

"Alice..." you strain to hold onto the silly game we're playing, but in your eyes I can see real fire and excitement.

I stroke you again, and feel the slick wetness of precum spread over the head and on my slim fingers. I play with your foreskin for a moment, and I hear you muffle a curse against my shoulder. I stretch it gently between my fingers, and cover it with precum before sliding it halfway down your shaft and then up again.

"Baby," you whisper as you tighten your hold on my hair. It makes me smile.

You never call me "baby."

Never.

Those lovely eyes of your meet mine again and you draw away. It seems you've sensed the shift in control, and are none too happy about it. With two quick moves, you step out of your briefs and shrug off the jacket of your suit. All that's left is the crisp white shirt and your silly green bowtie. I don't mind, though. As long as I'm still Alice, you're still my Hatter.

"Suck it, slut," the tone of your voice changes drastically and before I can even prepare myself, you choke my throat with your cock. It's not incredibly long -- thank god — but deliciously thick. That's one of the things I love most about you -- the way you stretch and fill me with that cock.

I do suck you though; I wrap my lips tightly around your length and press down with my tongue as I suction you. You push my head firmly against your stomach and I feel your pubic hair tickle my cheek. I cover your cock with saliva, the way I did your fingers, and you pull it from my mouth. It makes a soft popping sound upon release, but you just smile. I open my mouth again and stick out my tongue as you instruct. You tap it firmly with your cock, so swollen and engorged with arousal, and then slap it against my cheek.

"Look up at me," you tell me and repeat the motion as I stare straight into your drowsy eyes.

When you finally slide your hot dick back into my mouth, I hold it against my cheek so you can see the thick outline. You watch me rub it with my palm, and then I suck harder and feel you twitch in my mouth. Slowly, I release and circle my tongue around the head of you. Slow...lazy circles that drive you wild. Precum oozes from the head and onto my chin. I just lick my lips and slide my tongue down, further and further until it reaches your balls.

I can feel them hugging tight beneath your shaft, and when I take one into my mouth, you have to pull me away. You can't take those gentle little licks, those soft kisses, that warm, wet mouth anymore.

Wordlessly, I assume my position on the table once more. Behind me, I hear you pushing more china out of the way and you waste no time in pulling me down. With strong arms, you lift me, and bend me over the edge so you have perfect access to every inch of my tight little holes. Even though I'm wearing little white heels, you still tell me to stand on my tiptoes. I'm not sure if it's because you want to torture me, or that you really need that extra height, but I know better than to complain.

You lean down and kiss my cunt before shoving in your cock in, violently. The jolt shakes the table and sends another full teacup smashing against the tile. If I wasn't so horny, I'd be pissed. I clench around you immediately and you pause to adjust to the tightness. You pull out a little and then spread my ass with both hands as you push forward once more.

I cry out to you, "Hatter, please!" And you begin to rock inside me.

I can feel your full length and the heat between us both. You've settled into your usual, brutal pace, and I grip the tablecloth as if my life depended on it.

"It's so tight Alice...so tight..." you murmur as you fuck me, and I know it's true. I'm squeezing around you as if you've just broken me in for the first time, and screaming like it too.

"Fuck me harder!" I cry. You bunch my skirts up further and I imagine you watching my ass slap against your waist....your cock sliding in and out of that hot, wet sheath. I bounce back against you, eager for more and I can hear your balls slapping my cunt from behind.

You grab my hair again in your fist and use your other hand to spank me. It's punishment -- such beautiful, savage punishment for your little Alice.

The way you slam in and out of me, the way you grab my ass when a shiver of pleasure shocks you, the vile, nasty things you whisper in my ear when you can manage -- they all shock and turn me on.

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byWarmMilk© 12 comments/ 85788 views/ 20 favorites

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