Alice in Chains

I take a coffee break at Goldman Sachs HQ in Lower Manhattan; hungry for more kinky action with Alice Jackson in apartment 609, six stories over Broadway. That ginger stock broker turned into a psycho drill sergeant last night, and she went medieval on my ass. I paid her back with interest, binding her tighter and whipping her harder and screwing her like there weren't no tomorrow. But of course there was a tomorrow, and I crawled out of bed at the crack of dawn, hungry for more.

I take a sip of high-end java and pull out my "smart" phone for a little distraction from the financial rat race. I'm greeted by a text message from Sergeant Jackson:

"hey roger, report for duty at twenty-hundred hours!" (8:00 PM for "civilians.")

"sir yes sir! can't wait for more basic training."

"lets try something new 2 nite."

"like what?"

"you'll see."

"ooh another surprise, you crazy-ass ginger."

"you're the crazy one motherfucker!"

. . . . . . . .

I walk through Times Square in a hedonistic haze on a warm foggy Friday night, soaked in the brilliant electric glow of Madison Avenue consumerism, fueled by Wall Street warriors like me. Hundreds of tourists pass by on the sidewalk, but they all register as faceless soulless avatars in my distracted mind. I'm playing the role I was born to play with Alice. Our masochistic spectacle is better than all the phony plays in this phony-ass town. We've only spent one night together, but I'm already convinced that she's my dark soulmate. I'm sure as hell gonna dance with the devil in the ballroom light until the final curtain call.

I arrive at the front door of apartment 609 twenty minutes early, just like last night. Listening to the muffled sound of water splashing all over her naked body, and picturing Irish Spring soap sloshing down her big milky tits with pointy pink nipples. My dick can't help itself from rising. She finally turns off the shower, and I ring the doorbell.

"Just a minute, baby! Let me get dressed!"

Alice opens the door two minutes later, wearing a red full-length bathrobe that matches the color of her long shiny bangs.

"Hey, Sergeant Jackson. I thought you were getting dressed."

"I was,"she giggles. She grabs my right hand, yanks me into her living room, kicks the door shut behind her, and kisses me hard.

"I missed you so fucking much," I say while admiring her big green fairy eyes.

"Me too. I'll let you be the drill sergeant this time," she replies giddily.

"That sounds a lot more fun. Is that your big surprise?"

"No, this is." She pulls her robe open at the shoulders and lets it fall to the red shag carpeting, revealing a blue knee-length puffed sleeve dress with a white pinafore over the top, like a 29 year-old . . .

"Alice in Wonderland?"

"At your service, Sergeant Savage!" She curtsies like a Victorian lady and giggles like a schoolgirl.

"Damn, that's hot as fuck. You really go all out in the perversion department."

"Yes indeed. I'm a naughty little girl who shouldn't have gone near that rabbit hole. How are you going to punish me?"

"I'll punish you like your daddy should have, back in the day."

"Sir yes sir! I deserve to be thrown in the brig and spanked like hell."

I sit down on a velvet sofa, and she drapes her body over my knee, hiking her blue dress above her ass. Nothing underneath but pale freckled skin.

"No panties, Alice! You really need a good whoopin'."

I spank her the way I spank all my other female subs. Nice and hard, at the optimum angle.

"Fuck yeah, Sergeant! Whoop my naughty ass!"

I lower the boom six more times, thrice on each cheek, loving that loud crisp thwash, thwash, thwash! She keeps those glutes nice and tight with plenty of jogging and Pilates before she takes the subway down to International Assets Investment Management, LLC.

"I'm the Mad Hatter, bitch. You ain't in Kansas anymore."

She giggles at my lame joke, and I spank her even harder. Her giggling explodes into an awkward guttural wail.

"Holy shit, you spank me so good! I like the Mad Hatter better than Sergeant Savage."

I spank her again on the base of her ass, just a centimeter away from her pussy. The stinging sensation races up her labia and buzzes her clit like a lightning rod.

"Oh god, that's the spot! Keep hitting me right fucking there!"

I whack her sweet spot over and over and over, driving her bonkers. I glance at a mahogany end table with a leather riding crop and a leather slapper with a dull silver spike at the end.

"You didn't put away your toys, young lady. I'll have to punish you even more."

I grab the riding crop and lash her like the White Horse of Wonderland.

"Whip me harder, Mad Hatter! I'm your dirty White Rabbit!"

"Damn right, bitch. You're a slutty fucking bunny."

I deliver five more blows on each cheek, then I grab the spiked slapper deliver a well-aimed strike right up her snatch.

"Fuck yeah, keep jamming that spike up my pinkhole!"

I swing it six more times, grinning like the schoolyard bully I still am.

"Let's see how much you like it in your stinkhole."

I push the spike through her anal sphincter and pound it repeatedly with my fist, making her entire body shudder in pseudo-epileptic ecstasy.

"You seem to be enjoying your punishment, Alice. What a sick little girl you are."

"I'm a fucking freak and proud of it! Please Mad Hatter, may I have some more?"

"Yes, you may. Let's go to your 'playroom' and have a little tea party."

I pick her up and carry her into a spacious bedroom lined with hundreds of kinky DVD's and BDSM toys. A picture window on the eastern wall usually has a great view of the Empire State Building, but not on an uber-foggy night like this. I set her down under a steel bondage rack with various hooks and loops, and she tosses her red hair haughtily.

"I'm not thirsty, Sergeant. Fuck the tea, and just give me my unbirthday present."

"Shut the fuck up, you worthless wench."

"Sir yes sir," she giggles.

I go to a shelf full of goodies and pick up a box full of metal loops linked together.

"The Mad Hatter wants to put Alice in Chains."

Alice In Chains was my favorite grunge band during my hazy 90's high school days, and now I'm finally doing the real thing. I pull ten feet worth of chains out of the box and wave some teasingly at her face, making her whimper.

"Take off that stupid costume, ginger."

She obeys my order indignantly, getting amazingly naked. My big prick aches to escape from my Ralph Lauren chinos, so I also change into my "unbirthday" suit.

"Don't skimp on the steel, baby," she says sweetly while admiring my muscles; honed at the New York Athletic Club. I bind her wrists to the overhead rack with chains and a padlock, and wrap more chains around her torso. I use the remainder to bind her legs to the bottom of the rack, stretching her pale freckled 33-24-33 body in a wide X-shape.

"Wipe that fucking grin off your face."

"Make me," she growls back.

I go to her shelf of goodies, grab a bag full of clamps and weights, and put them on her tits and labia, adding the small metal weights to enhance the exquisite pain. It makes even a hard cynical woman like her melt into pathetic childish moaning.

"Happy unbirthday, bitch."

"Make it happier, Sergeant!"

She wants exactly what I want, and I'm eager to find out just how deep this rabbit hole goes. Our own private perverted Manhattan Matrix. I go to a rack full of whips and pick out a pair of four-foot red leather dragon tails from kink.com.

"Say hello to your little friends, Tweedle-Tit and Tweedle-Twat."

I whip her hard on the left breast with the right dragon tail, knocking off two of the weighted clamps and making her shriek in enjoyment. I counter with another blow on her pussy from the left dragon, sending more clamps to the floor and making her chain-bound body writhe. It takes five more blows to bring them all down.

"Don't stop whacking my pussy!"

"With pleasure."

I whack it with abandon, then I go to the shelf and grab another toy.

"The Cheshire Cat wants to play with your naughty kitty."

I use that red cat o'nine tails to turn her shaved milky-white crotch a bright crimson. Her moaning and groaning turns to plaintive howling. I grab a long cane stick from the rack and whack her ass cheeks even more.

"Come on, Mad Hatter. Stop swinging that stupid cane, and screw my dirty asshole."

"Fuck that queer shit. I'm gonna pound your pussy like a real man."

I grab the metal bar above her head and ram my dick up her tight honey-hole, making her anchored body swing back and forth like a human boxing bag.

"Oh shit, just like that, hard as fuck! You're the best dominator I ever had!"

"I'm gonna beat you down every single night, you fucking corporate whore!"

I wrap my hands gently around her neck, fighting back the temptation to choke her into total submission. I want to make her serve my every whim till death do us part. I'm usually good at holding back my load, but definitely not this time. I pull out just a minute later, step around to her back side, and drench her ass with splooge.

"That feels so good," she groans. "Nice warm lotion on my tortured ass."

I catch my breath for a minute while studying the many toys along the wall that we haven't tried yet.

"You're so good at being bad, Mad Hatter."

"You're a good sport, Alice."

"Take off these silly chains, and let's go take a nice soothing shower."

I free her from bondage and drop the chains unceremoniously on the hardwood floor, making damn her sure her neighbors can hear it. I go over to the bed and pick up my clothes, and I'm suddenly seized by intense immobilizing pain. It shoots through my entire body like a swarm of killer bees, freezing my muscles and making me fall face-down on the mattress. It lasts only about five seconds, but it seems much longer as I writhe on her red velvet comforter. By the time I realize what happened, she's pulling my hands behind my back and binding them with metal cuffs.

"What the . . . fuh . . . you fuh . . . fucking tazed me?"

"That's right, soldier. You're under arrest for disorderly conduct. I'm hauling your sorry ass to the brig."

"God, you're a fucking pyscho bitch!"

"You will refer to me as drill sergeant!"

The bees are still crawling under every square inch of my skin, but I manage to roll over on my side and see her strapping on a seriously sexy red bondage harness. Two vertical straps along her sides holding five horizontal ones above and around her big tits, four around her flat stomach, and three around her wide muscular hips. She tops it off with a red old-school army barracks cap, like a cherry on a kinky sundae.

"You fooled me good," I mutter through the lingering searing pain. "That Alice in Wonderland shit was a clever disguise for the real Alice."

"Damn right, soldier. Never let your guard down, no matter how submissive a lady may seem. But that's not the only lesson you need to learn."

"Teach me good, drill sergeant. Sub Training for Dummies."

"Shut the fuck up, you smart-ass Wall Street douchebag."

She goes to the shelves and picks out a red-and-black striped bullwhip.

"On your feet, soldier."

I laugh sarcastically, and she whips my ass cheeks with masculine strength.

"On your fucking feet! That's an order!"

"Yes, drill sergeant," I groan. I slowly rise to my feet, feeling like the Frankenstein monster right after the lightning strike. She whips my ass again, and I bark out a high-pitched "fucking cunt!"

"Nobody uses the C word on me, motherfucker!"

She bullwhips my buttocks five more times.

"Stand up straight, soldier!" She barks while shoving me upright. I shoot her a smile.

"Wipe that fucking grin off your face!"

"Make me, you fucking cunt."

She growls fiercely. "God damn, you are the lousiest excuse for a man who ever signed up for the U.S. Army."

She grabs that same cane rod and lashes my ass my authority.

"Very good. Now we're even, Private Savage."

I shoot her another smile, then I hawk a loogie on her pretty face.

"How dare you, motherfucker!"

She slaps the right side of my face at full force, and counters equally on the left.

"I'm taking your arrogant ass to the showers. A little water torture will set you straight."

She puts a red leather dog collar around my neck, attaches a red leather leash to it, and drags me toward the bathroom, grabbing stuff from her shelves along the way. She's the best sub and the best domme I ever had, bar none. She leads me into to a spacious marble bathtub.

"A nice cold shower ought to cleanse your sins, Private Savage."

She turns it on at full blast, raising plenty of goosebumps as it rains down on my front side.

"Nice and refreshing, huh soldier?"

"Yes, drill sergeant."

"Well, this sure as hell won't."

She picks up a two-foot cane wand with a little string and tiny leather straps flaring out at the end. A "flex flicker whip," designed to concentrate a lot of pain on a small area. She swings it hard, concentrating the pain on my left nipple.

"Hurts twice as when you're wet, right?"

"Fuck you, drill sergeant," I whimper.

She flicks the other nipple a little harder, making me cry out louder. She flicks each one five more times, then she lowers the boom right on the tip of my penis. I whimper like a puppy; a far cry from my usual Wolf of Wall Street character.

"That pathetic whining only gets me more excited, soldier."

She swings it six more times, then she grabs a riding crop and whips me a dozen times all over my body.

"You really liked it when I chomped your tip yesterday, so how about an encore?"

She grabs the shaft and bites down on the most sensitive part of the tip, pushing me past my limit.

"Please Alice, fucking stah-hop!"

She finally lets go ten seconds later. "All right, that's a little too pathetic for my liking. Time for a little humiliation, solider. Get down on your knees."

My knees hit the cold marble with the cold water pouring down my back, and she brings her crotch right up to my face. She grabs the leash right next to my neck and starts giving me a nice warm golden shower. I groan awkwardly in perverted pleasure.

"Oh yeah, you love it when women piss on your face. Open your fucking mouth."

I open wide, and she aims the stream right onto my tongue, filling my mouth with nastiness. She planned this well in advance, making sure her bladder would be filled to the brim with tangy tinkle. It gushes out of my mouth and splashes my rising manhood.

"Damn, soldier, that golden shower got you hard again."

"Make me cum again, bitch!"

She slaps my piss-soaked face. "You will address me as drill sergeant, you piece of shit!"

"Make me cum again, drill sergeant!"

"Fine, whatever. Get the fuck up."

She yanks the leash upward, jolting me back to a standing position. She drops to her knees, grabs my cock real hard, and jerks it real fast, making me babble incoherently while drooling like an idiot. She grabs a foot-long pink dildo and ass-fucks me at the same rapid clip, making me spazz out even more.

"You love that queer shit, don't you soldier? You're a fucking liar!"

"Fuck you, you neo-feminist twat!"

I shoot another wad right below her big green eyes. She immediately punches my prostate, turning my ecstasy into more agony.

"Drink my piss, you fucking dog!"

I let it loose all over her face, and she moans approvingly while jacking her clit. My bladder finally empties, and I stumble backward into the drywall in a total daze.

"Holy fuck, you are just . . . too fucking crazy," I groan.

She giggles girlishly, returning to her usual character. "Then why do you keep coming back for more, soldier?"

"Good question," I chortle.

"Let's get cleaned up, and then I'll fix you some fancy grub in the Officer's Quarters."

We scrub off all that piss and jizz with fragrant Irish Spring, and she kisses me passionately.

"We can't keep going like this," I sigh.

"You're right. Let's kick it down a notch next time. Less fireworks, and more fire."

She lathers up my cock with tender loving care, and I do the same to her tits.

"I want you to stay with me tonight," she says meekly.

"I'd like that," I reply meeker.

. . . . .

She serves some delicious spaghetti bolognese with vegan meatballs, and we exchange some shallow rom-com dialogue from across a candle-lit table. Then we cuddle underneath her velvet comforter in her dark bedroom, with the obnoxious lights of Broadway oozing around her velvet curtains. My body aches from all that sadism, but it feels so good to know she's aching just as much, in more ways than one.

"I love you, Roger," she murmurs, shattering the silence.

"I love the way you love me, Alice."

She spoons me a little tighter, and I return the favor. Our future is a big tantalizing question mark, and I'm definitely going to find out the answer. It's foggy as hell outside, but even foggier in Apartment 609.