“I hope you enjoyed your nap, Alice.”

Alice opened her eyes slowly, yawning as the owl-faced seamstress helped her to sit up.

“I had such a strange dream, Mitzy,” she murmured, stretching her arms up above her head before settling her hands upon her lap with a soft sigh.  “There was a very rude centaur. And I met a lion and unicorn and I inspired them to go on an adventure. Oh, I do hope it’s a grand one. And then I attended a lavish party at a palace and I was wooed by a handsome Sargeant-Major and my sister was there, putting on a show, and in order to save her I traded places with her and then…”

“That sounds lovely, dear, Mitzy interrupted. “Now, if you don’t mind disrobing for me…”

Sighing, Alice undressed, her thoughts far away, somewhat happy that she hadn’t had to finish recounting her dream, if that’s what it had been, for it had felt so real. Quite honestly, it had left a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach and she hadn’t enjoyed it as much as she had some of her other adventures in Wonderland.

‘I suppose that was because I wasn’t actually in Wonderland but rather, somewhere inside of my mind. I wonder what Freud would have to say?’ she wondered, vaguely recalling a lecture in one of her classes concerning new methods of psychoanalysis and dreams. ‘Id, ego, and… oh, I believe there was another. Eggs, perhaps? No, that doesn’t seem quite right. And something about all dreams being somewhat sexual, which, judging from my recent experiences, must be true! Oh, but the very thought of trying to untangle it all makes my head hurt.’

Deciding that it was best to simply pretend the entire incident within the theatre had never happened, she disrobed, as Miss Mince had asked, stripping down to nothing, only slightly embarrassed at being naked whilst the owlish woman fussed over a bolt of blue cloth laid out upon a table.

“Good, you’re undressed. Such a lovely figure. Nice pert breasts. A slim waist. Slender thighs. A very lovely bottom. Oh, to be young again. Now, how best to show off your assets properly. Be a dear and stand still for me.”

Alice did just that as the dressmaker fussed over her, her deft touch while surely professional, creating a growing arousal in the young woman.

“Blue suits you. Brings out your eyes and your lovely golden hair. And I’ll want to show off your legs, of course, which are magnificent, and just a hint of cleavage. Leaving something to people’s imagination is always best.”

 She seemed to be talking to herself while draping and pinning and turning Alice this way and that until Alice grew bored and her thoughts began to wonder.

“Why, to her, I am no more than a mannequin,” she said with a sigh, not realizing she had voiced the thought out loud until she heard a reply.

“It’s not such a bad life, really.”

“What isn’t?” she returned, startled, her gaze darting about the room and settling upon one of the dressmakers dummies, this one wearing a delightfully breezy looking frock and bonnet. She looked like she was dressed for a picnic.

“Being a mannequin. You get to wear pretty things and nothing much is expected of you.”

“Like conversation, for example,” Another of the dummies added, this one wearing a silk dressing gown. “Dreadfully dull. People going on about politics and economics. It all makes my head hurt so.” This one was dressed in an elegant ball gown of velvet. Alice thought she was quite pretty, despite having no features upon her face.

“Or worse, having an opinion.” A third spoke up, this one dressed for a dinner party. “It’s really quite tiring to have to think all the time.”

Alice nodded, agreeing somewhat, although the idea of not thinking at all bothered her. Still, not having to think some of the time was quite appealing at the moment for there were some things she would rather not dwell upon.

“It’s so much more fun, don’t you think, to simply look pretty? Pretty girls, after all, have more fun.”

“Indeed they do. No man wants a girl who thinks too much.”

“Or talks too much.”

“Or has too many opinions.”

“Men really only want one thing from pretty girls, after all. Do you know what that might be, young lady?”

They all nodded knowingly, their gazes, if they’d actually had eyes, turning towards Alice as if waiting for her thoughts on the subject.

“Pleasure?” Alice voiced her thought quietly with a slight dip of her chin.

“Exactly. All men really desire is a young woman they can derive pleasure from. Someone who is pretty and who is willing to spread their legs open.”

Alice blushed quite prettily at that, causing the dummies to giggle and snicker.

“One would almost think that she already knows what men want.”

“One would think that she is perfectly willing to spread her legs like a-“

“Like a French whore,” Alice finished for them, her voice soft and trembling for, while the dummies had been talking, Miss Mintz’s fingers had been roaming over her flesh. At first, she hadn’t thought too much about it, only that it felt nice. After all, it wasn’t so unusual for a seamstress to poke and prod here and there. And yet, the poking and prodding felt rather intimate at times and soon, she was beginning to feel what best might be described as ‘hot and bothered’.

“Look at her blushing.”

“And her nipples. Oh, they’re swelling into sharp little points.”

“And I dare say that I detect a glistening wetness between her thighs.”

They giggled again as Alice felt her breath quickening as Miss Mintz’s poking and prodding began having a profound effect upon her.

“This one knows all about pleasure.”

“A great deal from the looks of things.”

“And here we are lecturing her.”

They began to titter and whisper among themselves as Alice fought to stand perfectly still whilst the owl-faced seamstress continued until, finally, it all became too much for her and a shudder of pleasure swept through her and she let out a soft cry of release, much to Miss Mintz’s apparent surprise.

“Oh, dear. I had no idea you were so sensitive! Oh, please, don’t be embarrassed. Happens all the time.”

The seamstress looked thoughtfully at Alice for a moment, a shrewd look flashing in her rather large eyes, gone as quick as it had come. “Well, perhaps not all the time, but no matter, for I am just about done here.” And, true to her word, she finished up her work allowing Alice a moment to composer herself.

“Go ahead and put your robe back on whilst I get to work. Won’t be long now and I’ll have you looking like a proper tart – err – lady, for his lordship.”

After a short time, Alice became bored. Not wanting to be a bother to the busy dressmaker she decided to resume her conversation with the trio of dummies.

“I don’t suppose you can tell me about the man who brought me here,” she asked.

“The Knave of Hearts you mean?” they said in unison, their voices low. Alice imagined that they even trembled a little.

“Yes, the very one.”

“He’s cruel,” whispered the one wearing the frock.

“And wicked,” agreed the one in a dress.

“He has unsavory appetites,” agreed the one in the dressing gown.  “I hear he likes to hurt people.”

“Especially girls.”

“Pretty young girls.”

“He’s the queen’s favorite, you know.”

“She likes pretty girls too.”

“Pretty girls like you, Alice.”

“She likes to make them scream.”

“Oh,” was all Alice could think of saying, thinking back on all the times she’d been made to scream since her adventures had started. Being made to scream hadn’t always been such a terrible thing, at least in her experiences, the thought making her shiver, fear and desire warring within her at the prospect.

“Oh, look at her,” the mannequin dressed for a picnic giggled, drawing her attention back to the trio.

“I know that look,” the one in silk tittered.

“She’s not quite as innocent as she looks.”

“Be careful where your desires lead you.”

“One can’t run from what’s inside one’s head.”

“Or heart.”

Deciding that she really didn’t want to dwell on the feelings the dummies had re-awakened within her, Alice politely took her leave, wondering over to a large table on the far side of the room, one covered with spools and spools of pretty ribbons of all sized and hues, running her fingers along several of them, pleased at how soft and silky they felt.

“So pretty,” a diminutive voice commented, drawing her attention towards one end of the table where she was quite unsurprised to discover a small bird-like creature seemingly made of spools of thread. She looked closer and realized that its beak was, in fact, a pair of cutting shears.

“Yes, very,” she agreed with a smile. 

“Every color you could ever imagine, you know,” commented another spool like creature beside the first, it’s head a plump red pincushion with a dozen or so needles stuck in it, giving the impression of a spiked crown.

“And some you can’t.”

The third voice seemed very serious, reminding Alice of a vicar who had once called upon her father to discuss a matter of ‘some great importance’, or so she had supposed at the time, having been told that young ladies like herself shouldn’t be exposed to conversations about weighty matters and should, instead, spend their time playing with dolls or, perhaps, looking at picture books.

Glancing at the speaker, she was not at all surprised to find a figure that seemed to be swaddled in measuring tape not unlike an ancient mummy, a pewter thimble for a head.

“I beg to differ, sir, for I can imagine a great many things.”

A short came from the thimble.

“Highly unlikely, for that would require a mental acuity that young ladies, such as yourself, simply do not possess.”

“I would argue that I do,” she retorted, folding her arms stubbornly across her chest, her mouth set in a frown.

“Harrumph,” it, or rather, he, harrumphed.

“This one has spirit. I rather like her,” remarked the pincushion.

“You only like her because she’s pretty,” teased the scissor-headed bird.

“She’s not without charm,” he said, a grin in his voice. “I don’t suppose you’d care to take off your robe.”

“Whatever for?” Alice asked, somewhat amused at the request, taking a liking to him, as well as the bird, for they seemed quite affable, unlike the thimble-head.

“I like looking at pretty young girls and I get so few opportunities.”

“You are very pretty, after all.”

The third figure simply shook it’s head, mimicking Alice’s pose, arms folded across its threaded chest. 

“Oh, I suppose it would do no harm.”

“Indecent,” he finally muttered as Alice untied her robe and carefully removed it, laying it upon the table.

“Oh, thank you, miss. You truly are a delight.”

“I do believe she’s the prettiest girl I’ve ever set eyes on.”

“With lovely breasts.”

“And luscious thighs.”

“And look how prettily she blushes.”

Alice was indeed blushing, their praise going straight to her head.

“I don’t suppose you’d like to do us a favor?” asked the pincushion.

“I might? I guess it matters what the favor is.”

“Such a small thing, really. Might you lie down upon this table so we can get a closer look?”

She spared a glance over at Mizy who seemed quite caught up in her work, her back turned, as she fussed over a bit of lace. 

‘I really can’t see the harm,’ she told herself as she clambered up upon the sturdy wooden table and lay down upon her back, her bare feet closest to the stern thimble-headed creature, her head nearest the others.

“Now, stay perfectly still,” said the pincushion man.  “Perfectly still.”

“Whatever for,” she asked, curious as to their intent.

“Never you mind. And close your eyes, please.”

She wondered with a sigh why she simply complied with their request rather than making her own decisions, sure that they had only their own interests in mind, and not hers. Still, she closed her eyes and did her best to remain perfectly still despite the flurry of activity around her not even stirring as she felt the touch of what must have been the ribbons she had so admired earlier upon her flesh and heard the incessant snip of scissors. How long she lay there, she was uncertain. Perhaps a quarter of an hour. No longer. Nor shorter for that matter.

“You may open them now!” the scissor bird announced.

And so she did and in doing so discovered that she was now covered in a variety of ribbons in every imaginable color and, she had to admit, at least to herself, in some hues that she’d never imagined.

“Ta da!” crowed the pincushion as he did a quick jig alongside her thigh.

“Try to move!”

Giggling a little, Alice did just that, discovering that, with a little effort she could squirm against her silken bonds, but no more. Her ‘captors’ looked very pleased at that. Even the stern thimble-head seemed somewhat satisfied.

“Now what?” she asked, turning her head slightly so she could address the trio directly.

“Now what she asks?”

They seemed puzzled, as if they’d never considered what might come after. Alice, however, was doing just that, realizing that she’s allowed herself to be tied down, naked, and was now completely at the mercy of anyone who might want to take advantage of her in her state. The Alice she had once been might have been worried at the very idea. In fact, for a brief moment she was, in fact, concerned. The moment, however, was very brief. So brief, in fact, that it was soon forgotten as another worry replaced it, that being that the strange creatures had no idea of how to take advantage of her in her state. That was followed by yet another thought, one much more pleasurable, that being of the cruelty of her predicament – being bound to a table, naked and helpless while desperately wanting some sort of stimulation. She felt her pussy growing quite wet. In fact, she was able to detect the slightest whiff of her own fragrance which only made her desire escalate.

“I don’t suppose you could help me out,” she inquired softly, her voice trembling just a little, directing her question at the pincushion, her eyes focusing upon the dozen or so pins embedded in his head, a plan forming, one that she wasn’t completely sure of. One, however, that was making her nipples harden and swell, and her pussy leak and her pleasure nub throb, pushing any reservations aside.

“How so?”

“Perhaps you can… poke me?”

“Poke you?”

“With a pin?”

“I supposed I could?” he seemed quite unsure of her request, so Alice did her best to keep her voice calm.

“I did do you a favor, after all. All I ask is that you do me a favor in return. Is that too much?”

“I suppose not,” he said slowly. “Where?”

“Halfwit,” the thimble head muttered, shaking his head. “In her dirty places. Here, like so.”

Marching over, he plucked a pair of pins, one in each hand, and then, wielding them like sabers, advance on her.

“I should have guessed. You’re nothing but a filthy pleasure-loving slut. A dirty little thing who only thinks about carnal pleasures.”

Alice left herself blushing deeply as his words stuck, unable to deny the truth of them and yet not wanting to admit to them.

“Well, slut?” he growled. “Is that what you are?”

“No,” she mumbled, shaking her head, nervously watching as he disappeared between her legs which had been trussed slightly spread, enough so that he would have a clear path to her pussy.

“You deny it?” His voice rose so that she could hear his question loud and clear.

“I do!”                                                                                

“Then I have no other choice!”

She cried out softly as he began to prick her inner thighs, taking his time, advancing as he did so, until it was obvious where he was headed.

“Confess, harlot!” he growled menacingly.

“I will not!” she replied breathlessly, both dreading and desiring what she suspected was coming as he continued to advance until she could sense him standing before her pussy, knowing that her lips were swollen and parted and her wet pinkness exposed.

“One last chance, whore,” he hissed, his voice harsh and stern. “Admit what you truly are. A wicked wanton whore.”

“I will admit nothing,” she whimpered, bracing for what was to come, praying that his actions would be as cruel as his word, ecstasy welling up within her as she imagined what it would feel like to…

She screamed, the pain overwhelming as he pricked her sensitive pleasure nub with a pin.

“Jezabel!”

She screamed a second time as he prodded her again. She began to struggle in earnest, though in vain, against the tightly tied ribbons, fingers curling as she dug her nails into her palms, trying to escape from the awful pain he was inflicting upon her as he continued to torment her until she thought she might go mad… and yet, she didn’t. Instead something wonderful and miraculous and quite unexpected occurred. A wave of ecstasy blossomed suddenly within her - a tsunami of pleasure that threatened to overwhelm her. It was as if someone had hidden a keg of gun powder deep within her and lit the fuse. She was dimly aware of hearing her own screams, ones of indescribable pain at first, followed by ones of pleasure so fierce that she thought it would surely be the end of her. She was vaguely aware that he continued to torment her pleasure nub through all of this, but helpless to do anything to stop him, wondering if she even wanted to.

Eventually, however, stop he did. She wondered if he’d grown weary for she certainly had. Exhausted, in fact, so much so that she decided that it would be best for everyone, especially herself, if she simply passed out. Before she could complete the thought, she did just that.

For the second time, Ms Mintz awoke her, a bemused expression upon her face.

“You are very fond of naps, it seems. I take it you had some rather interesting dreams as well.”

“I suppose I am, and yes, quite interesting,” Alice murmured, blushing hard as she watched the seamstress patiently untying the ribbons that held her to the table without comment or complaint, helping the young lady to the floor and then across the room on unsteady feet to where she had been working.

“I think you shall be well pleased.”

Patiently she helped Alice dress, making minor little adjustments here and there and then pushing her in front of a mirror so that she could admire herself.

Alice stared at her reflection breathlessly, hardly able to believe the transformation. She looked like a… well, a tart and yet, elegant as well. Slutty and yet innocent. She recalled the incident where her reflection had stepped out of the mirror and ravished her whilst upon the pirate ship, wistfully thinking how nice it would be if she did so again, not caring that she’d have an audience, in fact welcoming the idea that she would.

‘I have truly been transformed, not just in looks, but within as well, into a tart,’ she thought as she turned to the side to get a better look at the way her nipples tented the thin blue cotton and fullness of her bottom and of the way the scandalously short hem of her dress showed off her legs (which Mitzy had sheathed in sheer white stockings topped with lace which matched her panties perfectly).

“It will be impossible for anyone, man or woman, to look away once gazing upon you, my dear. If I may say so myself, I have done splendidly.”

“Most splendidly,” Alice agreed, proving the seamstress right, as she was unable tear her gaze from her reflection.  And so it was that, when The Knave of hearts came to collect her, she was still admiring herself in front of the mirror, aroused by her own image, her dainty lace panties quite damp, the perfume of her pussy hanging like an aura around her.