By the time she realized the stairs were blocked by a rather rough looking man in an apron it was much too late to halt her descent. And so it was that Alice found herself pressed up against a carpenter wearing homespun patched woolen trousers and a shirt beneath a dirty white apron and a box-shaped cap, beneath which peeked out unkempt ginger hair. As if there was any doubt about his profession by his uniform, a thick leather belt hung from his slender hips, upon which every manner of carpentry tool imaginable hung.

“My sincerest apologies!” Alice managed as he grabbed her, his intentions yet unclear. Did he simply wish to prevent her from falling or had he something less chivalrous in mind?

 “Oy! What do we have ‘ere? Why, 'tis a young lassie. A comely one, too,” he exclaimed, his voice as rough as his appearance, grasping her upper arms and taking a step back so that he could get a better look. And, indeed, as Alice feared, his gaze was drawn to her and his crooked smile was full of lust as he eyed her perky breasts.

 “Begging your pardon, but you’re hurting me,” Alice announced with a wince, for indeed, his grip on her arms was quite rough as well, squeezing her painfully.

 “Quite comely,” rasped a second voice, drawing her attention over the carpenter’s shoulder. A man, short and round and sporting a bristly mustache that hid the lower half of his face stood, his arms folded across his chest. Similarly dressed, he eyed her hungrily, his eyes twinkling thoughtfully. “I imagine she would be quite tasty, Rufus.”

 “I beg your pardon,” Alice exclaimed, stamping her bare foot softly on the stairs.

 “Quite tasty indeed, Walter,” the ginger-haired carpenter answered, ignoring Alice’s mild outburst. "Her little twat basted in butter and stuffed full of oysters-“

“And vinegar and-“

 “A ‘int of pepper-“

 “Just a hint, mind you,” the mustachioed man murmured, letting out a hungry moan.

 “Delectable.”

 “Delicious.”

 “Delightful.”

 “Divine.”

 “Decadent. Why, the very thought is making me ‘ard.”

 Alice couldn’t stop herself from having to take a peek. Indeed, there was a tenting of his apron signifying that, not only was he quite hard, but that the size of his manhood was quite impressive.

 ‘I suppose I should be frightened at the prospect of being ravished,’ Alice thought. ‘And yet, the prospect of having my cunny buttered and stuffed full of oysters leaves me quite the opposite. One might even say I am eager to experience such debauchery.’

  And so it was settled, at least in her mind, that she would not attempt rhyme nor reason to save her from this predicament. Instead she would give herself over to the experience. Fluttering her lashes, she put on a demure smile whilst wetting her lips with the tip of her soft pink tongue.

 “I suppose you should escort me to the kitchen.”

 “The lass is right, Walter.”

 “To the kitchen, Rufus. To the kitchen.”

 Alice, not knowing where the kitchen might be, was happy to let them guide her, one on either side, their rough hands wrapped around her arms in case she might change her mind and attempt to escape. For a few moments she recalled the book she had read earlier and her opinions on what it might be like to be led around on a leash. That would have made the journey through the house that much more depraved. Too shy to voice her thoughts, however, she kept them to herself, quite keenly aware of her choice in refusing to wear a shift or knickers under her dress and how her thighs were, by the time they finally arrived at the kitchen, were slathered with her arousal.

 “Up you go, lass,” Rufus patted the large butcher’s block in the center of the kitchen as they both helped her up onto it, leaving her sitting upon the edge, her bare legs dangling. Walter, meanwhile, began searching the cupboards whilst singing under his breath.

“The time has come, my sweet young lass, to butter up your twat. And stuff if full of oysters – how many? Quite a lot! And just a hint of pepper and a splash of vinegar. The time has come, my sweet young lass, to butter up your twat.”

In another lifetime the prospect of being stripped naked by these rough strangers would have horrified her. And yet Alice found herself terribly aroused at the thought of being taken advantage of. She watched as Rufus took a rather menacing looking knife from the wall, trembling with desire as he began to sharpen it nosily on a whetstone, knowing that she had clearly left that Alice behind. This Alice relished the thought of what was to come. 

 “The time has come, my sweet young lass, to do so many things. Cut off your dress and spread your legs and tie your hands with strings. With just a hint of pepper and a splash of vinegar. The time has come, my sweet young lass, to do so many things.”

 Alice watched in concerned fascination as Rufus turned his attention to her, the butcher’s knife gripped in his thick, workman-like, fingers.

 “Don’t move, girl. ‘Ate to cut you. You have such pretty skin.”

 She held perfectly still as he sliced the mundane pastel dress she’d found in the wardrobe upstairs from her, pulling it off and casting it aside, leaving her naked.

 “Oi. You’re a real looker.”

Blushing, she glanced down at his apron. If anything, the tenting in his apron had grown.

 “The time has come, my sweet young lass, to treat you like a whore. To make you squirm and make you scream and make you beg for more. With just a hint of pepper and a splash of vinegar. The time has come, my sweet young lass, to treat you like a whore.”

 Her breath caught as Rufus ran the razor-sharp edge of the blade over her tits, scraping the tips of her nipples, her thighs slowly opening centimeter by centimeter with each kiss of cold steel.

 “Oi. I think she likes this, Walter. Twat’s already nice and buttery.”

 Embarrassingly enough, he wasn’t exactly exaggerating.

“The time has come, my sweet young lass, to talk of things that bring great joys. Of nipple clamps and riding crops and other wicked toys. With just a hint of pepper and a splash of vinegar. The time has come my sweet young lass, to talk of things that bring great joys.”      

 “Just relax, lassie.”

 He held her upright as his partner in crime fished a large metal pan from the cupboard, placing it on the table behind her while Rufus secured her hands behind her back with rough twine from his work belt before lifting her up, and placing her in the pan. Then, the two of them proceeded to push her roughly down on her back, the flat of his palm upon perky breasts and hardened nipples, before forcing her to fold her knees up to her chest in order to fit. With the knife tucked into his belt between a crude looking claw hammer and a chisel, the carpenter looked her over, nodding in approval.  

 “Time to baste our little chickadee.”

 Alice did her best to behave, unable to move much, tightly stuffed into a pan barely larger than she, aware that her cunny was on display. Helplessly, she watched as Walter began to melt a saucepan full of butter on top of the oven, humming the remainder of the song wordlessly while Rufus placed a large pot next to it, filling it with milk, cream, flour, and just a dash of tabasco sauce, stirring it slowly, humming along as Walter began to shell oysters and arrange them on a large silver platter.

 “The time has come, my sweet young lass… oh, my. You look lovely.”

 “Thank you,” Alice mumbled, blushing from head to toe.”

 “Would you like to do the honors, Rufus?”

 “I would, Walter. Indeed I would.”

 The platter of raw oysters was placed on her right, the pan of melted butter on her left, the pot of milk, cream, and flour at her feet. Beside her head were placed a pepper grinder and a tumbler of vinegar. Walter handed Rufus a brush and he proceeded to baste her, from head to toe, with warm butter. It was actually rather nice, she thought. Soothing. Warm. She found herself relaxing and growing drowsy, erotic memories of all her adventures floating around in her head. Then, something strange happened. Deep down inside of her. She felt something… moving. And a voice, one that sounded strangely like the Caterpillar’s.                           

“Who are you?”

 “Alice. I think.”

 “Which Alice?”

 “This Alice?”

 “Are you sure?”

 “Perhaps? Perhaps not.”

 “Good. Then you’ll be fine.”

 Alice smiled. In fact, she began to giggle. Rufus had covered her almost entirely with melted butter, even behind her ears and between her toes and between the cheeks of her rounded bottom, paying particular attention to her pucker. It felt lovely. As did, strange as it might seem, as he began stuffing wet raw oysters in her cunt, one by one, until she was filled with the slippery seafood, their juices, as well as her own, mixing with the butter until she was laying in a puddle of fluids while being leered over by a pair of carpenters.

 “Nearly perfect.”

 “Would you care to do the ‘onors?”

 Walter’s smile was toothy beneath his bushy mustache as he began to ladle the thick creamy confection from the pot, covering her small tits and erect nipples. Covering her folded thighs so that it dripped down over her flat tummy and the parted lips of her pussy. Letting it run down her sides and her calves as he filled the pan.

 “Such a sight,” Walter said with a nod, licking his lips slowly.

 “A feast fit for a gentleman.”

 “The time has come, my sweet young lass, to finally take our pleasures. To use you like a plaything and feast upon your treasures,” Walter sang.

 “With just a hint of pepper,” Rufus took over, adding just that from the pepper grinder.

 “And a splash of vinegar,” Walter resumed his silly little ditty, sprinkling vinegar into the concoction. “The time has come, my sweet young lass, to finally take our pleasures.”

 Alice squirmed, feeling the oysters inside her squirm as well. It was a strange feeling and yet, it felt wonderful. Like a dozen tiny tongues licking the walls of her cunny. She felt overcome with lust. Nor did it help that the carpenters had rolled up their sleeves and thrust their hands into the butter and cream concoction that covered her. She felt their rough fingers everywhere. Pinching her tits. Squeezing her nipples. Stroking her belly. Caressing her thighs. And finally, worming their way into her slurpy sloppy snatch.

 “Oh,” she gasped, her eyes going wide as she felt them fishing around inside her, finally pulling an oyster free. A shudder ran through her. Not an orgasm. Not entirely. Perhaps a very small one, but one that held quite a bit of promise. She watched, breathlessly, as Rufus held the oyster up, letting it drip into his open mouth, and onto his tongue. Before releasing it and swallowing it with a lusty slurp.

 “’Eavenly,” he sighed, dreamily.

 “I cannot wait,” Walter mumbled, greedily, pulling a second oyster from her cunt, also letting it drizzle butter and cream and cunt juice over his rubbery lips and thick tongue before letting it drop into his maw, eyes closed in near ecstasy as the taste exploded in his mouth.

“Indescribable.”

 “Oh, do try,” Alice cajoled, wanting to know for herself.

 He merely shook his head, obviously too overcome to make the attempt. Instead, he fished a third oyster out, his rough hands brushing over her swollen little clit, causing yet another little earthquake, this one more intense than the previous too and causing Alice to shimmer and shake in her culinary bath.

 “Oh! So close, and yet…”

 “Frustratingly close?”

 “Yes!” she groaned, tugging at the twine that bound her hands behind her back.

 “This, then, should be even worse, love,” Rufus grinned, fishing out yet another oyster and dangling it before her.

 Without thinking, Alice opened her mouth like a fish gasping for water, her pink tongue extending to catch the first drops of the delicacy that had, a moment ago, filled her cunt. A drop fell. A single drop, and yet it was almost too much and she was almost lost as an explosion of taste enveloped her senses, driving her to the edge of ecstasy and dangling her over the edge.

 “So close,” she cried out in despair, praying for another drop. Just one more, she thought, should do the trick. She watched, her eyes glazed and wide as a single drippy drop hung from the tip of the oyster poised above her hungry mouth, almost crying with relief as it finally let go…

 As it hit her tongue she writhed in pleasure, her words scrambled as she attempted to describe what was, indeed, indescribable as a wave of divine pleasure washed over her and pulled her out to sea.

 Rufus and Walter could only watch in awe as she trembled and shuddered and shook, her orgasm a force of nature – a tempest upon the ocean, perhaps, or a raging firestorm within the heart of an ancient forest.

 How long it lasted, neither she nor the carpenters could say. Forever, perhaps. Or perhaps longer. When it finally ended she lay, panting, her flesh warm and tingly, her cunt pulsing, her nipples aching, watching as Rufus pried his fingers open and let the oyster fall. Just a drop had almost undone her. How could she endure more? And yet, she was eager to discover the answer.

 “No longer the young lady who spent her days sitting on the river bank while her sister read books, dreaming of being ravished by randy pirates, unsure of what it truly meant to be ravished.”

 She did her best to turn her head, already knowing what to expect. A pair of cat eyes and a smile. Nothing more.

 “I don’t suppose I did. Not truly. Had I known I might have been less eager to waste away the afternoons watching the clouds float past…”

 “So full of unfulfilled lust. So naïve.”

“Perhaps I simply didn’t know what I wanted.”

“Perhaps what you want keeps changing, innocent little Alice.”

“No longer so innocent, Cheshire.”

“Delightfully so. And yet, you have barely covered half of the chessboard.”

Alice screamed as the cat’s eyes and then its smile faded from view, pleasure beyond anything she had ever experienced ripping through her as the shellfish landed on her tongue and slid slowly down her throat until she was sure would go mad with anticipation. She felt her pussy flood into the creamy buttery broth in which she lay as she was wracked with orgasm after orgasm, each growing more and more intense until she was sure she had gone mad.

 ‘Bonkers. Insane. Daft. Loopy. Oh, dear. I wonder if I shall ever be the same again. And yet, I am not the same as I was this morning, let alone yesterday and the day before, so I imagine the answer is quite obviously, ‘no’. And I shall look forward to finding out the answer. Just as soon as I awake for I am ninety-nine and nine-tenths sure that I am about to pass out.’

 Alice had never been good at arithmetic, and yet, in this instant, she was quite correct.