Jaimie in Wonderland Part 2. Category: Long and Satisfying.
NO AI TRAINING: Without in any way limiting the author’s [and publisher’s] exclusive rights under copyright, any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. The author reserves all rights to licence uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models
Content Warning: Contains themes of oral sex, vaginal sex, drug use.
Welcome to the second part of ‘Jaimie in Wonderland.’ If you’ve crash-landed here from some random corner of the interweb, I suggest that you catch yourself up with Part One of this story.
This is, emphatically and incontrovertibly, a fairy tale for Grown-Ups. If you are not a Grown-Up, then shoo!
As mentioned in the preface to part 1, this story contains themes of drug use. I don’t condone and certainly don’t encourage that, but since we’re all adults here, I’m not going to moralise either: it’s a fantasy story, nothing more, nothing less.
Anyway, enjoy!
Approximately a 25-minute read.
16.
After what might have been moments or, possibly, hours – I had no idea – I opened my eyes again and looked blearily around the club. My vision was still somewhat distorted, and disconcertingly, I had acquired the ability to see sounds. Colours seemed to pulse and glow, and the low rumble of the bass took on a distinctly golden orange glow. I pushed myself into an upright position and looked around. The number of people around the chill-out area who were engaged in sexual activity had increased, and most were now either fucking, sucking or rubbing something belonging to someone else, or were sitting or standing about watching others doing it.
As my eyes tracked around the area, I saw… there! Someone in a white bunny girl costume, exiting through a fire door beyond the cluster of sofas, over to my right. The white fluffy bunny tail disappeared through the door as it closed. I lurched to my feet, determined I was not going to let her get away this time without at least agreeing to meet somewhere, since neither of us had the means to exchange digits. I shook my head to try to clear it, which, obviously, failed to work. No matter – ‘come, Watson, the game is afoot!’
My bad – wrong fictional Victorian.
17.
Reaching the fire door as quickly as heels and chemical imbalance would allow, I paused and shot a glance behind me, checking that my exit would not attract any untoward attention. I needn’t have worried; the group closest to me was encircling a couple, sipping drinks and offering encouraging comments while she, kneeling between his knees, swallowed hard as he twitched, eyes rolling back in his head.
On the other side of the door, I found myself in a stairwell, with brutal, plain concrete walls, floor, and steps illuminated by a green-tinged industrial glow. The number ‘2’ stencilled onto the wall near the fire door told me the floor I was on. The stairs led down into darkness – the lights at the bottom of the stairwell must have been out. I could hear the rapid clatter of heels on the stairs as they descended, and, deciding that there was no time to be lost, I set off in pursuit.
I had to temper my speed as I approached what I hoped would be the bottom of the stairs. It was almost completely dark, and I was obliged to hold the steel stair-rail and grope about with my feet to safely locate each step lest I should go arse-over-tit and end up in a heap on the floor.
Eventually reaching the bottom of the stairs in one piece, I felt about for an exit, all the while trying not to think about what might be lurking about in the now pitch darkness. This was certainly a health and safety hazard, and it was most definitely in breach of some fire regulations or something. I would be sure to leave a scathing review, or at least I would if this weren’t a secret party that nobody officially knew about.
18.
Finally, my questing fingers found a horizontal metal bar at waist height – clearly, this was the exit. I pushed it downwards and was rewarded by a crack of soft yellow light slicing through the darkness. I pushed and the door swung outwards, and, feeling very happy to be out of the tomb-like stairwell, I stepped out onto the pavement without a thought for my phone – left at the coat check. The door clicked shut behind me.
The street I was on was completely deserted. The lack of any sound was uncanny and disconcerting. When could you ever stand on a street in London and not hear anything: no traffic, no people, no nothing? I decided that I’d emerged on a different side of the building from the one which I had entered. Having no clue which direction the fleeing bunny had taken, I decided to head for what I guessed would be the front side of the building, where Chloe and I had been deposited by our taxi.
If it were possible for the warehouse that the party was being held in to have been picked up and moved to a different location without anyone inside noticing, I would have been ready to accept that this is what had happened. The road surrounding the building was lined on the other side with graffiti-ed wooden panelling, and beyond that seemed to be trees – a park, possibly. I didn’t remember it looking like that at all when we arrived.
Opposite the entrance to the building I had just left was a break in the panelling, and, through it, a path led away into what was clearly wooded parkland. I was sure that was not there when I arrived earlier.
Curiouser and curiouser.
19.
It seemed to me that if I were a bunny, I would probably head that way, although the darkness and looming trees hanging over the path were somewhat intimidating. Whatever substance was pulsing through my veins at that time, however, was making me feel a lot braver than usual (which isn’t very much, frankly), and I decided that I’d just have a look a little way into the park and turn back if I found anything even remotely scary in there. I began to walk, but barely a minute later, I noticed a figure to my right. They weren’t there one moment ago, and then, somehow, they were.
Sitting – well, more like reclining, on a park bench set back from the path, was a girl. I was fairly confident she hadn’t been there as I approached along the path, but now, well, here she was. It was an impressive skill, to be able to sort of materialise out of thin air, but, of course, she couldn’t have.
The girl was dressed in black from head to foot: a latex catsuit with matching heeled boots. A pair of black velvet cat ears was fastened onto her head. I didn’t think I’d ever seen anything so sultry in my life. She was dark-skinned, South Asian – perhaps Indian – I thought, with glossy black fur – sorry, hair – and large almond-shaped eyes like pools of melted chocolate.
20.
‘Well, hello Alice.’ She drawled and smiled a huge, luminescent smile.
‘I’m called Jaimie, actually. What did you come as?’
‘I’m disappointed you can’t tell, frankly. I mean, are you even trying?’ She gave the back of her right paw – sorry, hand – a lick, then rubbed it behind her ear.
‘Catwoman?’ I ventured.
‘You are clever! She exclaimed. ‘The rabbit said you were. Not any old Catwoman, though. Not, you know, the one with the pointy tits from the Batman TV show! No – I’m the Michelle Pfeiffer Catwoman. Or maybe the Anne Hathaway one, I haven’t decided. They were both pretty hot, though, weren’t they? I’m called Cheshtaa, by the way.’
‘That’s a pretty name.’ I said.
‘Thanks. It’s Hindi; it means ‘desire.’ Everybody calls me ‘Chesh’ though.’
‘What about the rabbit? Have you seen a girl going along here – she’s dressed like a bunny girl, except her costume is white?’
‘Looking for her, are you?’ The cat grinned knowingly. ‘You want to watch that one; she’s a proper heartbreaker.’
‘Did she go this way? Please, if you could just tell me.’ The girl was pleasant enough, but the chatting was costing me time, and I might never catch the runaway bunny at this rate.
‘Ooh! A bit impatient, aren’t we?’ She mocked, grinning widely again. ‘Don’t get your little white panties in a twist! Yes, she went by just now. I think she’s due to rendezvous with the Hatter – said something about scoring some capsules. Hatter often has mushroom tea parties at night here – he’s as mad as a…well, hatter, I suppose. Take my advice: if he offers you a cup, decline. He puts way too many liberty caps in that brew. You’ll think you really are Alice if you drink it.’ She grinned that gleaming smile again.
21.
I peered off into the darkness and thought, imagined perhaps, that I could see a little fluffy tail rounding the trunk of a large oak. I turned back to the cat. ‘Than…’ My voice trailed off. Chesh was gone. Her incandescent smile had the same effect as staring at a lightbulb and then looking away; the glowing impression of it seemed to hang in the air for a few moments before fading to nothingness.
I set off in pursuit again. Coming to the oak, I left the path and picked my way around a clump of trees and dense undergrowth. Rounding the edge of the thicket I immediately thought I must be hallucinating. Maybe I was.
In a small clearing, a grouping of tatty, mouldy old armchairs, a couple of upturned crates, and a footstool were arranged in a rough circle. Occupying almost all of the available seating was a rag-tag band of individuals, all male except one, who was dressed up as Harley Quinn, laughing uproariously at a witticism which the individual who was clearly the leader of the group had just said.
‘Chloe!’
She looked up at me, seemingly not recognising me for a few seconds, then a smile.
‘Jaimie!’
22.
I was delighted to see my friend, but, shamefully, I was scanning the group for someone else: someone with fluffy bunny ears. She wasn’t there.
‘Did a girl in a bunny costume come by here? I asked.
‘Whoa – hold up, Alice.’ The leader of the group, a slender man in mismatched trousers and waistcoat with a green velvet top hat, had spoken. I looked a bit closer. I was pretty sure that he was the one I had seen Chloe with pushing through the crowd earlier. He waved his hand at an unoccupied chair.
‘Come and take a load off. Have some tea.’ He indicated a chipped teapot on the battered old coffee table, which was in the middle of the group. I noticed a tin kettle perched over a camping stove, along with a small pile of stringy-looking mushrooms. ‘They call me ‘Hatter’, by the way. Mainly because that’s my name.’
‘No thanks.’ I said politely but firmly. ‘Do you know where she went?’
‘Yeah, she came without cash, so she’s gone off to find a cash machine. I don’t believe in credit. Seriously – come and have some tea.’
‘I’ve been warned off it,’ I said. ‘Chloe, you shouldn’t be drinking that stuff either.’
‘Oh, lighten up, Jaimie,’ she replied, waving her cracked mug in my direction. ‘I told you we need to let our hair down a bit – that’s exactly what I’m doing.’
23.
‘Like, chill, Alice. Your friend’s got the right idea. She’ll be coming up on the tea soon, and she’ll have an unforgettable time, which reminds me.’ He looked sideways at Chloe. ‘Like I said, no credit, Chica, we did make a little deal – remember?’
Chloe looked aghast. ‘I thought you meant, like, later, maybe back at yours or something. Somewhere a bit more… private. I like you anyway, but… here? In front of… them?’
The Hatter’s hand was now on her knee and moving up to the soft flesh at the top of her holdup stocking.
‘In half an hour, you’ll be off with the fairies, and you’ll be on that magic carpet for hours. And…’ the hand moved further up, ‘you seemed keen on the arrangement earlier.’
The assorted hangers-on – four of them, in total, vociferously agreed with this analysis. There was some leaning forward in chairs, and a general sense of expectation filled the air. They were clearly interested to see how this would go; all except one, who was sleeping so soundly that he didn’t stir even when one of the group kicked his foot to try to wake him. The Hatter’s hand had seemingly reached its destination. I could see by the glow of moonlight his wrist moving slowly. Chloe let out a moan, and her knees fell further apart.
‘See. I knew you’d remember our deal. It’s not a hardship, is it?’
Chloe shook her head; her mouth was open, and she was giving little grunts and moans. Hatter clearly had some skills. He looked up at me.
‘Your little bunny will be back along soon, and your friend here is going to be busy for a while. Why not take a seat and make yourself comfortable?
24.
There was absolutely no doubt that Chloe and I had succeeded in ‘letting our hair down.’ The evening had descended into the sort of debauched free-for-all that my imagination often provided me with when I wanted material for masturbation. That was in the privacy of my own mind, though, at home.
We would need to have a debrief later, I thought.
There was no faulting the Hatter’s logic, so I shuffled through the feet of the Hatter’s companions and lowered myself onto the only free seat – an old armchair. There was a dirty old crate as well, but the prospect of getting a splinter in my bum was not appealing. I made sure to pull my dress under my thighs as I sat – the latex would, at least, provide a hygienic barrier between the manky old chair and my nether regions.
25.
Chloe had slumped back in her seat, and her legs were now apart as the hatter’s fingers continued to provoke little gasps and sighs from her. When did we become so comfortable with getting jiggy with other people in front of an audience? I supposed the answer to that was ‘tonight’.
Chloe was, ostensibly, straight, although there had been some jokey innuendo about her having to watch me carefully when we had shared a room on holidays away and so on.
On one such trip, I had listened, aroused, while she masturbated in bed after we had come back squiffy from a night out. I was awoken in the early hours to the gentle sounds of her stifled gasps and rustling of the bedsheet from her twin hotel bed, a couple of feet away from mine. She had clearly thought that I was asleep.
I had touched myself whilst listening to her.
I didn’t mention it the next morning and wondered what she had been thinking of; me, perhaps? I imagined slipping in alongside her and finding out, but our friendship was too important to me to risk misreading the situation, so I bit my lip as I came off on my own fingers, a short while after she finished and rolled onto her side to sleep. Now here she was, legs spread, being wanked by a strange guy in a top hat while I watched.
26.
The Hatter looked at me and smirked. ‘Like what you see?’ He asked. ‘Your mate is going to suck me now. That was our deal. It’s a bit of a strain for me to keep reaching her pussy – you know? Makes the old wrist ache a bit. Why don’t you take over and give me something to watch while she’s sorting me out?’
‘Oh, come on, Hatter!’ Said one of his merry band, ‘What about us?’
‘You must be fucking joking. Seeing one of youze lot servicing her is not something I want to watch. Stay where you are and enjoy the show.’
I looked up at Chloe’s face and saw that she was looking right at me. She didn’t say anything, but her expression was one of unadulterated lust. I rationalised that, once we were sobered up, we would at least be able to blame our behaviour on our pharmaceutical indisposition and agree to never speak of it again. I slipped off the chair and, on all fours, moved my face between her legs. This might be a once-only opportunity.
‘Oh yeah!’ said the Hatter. ‘Why do I get the feeling that this has either happened before or it’s been building up to it?’ He laughed, removed his hand from Chloe’s crotch and stood, unzipping his fly. ‘Well, don’t keep everyone waiting, love.’
I leaned my cheek against Chloe’s warm thigh and inhaled the aroma of her; she was aroused and wet already from The Hatter’s attentions, and I moved closer and planted a kiss on her sex. Even in the low light, I could see the soft lips of her labia puffy and engorged, pink petals opening to give their nectar to me. She moaned.
27.
‘Hey, Harley! Said Hatter. ‘I can tell you’ve been thinking about her doing that for a while, but don’t forget our little arrangement, now.’
Looking up, I could see that Hatter was now standing alongside Chloe, an impressively hard cock rearing up from his flies. He leaned in so that the engorged tip bumped Chloe’s cheek. She turned her head immediately and, without hesitation, fastened her lips around it. Now it was Hatter’s turn to groan.
Chloe wriggled a little to get into a comfortable position; her bottom slid down so that it was on the edge of her seat. She draped her right leg over the arm of the chair, giving me more room to – uh – ‘operate’ and angled her head the opposite way to receive the hard, upwardly curving cock of the Hatter. She grabbed it by the base while she clamped her lips around the end. Judging by the reaction from Hatter, she was swirling her tongue around his glans with enthusiasm.
Meanwhile, I set about my task. As I’ve mentioned, I had indulged some lazily lustful thoughts about Chloe in the past, but always been content to assume that any consummation of those was strictly out of bounds. Now here was my friend, with her legs spread wide in invitation to me. We would, I decided, most definitely have to have a debrief, but for now, I wasn’t going to turn this opportunity down. As I ran the flat of my tongue along the length of her slit, I wondered idly how many supposedly straight women entertained fantasies about fucking a female friend. Far more than would be willing to admit it, I supposed.
28.
I settled into a slow and steady, lapping motion. This being the first time with Chloe, I’d need to find what the ‘sweet-spot’ moves were which worked for her. I adopted a favourite strategy and did what I like to have done to me, and proceeded from there. A jabbing tongue-tip on a clit is too intense when deployed too soon, so long, soft, flat-tongue strokes are my go-to to start things off. It seemed to be well received. Despite having a mouthful of cock, Chloe was making little moaning noises and wiggling her hips.
I wasn’t, I must point out, especially comfortable. There was, at least, an old threadbare rug on the ground – another bizarre touch to cement the hallucinogenic impression of an outdoor lounge – so I was not, at least, kneeling on the grass, but the ground was quite hard, the weather having been dry for a few weeks. My neck was craned back so that I could get full access to Chloe, and also so that I could look up her body and observe what was going on further up.
What was going on further up was, in fact, Chloe beginning to move her head a little while Hatter rolled his hips, producing a slow fucking motion. A drip of slobber trickled down Chloe’s chin and dropped onto her exposed boob. Hatter had helped himself while Chloe was otherwise engaged, pulling her top down and sliding his big hands over the pale, soft breasts which were now exposed. He caught up the dribble of saliva on his finger and massaged it into Chloe’s hard nipples, bringing from her another long moan.
29.
Her free hand reached down and rested on the top of my head, her fingertips gripping. Clearly, things were going well. I changed things up and began to apply more pressure with the tip of my tongue so that it slipped into the entrance to her vagina with every upward stroke. This had the added benefit for me of collecting the delicious and now copious juices with each up-stroke, greedily relishing the taste of her. Chloe tilted her hips as far as she could to facilitate what was clearly another popular move: the moaning and gasps, taken in around the thrusting cock, increased.
There had been silence from the observers, but I heard one of them stirring now.
Hatter noticed it too. ‘Wakey, wakey! I thought you were going to miss the show, Dormouse!’
I realised that the sleeper had awoken and was now taking an interest.
‘I’ve been awake for a while, if you must know. None of you lot would have noticed, that’s for sure. Fuckin’ hell though: look at this one’s arse!’
I realised he must be talking about me, on all fours with my backside pointing directly towards him. I gave it a little wiggle as I lapped.
I felt a hand stroking my soft flesh, then, AH! A sharp smack brought a moment of pain, followed by a warming, tingling buzz. I thrust my bottom backwards and was rewarded by another stinging slap. My pussy, already aching with want from tonguing away at my friend, twinged deliciously.
30.
‘Fuck, mate, I think you’re in there.’ Said Hatter. I wiggled again in agreement.
‘Shit,’ breathed Dormouse, lustily and his hands, both of them now, freely explored my rear-end. He pulled my white thong to one side, and his fingertips began to slip and slide along through my wetness, making me shudder and clamp my mouth over Chloe’s pussy.
‘Do you think she’d be OK with me fucking her?’
I momentarily removed my face from Chloe’s cunt. ‘She’s here, you know, and can answer for herself. And, for the record, she would be very OK with that.’ I planted my mouth back where it had been and tried to bury my tongue as far into Chloe as I could, causing her to squeak and gasp.
There was a shuffling behind me and hands, encouraging me to widen my stance to allow another pair of legs to kneel between mine. I was breathing heavily through my nose as I raked at Chloe. I was so distracted by what was going on to the rear of me that I didn’t immediately notice Chloe cresting her orgasm. She began to shudder violently, both hands now clamped to my head, holding it tightly. I realised in time, refocussed on her and lapped furiously. At just the moment that I tasted warm juices flooding into my mouth, swallowing hard to capture every drop, something hard, something hard and hot, dragged upward through my dripping labia and, without further pleasantries, slid into me.
31.
It was my turn to moan. There was a chorus of murmured approval to what was taking place from the assembled men. Chloe’s hands were still on my head, and, orgasm notwithstanding, she didn’t seem to have lost any enthusiasm for being eaten by me, so I decided to press on with my exploration of her, now very wet, pussy. Once her sensitivity had reduced a little following the immediate aftermath of her climax, I began working a figure of eight movement across and around her clit, which quickly returned her to squirming in her chair and moaning.
‘I can’t hold it much longer.’ Gasped Hatter, as he gripped the back of the chair in which Chloe was slumped. I noted that she had redoubled her attentions on his cock, and I was impressed with his staying power. Meanwhile, behind me, Dormouse – or whatever his real name was – began to speed up his tempo, the thrusts becoming more vigorous and driving my face with each into Chloe’s soaking pussy.
It was becoming difficult to focus on what I was doing, partly due to the feeling of the cock thrusting in and out, but also the momentum generated by each slap of groin against my arse was affecting my aim. Additionally, I had now reached back and was rubbing my own clit while the adorable dormouse cock built up a head of speed. I resolved the issue by fastening my lips around Chloe’s bullet-hard clit and sucking it. After only a few seconds of this, she went over the top again, this time decorating my décolletage with a shower of her fluids as she bucked and gasped.
32.
Chloe’s second orgasm seemed to start a chain reaction as, only seconds apart, the other collaborators in this lusty little scene came. Hatter was next, cursing as his cock jerked in her mouth. She did not have a perfect seal of her lips around it, owing to her gasps and moans from her orgasm, so some of the semen spattered out, down her chin and onto her exposed breasts. I was next, pulling my head back from the dripping pussy which my mouth had been latched onto to give out a long, guttural moan. Mere moments later, I felt Dormouse abruptly pull out and, as I bucked and jolted to my orgasm, I heard him groan and felt warm fluid splashing across my exposed bum cheek, dribbling down and dripping onto the back of my leg. Gosh, there was a lot of him.
We remained like that in our little tableaux of sexual satiation, panting and starting to consider beginning the task of untangling ourselves.
As we began to do so, I became aware of a sound, faint at first, then growing louder and nearer, the sound of a police siren. The Hatter and his gang suddenly leapt to action with a speed which they had previously given no hint that they were capable of. The teapot was emptied onto the grass, the mushrooms stuffed into a small bag and thrust into the Hatter’s pocket, and, with his other hand, he practically yanked Chloe to her feet.
‘It’s the feds!’ he hissed at me, let’s roll. My van is parked up just over there, we’ll lie low in the back ‘till they’ve gone. Come on! Move!’
33.
The group sped off into the darkness, with Chloe being half-dragged and stumbling along. I heaved myself to my feet and started to follow, but promptly fell face-first onto the ground, my foot getting hooked under the edge of the rug. By the time I looked up, there was no sign of anyone anywhere.
‘I wouldn’t hang about if I were you,’ said a familiar voice. ‘If the police think you’ve been hanging out with Hatter at one of his infamous tea parties, your sweet little ass will be toast.’ It was Chesh the cat, managing again to materialise from thin air seemingly. I gawped at her, stupidly. The sound of voices was getting closer. It wasn’t Hatter and the group returning; it could only be the police.
‘Come on,’ she said, grabbing my hand in hers and pulling me to my feet. ‘let’s split!’
Thank you for reading part 2 of this story! Please return for part 3 where things get even weirder.
Love, Jaimie xx
Links and stuff
When I was reading back the first draft of this instalment, it occurred to me that the little lust tableaux at the Hatters’ mushroom teaparty was reminiscent of some scenes in the erotic novel ‘Philosophy in the Boudoir’ by the Marquis de Sade. I read it some while ago, but it’s quite possible that my subconscious dragged it up while I was writing this.
If you haven’t read it but consider yourself a connoisseur of erotica, then you probably ought to just because he’s such an influential figure in the history of erotica. I should warn you in advance, it is actually pretty shit. The ridiculously over-the-top sex scenes are interspersed with long discourses on politics – in this case, why France should become a republic (it was written in 1795).
The sex itself is by turns ludicrous – everyone can come 20 times a day, and the men all have 10-inch cocks and a refractory time of about 2 minutes – and nauseating, the references to torture and paedophilia especially so. Hey, if you’re looking for something unerringly sex-positive, I’d give it a swerve, but otherwise, it makes for a laughably bizarre but historically interesting read.
Jaimie
I’m sharing my stories online for free, because it’s nice, isn’t it, to share things with people and start conversations? If you read one of my stories (hopefully more than one!) I would love it if you would take the time to comment. It takes a lot of time, effort and sometimes emotions, to write my best for you. It’s encouraging to receive a response, so if you could spare a moment to please drop a comment, that would be wonderful! Your email address will not appear in the comment.
