Teaser:
Alice stood in the echoing bathroom, her powder blue eyes fixed on the dark mirror and her heart pounding madly in her chest. This can't be, she prayed silently to reason. This just can't be happening to me.
The dreadful melody that had woken Alice from her deep sleep in Cheshire's arms lilted in the air around her again, and once more Alice wondered to herself why Cheshire hadn't stirred. It was a familiar tune, one that Alice knew she would never forget for as long as she lived (and even probably in death). Surely everyone knew the song, but it took Alice's breath away for all the wrong reasons.
How many times had Alice heard this hum to her as her body was pushed over the brink of sanity to unravel in the arms of the hummer? How many long nights had she spent cleaning blood from her bathroom floor, listening as a battered and bruised man wearing a top hat stitched up his own wounds?
"I'm a little tea pot," Hatter's haunting voice rang playfully in Alice's ears. "Short and stout."
Alice's heart jumped.
"No," Alice begged in a whisper. "Please."
"Here is my handle," Hatter's singsong voice echoed in Alice's mind, seeming to come from every direction and yet none at once. She felt an unseen hand settle on her lower back, and the moment Alice's alarmed eyes settled on her reflection she noticed the figure standing behind her.
"No," Alice panted, the tears falling from her cheeks.
She knew that silhouette anywhere. She knew that voice as well as she knew her own. The signs were piling up, and Alice was overcome by the reality—despite the sheer impossibility of what was happening before her eyes!
"Here is my spout," Hatter's voice chided. The figure reached around her, and she felt an answering hand on her stomach. Alice felt her shriek of fear get lodged in her breast when she swallowed hard.
"When I get all steamed up," Hatter giggled, the hand on her stomach slowly sliding up her belly. The hand grazed her breast longingly, hesitating for a moment, before carrying on up her sternum and cupping her throat possessively.
Alice felt her tears spill over faster when she experienced the conditioned response Hatter had instilled in her when he would choke her during their most passionate sexual encounters. Her womb clenched and she felt her panties dampen with need. No, she fought silently. This isn't right!
"Hear me shout," Hatter whispered seductively in her ear.
Alice felt the hand on her lower back press harder against her. She gasped as she was violently bent over the counter, the hand on her back shoving her face down by the back of her head while the hand that had been choking her moved to her hips. Alice caught herself on the counter before her head could strike the cold tile, her entire body trembling in intermingling fear and excitement.
"Tip me over," Hatter's voice shrieked with laughter. "And pour me out."