Alice On Chessboard With Caged Boy

Adventures in Wonderland of A Virgin & her Chastized Boyfriend Through the Looking-Glass.

### Copyright © 2024. This is a copyrighted work. Unauthorized use is prohibited. All rights reserved by the author.

My contribution to the "

2024 Literotica Geek Pride Story Event

," event (you know, Carroll, checkboard, paradoxes, dreams...). Please remember to vote for the OTHER narratives in this event if you didn't like mine. Vote for this one if you liked it, and leave a comment if you would like a sequel.

###Disclaimer (the longest one, for a 132,500-character story!). The male character narrating in the first person (this is not autobiographical) wears a locked chastity cage on his penis.

If this kink doesn't intrigue you, DON'T START reading this long and tedious fiction.

This is in the "Fetish" category but perhaps should be labeled "Non-Erotic" because there is just so little eroticism. Reader forewarned almost saved.

My narration is very long, probably boring and sanctimonious, and dense with unnecessary nerdy references to chapters in Carroll's second book. If you're just looking for a quick jerk-off, this site is home to numerous storytellers far more effective than I am.

You don't need to know Carrol's books, just know that there will be a huge living chess game, on a board the size of entire hills and valleys. But it is not a treatise about chess, and any inconsistencies with the official rules did not bother Carroll or me (or you).

Carroll's text describes a dream where many illogical and inconsistent things happen. That is why I want to warn the gentle Reader, who will read many illogical and inconsistent things here too, with the difference that Carroll was a genius but "contrariwise" I'm not.

I always wondered how the pedagogies in the United Kingdom and colonies always considered "suitable for children and young people" problematic authors such as Defoe (author of "Moll Flanders," come on guys!), Swift (did you not understand the implications of Lilliputians and giants, in both cases restrained and caged?!) and especially Carroll, inspirer of countless masturbations for entire generations of geeks.

All of the characters in MY narrative are of the age of majority (over 18 years of age) even though they look like only chessmen.

As you already guessed, English is not my native language, please forgive my mistakes.###

0: Prologue.

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Facesitting on top of me, Consuelo swung her pelvis pivoting her ankles back and forth. Depending on the fickle whims of her body, her hips would place before my mouth her moist shaved pussy, or delicious rosebud, and I would lick and suck like a hungry infant neglected by a distracted Duchess.

I was restrained spread eagle with wrists and ankles cuffed to the four corners of my bed. The mattress and sheets were over one had a completely inescapable wrought iron frame: and besides, I did not wish to escape (I never wish!), I only craved to lick my Keyholder.

She was not completely naked... she and wore a thin white silk scarf, framing her magnificent firm tits.

Instead, I was naked: as always, CFNM.

She clothed and I naked, her thin precious glittering, and silver-white against my heavy vile brass, dull, rusty, and without bright highlights.

Our harmonious couple's conscious and consensual lack of balance could not have been more evident.

Consuelo wore hanging from a thin silver chain the key to the brass padlock that locked my chastity cage.

That too was inescapable, like the handcuffs: I had no desire to escape.

Dear reader, I know it may seem counterintuitive to you to read that I "wished to wait a long time before cumming": I know that in most erotic literature males cum after a few seconds. But I AM NOT all males; I am only myself. And I craved to wait, sacrificing my selfishness for her pleasure.

Consuelo knew this. Our agreements were clear and shared.

I had begged her to be my gentle but strict Keyholder, sweet but stern.

She was a virgin, even though she was already 24, and I did not want to impose my bullying on such a beautiful and precious girl.

I was also a boy virgin, in the sense that I had never penetrated a woman's vagina. I had masturbated, and how! For hours, for days on end.

Some girls I knew laughed at me. Among them, even an old roommate of mine, who as a joke had made me wear a chastity cage for a masquerade party.

I never imagined that such a strange object would trigger many emotions.

I was a 24-year-old virgin boy. Not an Incel, a loser, often rejected by girls: I was a virgin by choice because I wanted to reserve love and sex with the right person. Maybe I was wrong, maybe it was nonsense: getting married without experience is like flying without taking lessons. My name was Christopher, a fairly common name in Irish Catholic families (not for Columbus: I hate any colony unless "it runs independently"), but Consuelo called me Kit.

Consuelo was a 24-year-old virgin girl, of a Hispanic American Catholic family with roots in so many different Countries (and "melting pot" was the appropriate name for her hot vagina: my tongue my tongue was in danger of melt, dissolving into heaven).

She was neither ugly nor dumb: indeed, many ugly girls try to compensate for their lack of attractiveness with ample sexual availability. And many dumb girls try to hide their lack of imagination by indulging whoever fucks them in any hole. To me, she was beautiful, with unripe and firm tits, and shaved pubic hair due to a bet with a previous "party-girl" roommate of hers.

We had met at a famous party, dragged along by other people who had set us up with bets and teasing. But to read this account it is not necessary to know what happened.

Suffice it to know that we were now in my bed, lying naked in my student flat. Consuelo was almost under the covers, holding herself to me in a loving and secure embrace. Her nipples were softly resting on the skin of my chest.

I was also naked, except for two details that covered a very small percentage of my epidermis. Thin metal bars covered the skin of my penis like a glove. The common name for that device is "chastity cage" because it resembles a birdcage (like Tweety Bird so as not to be caught by the Sylvester Cat). My bird could not be caught by the Pussycat or Alice's Kitten! A metal ring surrounded my testicles, preventing the penis from any escape route. The only key was at her neck: so close, yet so far away!

"Better is Good's worst enemy." I was happy, and I would never wish for anything "better," I just wanted us to be "Good." There are so many horrible things in the world, and for me to be "Good" was the most joyful thing in the world.

###

At the beginning of facesitting, Consuelo had playfully fiddled my blue balls under the chastity cage.

She had her ass cheeks pressed over the cheeks of my face, and with her hands, she could comfortably reach both my navel and my testicles.

But as the lashes of my tongue gently flicked her clitoris, her hands began to be fingered. And when I stuck my tongue into the rosebud seeking difficult penetration, she grabbed her buttocks to dilate the groove and widen the hole as much as possible.

From that moment on, my testicles remained ignored and neglected, by her: even as my racing heart continued to uselessly rush blood to propel an impossible erection, prevented by the bars of the cage.

Without warning she moved the bones of her pelvis and positioned it in front of my mouth the shaved pussy and clitoris protruded out of the labia.

From where I was forced to stand, I could not watch what she was doing in front. Maybe she had masturbated with one hand? Or maybe the pussy was all wet from just watching how it jerked and ached my penis, so different from those hurried Two Pump Chump cocks, which cum after a few seconds? I don't know.

Looking down I could see her clitoris glistening, drenched in humor. I tried to reach for it with my tongue, but she contented herself with rubbing it on my shaved chin bone and lower lip.

Perhaps unconsciously she was looking for two different superficialities to test: one hard as bone, one soft as lip.

My virgin girlfriend kept rubbing her labia on my face. I could only penetrate her with my tongue and tried to enter as deeply as possible.

It was enough to make her orgasm, but not enough to break her hymen.

Very patiently I began to suck the parts of the vagina: first the labia majora, one by one, then the inner labia, two together.

I didn't know if there was a name for that way of sucking.

To me, it was a "reverse blowjob," as if I were sucking her genitals.

And as many feminists say: "The one who PERFORMS the blowjob decides the timing and rhythm, the one who RECEIVES it just waits and suffers."

My Head Giving as a form of Empowerment.

Consuelo swung back and forth a few times. She was in no hurry to orgasm.

The cage kept me from ruining it with an overly hasty cumshot.

She had no fear that I would ruin everything by leaving her halfway.

Besides, I was handcuffed to the bed's corners and could not leave.

She had all the time in the world, and she took full advantage of it.

Close to my eyes were her feet, and I saw the toes curling in pleasure, clutching the fabric of the sheets like an infant clutches its mother's finger.

The most beautiful landscape I had ever seen.

I should have been thinking about when I was going to cum, but I wasn't: my brain unconsciously thought about how nice it would be, to get married, and live together until I was one hundred and sixty-four (a little more than Paul McCartney) and having two or three children and eight or ten grandchildren...

Is it silly for me to think about these things while my girlfriend orgasms over my face, twice, even three times, without any penetration? Call me silly then.

The one from "Moby Dick" asked "Call me Ishmael," but I am the one from "Chastized Dick," and so, "Call me Silly."

###

After the third clitoral orgasm, Consuelo surrendered to sleep.

I had been eating her labia and clitoris for hours, and she had orgasmed screaming. Then she had almost passed out in the bliss of orgasm.

She came down from facesitting, sliding her ankle very close to my genitals.

I briefly hoped that her delicious foot would stop and rub my penis, but she had other plans.

Before falling asleep, she said to me, "Never Reciprocate. I would like you to stay cuffed and caged here beside me. Can you resist this predicament?"

I nodded and replied, "Yes, my Lady."

Without thanking me, without saying goodbye, without even a kiss, she rolled onto her side from the right side. She didn't feel the need to dry herself, or even wipe my face: I would have the smell of her orgasms in my nostrils all night long, and the taste of her sweet pussy on my tongue as well.

Consuelo said nothing but extended her hands until she reached for my right wrist, and without haste, she released the manacles of one arm. Then she curled up in a fetal position as if to protect the key hanging from her necklace, and fell asleep at once: as satiated as a newborn after feeding.

After a moment, she was already asleep, snoring softly, like a kitten.

But the arousal of my penis struggled strenuously against the metal bars. I could not fall asleep for a very long time. Then I dreamed a kind of strange nightmare.

The party we had returned from was themed "L.Carroll's Had Matter Tea," at a kinky-friendly nightclub. My long nightmare seemed somewhat suggestive of Carroll's second novel and had the form of a huge chess game played between the hills and valleys of two neighboring kingdoms.

Madness? Dream? Desire? I don't know what I dreamed either.

After a few minutes, I would hear Consuelo snoring softly. She might have sounded like a purring Cheshire kitten, with the difference that on her shoulders she wore a small white silk scarf.

We agreed like that. It had been my suggestion, it was on me.

I had told her the three Pillars of this lifestyle: "Ladies First," short and pithy; "Never Reciprocate," sharp and definitive, which implicitly also contained liberation from having to "turn me on" or provoke me on purpose: teasing sessions were only when she was in the mood, and anyway I was turned on just by seeing the skin of her pinky finger (not to mention liberation from worrying about where to clean my mess by interrupting her bliss).

And the last Pillar, expressed with a binary structure, like the double helix of an eternal DNA: "while the submissive can ejaculate only when he wants Consuelo, my Keyholder can get as many orgasms as she wants whenever she has a whim," long but perfectly adequate to describe our situation.

### SPOILER ALERT ### At that moment I did not yet know that the two of us would live with that lifestyle for many decades, surviving two births of children of my own, two graduations from college, and the birth of my several grandchildren, always together. And I did not yet know that she would always be faithful to me: her pussy (which was virginal that night) would never be penetrated by any other man. I did not yet know that after she lost her virginity, sometimes Consuelo would ask me politely (or sternly order me) to make her orgasm using vibrators or dildos or other objects that would penetrate while my penis remained curved in the forced bowing imposed by the bars of the locked cage.

Instead, what I knew with certainty at that moment was that if I remained restrained and spread eagle I would not be able to restrain my physiological needs throughout the night. With much effort, I managed to open the manacle on my left wrist, then bent forward the two manacles at the ankles.

My cock was boiling and my testicles full of cream screamed, but I couldn't do anything but go to the bathroom and urinate sitting down, so as not to soil everything with my mess.

I went back to our bed. The bed that before was only mine, and now seemed only hers. If I lay next to her, would I risk waking her up?

The doubt made me despair.

I knew that in general, every girl would like to be cuddled by a man. I was willing to do that, even if it would have multiplied my suffering.

But it would have been selfish of me to cuddle the purring pussy.

Oh, it is a very inconvenient habit of kittens (even Alice had once remarked) that, whatever you say to them, they always purr. "If they would only purr for 'yes' and mew for 'no,' or any rule of that sort," Alice had said, "so that one could keep up a conversation! But how can you talk with a kitten if they always say the same thing?" On this occasion the kitten only purred: and it was impossible to guess whether it meant "yes" or "no."

I decided, though I would receive nothing in return and fall asleep with a hard cock inside the cage, and the blue balls screaming (instead of "creaming").

Without Consuelo ordering me, I lay down on the hard floor.

Little did I know at that moment that I was about to inaugurate a long tradition of nights on the floor, because she often asked me to, saying that that way she had the whole bed to herself, and didn't have to kick me to stop snoring, and didn't have to steal my sheets. Sometimes, especially in winter, she would ask me to cuddle her and warm her up after she had orgasmed: then I would push the cage against her ass cheeks (providing me with more tension!) and while she fell asleep I would try to warm her up with my shoulders since I usually had my wrists cuffed behind my back.

But that night I still knew nothing.

I was aware that my nostrils and tongue were full of Consuelo's delicious flavor, and I could not fall asleep right away.

A long period of drowsiness kept me in a state suspended between wakefulness and sleep. Perhaps I dreamed.

I dreamed because none of the things I will recount in the next chapters could have happened in real life.

"In a Wonderland they lie, dreaming as the days go by, dreaming as the summers die. Ever drifting down the stream (the only stream I didn't see flowing was that of my sperm, by the way, and the testicles were screaming) lingering in the golden gleam: Life, what is it but a dream?"

As I fell asleep, I already began to dream, and it felt like I was falling downward, like inside a rabbit hole.

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CHAPTER 1. Looking-Glass House

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Dear reader, you know when you are in your sleep, and you realize you are dreaming even though you are still half awake? Here, I was dreaming but I knew it was a dream.

First, we were standing in front of the closet mirror. I had caught a glimpse of myself as she was riding facesitting, but it didn't look like Magic Looking-glass to me.

Still, the surface of the glass was liquid. I thought, "It's turning into a sort of mist now, I declare! It'll be easy enough to get through..."

After a moment we were on the other side of the Looking Glass.

I had opened my eyes, and I was on a hill in the middle of the green countryside, standing behind Consuelo. Although we had fallen asleep in the middle of the night, on this side of the Looking Glass was the sun, halfway between noon and sunset. I thought that even though it was afternoon, I was not hungry.

She was naked wearing just a white silk scarf over her shoulders, and my key hanging from her necklace.

The penis was clenched by the bars of the cage even in the dream.

I tried to look down to look at my hand, but I was only a shadow.

I tried to speak, but in my mouth was a stiff leather plate. A muzzle-shaped gag blocked my mouth, and a leather harness clamped my jaw to my skull so that I could not speak.

I could only moan or grunt.

Better. Often males just talk nonsense.

I thought quietly, "I don't think they can hear me, and I'm nearly sure they can't see me. I feel somehow as if I were invisible..."

Consuelo, on the other hand, spoke to herself. Her voice repeated a passage from Carroll, while her eyes looked out over the great checkerboard-shaped plain. "

I stood behind Consuelo. She looked into the mirror but saw only a shadow behind her. I could not move away from her she walked forward, evolving, I would also walk along with her, but I could not evolve alone.

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CHAPTER 2. The Garden Of Living Flowers.

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On that side of the Looking Glass, flowers were talking with male voices. A Tiger Lily and a baritonal Red Rose. They were both very aggressive and in rough and rude ways.

I vaguely remembered that there were flowers in the cartoon movie, all singing in chorus. These two, on the other hand, manifested a bullying attitude.

Who did they think they were? I may have been just a useless Shadow, but my Consuelo was a grown-up girl who could cut the stems of those flowers in a heartbeat.

Two big shots imagined they were at the very least two Towers or two Bishops.

But I was wrong.

Suddenly (as happens in dreams, without a logical thread). the Red Queen also appeared among the flowers.

She did not resemble the Queen of Hearts from the deck of cards.

She looked more like a chess piece.

She was a mature woman, very attractive, dressed only in red silks and velvets. She wore a very tight corset that left her tits and also her dark large nipples uncovered, and a very wide skirt that was, however, all unbuttoned in front, leaving the dark hair of her pussy visible.

My penis jerked between the bars when I saw that obscene and provocative outfit.

She was the Red Queen. With very dark red hair, red lips, and very aggressive makeup on her eyelashes. A very intense lipstick contrasted with the fair skin. Red nail polish on the fingers of her hands.

I looked down to be sure, but I already knew what I was going to find: claw-length toes nails painted red, coming out of high-heeled, red sandals.