Alice Chapter One by The Third Marker..,

This started as a rewrite of Angel 1 by Starbuck, but now has none of the original left. , Alice

Chapter One

The Secret Garden

Alice skipped down the white gravel path, enjoying the bright spring morning. Everything was so green and smelled fresh. The flowers were in bloom and filled the air with a sweet fragrance. It was the day before her fourteenth birthday, and tomorrow the whole estate would be full of people celebrating. The servants were already busy, erecting the wooden poles upon which would be strung lights and pennants, whilst the kitchen worked round the clock. Today, though, she was on her own, at least as much as she ever was. The path she walked down skirted the neat topiary hedges that in turn framed several square gardens. Further down the path turned back to meet with the driveway, and here, if you turned left instead of right, you could enter the woods. She wasn’t really supposed to go into the woods, for soon they turned dark and tangled, and getting lost in them would be easy, even for the adults.
Alice ducked under the welcoming branches of a young oak and picked her way between patches of lilacs and foxgloves, treading a route that was second nature to her, weaving her way to her secret spot. It took a few minutes to get there, a clearing surrounding an ancient silverbirch. Between its ancient root boughs green mosses formed soft, natural cushioned areas, and it was here that Alice kept her ‘secret things’.
She waited for a few seconds, listening for the sounds of people, but as usual the only things she heard were the cuckoo’s calls. It was cool, here, but not cold, and Alice laid her coat down, after taking her phone from the inner pocket. She then carefully lifted her white dress over her head, before hanging it on one of the drooping branches. Once she has come here and had got so stained with grass that her clothes had been fit only to be thrown away. After the thrashing her father had given her, especially when his spanks had moved between her buttocks, she would certainly not make that mistake again. She stood then in the streams of diffuse light, naked but for her white stockings, tied with bows, and her pair of white shoes. She ran her hands down her body, over her budding breasts, down her belly, past her little patch of blonde hairs, and down to her stocking tops, feeling the crisp air goose-bumping her flesh.
She sat, then, between the thighs of the tree, and rustled through the dried leaves next to her, until she found her bag of secrets. She took each thing out nervously. First there was the bottle of wine she’d taken from the cellar. It was half-drunk, now, and would soon need replacing. Next there was a battered packet of Marlboro, with three cigarettes in it that she’d still not had the nerve to try smoking. Next were three dirty magazines she’d discovered in one of the gardener’s sheds, a copy of Hustler, a Swank, and a German edition of Private Taboo. She set these down next to her and reached back into the bag, pulling out her trophy, a used condom that she’d found in the greenhouse after one of her father’s parties. It was red, and starting to dry out, but when she’d first found it, it had still been supple, and filled with semen. Lastly came her most prized possession, a slim silver vibrator that one of the maids had given her on her twelfth birthday, with a sly smile and a promise that no one would know about it.
She began her ritual, always the same now, by running the condom over her face, breathing in the scent of old latex, before bringing it down her belly, and finally, she tucked it into her stockings. She then took a single swig of the wine, swallowing it down as it warmed her. She opened the Swank, positioned it on the wooden root beside her, and turned the pages. She’d read the stories so many times she could practically recite them, and soon she found her self reading the phone sex adverts, and the full page ads for videos. Her hand was by then holding the vibrator between her legs. She’d tried to insert it, once, but it had been too uncomfortable. As she held the buzzing plastic to her clitoris, she felt her self opening, as though her special spot was begging to engulf something, anything, like the girls in the pictures.
She ended up peering at a couple of adverts. One was labeled ‘taboo videos’ and had suggestive titles, like ‘Barnyard Whore’ and ‘Kennel Princess’, along with a picture of a girl hugging a huge great dane. The other was ‘Great Little Porno’ and had a photograph of a girl’s face, even younger than Alice, smiling oddly at the audience. She often ended up examining that one small advert. Did this mean that men wanted her? Not the boys in school, they were sweet, but fully grown men? Did they look at her with lust? She thought they must, they must dream of taking her, forcibly, perhaps, roughly, deeply, even though she was just thirteen. She imagined one of the gardeners finding her now, like this, and taking her, overcome with lust, and she’d welcome him in, let him deflower her right there, take his cock, and then his seed, oh his seed, flooding her, how perfect would that be…
It was then that she came, with a squeak, clamping her thighs together. Biting her lips as aftershocks rippled through her. She leant back against the tree, feeling her slit dripping as the wine worked in her blood, and gently, almost without knowing, she drifted into a light sleep.

The White Rabbit

Alice opened her eyes, sensing something was amiss. She turned her head slowly, scanning the trees. It took her a second to realize it, but off to one side, there sat a rabbit, looking back at her. It had pure white fur and bright blue eyes that seemed almost intelligent, but the most striking thing was its size. It was sat on the ground, and still it had to be three feet tall, not including his soft ears, one of which was flopped down. Alice looked at him for a little while, and all the time he stared back. She got to her feet, slowly, watching him all the time. As she stepped over the roots of the tree, the rabbit turned suddenly and bounced off into the woods. Alice felt a pang of disappointment, but then realized he’d stopped a little further away. She grinned and slowly walked over, cautiously avoiding the twigs lest she step on one and frighten it.
She’d gone perhaps forty feet from her silverbirch before the rabbit bolted again, but once more he stopped, just in sight. Alice followed again, and once more the rabbit scampered away. She realized as she moved further into the forest that it was getting a lot thicker, and darker. She also realized she’d forgotten to get dressed, she still wore only her stockings and shoes. The thought of being so exposed and so far from the modesty of her dress and coat excited her. She felt a thrill of adventure, made more keen when she realized she didn’t actually know how to get back to the tree, and would have to spend some time trying to find it, all whilst more or less naked.
The rabbit moved again, and this time, she lost sight of it in the undergrowth. Just a little further, Alice though, after all, one cannot get more lost than one is to begin with. She looked around, stepping round some bushes, and then spotted him. Well, his ears at least or to be even more precise his one ear, standing erect, in a field of nettles. Well, that was decidedly unhelpful, she wasn’t about to wade into nettles when wearing only stockings, so she’d just have to leave the rabbit, and head back. She turned to start retracing her steps, and suddenly she was falling backwards, with a shriek of surprise she landed on her back in amongst the nettles, but she had not stopped moving, carried along on a river of leaf litter she slid down the steep slopes, and all too quickly, she was plunged into darkness.