The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Lost in Wonderland

By Ogodei-Khan

Prologue: Idle Hands

“No, no, that’s all wrong!” the woman chided, roughly slapping at her student’s hands. “When held idle, your hands should be clasped no lower than the end of the ribcage.”

“But this is how I’ve always stood,” the chestnut-haired young woman replied.

“Well, it’s better than standing with your arms at your sides like a slackjawed moron,” the older woman said. “But not by much. Clasping your hands together and holding them down too low is… wicked.”

The older woman’s eyes looked around the brightly-lit parlor, making sure that the other students were paying attention. As soon as she looked back at her current subject, however, several of the girls rolled their eyes. Alice smiled at their cheekiness, but quickly contained her smile. Ms. Hector could be downright fierce if she felt her young ladies were not taking their lessons seriously.

“Idle hands held too low can lead to temptations of the worst kind for a young woman,” Ms. Hector explained. “Clasping your hands at arms’ length, held in front, will place them perilously close to your… unmentionables.” Even the euphemism seemed a touch too risqué for the older woman. “Though it appears more proper than holding your arms at your side, it has its own perils. If your hands must be idle, do clasp them below the bosom, like so,” she demonstrated. “It gives you an air of piety, quite the opposite of holding them below.”

The noon bell rang, signaling the end of their Etiquette lesson for the day. “So do keep that in mind,” Ms. Hector called, her hands still clasped as the students stood and bowed respectfully. “Next week we will begin to address what a young lady should be doing with her hands, in society or in private, and what is the most acceptable decorum.”

Alice moved to the parlor’s door, waiting for Henrietta, the girl who had been given the dressing-down by Ms. Hector. They stepped out into the hallway together. “Amazing the things that we learn,” Henrietta said. “Who knew that so much weight was assigned to how a lady holds her hands? Are these the burdens that the high-born have always had to bear?”

“It seems like it,” Alice replied. “One wonders how much of this is actually important towards finding a good husband. Miss Hector is missing an extra “es,” after all,” she added with a smile.

“And yet Miss Hector would blanch at the thought of any of us going unwed,” Henrietta said, returning Alice’s smile.

“So they are not lessons; they are warnings. Do these things, or you will end up a severe old maid who works at a Finishing School,” Alice said, laughing.

Henrietta laughed as well. “Speaking of warnings,” she said. “What temptations could she have meant, when warning us of holding our hands too far down?”

“I can’t say,” Alice replied. She held her hands in the “improper” manner as she walked, wondering.

“I know of what she warns.”

“Lucy!” Alice started, the third girl had longer, brown hair, of a duller shade than Henrietta’s. “You surprised me.”

“I’m sorry,” the demure girl apologized. “But I can recall it. My elder sister did it once,” her voice lowered now. She walked between the other two girls, who leaned in to hear her. “The maid found her doing it. It was awful, but the maid said her punishment was nothing compared to what mother or father would have done, knowing she was doing that.”

“Doing what?” Alice asked, loud enough that a passing pair of girls stared.

Lucy’s face reddened considerably. “Down there…” she muttered, “with, her hands… she was, oh! I can’t say. She told me later. She said it felt… pleasant.”

The girls reached the dining room then, cutting short the opportunity for further conversation on that matter. They spoke of other things as they dined, and then went on to afternoon classes.

Alice spent the hazy afternoon daydreaming. It was an odd occurrence for her to do so in this class, a combination of History and Geography. It was one of a few classes at the Reverend Carroll Finishing School for Women that overlapped with the curriculum studied by the men Alice’s age who were enrolled in universities. The subjects taught to the women were non-controversial, meant only to provide them with topics of conversation for social affairs.

Alice Pleasance Lidell had a fondness for cartography, something she had inherited from her father, who headed a printing company, Lidell & Harker, that traded in maps and globes. Her father’s station and her gender, however, consigned her to treat maps only as a novelty. She was a pretty young woman, with shoulder-length golden hair and an ideal hourglass figure, carefully cultivated by the efforts of her socially ambitious mother. These were her defining attributes in this society, what would allow her to marry an important young man who would elevate the status of her family. Her knowledge of the world amounted to little more than a parlor trick, meant to please a suitor and little else.

Despite her love for the subject, Alice’s mind was elsewhere that afternoon. Not even the lecturer’s comments on the recent war between the Spanish and the Americans and how it had rendered the school’s atlases outdated was enough to draw her attention for more than a moment.

She had been intrigued by Lucy’s words. Hearing them, thinking about them, had given her an oddly pleasant feeling in her abdomen. Pleasant. It was exactly the word Lucy had used. But what could one do to oneself down there that could feel good? As the lesson went on, Alice mulled over the facts: it involved her nether region, something covered by her undergarment. Ms. Hector had said that having one’s hands down there was “wicked,” in much the same tone that she would speak of harlots or “fallen women.”

Now, Alice was not utterly ignorant of the concept of carnal relations, and in that she was more fortunate than many unwed girls her age. She had, however, assumed such relations required the participation of a man. Was it possible that she could do so alone? The idea of it continued to nag at her for the rest of the day. It remained with her when she retired to her bed, and it prevented her from sleeping.

The girls at the Reverend Carroll School had individual bedrooms, small rooms with little more space than a bed and a bureau, all in a row down a hallway in the east wing of the building. The moonlight was bright on that night, but largely concealed by the blind. Alice twitched under the covers, almost afraid of the seeking rays of the moonlight, which could see into her mind and see what sin she was contemplating.

A greater danger came from opposite the window. She heard the creaking sound of footsteps, seeing a fringe of light emanating from the frame of her door. Ms. Hector was out there, doing her nightly rounds to be assured that the girls were asleep. Alice turned herself away from the door and the revealing light, waiting anxiously until the sound of footsteps faded away.

Assured that she was safe, Alice drew her arms up through the sleeves of her nightie, feeling a thrill in her own body as her hands brushed against her bare skin. The thrill grew when her fingers brushed against the fringe of her womanhood. She shivered gently, and knew that she had found it.

Alice proceeded eagerly after that, first brushing around the vulva and discovering her clitoris. She felt her pussy growing hot and wet and dipped a finger in to feel it. Doing so felt agreeable, and she continued, first with one finger, then with two. She stayed on her side, muffling the sound of her pleasure into her pillow. Her other hand continued exploring the edges of her womanhood.

Soon her pleasure reached a peak, she let out a short squeal, and her whole body shuddered. Then all the strength seemed to leave her body, and she felt too satisfied even to fear that the noise she had made. Soon enough, she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Alice awoke with a start, quickly sitting up and looking about her room. Her heart beat rapidly, as she did not know what had awoken her. She had the overpowering feeling that something was amiss, however, and that she should get out of bed. Following this instinct, she went to the door and opened it. No-one was outside, but the instinctive feeling only strengthened, so Alice moved out the door and down the hall, her sky-blue nightie seeming almost phosphorescent in the darkened hallway. She reached the end of the wing, noting the time on the grandfather clock: it was 3 AM, the witching hour.

Alice followed the strange feeling until she reached the door leading to the back lawn. She opened the door and stepped beyond.

“Henrietta!” Alice called. The chestnut-haired girl was visible out in the dark, standing in her white nightie. Henrietta turned, and Alice saw the fear on her face.

“Alice…” the other girl said, pointing back behind the blonde girl. “Where are we?”

Alice turned around, seeing that the door, the entire school, was gone. It was then that Alice realized that Henrietta was the only thing she could see out here. “I don’t…” she began, when suddenly a glow appeared on the horizon. The sun was rising, but it could not be dawn.

Before either girl could comment on it, the sun sprang fully into the sky, revealing a new landscape. It was a fantastic sight, a broad wilderness of hills, woods, and mountains, each one a different color. The beauty of it was all distant, however, as the girls found themselves standing on a blank, flat, perfectly white space. “This is certainly not England,” Alice said.

“Of course not!” came a cheerful voice. “Do you see any Engs around here?” The two girls searched for the source of the voice. “Over here, sillies!” They each got a tap on the shoulder, and the girls turned to see… something.

It was not a human, though it was cast in woman’s shape, about as tall as both of the girls and with a curved hourglass figure. They had not noticed it because it was as pure white as the plain around them, only visible due to the light shining off of its shape. It was mostly featureless, lacking a face except for a nostril-less nose, fingernails, toenails, nipples, or genitalia. The only feature was on its forehead, a black outline of an eye turned sideways.

“Welcome to Wonderland!” the woman-thing said.

“I must be dreaming…” Henrietta said to herself.

“Be honest,” the thing asked, “would you ever dream of this?”

“Well…” Henrietta began.

“No siree,” the thing interrupted her. “Dreams come from your head, and nothing as big as Wonderland could ever fit inside anyone’s head.”

“So where is Wonderland, then?” Alice asked.

“Wrong question,” the thing said. “It’s not a where so much as a what.”

“Alright, what is it, then?”

“Do you know what they say about idle hands?” the thing asked.

“Idle hands are in the devil’s workshop,” Henrietta recited.

“Wrong again!” the thing laughed. “Idle hands are good for masturbation. How else did you girls get here?”

Both girls glanced at each other, blushing fiercely as they realized the other had taken Lucy’s words to heart. Alice recovered faster, however. “That doesn’t answer the question,” she said.

“Sure it does,” the thing replied. “Only the funnest questions get another question for an answer.”

Henrietta couldn’t help but chuckle at the thing’s lighthearted manner. “So who are you, then? Is that a fun question for you?”

“No…” the thing said. “I’m… Whatever. That’s not important.”

“Okay Whatever,” Alice said, beginning to enjoy this. “How about this? Why is everything so empty here?”

“What else should you find when you go off the map into all that blank space?” Whatever answered. “Don’t you know anything about geography?”

“Yes, but…”

“We should go now,” Whatever said. “Can’t spend all day teaching you basic geography now! Wonderland is tons of fun, but you have to go somewhere on the map first. I’m here to guide newcomers, that’s part of my job.”

“But we need to get back to England,” Henrietta said.

“At least in another three hours,” Alice added, indicating the time when they would need to be awake for breakfast. “And it will probably take that long to get anywhere over there.”

“You can’t go backwards in Wonderland,” Whatever said. “You have to go forward to go back.”

“I guess…” Henrietta said.

“What’s the harm in a bit of fun?” Alice added.

“Can you ever forget who you truly are?” Whatever replied.

So the two young women set off, following their guide towards the horizon.