Tainted Perceptions. [IC-The Hatters Hovel.]
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		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Extreme =&gt; Extreme Small Groups =&gt; Topic started by: Dahling on 03-05-2012, 19:30:16</h2>
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				Title: <strong>Tainted Perceptions. [IC-The Hatters Hovel.]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dahling</strong> on <strong>03-05-2012, 19:30:16</strong>
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				<div align="center"><span style="font-family: georgia;" class="bbc_font"><span style="font-size: 24pt;" class="bbc_size">~:The Hatter's Hovel:~</span></span></div><br><div align="center"><span style="font-family: georgia;" class="bbc_font">Take six fair-sized mansions, of varying ages and states of decrepitude. Drop them all from the sky, one atop another, until the resulting wreckage is almost but not quite twice the height of any of the originals. Fix the place up, put doors, windows and staircases between and among the haphazard rooms until virtually all of the tortured floorplan can be accessed, though the routes be hazardous and circuitous. Then let the whole thing age as gracefully as a vain dowager countess, under the careful caress of constant bitter rains and the stinking heat of summer. You've a beginning, then, toward the Hatter's Hovel, though that of course is not by any means the way it actually came about.<br><br>For any form of suffering there is a room, at least one, and even Hatter doesn't know all of them. There are just as many forms of pleasure, of course, and if you tally up the two lists you'll find they're exactly the same. Dig into the piles of detritus, human and otherwise, that tend to accumulate in corners and crevices and you can find anything you might need, if you have the time to spare. It will never be exactly what you want, though. The Hatter is a collector, a provider, a dealer in things that want to be owned. Where he gets these items is unknown. Where he stores them is clearly evident -- piled up to the rotting ceiling, forming a living maze of depression.<br><br>A large ornate entry hall where the Hatter receives visitors. A set of expansive overgrown gardens where the flowers are all either just about to bloom or long since dead, with no in-between at all. A greenhouse full of nothing but bones arranged by genus and species, and a library overgrown with ivy fed from leaking rusted pipes. In the distance can be heard the barking and keening of mad dogs -- the way to the kennels has been lost for some time, and the poor creatures must be quite hungry by now.<br><br>It is a crumbling manse that seems supported by scraps of wishful thinking, the bricks mortared by their apathy and indifference to collapse. The attics are flooded, the basements are infested, and the things that cannot be found within ought probably not to be looked for in the first place. It is a bleak, rotting place that shouldn't rightly exist, and in any more sane place and time it would not.<br></span></div>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Tainted Perceptions. [IC-The Hatters Hovel.]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Jag</strong> on <strong>04-05-2012, 03:31:02</strong>
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				(http://i1122.photobucket.com/albums/l521/ElliMichi/thetweedlesmini.png)<br><br><span style="font-family: Ravi;" class="bbc_font"><span style="font-size: 10pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>Name:</strong> Mary Dee and Abigale Dum<br><strong>Location:</strong> Hatter's Hovel, Their Room<br><strong>Tagging:</strong> Each Other, Hatter, and Anyone Else in the Hovel<br><br></span></span><hr><br>There was never any sun that came into their room. Or perhaps there was just no sun. Had they ever seen the sun? Neither of them could remember. What a dreadful thing the sun was anyway. All bright and shiny, yet they weren't allowed to touch it. Why did it have to be so far away? Just to tease them probably. Anything they couldn't have was just a tease. A nuisance that needed to be rid of. Not that they could do anything about it, though not for lack of trying. They could stand on each others shoulders all day trying to reach the sun and moon, but it was just not going to happen. At least no one could say they didn't try.<br><br>"Time to...""...wake up."<br><br>One rolled one way, while the other tried to go the other way. It was hard to tell before they were dressed which was which. Both girls had identical bodies. Everyone said that twins were always different in some way physically, usually finger prints...but they weren't. It was as if they were one person with two bodies. And likely half a brain between the two of them.<br><br>One of them rolled right off the bed and when she hit the floor it shook and threatened to give away even under her small weight. The other, however, had forgotten that their shared bed was up against the wall and smacked right into it. Her head hitting with a loud <em>thud</em> and her giving out a small groan.<br><br>"You're an...""...idiot. I know.""You left a dent...""...in the wall. I know. Not like...""...anyone could tell the difference...""...anyway. Whole room looks like...""...that anyway."<br><br>The two grinned at each other before the one on the floor crawled over their messy, somewhat dirty bed and kissed the others forehead where a small knot was forming. The bump would be gone before they knew it and it was likely they'd both forget what they even said to each other ten minutes from now. It was just how they were. They could remember the strangest things, but not others and usually not simple things.<br><br>Getting dressed was almost as big a chore as getting out of bed was for the twins. Their clothing was the same, yet they seemed to feel the need to fight over who got what, "I want that one. It has...""...bigger buttons. I know. That's why I...""...want it!" this sort of thing could go on for hours between the two of them. But it rarely did. Eventually, one of them would reach over and smack the other as hard as they could and win the fight. That or the clothing item would tear and neither of them would wear it or the would each wear half of it. Today was a good day, it only took one smack for the bumped headed one to let go and decide to wear the same thing as her sister that, if measured, the buttons were the same size on.<br><br>Once the two were fully dressed in matching black skirts with surprisingly identical holes and tears in them, ripped stockings where the right side seemed to slump down their legs a little bit, and the same red shirt where the buttons were the same size, they slipped on their sun glasses and the world would be able to tell them apart again. Mary, with the bump on her head, had the left lenses popped out and Abigale had the right one popped out. Mary also had her shirt on backwards. How she managed to button it up like that was a mystery, but Abigale swore up and down that she didn't help her sister do it.<br><br>"Let's go...""...find him."<br><br>Their speech pattern confused people. It wasn't one of them stopping and letting the other finish. There was no break between their speaking. It was as if they shared a brain. There was no slowing down or pausing between them talking. It was one full sentence coming from two different sources. Some found it aggravating and others found it amusing. Some found it to be both depending on the mood they were in.<br><br>Skipping out of the room together, they made their way through the treacherous hovel. It was hard to tell what floor their room was on and they doubted even the owner of the house knew where it was. The girls only knew because they counted the steps it took to get from the door to their room. It was amazing how they could remember that, but they couldn't remember to tie their shoes most days. Climbing upstairs and then back down, crawling through a few holes in the walls, and loudly counting out their steps; the two girls eventually made it to their destination.<br><br>"Where is...""...he at?!"<br><br>They were, of course, looking for the Hatter.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Tainted Perceptions. [IC-The Hatters Hovel.]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ebb</strong> on <strong>04-05-2012, 04:56:04</strong>
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				"I am right HERE. You have walked past me TWICE now."<br><br>The clipped bellow issued forth from a man who seemed to have dressed for the occasion this morning, if the occasion were skulking about an enormous dilapidated mess of a house, finding a pair of errant servants, and then introducing them to the business end of a fireplace poker for an hour and twenty minutes. He held the said fireplace poker in his hand now, a twisted rusted thing that refused to glow any less than red, though it hadn't seen the inside of a fireplace in a fortnight. It was his Wednesday morning poker.<br><br>The notion of putting it to its proper function, though, did not raise the spark of interest in him that it might otherwise. Hurting the Tweedle twins was like fucking a corpse. All well enough if there was nothing better, but they'd remember nothing of it afterward, and so it was hardly worth the energy. You don't paint masterpieces on blotter paper and then wipe your arse with them. Not on Wednesdays.<br><br>He somewhat reluctantly dropped the poker onto the floor, a destination it reached only by way of a three-legged divan, a teetering pile of 33 1/3 bluegrass record albums, and finally a loose collection of crumpled legal notices, which quickly burst into flame at the contact. He absently kicked at the fire with one broad flat leather loafer, succeeding in sending sparks skittering across a variety of other flammable substances. Oh well, this room was a loss anyway. He was moderately certain he'd been urinating in here for a week or so, the nearest WC being presently occupied by the decaying corpse of a pig.<br><br>Potentially a pig, he reminded himself. He never had taken the bag off its head.<br><br>Yes, beating the twins would not have satisfied any of his serious urges for more than an hour. If Cat were here... but he'd sent her away, seeking the biscuit she'd eaten last Tuesday. Such a lovely girl, Cat. So... <em>pliable</em>. She would be back, of course. She always came back. If there was one thing you could count on in Wonderland.... Well, truly there wasn't. Nix on that.<br><br>The rising smoke reached his nostrils, and he wondered idly when the last time was he'd burned a man alive. His mouth watered at the thought, almost tasting the uniquely sweet smell of the memory. Too long, far too long. "Girls!" he announced, "I require a tart. Someone with a little flesh on their bones this time." He addressed himself to the empty space equidistant between their heads, instead of the almost equally empty spaces between their ears. It was a time-saving habit; he'd long since grown tired of switching his gaze every few words. "Bring me something nice, and I'll read you girls a sonnet by the fire. You'd like that, eh? A bit of the old Willy, perhaps?" He waited for a reaction in vain. Useless. He almost bent to retrieve the poker.<br><br>Where the hell was Cat? It had been -- he checked his pocketwatch -- almost seventeen minutes. Give or take a day.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Tainted Perceptions. [IC-The Hatters Hovel.]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Jag</strong> on <strong>04-05-2012, 15:22:07</strong>
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				(http://i1122.photobucket.com/albums/l521/ElliMichi/thetweedlesmini.png)<br><br><span style="font-family: Ravi;" class="bbc_font"><span style="font-size: 10pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>Name:</strong> Mary Dee and Abigale Dum<br><strong>Location:</strong> Hatter's Hovel, Their Room<br><strong>Tagging:</strong> Each Other, Hatter, and Anyone Else in the Hovel<br><br></span></span><hr><br>The girls turned at once, hand in hand, to see the face of the Hatter. They couldn't remember when or why they came into the service of the mad man, but as far as they were concerned, they'd always been here. They'd always been here and he'd always told them what to do. Now, just because they were given an order and understood it did not mean they would do it properly. It could take them all day to complete a simple task. There was one time the Hatter told them to fetch some water. Despite going past various tea cups, pots, pans, buckets, and pales; they tried their hardest to carry it back in their hands. Every five steps they would have to run back and cup more up into their palms and try to run back to him.<br><br>It hadn't been a Wednesday that day, so the fire poker got some use that day. Not that they remember any of it. All they remembered was that he eventually got his water and they had brought it to him. Since there were no marks left on their bodies from the event, they had no reason to remember it ever happened.<br><br>"It's your fault we didn't see...""...him. Yes I know. He's on your...""...blind side."<br><br>Not only did they, apparently, share a half-a-brain, but they shared eyes as well. Once the sunglasses were on, it was impossible for either of them to see out of the side that still had the lenses in them. Four eyes, but it would seem that only two of them worked at a time. Rather curious of them, but there wasn't anything that could be done about it. Very few had seen what the girls were like when they were separated and had their glasses off. Most assumed that this was some kind of game they played, but it wasn't. <br><br>"A tat for...""...the Hatter. Why of...""...course we will fetch...""...it for you."<br><br>Of course before he could have a chance to correct them, if he caught onto their mistake at all, they turned and ran off into the streets to look for a <em>tat</em> for the Hatter. What exactly a <em>tat</em> was, was beyond them, but they would find it. A good fleshy <em>tat</em> for the Hatter.<br><br><br>(Finish Post IC City Streets) (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=138969.msg6230994#msg6230994)
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				Title: <strong>Re: Tainted Perceptions. [IC-The Hatters Hovel.]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dahling</strong> on <strong>05-05-2012, 23:40:47</strong>
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				<span style="font-family: georgia;" class="bbc_font"><strong>Name:</strong> Cheshire<br><strong>Location:</strong> The Hatter's Hovel<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Hatter<br><br><em>Find the biscuit.&nbsp; Don't come back until you've found the biscuit, THE EXACT BISCUIT.</em><br><br>So the cat had a pill on her tongue, though it was threatening to melt and there was a something of a glaze about her eyes that hadn't been there when she'd left...whenever she'd left.&nbsp; Or rather, the glaze was no longer from yelling and pain because the cat, whose eyes were often red and bloodshot and dry...had yet to cry in Wonderland.&nbsp; But the little splash of green was vibrant on her tongue, in a way her eyes weren't and she'd become very much intensely aware of just how the ground felt beneath her feet and how the cling of her clothes felt against her skin so that as she hopped up the walk, from one broken garden stone to the next she kept trying to itch herself.<br><br>After all, to step on a crack was to break your mother's back.&nbsp; Cat stepped with vigor; with little twists of her ankle that ground her dirty socks in against the crevices and a sneer of satisfaction so that the sound of her demented giggling could be heard echoing up against the tall thickly thin walls of the Hatter's manor.<br><br>She was breathing hard by the time she'd reached the door; her hair clinging in sweat damp tendrils to her cheeks, the thin white of her tee-shirt clinging to youthful rise of perky breasts.&nbsp; One hand tugged against the hem of a too short skirt and her eyes were blazing far too intently above her flush cheeks as if for every step she'd taken she could hear the sounds of screams echoing in her ears and perhaps...perhaps she had.<br><br>"'ucking 'itch.", because it's quite hard to shape proper letters with something on your tongue.&nbsp; And she'd a pill for the Hatter after all.<br><br>Except...except there were no shoes allowed on the carpet, so the cat kept on those thigh high socks and after nudging open the door...no shoes on the carpet; so she ran on sockfeet.&nbsp; No feet on the carpet, but she'd made it halfway down the hall before she remembered to tumble up on her hands.&nbsp; It meant her skirt was suddenly kissing the very top of her hips and threatening to consume her waist while the sight of white cotton panties read Tuesday upside down and in reverse.&nbsp; Perhaps she'd gotten confused.&nbsp; Perhaps she'd lost Wednesday.&nbsp; Perhaps it was Friday.<br><br>But the stairs were a bitch and she had managed exactly...three, which was one more than yesterday before she went tumbling down them with a cry that made everything sound as painful as it actually was before she came to a very unceremonious stop at the bottom, with her neck fit to the edge of the last step, her head even with the floor her spine curved as if she were about to tumble forward and land upright and proper.&nbsp; Except she wasn't moving, and her legs were sprawled so that they framed either side of her face, with her ass still up in the air.<br><br>And she'd swallowed the pill.<br><br>Whoops.<br><br>"HATTER!"</span>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Tainted Perceptions. [IC-The Hatters Hovel.]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ebb</strong> on <strong>08-05-2012, 14:13:31</strong>
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				<strong>Name:</strong> Hatter<br><strong>Location:</strong> The Hatter's Hovel<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Cat<br><br>The Cat had come back, the very same day. Oh frabjous day. Never a patient man, he had nearly decided to give up hope on the Tweedles returning with anything worthwhile. Perhaps take the time to visit the Broken Cup, or summon Rabbit here, though as the minutes ran down the face of the grandfather clock in the parlour (crafted with four actual grandfathers) and his mood turned darker he realized that the sort of play he required would not have fit Rabbit's fancy. It didn't rule things out, per se, but the repercussions might have been somewhat... sticky. The last thing he needed was a Rabbit wedge; she was too independent as it stood now.<br><br>Which is why the sight of the crumpled Cat at the base of the grand stairway was such a delight. He nimbly ticked off the list of offenses as his footsteps measured the descending wooden stairs. <em>Shouting in the house, Tuesday's panties on a Wednesday, Use of the front stairway at back stairway time...</em> And, of course, the kicker. <em>No biscuit.</em> The list of crimes wasn't strictly necessary; he could punish her for less. For nothing. For random whims and future transgressions. She would always come back, because he had what she needed. Just as she did for him, of course, in a circular IV drip of pain and redemption that ran around and around between them like an Escher waterfall.<br><br>She was his Cat. Only his. Ever his. It even said so on her foot, visible through the holes in her ruined stocking. PROP---F M---TTE-----TURN IF----ND. Clear as a day in Wonderland.<br><br>His descent ended at the step next to her awkwardly angled head. The arrangement of her body was almost artistic, the sort of serendipitous positioning that she seemed so naturally good at. He raised his right foot and placed the pointed toe of his shoe onto her ass. With remarkable balance for one so, well, unbalanced he gently wobbled her back and forth on her uncertain perch, feeling exactly how much force might be required to complete her unfinished tumble. With each sway slightly more pressure was put on her bent neck, pressed as it was beneath the weight of her body against the edge of the hardwood step.<br><br>"Dear Cat. Sweet Cat. I am <em>ever</em> so happy to see you. Because I <em>know,</em> I have <em>great faith,</em> that the swallowing sound I just heard did not mark the end of the biscuit you were sent to acquire. I'm practically <em>certain</em> of this fact, but it would be <em>ever</em> so wonderful if you would confirm that for me. Dear." At the last word he kicked, the heel of his shoe striking her solidly on the rump. Belatedly he realized that in her previous posture she might have served as an acceptable bud vase for an hour or so. Every decision removed four possibilities; he marveled sometimes that he was able to act at all, but then took solace in the notion that consideration of consequences was a mark of lesser men. Or beasts.<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Tainted Perceptions. [IC-The Hatters Hovel.]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dahling</strong> on <strong>08-05-2012, 15:24:50</strong>
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				<span style="font-family: georgia;" class="bbc_font"><strong>Name:</strong> Cheshire<br><strong>Location:</strong> The Hatter's Hovel<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Hatter<br><br>"Oh Hatter!"&nbsp; The cat used its most cajoiling tone in the beckoning and then, promptly found herself staring distracted at the tops of her breasts, framed as they were against her chin.&nbsp; They were really quiet lovely breasts and she was trying to see where the Hare had pawed at them earlier except that she couldn't find a mark at all.&nbsp; How was she supposed to know she'd been touched at all if there wasn't a mark?!&nbsp; It made no sense!<br><br>And there was a dreadful hole in her stocking.&nbsp; She could see it now, since it was so very close, in fact, they were three and if she looked at them juuuuuuust right then they made a clover.&nbsp; Not a lucky clover of course, that'd require four holes and it wasn't really green but...but the vibrations on the stairs were tickling against the back of her neck and then, if one swiveled the eyes just right, there were also feet attached, which meant..<br><br>"Oh."<br><br>They were probably the Hatter's. And his foot was pressing in against her ass.<br><br>The girl made a small whine in the back of her throat then, wobbling precariously for every little wiggle that he gave, "You're going to leave a shoe mark!&nbsp; People will confuse me for a sidewalk!"&nbsp; And that concern seemed a little more important than oh say, the fact that if he applied enough pressure he could easily break her neck.&nbsp; It wouldn't be very much fun to be a sidewalk.&nbsp; But it didn't stop the girl from squirming, because his foot <em>tickled</em> and in turn her moving made her clothes move, which really was a novel concept except for that they were itchy right now and felt a lot heavier than they really were.&nbsp; A lot hotter, too.&nbsp; Must have been something she ate.<br><br>...<em>the biscuit.</em><br><br>"Hatter...," was all she managed before that kick sent her tumbling forward in a full roll that left her sprawled on her back, with her skirt tangled about her hips and her toes wiggling through the holes in her stockings.&nbsp; It had also helped serve to remind her that she was missing something, because her neck ought not have touched so easily against her chin.&nbsp; There was supposed to have been something in the middle there only...only she couldn't remember what.<br><br>"Are you <em>mad</em>, Hatter?&nbsp; Because I should hate to think that you were mad, it'd be terrible really, if you were mad.&nbsp; People might start calling you names," the cat warned sweetly, lifting her head to stare up at him there on the steps.&nbsp; "But you shall be pleased to know that I, in fact, did not eat the biscuit.&nbsp; I ate the pill, from the Hare!&nbsp; He gave us both one you know...or I think he did.&nbsp; He had two.&nbsp; One for me and one for the Mouse.&nbsp; I ate her candy too, because she didn't want it.&nbsp; I found her for me...er, you.&nbsp; I found her for me.&nbsp; To make up for the biscuit, you see."&nbsp; And however pleased she might have sounded, it became tragic there at the end, hopeless and heartbroken. "I couldn't find the biscuit."</span>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Tainted Perceptions. [IC-The Hatters Hovel.]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ebb</strong> on <strong>08-05-2012, 17:08:36</strong>
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				<span style="font-family: georgia;" class="bbc_font"><strong>Name:</strong> Hatter<br><strong>Location:</strong> The Hatter's Hovel<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Cat<br><br>Hatter spent a great deal of time convinced that various people, animals and objects in the world were mocking him. His paranoia often resulted in destruction of large portions of the Hovel, as well as grievous bodily injury delivered to those around him who might, in their own sniveling way, be so bold as to demean his stature, his demeanor, or his degree of mental incapacity. There was one unfortunate painting in the West Hall which would never again chuckle under its breath at his approach. Never again! Even now it sat half immersed in a washtub of turpentine, no doubt begging for a mercy that would not be forthcoming. Not today, sir. Not today.<br><br>Merely being paranoid did not rule out those occasions when one was actually being mocked. Right now, to take a single observable instance. The crinkled grin on Cat's ever cheerful face was unmistakeable. Hatter did not enjoy being referred to as 'mad'. It was not on the list of his favorite things. He did not stay awake at nights scheming up ways to trick people into attaching the adjective to his name.<br><br>In fact, it was a bit of an issue with him. Of sorts.<br><br>It would not do, however, to directly address the problem. Luckily there were more than enough other points of contention to occupy the polite discussion to come. Hatter crossed the floor to where Cat lay, looking sweetly up at him, and bent to seize a great handful of her loose hair. With it he hauled her to her knees, twisting the locks through his greedy fingers.<br><br>"You've been eating the Hare's sweets, have you? You know what I've told you about that man. He can't be trusted! He's... deranged. He doesn't love you like I do, dear Cat. He'll hurt you, he will."<br><br>They were in the exercise room. How had they gotten here? He was walking, and talking to her, so she must be around, and... Ah. Here, still in his hand, dragged by her hair through three rooms and a closet. He held her up for inspection. There was something. Something round, like an eyeball. Something missing, like... well, also like an eyeball, on occasion. Something that ought to go...<br><br>"Your collar!" he exclaimed. "You've lost your collar again. Oh, you naughty thing. You vex me, Cat, you really do. I do such nice things for you, and this is the return on my investment. I am not some sort of Automated Collar Teller Fucking Machine!" he yelled. It was unlikely in the extreme that that particular denial was required, but he had gotten lucky before. With an effort he reduced his voice to the sort of steely growl he most frequented, which was still enough to fill the white-tiled room with echoes of madness. "This will NOT look good on your permanent record."<br><br>He came to a decision. "Boots!" As if the single word were enough explanation, he led her to the boots in question without further exposition. They were large on the outside, small on the inside, and made mostly of metal. They were also incredibly bad at doing what boots normally do, which is to accompany one on walks through the streets kicking at urchins and making the fields of broken glass a charming symphony of shattering rather than a source of terrible pain. For these boots were most firmly fastened to the floor, spread widely enough to permit all sorts of devilry, and sized most particularly for someone with feet the size of Cat's, minus perhaps a size or two. They also had the most lovely iron locks upon them, which presently stood open. "Boots!" he repeated, and threw her at the floor. "On feet now! Yours!"<br></span>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Tainted Perceptions. [IC-The Hatters Hovel.]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dahling</strong> on <strong>08-05-2012, 17:33:26</strong>
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				<span style="font-family: georgia;" class="bbc_font"><strong>Name:</strong> Cheshire<br><strong>Location: </strong>The Hatter's Hovel<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Hatter<br><br>"Ow, ow, ow, ow, Ow, OW!"&nbsp; The cat shrilled in a high pitched keen that assaulted the ears like nails on a chalk board, while those small hands rose up in an attempt to fend off his own where it'd taken up purchase and then, fucking roots, in her hair as she scrambled to get her feet beneath her and attempt to ease some of the pain.&nbsp; <br><br>It did not work.<br><br>"I did not!"<br><br>Because she is also, when she remembers, quite argumentative.&nbsp; "I did no such thing!" Oh but that pain was spreading deliciously out against her scalp and seemed just a little <em>more</em> than she could ever recall him yanking her about by the head being.&nbsp; Perhaps she was heavier too, her clothes certainly felt heavy.&nbsp; How he managed to make her feet dangle like that she'd never know.&nbsp; Quite strong he was, this Hatter.&nbsp; Quite strong indeed.<br><br>"You can't prove it!" Except that her tongue was green and she was currently trying to get her tiptoes on the floor which was proving to be a problem.&nbsp; "You can't.&nbsp; He's not de.de.der..damaged at all!" Because some words were also tricky.&nbsp; "He's quite nice, really.&nbsp; All things considered.&nbsp; I wouldn't have left the mouse with him otherwise."&nbsp; That would just be silly.<br><br>But...but he was..., her bottom lip trembled; though whether it was over the notion of being hurt or because she'd just stumbled her toe on an anvil remained to be seen.&nbsp; Her face was askew in pain, at any rate.&nbsp; There should have been tears, except the cat had never learned how to cry.<br><br>"I'm sorry I lost your collar, Hatter," spoken rather somberly, with all due sadness that such an event should herald. "It's never fun not knowing where you belong.&nbsp; I can get you another one, if you like?&nbsp; A pretty one, with a little bell so you'll never get lost.&nbsp; Would you like that, Hatter?&nbsp; A nice collar with a little bell to jingle every time you walked?" Though her voice wavered in and out of the throes of pain as they wandered through the library and then the art room and now, there were little colored toe prints where ever her feet had managed to touch the ground, because she'd found the paint, too.<br><br>"I bet I wouldn't lose you ever again with that!"<br><br>She sounded so hopeful too, all wide innocent eyes and hopeful smiles when he held her up for inspection as she looked at him.&nbsp; Thick mascara matted lashes fluttering in his direction.&nbsp; "We'll get one to match your umm....temper!"<br><br>Flatter however, clearly wasn't working either, because she landed on the floor not two seconds later, a painful tumble of arms and legs and small cries and something sharp and sickening like the sound of her teeth going through her tongue which set her to yowling but none of that at all, was what made her tremble.&nbsp; No.&nbsp; That came instead after she'd one wee foot locked up painful tight, so that her face scrunched and it was the sound of the lock clicking home that started her simpering and stretched long across the floor so that she could cling against his ankle.<br><br>"Oh Hatter, no.&nbsp; Please no.&nbsp; People wear boots.&nbsp; No shoes on the carpet, you said.&nbsp; You said and I remember." A little late, perhaps, but still.&nbsp; "I'll be good, I promise.&nbsp; No shoes on the carpet. No pets on the shoes.&nbsp; Oh please don't get rid of me!"&nbsp; As people, clearly, couldn't keep people for pets.&nbsp; And people wore shoes.&nbsp; He didn't want her and it was breaking her heart.</span>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Tainted Perceptions. [IC-The Hatters Hovel.]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ebb</strong> on <strong>08-05-2012, 21:28:32</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				The Hatter admired her languid form, stretched between her one captive foot and her small hands on his ankle. She was like a fluid; pour her into any container and she would take its shape. Make her into anything you wanted her to be, but don't expect the change to hold. She was.... It struck him, suddenly (as it did every fortnight or so)... she was mercury. Perhaps that's why he liked the taste of her so well.<br><br>He lowered himself to his knees, putting his head still above her own but close enough to see. To smell. "Stop your stupid whining," he growled. Then his fingers were in her hair again. Both hands now, a vise grip holding her head in place. Steady enough to kiss her brutally, his tongue invading her mouth and silencing it, for the moment. He drew back, licking his fleshy lips clean of the blood from her injured tongue. Sweet, salty, copper blood -- and another taste. Green. Another of the Hare's poisons. The small secondhand splash made his lips tingle and the nerves on his tongue explode at the sensation of the sharp edges of his teeth. He could only imagine what it must be doing to her.<br><br>"My naughty little pet. You'll put your feet in those boots, or I'll take an axe to your knees and you'll be able to visit your toes on weekends. You won't lose me, and I won't lose you, but if you're not quite careful I just might lose my temper, and we both know the sorts of things that happen on those rare occasions." His hands fell to her breasts, barely concealed beneath her tight top, and wrenched her nipples like a man trying to remove a stuck distributor cap. "Now do be a good dear and do as you're told. For if I do lose my temper it won't easily be replaced, and no bell in the world will help us find it again until things have run their course."<br><br>It was too late already, of course. The entirely unintentional side effect of Cat's insolence was currently tenting the front of Hatter's trousers, and a substantial swath of his left pantleg. The afternoon would not reach a satisfactory conclusion until that particular loose end had been accounted for fully. Perhaps repeatedly.<br><br>He rose to his feet again, fluffing the overlarge cuffs of his shirt. His eyes darted about the assemblage of equipment in what was currently called the Exercise Room. An elephant's-foot umbrella stand caught his eye, and from it he withdrew a slender metal rod. It was, if he were not mistaken, the radio antenna from a Ford Fairlane. How it had gotten here was anyone's guess, but it would do for now.<br><br>His voice was mild again, his anger invisible beneath the surface. "Now as we proceed, tell me about this 'Mouse' you mentioned." Newcomers to Wonderland were few and far between. If this was a new Player, he would need to know the details. If it was a new Prize, then he'd want to take possession of it before the Hare had a chance. Though it sounded as if Cat may have screwed that up as well. Ah well, one more for the penance list.<br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Tainted Perceptions. [IC-The Hatters Hovel.]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dahling</strong> on <strong>08-05-2012, 22:09:36</strong>
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				<span style="font-family: georgia;" class="bbc_font"><strong>Name</strong>: Cheshire<br><strong>Location:</strong> The Hatter's Hovel<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Mad Hatter, Mean Hatter. Mean mean mean.<br><br>The poor little creature's ankle was aching, but you'd never know it from the way she stretched there to reach him; the muscles in her leg pulled taunt, the perky little rise of her ass on display with the bow of her spine.&nbsp; It was as if touching him, just reaching him in that moment was the most important thing in her entire very small and occasionally self centered world.&nbsp; He couldn't get rid of her, he just couldn't!<br><br>Not that she was his, anyway.<br><br>Except that she was.<br><br>On Wednesdays at the very least.<br><br>"I'm sooorrr-oh, Oh <em>Hatter</em>," the complaint turned into a dreamy sigh somewhere about the middle, when both his hands fisted in her hair and he forced her head to bend up to meet him.&nbsp; The tremble in her ran from head, to booted foot and there was something desperate to the way she met his kiss that was almost wild, leaving her breath spilling hot against his cheek; her eyes glazed and unfocused.&nbsp; It's entirely possible that she might have been about to say something important but for the life of her now she couldn't remember and didn't care too, because there was a restless squirm to the girl's hips and a suggestion of honey there, against the very telling Tuesday and not Wednesday fabric of her panties.<br><br>She was panting with flush cheeks the entire time he lectured her, those dull eyes locked steady on his weathered face.&nbsp; "Am I naughty?"&nbsp; Like a parrot she repeated the question, "I certainly feel naughty when you do that, Hatter.&nbsp; In fact, if you do it again I might feel very naughty indeed and the only thing that will be lost is my composure." As if she'd ever had any to begin with.&nbsp; "I don't want you to lose your...."<br><br>The poor girl never finished, of course. <br><br>And there was probably a rule somewhere about what she did, because she drew taught with sudden force when his hands wrenched against her nipples and the added sensation from Hare's pill, when coupled with...everything that'd happened from the point it'd started melting on her tongue, really, was about to drive her mad.&nbsp; It did in fact, it drove her right past go, as it happened.&nbsp; So that she squirmed helplessly against the floor where that boot held her captive, mewling in pleasure while a hand raked down between her thighs and when that proved to be too much sensation and just, stupid, not to mention in violation of other rules...it drew away leaving her with a guilty flush on her face.<br><br>"I think...my composure ran away, Hatter," she announced, as if it weren't obvious, on a very guilty pout and inched herself just a little further away from he and that antenna that had ended up in his hand.&nbsp; Instead she focused on squeezing her foot into a shoe two sizes too small as if getting them on might make everything better.&nbsp; Because she'd get to keep her toes and people couldn't be in trouble.&nbsp; Right now, with honey steadily inching down the curve of her inner thigh...cat very much wanted to be a people.<br><br>"<em>My</em> mouse, Hatter."<br><br>Shoes or not, that was a point upon which they needed to be very clear.&nbsp; "My mouse.&nbsp; Sweet she is and soft oh so soft and full of soft curves and bits that go squish when you crunch.&nbsp; Only...only I shouldn't eat her, or there wouldn't be any bits left. Oh but I was so hungry," the cat bemoaned, remembering the ache in her stomach and the scent of the mouse as it trembled. "And she trembles.&nbsp; Oh she trembles and it's beautiful and lovely and she's <em>mine</em>, and I traded her tears for candy.&nbsp; And then...," what had happened then, "Oh! And then I came to tell you!"<br><br>She sounded pleased with the last of it, pleased if somewhat worried and she was still squirming there on the floor; dragging the inside of her wrist and the heel of her palm over one abused and very aching nipple in an attempt to ease some of the pain before she pulled her shirt out to look down it.&nbsp; Yes.&nbsp; See.&nbsp; There were marks.&nbsp; Now she knew she'd been touched.&nbsp; The Hatter always left marks.&nbsp; Except...<br><br>"Hatter," the girl whined and it was truly a whine then, "Hatter my feets hurt," and she'd not even stood up.</span>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Tainted Perceptions. [IC-The Hatters Hovel.]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ebb</strong> on <strong>10-05-2012, 21:32:36</strong>
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				<strong>Name</strong>: Hatter<br><strong>Location</strong>: The Hatter's Hovel, Exercise Room<br><strong>Tagged</strong>: Cat. Repeatedly, as it turns out.<br><br>With an invisible flick of his wrist the tip of the thin metal rod sped through the air, faster than sound, and deposited a line of pain two inches long across the back of Cat's errant right hand. It was the timing as well as the positioning that was important, he thought. Too soon and she might have stopped just short of touching her over-sensitized lips. Too late and she might have already withdrawn her hand from the vicinity, weakening the mental bond between forbidden self pleasure and sharply administered discipline. It was hardly fair to hold her accountable for her actions when she was in the midst of a pleasantly thrumming climax. Hardly fair at all, and therefore entirely proper.<br><br>"<em>Your</em> mouse, little one? Does my pet have a pet of her own now?"<br><br>She was still on all fours, the animal, and therefore presented an overabundance of targets. He chose the sensitive flesh on the back of her left thigh, just below her nicely rounded and quivering buttock. With two quick slashes an X was made, a convenient target for future attacks. Not for the first time, the Hatter admired how Cat's skin so easily transformed from pale white to angry red, within the prescribed boundaries of his desire.<br><br>"Do you think you're ready for a pet? She didn't even follow you home, and now you want to keep her?"<br><br>He played the tip of the antenna along her damp inner thighs, spread as they were by the unmoving metal boots. As one button found another he pressed, collapsing the rod by a good four inches without penetrating her in the slightest.<br><br>"And will you exercise her every day? And what will you feed her? You can't...." A hard slash now, straight across the back. He had to stoop to achieve the proper angle, to bring a full twelve inches of the stinging steel into contact with her skin. "Even keep track of...." One more, directly atop the last, before the skin had even a chance to rise in protest. "A single, simple...." A third, and he grinned with the precision. Even with her squirming he was able to repeat the motion, so that to a casual observer only a single angry wound was visible. "BISCUIT." The last attack was wild, haphazard, and unexpected. A neophyte's angry slash, the tip wrapping around her naked ribs and stinging the edge of her breast.<br><br>He took a step back to observe, his wide grin now stuck upon his face. His gaze flickered to the ceiling, where a rubber-coated cable dangled from between the broken ceiling tiles. The ends were hidden in the ugly mess of structural supports, bare wiring and rusted pipes that served to separate this floor from the one above. Perhaps it was electrified. Only one way to find out.<br><br>"Stand up now, Cat. Hold onto something if you must. You can't expect me to fuck something I just found lying around on the floor, can you? What sort of man would that make me, now?" As she struggled to her feet he began unbuttoning his woolen trousers, easing the pressure on the straining fabric. Naughty Cat. She had gone and gotten him all distracted. There were consequences to that sort of behavior.<br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Tainted Perceptions. [IC-The Hatters Hovel.]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dahling</strong> on <strong>11-05-2012, 07:40:05</strong>
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				<span style="font-family: georgia;" class="bbc_font"><strong>Name:</strong> Cheshire<br><strong>Location:</strong> The Hatter's Hovel, Exercise Room, the Boots.<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Hatter, The Man with The Switch, the Itch Scratcher.<br><br>The red line that blazed across the cat's flesh from that first swish and flick was enough to send the creature gasping into shock, pleasure and pain both contorting across that bruised face so that her bottom lip trembled and her hand lingered in a state of indecision from where it'd retracted.&nbsp; Afraid to touch more...afraid to pull too far away in fear that the gleam of metal might disappear.&nbsp; Oh what a state of torment!<br><br>In the end she settled for balancing on both knees and a hand; the wounded, honey slick one drawing up to her lips so that she could lick both the welt, which made her shiver, and the taste of her juices from her skin.&nbsp; It turned out to be a mistake.&nbsp; Her arm all but gave out beneath her when he struck her again, so that her chin collided with the floor as well as her breasts in a rather painful position that left her ass in the air but it didn't stop the low whine that rolled up from the depths of her throat. <br><br>"Hatter, Hatter <em>please</em>, Hatter, oh please...."<br><br>What she was oh pleasing was anyone's guess, but his was remarkably good there with the tease of that antenna and even the lightest of touches left her to trembling as if she were possessed and it was easy to see the outline of those puffy little lips clinching tight against nothing and want through the all but now thoroughly wet and clearly transparent material of her panties.<br><br>She tried to lurch forward to escape him then, and couldn't for the boots, the unforgiving boots that pinched too tight and the floor was so cool that her breath fogged it where she panted.<br><br>Exercise?&nbsp; Feed? "I could...," but she broke with that slash, her spine bowing sharply so that the wings of her shoulder blades seemed to come together above her spine, "Oh fuck..," and she was squirming again, as if she'd never stopped and one hand was inching itself dangerously lower beneath her body, creeping towards her thighs when..."I can't!"&nbsp; She'd lost the biscuit.&nbsp; She had. And he hit her again. He was right.&nbsp; She'd lost the Mouse too.&nbsp; There was never anyone as smart as the Hatter.&nbsp; Hatter was...<br><br>"<em>HATTER</em>!" <br><br>And she'd screamed and it'd been loud in the cold room and ragged and echoed through the pipes while she writhed there on the floor, wallowing in the pain that he'd created, in the lines she could feel and didn't have to see.&nbsp; He'd touched her.&nbsp; He'd touched her and her breasts ached against the hard floor and she'd never even managed to reach her cunt because the pain had <em>bloomed</em> in a way that spread out like the strands of a spiderweb to wrap her up and pull her under.&nbsp; No more green pills.&nbsp; Only more green pills.<br><br>"You can't <em>do</em> that."<br><br>He couldn't.&nbsp; It went against the rules, stealing away control of her body like that.&nbsp; Honey slicked her thighs, it tickled against the crack of her ass, it glowed bright and shiny in the dim light as she managed to get her arms back beneath her and push up onto all fours.&nbsp; "You can't just just..you can't.&nbsp; I can't think proper when you do." If she ever thought proper at all. "I can't.&nbsp; I won't!"&nbsp; But every little rush, ever little orgasm only made those lips more flush, more inflamed for the blood that filled them and tighter for it.<br><br>"Pretty please?"&nbsp; &nbsp;She just had to stand up, he said so.&nbsp; He was..., "You could I suppose. If it wasn't dirty or broken. Or you could eat it.&nbsp; I would eat it." But she was hungry and it was tricky standing in shoes that didn't move and didn't fit and she wobbled and stretched and whimpered when she had to wiggle her hips and the skin pulled taunt against her spine and made his marks sting all over again.&nbsp; She's completely forgotten about the biscuit.<br><br>"Does this mean I'm a person, Hatter?" Because there were shoes.&nbsp; "But you won't....lose me will you?&nbsp; You promised.&nbsp; You said you did and I heard you.&nbsp; We could feed the mouse...," but the cat didn't have anything to feed her at all.&nbsp; Nothing. What she had came from Hatter, when he thought to give it or forgot he had or Hare, because Daddy always took care of her. But she had nothing to feed the mouse.&nbsp; <br><br>"I could catch her mice?" She suggested, even as she clutched at the cable with both hands, wrapping it snugly around both her wrists, which proved a bit tricky to manage while still gripping it, but she did manage, in the end, to make a mess of it. One it'd likely require help to get out of and then her awareness slipped beyond her self involved little bubble and her eyes set on him in curiosity, particularly the way he was tugging at his buttons.&nbsp; Now why on earth would he...<br><br>Oh.<br><br>"Oh dear Hatter, I think something's wrong.&nbsp; That doesn't look healthy at all.&nbsp; You're going to explode," and she said it so tragically, believing every breath with all of her heart, as the cat believed everything...in the moment.&nbsp; "I think you should have that fixed."</span>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Tainted Perceptions. [IC-The Hatters Hovel.]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ebb</strong> on <strong>16-05-2012, 23:23:16</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Name</strong>: Hatter<br><strong>Location</strong>: The Hatter's Hovel, Exercise Room<br><strong>Tagged</strong>: Cat<br><br>She was bound now, hand and foot and foot and hand, and yet her mind was not yet completely trapped within the prison of his painful desire. Still she spoke and thought like a person, the tremors of pleasure he had granted her not yet enough to unseat her unstable mind. It was sufficient; he had barely begun. There was much to be done before she was reduced from human, to animal, to unthinking reactive bundle of nerves and flesh run through with quakes of pleasure and pain, screaming for release.<br><br>He stepped free of his shoes, his pants, his underthings. Naked from the waist down, obscenely erect. And, true to her observation, quite ready to explode. At the same time quite ready to persist for as long as necessary. To have it both ways, to halve it precisely, to balance on the edge of climax for... minutes? Days? How long had he gone before with her? It was a place only a madman would want to stand for long. For erections lasting more than four days one ought to consult a physician, he recalled. <br><br>Hatter stroked her concerned face. His voice was gentle again now, even protective. "Dear Cat, you are so wonderfully correct. I <em>do</em> have a problem, and you're just the one to help me with it, aren't you? I think you deserve a treat, you do." He patted the many pockets of his waistcoat. "But I've no biscuits, as they've all been stolen by nasty, filthy little beasts. Ah!" His face brightened. "But I do have something for you. Here you are, my little pet. Just one bite; don't be greedy."<br><br>Between his thumb and forefinger he held a bright red morsel, barely two bites in size. The invisibly tiny droplets of oil on its glistening surface already burned the flesh of his fingertips slightly. "A bright bonny Bonnet for my little Scotch Cat. A tiny little package of pain, courtesy of our friends in the islands. I've been saving this for you, my dear. And for me." He held it to her lips, dabbing it against them. "One for you and one for me, and who bears it best we'll see."<br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Tainted Perceptions. [IC-The Hatters Hovel.]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dahling</strong> on <strong>17-05-2012, 03:16:49</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<span style="font-family: georgia;" class="bbc_font">Name: Cheshire<br>Location: The Hatter's Hovel, Exercise Room, the Boots.<br>Tagged: Hatter<br><br>There was something strange about a man with no shoes, cat reflected, perhaps because now she was the one wearing the boots and boots...were made for kicking, but these wouldn't leave the floor and the girl gave a little tug to her arms with the thought and tried to wiggle her feet free to no avail.&nbsp; Who would put locks on shoes?<br><br>So she keened to him instead, her head tilting in to better nuzzle against the softness of his fingers; a sensation even so slight as that leaving girl with her eyes all but closed as she rumbled out a heavy sigh of contentment and wrapped herself up in his voice.&nbsp; That she was looking mournfully at the problem in question as he spoke seemed neither here nor there, because her lips were twitching and her tongue was inching out towards his fingers.<br><br>"I'll help you, Hatter," cat promised, her voice as sticky and sweet as the candies that so often lined Wonderland pockets.&nbsp; "I'll do an---," anything was cut short when he spoke of beasts, which...brought a curious moment in which she wondered if he was condemning her, until she remembered the boots.&nbsp; She couldn't be a beast in those boots.&nbsp; And he had a treat for her.&nbsp; He wasn't mad!<br><br>"One bite," she agreed, solemnly, giving him her very biggest eyes, "Cross my heart and hope to fight." Her bottom lip trembled too, and the promise of scotch always made her happy.&nbsp; But how a bite could hurt...did that really matter when he was swooning her with such romantic nonsense? A treat just for the two of them; she couldn't have loved him more than in that moment...when she stole the entire thing from the tips of his fingers with a sweep of her tongue; using her teeth to part it in two.<br><br>One can see the mistake already; the fresh bloom of tears, the little tremble that runs down the entire length of her frame as her eyes go wide; that little pink tongue extended in his direction, offering up his half of the morsel from her lips which...while she'd intended it to be sweet, was only turning sour.&nbsp; This was no treat at all, not at all.&nbsp; But the rosy beads of her nipples still looked to be painfully hard. <br><br>"'<em>atter</em>," the cat whimpered, mindful not to drop his bite from the cradle of her tongue. </span>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Tainted Perceptions. [IC-The Hatters Hovel.]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ebb</strong> on <strong>19-05-2012, 05:11:15</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Name</strong>: Hatter<br><strong>Location</strong>: The Hatter's Hovel, Exercise Room, 200,000 on the Scoville Scale<br><strong>Tagged</strong>: Cat<br><br>Hatter let her hold the remaining half of the pepper on her nimble little extended tongue until the quivering threatened to send it to the floor, for that would be a waste indeed. A few seeds slipped free from the bright red interior to land upon her taste buds. Finally he snatched it up between thumb and forefinger, holding it open to the ceiling like a tiny goblet of pain.<br><br>With his left hand he rolled her outstretched tongue back into her mouth, pinching her lips shut behind it. He pressed them tightly together, tight enough to bruise the flesh. Not quite beestung, he thought -- but wouldn't that be something? Now where could he get bees? There were wasps in the harpsichord, but he wasn't sure they would give the same effect.<br><br>His drifting thoughts were dispelled by the beauty of the red flush spreading rapidly across Cat's face and nearly exposed upper chest. Her shirt was barely a scarf now, rolled up over her breasts with their hard nipples. He rubbed the open cup of the pepper over each in turn with the motions of a professional billiards player chalking his cue. A bit more on the left one... Yes. Perfect. And still more than enough left for him.<br><br>The Cat's whimpering coquettish performance had granted him more than ample surface area. It was a simple matter to crush the remaining pepper in his callused hand and wrap it around the base of his shaft. Slow even strokes, spreading the essential oils along the pink purple flesh. A finger dipped under his heavy foreskin, tucking more of the burning liquid beneath. The pain was... incredible. Exquisite. Like sticking his cock into a furnace, but the flesh did not falter. If anything it swelled in defiance. Hatter removed his hand from his captive's lips, moving it down to help support the lance between his legs. Tears flowed freely from the corners of his eyes. His breath quickened, deep gulps of oxygen to feed the fires within.<br><br>It was terribly, tragically painful. He could imagine only one experience worse, and lacking a vagina he wasn't about to undergo that ordeal himself any time soon. But ho! Here was one directly before him, and helpless to escape. Imagine that. He walked behind the suspended woman, his steps short and measured. <br><br>"I believe you said you'd do anything to help me, Cat? Or maybe I imagined that. Or maybe I don''t fucking care either way." He grasped the tight globes of her ass and stretched them up and apart, exposing the dripping pussy so inadequately concealed between her thighs, her tiny skirt doing nothing to arrest any advance. The thick head of his cock fit neatly against her wet lips. He played it up and down their length, mixing a new ingredient into her ample natural lubrication.<br><br>Hatter's capacity for pain was incredible. His capacity for delay of his own gratification was, on occasion, more lacking. He widened his stance, bent his knees and leaned forward, feeding his inflamed rod into Cat's sopping pussy. "This..." he grunted, "will teach you to defy me." Which was, of course, quite literally true.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Tainted Perceptions. [IC-The Hatters Hovel.]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dahling</strong> on <strong>19-05-2012, 21:11:07</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<span style="font-family: georgia;" class="bbc_font"><strong>Name:</strong> Cheshire<br><strong>Location:</strong> The Hatter's Hovel, Exercise Room, burning up alive.<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Hatter<br><br>OhgodohgodohgodohGOD!<br><br>But she couldn't say, Oh god oh god oh god oh god, could she?&nbsp; Noooo, because trying to talk might move that gods be damned vile thing he'd put on her tongue and there were little tears weeping quietly down her face as she trembled and looked at him with those imploring eyes, begging that he ease the pain as it blistered its way through her.&nbsp; The small sounds she was making akin to a wounded puppy and they only got worse when he pinched her lips together, so that the scream came muffled and the cat struggled, groaning against her bonds trying to be free of him.<br><br>Merciful heavens but it hurt and he made her regret, anew, hanging on to that cord in the first place because her torso shifted and swayed in an attempt to escape the sudden blaze of heat he sent through those sensitive little nipples and frankly, were it not the grip that she'd on that cord she'd have ended up on her knees because her mouth flew open and she moaned, a broken sound laced with pleasure, drowning in pain as her hips gave a restless shift of desire.<br><br>All she could feel was the spread of it and it varied in stages of 'Burning' and 'Consumed' and it left her panting; that soft little tongue lolled free just as soon as he'd taken to crushing the vile thing in his hand so that she could pant freely in an attempt to at least ease some of the hurt and recover her tongue enough so that she could talk again without every little wiggle of it threatening to rock her to her knees.<br><br>"Hatter don't be mad," she managed, before the sound of her whimpers drown out her speech, her tongue recoiling as if he'd struck her.&nbsp; The bow of that slender spine leaving her swaying there locked between one torment and the other, her fingers clawing at the electric wire, her cunt aching.&nbsp; She imagined his mouth too, might help ease some of that steady burn there against her breasts but...he didn't look as if he cared to help at all and the things that he was doing with that pepper...<br><br>"Don't be mean, either!"<br><br>Because his disappearance around her side made her nervous and she'd seen tears in his eyes which had given her an entirely new set of worries.&nbsp; The Hatter never cried. Not ever.&nbsp; Not at all.&nbsp; And she wanted to taste his tears.&nbsp; Or collect them...for the Hare.&nbsp; Or...<br><br>Did it really fucking matter?<br><br><del>The girl pushed herself up</del>, The girl tried to push herself up higher when his hands started tugging against the cheeks of her ass, too large those hands, too....like the rest of him.&nbsp; So the sound that chirped past her lips then was small, small and delicate and full of terror.&nbsp; "Hatter?"<br><br>And then absolutely nothing else mattered at all, because she could feel him against her in a slick rub that only made her squirm and try to wiggle back deeper which...simply introduced a new level of pain.&nbsp; So what became a cry, became a shudder instead and when he finally thrust the thick length of his cock into her, every bone in her body turned to jello and she screamed herself hoarse for the tight vice her cunt made against him as she came. Fuel to an already raging fire.<br><br>"Hatter," came the little pant, as her hips thrust back to meet him, a tremble there in every breath, "Nnnh, fuck...<em>Hatter</em>...Hurt me." With his cock, of course.</span>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Tainted Perceptions. [IC-The Hatters Hovel.]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ebb</strong> on <strong>08-06-2012, 02:29:17</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Name</strong>: Hatter<br><strong>Location</strong>: The Hatter's Hovel, Exercise Room<br><strong>Tagged</strong>: Cheshire<br><br>The older man groaned with inarticulate glee as he sank his full length into the burning cunt of his captive pet. The fiery oils spread through her delicate membranes, and a war began between her shuddering flesh's desire to dry and withdraw at the invasive pain and its equally pressing need to gush forth with the ample evidence of her considerable arousal. He plunged into her like Arthur in reverse, claiming his kingdom by right of the flaming sword plunged into the stone rather than drawn forth. She was always tight; no matter how he tortured her or what manner of instruments he cruelly forced into her pliant pussy, each morning would find her once again a properly resistive challenge to the incursion of his priapismic cock. Now she was doubly so, forcing him to exert the strength of his hips, stretching her body between cruelly bound feet and entangled wrists like the arc of a tightly strung bow.<br><br>It wasn't enough. It was never enough, it would never be enough. He could reduce her to jelly with each chime of the great clock tower and still would never tire of doing it again. Her body was the perfect toy, her fractured mind a puzzle box that he could rearrange into infinite combinations of shame, pain and ecstasy. With the clarity of the mortally injured, for his own pain was considerable, he marshaled command of his tongue and spoke in a sing-song voice, thrusting into her with each line.<br><br><div align="center"><em>I've often seen a Cat in Heat,<br>But seldom seen a Heat in Cat.<br>A Cat in Heat with screams so sweet --<br>What Heat in Cat can match for that?<br>So scream, my Cat, my bon petite,<br>Catenate with master's bat.<br>To climax come with no deceit,<br>Then multiply: Repeat! Repeat!<br>Or feel again the Hatter's slat.</em></div><br>His voice dropped to the cruel growl he often assumed before reaching his own peak, as he chewed on her left ear and then spat his words into it. "That means cum, bitch." He obliged her with a demonstration, spewing his seed deeply into the mix of lust and pain that formed the tempest in her abused sex. The Hatter pumped for all he was worth, injecting and filling her in an act that was as fresh each day as the cries of the newest batch of orphans. His broad hands, temporarily in command of their own destiny, grabbed Cat's neck from behind and squeezed, his thumbs digging into the knot at the base of her skull as if to push it through her throat.<br><br>It was, in short, a quite acceptable fuck.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Tainted Perceptions. [IC-The Hatters Hovel.]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dahling</strong> on <strong>10-06-2012, 10:41:47</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<span style="font-family: georgia;" class="bbc_font"><strong>Name:</strong> Cheshire<br><strong>Location:</strong> The Hatter's Hovel, Exercise Room<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Hatter<br><br>The young girl shuddered beneath his control, her breasts, much like the rest of her, glistening with beads of sweat born more from the sheer heat than exertion, though the latter had something to do with it.&nbsp; It trickled down the curve of her spine and caught against the hem of her skirt where it was pushed up around her slender thighs.&nbsp; With every jarring thrust her breasts bounced for the efforts her body and his force, the peaks of her nipples burning like the rest of her where he'd rubbed that vile 'treat'.&nbsp; And yet...she loved him for it.&nbsp; He made her whole and kept her balanced, for all that she suffered at his hands and balance was defined as just the right about of pressure there against her shoulders, the perfect grip against her hip to force her body to bow to his demand.&nbsp; When she'd fall over, if it weren't for her bonds...that was balance.<br><br>The sound of his voice there so near her ear only made it worse too, for he shamed her with the very first line so that color fused her cheeks in a whispering tale of embarrassment and her hips twitched, cunt clinching even as she attempted to escape him and failed.&nbsp; He was mocking her...mocking her pleasure and her pain, so that she trembled there against him, her cheeks stained with tears and the slick black smear of her mascara.&nbsp; Her cries became whimpers then, in an effort to ruin his mockery against a bloodied lip instead.<br><br>The cat failed though, because his words conjured imagery regardless that could no doubt be felt in the tension that ran through her body, in the way her breath came quick and it took no more than his command, than the sharp bite of his voice against her mauled ear to have her writhing before him; pussy spasming in the throes of passion, "Oh fuck, Hatter...<em>please</em>," the cat all but whined it, "It huuurrrts, Oh Alice it hurts!&nbsp; Fuck me harder you dirty old bastard, use me until it...." hurts.&nbsp; <br><br>But it was doing wonders for the girl's inflamed little pussy, all the tighter for it where his hands found her throat and she cried out anew; a groan that came muffled but for that it's ability to convey her passion, her obedience in the way a body fractured not once, but twice in a wash of slick pleasure against his cock.&nbsp; Staining her thighs.<br><br>Like a fucking bitch trailed to heel, she came over and over again while he filled her, his cum running down the tops of those slim thighs with her juices, staining his pants and her stockings.&nbsp; But there came a sense of balm with it too, where the wash of his seed helped dilute the heat and ease the fire; even her face was turning blue there within his grip.&nbsp; Her eyes had certainly rolled up because of pleasure and not pain, right?</span>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Tainted Perceptions. [IC-The Hatters Hovel.]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ebb</strong> on <strong>16-06-2012, 07:05:34</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Name</strong>: Hatter<br><strong>Location</strong>: The Hatter's Hovel, Exercise Room<br><strong>Tagged</strong>: Cheshire<br><br>The Hatter relaxed his grip on her throat, noting with pleasure the perfect purple imprints of his fingers round her neck. Temporary collars to replace the one she'd lost. The one he'd need to replace. It wouldn't do to have her running about spreading her legs like the eaves of London Bridge without a proper collar. Her pussy she could give freely; her neck belonged to him. <br><br>As he released his grip she slumped forward, now connected to him only by the organ still lodged in her cunt, though the slick mix of the sexual cocktail they'd brewed made the grip of friction tenuous. She hung from her wrists in the mass of cables. That would never do either. From his waistband he pulled his third favorite knife, for it was a special occasion, was it not? A jagged thing, slightly bent, with a serrated edge suitable for sawing bone or hacking flesh from flesh. It ought to do properly on a few feet of plastic and wire. He set to work, recklessly slashing at the Gordian knot that held her bound.<br><br>Wild unpracticed slashes, as his eyes continually drifted from the point of attack to appraise the woman before him, as if he had suddenly awakened to find his cock embedded in a girl of unknown origin, and was mildly curious as to her name. The edge of the knife caught in the fraying cables. He yanked it free, catching the edge of her wrist in the backward slash and opening a crimson trail down her forearm. He gave it little notice, continuing his assault until the mass of wires, some of them dripping showers of sparks -- Hmm. They were live after all. Noted. -- released their purchase on his property, sending her tumbling forward onto the ground. Arrested only by her trapped feet, the ankles now bent painfully forward in a dancer's stretch. His cock pulled free of her like a cork from a bottle, followed by a minor deluge of cum that splattered onto her tiny dress and upper thighs as she fell.<br><br>"I ought to leave you in those things. Teach you a thing or two, in would. Ought I have the dogs up for a visit? I'm sure they're so terribly hungry by now, having not been fed since... well, ever. Fuck you well, they would, little puppies. Cats and dogs lying together," he mused. "Truly we're living in the End Times."<br><br>He shook his head, his vision returning, however briefly, to the room he occupied. "But that would leave you even more useless than normal for the evening, and you've still got errands to run." He stooped and quickly unlocked the clever catches on each of the metal boots. "Go find someone to lick that disgusting cunt of yours clean before I have the hounds do it. You ought to be ashamed, walking about like that. We'll see about a collar once you get back, but we'll call it evens on the biscuit. This time." He suddenly noticed the weight of the heavy steel knife in his right hand, and how her unprotected back lay sprawled before him. Just a slice... Just a tiny slice, a momento to keep here with him... But no. If he started, he wouldn't stop, and she'd be a useless lump until morning. <br><br>"GO!" he yelled, echoing off the cracked white tiles. A kick to her cum stained ass emphasized his point.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Tainted Perceptions. [IC-The Hatters Hovel.]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ebb</strong> on <strong>22-06-2012, 20:38:11</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div align="center"><span style="font-size: 14pt;" class="bbc_size"><span style="font-family: verdana;" class="bbc_font">[Nightfall]</span></span></div><br><strong>Name</strong>: Hatter<br><strong>Location</strong>: The Hatter's Hovel, Entrance Hall<br><strong>Tagged</strong>: Cinnamon Tart, Hare<br><br>The Hatter stood in the current entrance hall of the Hovel. Well, one of the current entrance halls. It had earned the designation by virtue of the fact that the east wall had collapsed suddenly, taking with it a portion of the ceiling and now providing unhindered access to the side gardens. A promotion had been earned in the eternal war between the rooms of the Hovel when the front entrance hall had been overtaken by a creeping black mold that had proved nearly fatal to one door-to-door solicitor. This suited the Hatter nicely, and he had decided to leave the front entryway to its fate. Anyone of import would find their way in, eventually. Anyone of consequence would eventually find their way out.<br><br>The peals of the sixteen ton bell spread across the face of London, sending the last of the sunlight scurrying below the horizon and yielding control of the City to the forces of night. It was the Hatter's favorite time of day. On a good night one could hear the screams of those caught outside without proper preparation, their protests of 'due process' and 'extenuating circumstance' falling upon surgically deafened ears. No such luck tonight, though. The streets were as quiet as a disemboweled churchmouse.<br><br>He would not be dining alone this evening. The card had arrived hours earlier, the acceptance of a long-standing invitation he had issued in happier days. The Hare, and apparently bringing a guest. The mind boggled at the possibilities. Why would that man -- that infuriating, lovely man -- be coming here? It smelled like... Change. And change meant chaos, the teacart upset, the structures of the world collapsing like the walls of the Hovel and rebuilding themselves in more interesting configurations. The Hatter smiled. Hare, coming here. He wondered if the beast meant to kill him. Now that would be interesting. He wondered if he ought to try to kill him first. In self-defence, of course. Completely justifiable lepucide. No court would convict him. And even if they did, he had that Royal Pardon around here. Somewhere.<br><br>Footsteps sounded outside, crushing the eggshells that had been so carefully arranged on the garden path. He wasn't sure exactly why. It had seemed a good idea at the time. So many things did.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Tainted Perceptions. [IC-The Hatters Hovel.]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Amberghylles</strong> on <strong>23-06-2012, 15:09:33</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				It had been a long time since he'd walked this particular garden path.&nbsp; Oh, nothing about it was the same but that was the essence of it.&nbsp; The more things changed the more they were the same after all.&nbsp; Hare smiled his best smile, the one he rarely used as he skipped along making sure not to miss a single carefully placed shell.&nbsp; So thoughtful of Hatter to set them out and save him the effort of having to ring the bell.<br><br>"Come along now," he sang out cheerfully as he pulled at the leash in his hand, headless of how his capering pace might be difficult for the poor blindfolded girl to keep up with.&nbsp; And, of course, with her arms bound behind her back so it was devilishly hard for her to catch herself when she stumbled.&nbsp; He'd lost count of how many times he'd had to pick her back up but her scraped knees and the disheveled state of her clothing testified to it being more than a few.&nbsp; <br><br>"We're almost there," he cajoled impatiently as he tugged her along, "You do want your birthday surprise don't you?"&nbsp; It was a rhetorical question.&nbsp; Of course she did.&nbsp; Who did like birthday surprises?&nbsp; Well, the Hatter didn't.&nbsp; But that was the Hatter for you.&nbsp; Of course, he was the standard that you judged mad by so you couldn't really blame him for it.&nbsp; It bothered some people but not the Hare.&nbsp; He loved seeing the Hatter's face turn that perfect shade of red that made that dainty vein in his temple pulse and throb just so like it might explode.&nbsp; Some day it would and he really really really wanted to be there to see it.<br><br>It had been an age since he'd seen his dear friend Hatter and he missed him just terribly.&nbsp; Why hadn't he answered an invitation to tea sooner?&nbsp; Oh right, because they were enemies and it wasn't proper for enemies to take tea together without business.&nbsp; Such a pity that.&nbsp; But today he had business to discuss and thus he see his beloved Hatter.<br><br>It was a frabjous day indeed.<br><br>He skipped from one eggshell to the next and found himself with no more to tread upon.&nbsp; Looking up his eyes fell upon the gaping hole in the wall and the Hatter framed therein.&nbsp; His lips curled into a smile so wide it hurt. <br><br>"So good to see you again you fucking bastard!" he cried out brightly as he pulled Cinnamon up short beside him and then threw his arms wide and stepped closer to give the other man a fierce hug.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Tainted Perceptions. [IC-The Hatters Hovel.]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dahling</strong> on <strong>24-06-2012, 05:16:31</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Name:</strong> Cinnamon Tart<br><strong>Location:</strong> Where ever she's led.<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Hare, Hatter<br><br>There'd been no comfort with the blindfold, save that it caught the tears before they could stain her cheeks and the collar about her neck was uncomfortable against her skin.&nbsp; But the tremble of her lip still gave away the fact that she'd been crying, even if the soft sound of her sobs didn't.&nbsp; To say that she was quietly terrified was an understatement, only the girl didn't know what exactly she was terrified of.&nbsp; But there was a cheery note in the Hare's voice, perhaps it was that.&nbsp; She didn't recall him being so damnably pleased when she bolted before.<br><br>Of course, she didn't recall her arms being bound so very tightly either.&nbsp; The end result was that those slight breasts were thrust up against the thin fabric of her dress, one long stained from the various spills she'd taken as a result of his pointedly prompt pullings.&nbsp; There were cuts and scrapes on her knees, but her chin as well and fine pieces of broken egg shell littered the front of her from where she'd fallen on the path in a particularly perturbing crunch.<br><br>"But where...," Cinna stumbled when the Hare tugged; those broken shells more than just a little rough against the girl's bare feet; like splinters almost. "..are we going?"&nbsp; And why did he still seem to think it was her birthday?&nbsp; That'd been almost four whole days ago.&nbsp; And she'd spent the bulk of them hiding so that no one could wish her a Happy Birthday or more, give her some sort of gift.&nbsp; The very idea just..<br><br>Cinna shuddered with the thought, "Hare please," the waif of a girl implored, "Can't I just go home?&nbsp; I promise I won't run away again.&nbsp; I don't need anything for my birthday, I swear I don't Hare, Sir just...," the poor girl never finished the sentence.&nbsp; He'd all but pulled her up short, choking off her ability to speak for a moment because while he was throwing his arms wide to greet the Hatter, poor Cinnamon was falling once again, onto the ground but at least this time she managed to catch herself and keep from landing on her face.&nbsp; Instead she crushed down hard on her knees instead.<br><br>"Oww..," the girl sniveled from the ground, those blind eyes turned up towards the sound of voices as she tried not to cry all over again, "Hare please...where are we?&nbsp; Why can't you take the blindfold off?" 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Tainted Perceptions. [IC-The Hatters Hovel.]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ebb</strong> on <strong>25-06-2012, 22:21:52</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Name</strong>: Hatter<br><strong>Location</strong>: The Garden. No, the Other Garden. You Know Which One.<br><strong>Tagged</strong>: Hare, Cinnamon Tart<br><br>Hatter took a step back, retreating before the Hare's offered hug, then cursed himself for the show of weakness. Neither of the man's hands held knives, not this time. <em>Fool me</em> seven <em>times, shame on me,</em> he thought. Finally he allowed himself to return the embrace, after first carefully checking, twice, that his own hands were empty. Well, the left one was smeared with something dark, but that wasn't the same as holding something. And conveniently there was soon a patch of the Hare's brown suit perfectly positioned to wipe off the sticky substance. The Hatter's face screwed up in consternation. He was almost entirely certain it wasn't chocolate, but beyond that he wasn't prepared to make a definitive statement to the press.<br><br>"I hate you more than I can possibly say," he said into Hare's ear. "And it is incredibly good to see you."<br><br>When they had carefully disengaged the Hatter's attention turned to the kneeling girl. Her thin dress concealed little of her girlish figure, but the blindfold handily disguised her age. It was all in the eyes, after all. You couldn't tell how old someone was, how much pain they had suffered, by looking at their body. Those parts grew back. You had to look into their eyes to see the roads of anguish they'd walked, and Hare had covered that up. So the Hatter saw nothing. <br><br>"A present? For me?" A nearly girlish squeal escaped his lips, hands fluttering to cover his thumping heart. "Why, I didn't get you anything...." His sharp eyes darted around, looking for something to turn into an impromptu gift. but unsurprisingly nothing leaped out to volunteer itself. There was the Cock, he supposed, but that was supposed to be for a special occasion. Was this a special occasion? It was an occasion. It was special. But that wasn't really enough. "She's dirty, though," the Hatter said as his expression turned to a frown. "Soiled, despoiled, used and abused. She's... <em>perfect.</em>" He stalked around her, examining her from all angles. There was a blank spot on her back, between her shoulder blades, only the material of the dress covering the tight muscles of her back. It was a location badly in need of the sole of a boot, and happily he was wearing a pair of them. After some thought, he decided upon the right one, planting it squarely on her back and driving her forward into the eggshell-littered gravel. The hobnails made their own entrance in the dress, and soon thereafter her unmarred skin.<br><br><em>It's a trap!</em> he suddenly realized. That damnable, blasted Hare. And he'd taken the bait completely. Once again his clever adversary had won the Erection Game, and here only seconds into his visit. The Hatter stood at at least three-quarters mast, while the Hare -- at least according to the Hatter's overly obvious sidelong glance -- was entirely in control of his equipment. Damn him to hell. "Point to you, my friend," he muttered, shaking his head half in appreciation. "Point to you. Ah well, we may as well go inside then. You know the way."<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Tainted Perceptions. [IC-The Hatters Hovel.]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Amberghylles</strong> on <strong>11-07-2012, 00:49:42</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Name</strong>: The March Hare<br><strong>Location</strong>: The Garden Foyer<br><strong>Tagged</strong>: The Mad Hatter, Cinnamon Tart<br><br>The March Hare hugged his beloved enemy, pleased to come away from such close proximity with naught but a stain on his suit.&nbsp; That the Hatter whispered such a passion into his ear made him nearly glow with pleasure as the other man examined Cinnamon and found her decidedly pleasing.<br><br>Then his smile grew to a grin that showed his well manicured teeth and he gave a half bow as the Hatter conceded the first point of the game to him.&nbsp; He tugged at the tart's leash a took a step toward the house before it occurred to him that bound as she was she couldn't get up.&nbsp; With a sigh, he stepped back over and reached to grab her arms and pull her up.<br><br>"Come along girl," he chided, "It's rude to keep your host waiting and I'm the only one allowed to insult the insufferable lout.&nbsp; Proper tarts are sweet and full of filling."&nbsp; Once he'd placed her on her feet he turn her to face the Hatter.<br><br>"Actually old friend," he said to the Hatter as he grinned wickedly over one of the girl's shoulders, "There is something you have that would make this night fine and grand.&nbsp; You see, it's Cinnamon's birthday.&nbsp; She's a ripe tart now, proper and ready to eat and be eaten and serve her Queen mother like a good daughter.&nbsp; That means it's come time to unwrap her."&nbsp; His hand dipped to her skirt and lifted it suddenly to show the leather and steel chastity belt that adorned her untried sex.&nbsp; "As it turns out, the key to this lock seems to have fallen into your villainous hands."<br><br>He slipped his left arm around the girl's neck and hold her squirming form while his other hand's fingers traced the skin at the edges of that belt, so close to her pussy but kept from the prize by that damned belt.<br><br>"So, what say you put your key in her belt's lock and then we can put our keys in her locks together just like the good old days?&nbsp; I know a filthy bastard like you would just love to ram that mottled hunk of sausage you call a cock into this little birthday girl's fine and unspoiled cake."<br><br>He tightened his arm around her throat then and leaned in to lick the edge of the girl's ear unhurriedly.<br><br>"She's such a sweet little tart...&nbsp; So let sleeping bygones lie till the morrow and we can feast upon her together you horny old goat."&nbsp; &nbsp;
			</dd>
		</dl>
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