PREVIOUSLY:  Queen Channah has decided to take an opportunity to teach Hanim Qahramanah about how to train her girls, and combines the occasion with an early start to her honeymoon.  The girls are blindfolded and gagged with their hands secured behind their backs and their legs cuffed.  For reasons of their own, Channah and Fang seem intent on degrading their jawari in public, before legions of the damned.  NOW:

“The next question for you is where you want to go.  I’ve seen you staring at your fellow qahramanah….” Channah began.

They both looked at the glass panel where Hong had taken her jawari to begin their dance.  They remained staring for a moment, mesmerized, at what Hong was doing to her jawari, and what her jawari were doing for their qahramanah.  Indeed, one could hardly resist the urge to gawk at something like that.  Esmeray finally tore her eyes away and looked back at Channah:

“I admit Hong… may be able to teach me something.”

“You think?”

“But… comparing myself to her may be too much… pressure the first time.”

“I’d tell you it’s not a competition, but, well… you’ve made it one.  You can’t avoid her for long.  However, I agree with you:  you need to focus first on your own hive.” Channah shrugged.  “And in fact, if you need extra practice time with your jawari, you may have it whenever their other duties permit.  I will inform Fang the normal limitations on hetaraslakos time are not to apply to you and your girls until Hong agrees you are qualified to instruct them.”

“Until she—” Esmeray began, eyes flashing at Channah until she saw the logical trap there.  Her shoulders relaxed as she backed down from trying to challenge something she had first taken as an insult.  “Yes, Mistress.”

Channah nodded approvingly and swept her arm towards the opposite edge of the platform, the jungle gym.  “May I suggest…?”  Esmeray nodded her assent.  “But before we take our girls to the edge…”

“Is that where we’re going?”  Esmeray asked.  “Perhaps the first time—”

Channah made a sound of negation.  “We always take them to the edge.  The very edge.”

“So the damned can see them?”

“That’s a consideration,” Channah agreed, “Although they hear, smell, and even feel everything we do here at a very visceral level, it’s even better if they have a direct line of sight as well.  But it’s as much, or even more, about the experience of the girls.  The first lesson they need to learn is how utterly, completely, and totally they depend on us.  We are their mothers” (both boys stiffened and gasped, reacting instinctively and viscerally to that shocking suggestion, one they never would have imagined) “in the fullest meaning of the word:  their protectors, their caretakers, their helpers, their managers, their teachers, their guides, their bond, their apron strings, their heart, their masters, their very world.  They must learn that first.”

“How?”

“By taking away almost everything from them, reducing them to helpless, almost senseless, creatures.  Having only enough control to hurt themselves if they do anything other than obeying us completely, and only enough sensation to feel and anticipate the consequences of their own actions.”

“By using these.”  She produced four small, red rubber pellets from a small leather pouch, holding them out so Esmeray could examine them curiously. 

“Red?  Like the blindfolds and—”

“Exactly,” Channah agreed approvingly. 

“But not in Fang’s gift?”

“They were in the fourth box.  Too valuable and too vulnerable for hucows—except you, once you’re shown how to treat them—to be messing about with them, because unlike the others they’re heavily magicked.”

Esmeray looked at Channah, frowning, then half-smiling.  “And…?”

“And what?”

“There’s something else.  Something…” her face faltered.  “Something you’re wondering how to tell me.  Because… I’m going to hate it.”

“Not after you understand,” Channah dissembled, but admitted:  “At first, you may be startled, but truly, you don’t need to be agitated.”

“I’ll—fuck.”  Esmeray’s hands subconsciously moved to her waist as Channah gave a wintry smile.  “The scarlet panties.”

“The scarlet panties.  You’ve been wearing them three days?”

“And nights.  It’s been disgusting.”  She made a revolted face and shivered.

“Then you’ll be happy to be rid of them, won’t you?”

Esmeray turned crimson herself and strangled:  “It’s mortifying.”

“It’s magic.  Everything has a price.  You know that better than most.  And you’ll need to do it all over again next week.  But first, attend carefully.  We are about to make these girls ours—utterly and completely.” Channah held up her palm with the four plugs, picking up one with her left hand and using her right hand to catch Penny by the ear, startling her.  “Be still,” Channah hissed, again intimidating the younger girl into compliance.

Signed, Sealed, Delivered

Penny, will you trust me?

I will, Qahramanah.

Do you promise?

Yes, Mistress.  I promise to trust you.

Do you promise?  I promise….

Blind, gagged, with her arms now bound behind her back, the words echoed through Penny’s head like a mantra, or a security blanket, she could only hold onto desperately.   Panic tried to rise like bile from her gut if she would let it, so she repeated the phrase desperately in her mind, flipping back and forth like her own stomach was doing, sometimes feeling comfort, at other times, realization of her own anxiety.  She had given up every bit of control she ever had, to move, to speak, even to see.  Helpless, almost senseless, creatures.   Channah’s words resonated too in her mind.  The awareness of her situation settled around her like a stiff, chilly blanket taken from a freezer, that she could do nothing but wait:  Wait, to be commanded or forced to the will of another—by her Domina, her Qahramanah, or anyone in whose hands they might choose to put her.  Taking away almost everything from them… if they do anything other than obeying us completely.  

Trust… she had promised to trust… It felt at the time like the exchange had been a mutual pledge, as Channah had talked about it:  It was Penny’s place to trust, and Esmeray’s to protect.  Only… Esmeray hadn’t actually promised to protect Penny.  Had she?  And even if Penny hadn’t promised to trust Esmeray, she didn’t have the ability to do otherwise anymore, did she?

Penny was helpless, utterly helpless as a newborn lamb who could barely even hold her feet, in front of a tigress who had asked her:  Will you trust me?

What kind of lamb would say that to a tiger?  And have meant it?  What had she been thinking?!

I promise…

She had to trust; she had made sure to put herself in that position.

Only… now, in the worst moments, she wasn’t sure.  Did she really?  Or were her thoughts those of a child whistling to reassure herself against the dark?

Memories crowded her and crowed at her, pointing her attention toward the satanikoklus where she had been married, the futon in the private chapel, even the nettle field and the pigsty:  A bed-wetting tour of all the places she had been taken advantage of, helpless to stop what was being done to her, what Her Grace the Countess of Warwick had wanted for her, demanded of her, commanded others to do to her.  But I love her… she loves me… doesn’t she? 

I promise…

Literature Section “06-77 Dance of the Qahramanat XII”Part 77 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—1152 words—Accompanying Images:  1657-1661—Published 2025-04-29—©2025 The Remainderman.  This is a work of fiction, not a book of suggestions.  It’s filled with fantasies, idiots, and criminals. Don’t believe them or imitate them.

PREVIOUSLY:  Queen Channah has decided to take an opportunity to teach Hanim Qahramanah about how to train her girls, and combines the occasion with an early start to her honeymoon.  The girls are blindfolded and bit-gagged with cuffs on their wrists and ankles.  NOW:

Last Chance to Run

“Last chance, girls, to prove you’re still wild and free things before we bind you,” she offered archly from her squatting position by their sides, looking up at them, curious to see how they reacted, while Esmeray looked at her like she was crazy.   “What?” Channah asked innocently, standing and walking to the box to look through it for what was left.

“You’re practically daring them to run away,” Esmeray protested.  “Implying they’re… domesticated little rabbits if they stay.”

“Ooh… I like that idea.  But they are my domestic little pets.  If they love me.  If they respect me.  If they trust me, they will stay and wait for whatever their Domina decides is best for them.”

“So much for ‘establishing control’ and ‘limiting variables,’” Esmeray exclaimed, exasperated.

Channah laughed, deep in her throat, perhaps a faint pink of embarrassment touching her features.  “You’ve got me.  I’m sorry, you’re right.  This is definitely a case of doing what I say, not what I do.  Do you know how long I’ve been controlling girls?”

“Some say five thousand years.  Others insist you were born at the dawn of time itself.”

“Is there a difference, darling?” Channah asked loftily.  “A long time.  Sometimes I long for something… anything! New and challenging.  And you are hardly one to complain about people who are too impulsive and defiant to follow good advice!”  Apparently in a mood, she looked up and snorted.  “Penny, dear, I would have expected you to offer some valuable and insightful riposte here.  Oh, wait, you can’t because we’ve gagged you!”  Both women seemed to think that was hilarious, and even Chas grunted behind her gag, while Penny, chagrined as she was, could only shake her head.

The sight of the brass crosses distracted Esmeray from her giggling, and she held one up.  “I want to use these, er…. Whatever they are?”

“The fact you can’t figure out what they’re for, dear girl, should suggest to you they’re rather advanced equipment.  I promise I’ll teach you how to use them… when the girls are ready.  We can keep them here and see if we feel ready next weekend.  If we tried them today, the girls might bolt after all!” 

“They didn’t think that was quite as funny as we did,” Esmeray observed.

“They won’t think it’s as funny when we use them, either.  But let’s just start with these.”  She handed Esmeray several pieces of heavy gold jewelry, each a good-sized ring with a spring-loaded hinged segment.

“I haven’t seen these before,” she frowned.

“Carabiners.  My operatives discovered them recently in the Holy Roman Empire.  I like to wear them on my wrists so I have them whenever I need them,” Channah demonstrated, stacking three on her right wrist and keeping the fourth ready in her left hand before walking behind Chas again, tugging her wrists behind her, and pulling the clasp back long enough to interlink it with the smaller gold rings attached to Chas’s wrist cuffs, securing her hands behind her.

Esmeray smiled and did the same to Penny, but said doubtfully:  “These are very convenient, but not very secure.  If they were left alone for a bit, they could probably escape.”

“Oh,” Channah laughed.  “You’re right.  We have locks and more-secure rings for leaving slaves bound.  And heavier ones still for unwilling partners and other prisoners who are more masculine.  These are made for one of two situations.  First, situations where you’re paying enough attention to the girls to prevent them from escaping.  That’s something these cuffs give you ample opportunity to accomplish, even with two brats on your hands.  Or second, to secure your bitches in a position where they can’t reach the rings no matter how hard they try.”

“How would that work?”

“I look forward to showing you, love,” Channah smiled happily.  “But the purpose of these is to allow you to actively control your partners, and to easily reposition them for your pleasure.  You’ll be amazed how effortless it becomes.  For you.”

Channah pulled two more brass frames from the box, these simple straight rods with rings at each end and periodically along the length.  She set them over her right shoulder as a soldier would carry a polearm to march, while she stepped beside Chas and took her by the arm with her left hand.  Esmeray again followed her example, but a little more impersonally, holding Penny’s upper arm in her hand and using her sleeve as added leverage, rather than intertwining their arms.  “Because they can’t see, you have to guide them and keep them safe, and they have to trust you, completely and implicitly.  In all things.”

“They’re helpless and dependent as infants,” Esmeray grinned.

“Like this, they are.  And they have to be as trusting as infants.  Whereas we can do anything we want with them.”  The girls shuffled nervously as this conversation transpired.

“Or to them,” Esmeray’s face darkened as her expression hardened.

“Breathe, Esmeray.  Breathe.”

“I don’t know if I’m ready for this.”

“You’re ready,” Channah assured her, holding her eyes and calming her. 

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because you’re ready for…” Channah shrugged “whatever you’re ready for.”

“What does that even mean?  Mistress,” Esmeray added, recognizing her skepticism came dangerously close to sassing.

“I mean, you’re the one in control, sweetheart.  You get to decide what you and Penny do tonight.  Or don’t do.  Or if you do anything at all.  Look at poor Penny.”  Channah made a pouting face.  “She’s blindfolded so she can’t see, she’s gagged so she can’t speak, her arms are locked behind her back so she can’t do anything with her arms or hands… She’s not going to be deciding anything, is she?  What she wants or doesn’t want from you doesn’t matter at all.”  Esmeray perked up a bit, nodding thoughtfully, as Channah continued:  “You’re the one who brought us here. Otherwise, my housegifts and I might already be celebrating in paradise.  And you were right to do so.  I’m already overflowing with… all sorts of ideas.  Penny’s possibly the gentlest, most innocent girl her age in England.  She would positively bore women looking for adventure and a challenge—sorry, sweetie,” Channah patted his cheek, maybe sounding a little bit sorry even as she sounded a great deal spiteful, “But that makes her the perfect first plaything for you.  Even so.  If you just want to enjoy the feeling of her stockings?  That’s up to you.  If you decide you don’t want to do anything with her?  It’s your prerogative as her Qahramanah.”

Staring into space and swallowing, Esmeray took a deep breath, and looking Channah in the eye, reached down into the box and removed an item made of leather dyed black.  She breathed:  “Is this….”

“Oh, yes,” Channah confirmed.  “Like the cuffs:  for you to use on the girls, not to be used on you.  Unless you want to—”

“No,” Esmeray shook her head decisively and matter-of-factly.

I certainly don’t need to use it,” Channah smirked.  “Unless you really want to punish Penny hard—and I won’t let you do that right before my honeymoon!—you’re also going to need this.” “I guess,” Esmeray shrugged, unconvinced, but accepting what Channah had proffered to her.

Literature Section “06-76 Dance of the Qahramanat XI”Part 76 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—1212 words—Accompanying Images:  1653-1657—Published 2025-04-28—©2025 The Remainderman.  This is a work of fiction, not a book of suggestions.  It’s filled with fantasies, idiots, and criminals. Don’t believe them or imitate them.


1649 06-75 Pleaser (Penny)

PREVIOUSLY:  Queen Channah has decided to take an opportunity to teach Hanim Qahramanah about how to train her girls, and combines the occasion with an early start to her honeymoon.  They are practicing trust-building.  NOW:

“Do you trust me, Chas?” Channah asked next, and again.

“I do,” she pledged like an eager bride, to all appearances grateful for the chance to repeat it.  Like she’d be happy to repeat it all day.

Esmeray considered, and then nodded to her girl:  “Penny, will you trust me?”

Penny swallowed.  “I will, Qahramanah.”

“Do you promise?”

Penny nodded.  “Yes, Mistress.  I promise to trust you.”

“Good.”

“See how easy that was?”  Channah concluded.  “Now reward her.  Show your appreciation.”

“How?”  Esmeray asked suspiciously.

“Pet her hair, hold her hand, run your fingers down her arm… some gesture of intimacy,” Channah demonstrated by resting her hand on the side of Chas’s neck, making her gasp.

Esmeray looked Penny up and down, and finally placed her hand on Penny’s dress, along her side, just at the base of her ribs, forcing a small but unconvincing smile.

Channah snorted.  “Buy gloves.  Before we return.  I want you to have a pair when we meet you here again.”

She met Channah’s eyes and nodded her agreement.

“Now stand up, Chas.” 

“You may rise, Penny,” Esmeray pronounced, deliberately ostentatiously, goofing around.

Turning Chas around, Channah replaced her blindfold as Esmeray imitated her with Penny.  Then the two women returned the girls to their back-to-back positions.

Donning the Purple

When she met Channah’s eyes, the Queen smiled and held her finger over her lips.  “Pick another item from the box,” she said, while with her hands, she mimed placing a bit in her mouth.  Esmeray nodded, smiling slightly.  “Now that the girls are blind, they will feel extra vulnerable.  It’s why we started with the blindfolds.  Being able to see is one of the most important forms of control, especially for a trans girl.  But it applies to everyone.”  With an impish look, she gently pushed Chas into Penny, and the two women laughed at the way they struggled to avoid touching one another again, reacting to any touch as if they’d been shocked with static electricity.

Channah took one of the two gags, lifting it over Chas’s head without touching her, then leaning in tight to the girl’s back, startling her, with her lips inches from Chas’s ear.  Esmeray imitated her.  Almost—not quite touching Penny anywhere, but getting close, looking very serious and thoughtful about it.  “Open wide, girls,” Channah commanded, popping the horse bit between Chas’s teeth and tugging back.  “This one you don’t want to be tight in the back—you want that little bit of distance.  But in front, it’s another matter.  It’s okay to stretch those lips a little bit.”  She laughed deeply in her throat as Esmeray surprised Penny by tugging harder so she could ratchet the strap far enough to reach the next hole.  “Their lips shouldn’t be so tight they’re white or stiff.  But a little bit of discomfort is okay.  You can test for extra stretch in their lips, too, if you’re willing to stick your finger in their mouth.”  And she demonstrated, tugging the corners of Chas’s lips a bit to demonstrate they still had room to extend further, her voice becoming more sing-songy.  “I like them to remember they’re suffering for our pleasure.  Something bearable so it doesn’t distract them from us, but intense enough to assure me I’m on their minds constantly.”

“Yes…” Esmeray nodded slowly, pleased with the idea.  “Are you uncomfortable, little girl?”

“Yeph, khawamannath,” Penny murmured around her bit, nodding her head while the women laughed at her pronunciation.  “Pleeff nopsahbite!”

“Well, I couldn’t understand that at all,” Esmeray protested and shrugged, meanly but not quite convincingly, clapping her girl on the shoulders and reaching back into the box, frowning and looking askance at Channah.

“Did you find something… interesting?”

“Yes, Mistress,” she agreed, holding up two hollow brass bars shaped like Latin crosses, with rings at the end of each side arm and at the end of the long bottom arm, while the top arm curved like a scorpion’s tail, ending in a glass bulb.  They clanged slightly against one another, catching the girls’ attention.                     

Channah shook her head, containing her urge to smile.  “Let’s stick with purple for now.”  And she nodded with approval as Esmeray handed her one arm cuff, and then a second.

“Hold your arms up for me,” Channah ordered Chas, using her own hands to guide his where she wanted them, and nodded to Esmeray, who told Penny: 

“You too, Penny.  Hands up to your waist.” 

Channah shuffled counter-clockwise so she was looking at the girls from the side and began cuffing Chas’s right wrist, while Esmeray did the same to Penny.  Penny made a slight whimpering sound.

“Hot,” Channah responded, leaning in and kissing him lightly on the cheek.  “So glad you girls are gagged so we don’t have to contend with your words and ideas anymore.  Just your raw feelings.  Be good and stay still, sweetie.  You don’t really have any choice, do you?”  she taunted her.  “You’re in hell, my hell, surrounded by the damned and my guards.  Accepting bondage is just a way for you to prove you trust me.  So romantic…” she sighed, rooting through the box for the remaining wrist cuffs and handing one to Esmeray.  “Let’s swap girls,” Channah giggled, fairly confident she was the only one in this small group who would understand the joke.  Maybe Chas… maybe.  But she was only a libertine by England’s tight-laced standards.

“Same little-finger test, Mistress?”  Esmeray asked, checking Penny’s right wrist before turning to Chas’s left.

“Always, child.  It’s still tight enough they can’t slide them over their thumbs, but you can always double-check if you’re concerned.”  And she demonstrated, making sure the cuffs were narrower than Chas’s wrists.

Next, after finding the four purple leg restraints, the woman squatted down beside the girls and bound their ankles.  Channah ran her hand over the girls’ calves and ankles, drawing a curious stare from Esmeray.  “I love the way the stockings feel on their smooth legs.  All silky and slippery.”  Hesitantly, Esmeray ran her own fingers up Penny’s leg, liking the way she could make the girl shiver when her fingers slipped up behind her knees to her thighs.  Channah paused and watched until Esmeray became self-conscious of her observation and stopped.  “Do you like it?”

She thought, and admitted:  “I like the gags because I can tell them what to do but they can’t engage me back in any way.  No questions from Little Miss Bigmouth—what?”

“That’s exactly what Fang called her,” Channah chittered.

“It fits.  As you warned me.  But now:  No questions, no complaints, no protests, no arguments….  And,” she set Chas’s ankle cuff down for a moment, running her hands up and down both girls’ legs, a little more relaxed than a moment earlier.  “I like the stockings for the same reason:  I can feel them, even imagine them, but I’m not actually, you know…”

“Touching them?”

“Exactly.”

Literature Section “06-75 Dance of the Qahramanat X”Part 75 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—1155 words—Accompanying Images:  1649-1652—Published 2025-04-27—©2025 The Remainderman.  This is a work of fiction, not a book of suggestions.  It’s filled with fantasies, idiots, and criminals. Don’t believe them or imitate them.

PREVIOUSLY:  Queen Channah has decided to take an opportunity to teach Hanim Qahramanah about how to train her girls, and combines the occasion with an early start to her honeymoon.  While discussing trust and discipline, Channah surprises Esmeray by reminding her of a time she thought she had run away undetected.  NOW:

A Trip Down Memory Back-Alley

“Of course I knew, my little runaway,” Channah laughed musically.  “You were a clever teenager, and clearly a wild one, but we’ve been wrangling hucows since before human history even began.   What was so important about that flight, do you think?”

Esmeray opened her mouth as if to answer, then snapped it shut, eyes darting around as if searching for the right answer in the air around her.  And then, amazingly, they seemed to find what she was looking for, widening, and flitting briefly past Channah’s, before she looked intently down at the floor.

Channah stared at her silently until she whispered:  “That was the last time I left.  And the first time I came back on my own.”

Channah beamed.  “And have I asked you to take risks since then?”

Esmeray laughed.  “I should think so!”

“So why are you here, helping me now?”  Esmeray looked anywhere but at Channah.  “Because you’re not stupid, Esmeray.  Because even with everything you experienced, all the times your trust was violated, you still know that trusting someone, sometimes, is unavoidable.  And have I ever betrayed your trust, Esmeray?”

“Not yet,” she admitted hoarsely.

Channah rolled her eyes but otherwise let it go. 

Trust Games

“Now I want Penny and Chas to learn to trust you.  While I train Chas, I want you to begin the process of teaching Penny that she belongs by your side, or at your feet before you.  Schooling her so she’ll never run away from you, even when she’s back near the places she grew up, because she’s learned that she’s better off and happier with you.”  Channah smiled thinly.  “Even when you’re a total bitch.” 

Esmeray met her eyes for a long moment, and finally nodded.  “I’ll try.”

“I don’t think you have to try to be a total bitch, my dear,” Channah snickered cattily.  “But the really hard part for you is, if you want Penny to trust you, you have to learn to trust her.  Just as I trust you.”

“You—trust—” Esmeray looked down at Penny for a moment, startled by the idea, then startled that the idea of someone trusting her, itself startled her.  Finally she looked back at Channah.  Exasperated, she repeated herself:  “I’ll.  Try.

“Good.  You’re already Penny’s world.  Can you see that?  How sincerely she’s been attending to you since I asked her?  She’s a good girl.  Now you focus on her.”

With a deep breath, Esmeray squared her shoulders and met Penny’s eyes, continuing to hold her wrists and wrapped fists.  She stood about a foot away from the smaller woman. 

“Ask her to kneel to you.”

“’Ask’?” 

“Yes.  Of course, as Penny’s qahramanah, it’s your prerogative to order her to her knees any time you want for any reason, or for no reason at all.  Penny knows that as well as you do.  Don’t you, Penny?”

“Yes, Domina.”

Channah petted Penny’s hair absently as she continued speaking to Esmeray:  “Remember, this moment isn’t about force.  This moment is about Penny acknowledging her place, admitting her acceptance of your dominance.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

Channah caught her eye and mouthed “Pleaser,” as she ruffled Penny’s hair a second before dropping her hand.  Out loud, she said:  “I’m afraid you’re going to have to take that risk and see.”  Leaning forward, she emphasized:  “That’s the point.”

Staring solemnly down at Penny a moment, Esmeray breathed deeply again—and then looked back up at Channah:  “Ask?!  I—I don’t like to ask.  I prefer to tell.

“I know you do,” Channah chuckled.  “And I feel similarly.  But the question that distinguishes us right now, is why?” 

“Because it’s easier.”

“But why?” And when she looked confused, Channah explained:  “I’ve been Queen of Hell longer than the Pharaonic dynasties ruled Egypt.  It’s almost always easier for me to order than to ask because I know from long experience, I can trust my own knowledge and judgment.  But is that why it’s easier for you?  You’re an impressive young woman, but you are just that:  young.  A mere quarter-century young.  Are you so sure you have all the answers already, or is it easier not to ask, because you’re afraid to leave the decision up to them?”

Esmeray stared at her blankly, eyes losing focus as she considered the question, and perhaps even how it might apply to her.  She didn’t seem to reach a solid answer, but she did look a bit frustrated.

Channah pointed at Penny from behind again, and repeated silently:  “Pleaser.”  Then Channah moved in front of Chas, took her hands, and silently commanded the attention of her eyes.  Not that Chas could see anything else with the vision of Channah before him.  Channah smirked back at her, pleased.  “Be sure to use Penny’s name when you address her.  Frequently.  Using her name, while she addresses you with your title, will both reinforce the natural hierarchy between you; and make you feel closer to one another.  Now, follow my example.  If you want to change the words, good.  The more unique and authentic your words are, the better.  But I want you to get similar commitments from Penny, that I receive from Chas.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Esmeray agreed.

“And when I say ‘similar,’ for example:  Chas already trusts me.  Don’t you, Chas?”

“Oh, yes Domina!” she assured her earnestly.  It was not yet the love Penny felt, but it was as close to that as it was to mere trust. 

“Whereas you do not trust that Penny trusts you yet.  You have just revealed that.”

Esmeray looked discomfited, and sounded almost accusatory:  “You’re going to tell me that’s somehow a sign of weakness, too, aren’t you?  Even though only suckers trust other people.”

“Correct!  Or perhaps more precisely, it’s a sign of a lack of confidence in your own ability to command the trust of your lessers.  Learn to act like you trust others, even if you do not.”  Channah gave her full, undivided attention to Chas, smiling softly and looking into her eyes.

“Will you please kneel to me?”

“Oh, yes, Domina,” she sighed, sliding down to her knees like a leaf floating to the ground.

Channah looked at Esmeray, who glanced at her before addressing Penny:  “Penny, I would like you to show your trust in me by kneeling before me.  Will you do that?”

“Yes, Qahramanah,” she answered, sliding to her knees without taking her eyes from Esmeray’s.  Esmeray smiled despite herself.

“Now, can you step closer to her?”  Channah asked, stepping forward so she was immediately in front of Chas, her legs pressed against the girl’s shoulders and arms, her crotch directly in the girl’s face, the two of them sharing a playful laugh together as she craned her neck to keep Channah’s eyes.  “Like this.  See how it forces her to strain for you?”

“Standing against her,” Esmeray intoned.  “Right up against her.”

“Or even further,” Channah winked at Esmeray, then down at Chas, stepping several more inches forward, pushing Chas backwards so she had to strain her muscles to hold her position.  “I’d push her all the way until she fell back on her hands, except I don’t want to scuff their lovely new mitts.  But it’s always a move to consider.”

Esmeray snorted, and made herself step forward, forcing Penny to rear back a few inches, just like Chas.  “It’s not so bad,” she reported, her tone leaving it open whether she was talking to Channah or to herself; her slight shiver making Penny promise herself to do her best.

Literature Section “06-74 Dance of the Qahramanat IX”Part 74 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—1252 words—Accompanying Images:  1645-1648—Published 2025-04-26—©2025 The Remainderman.  This is a work of fiction, not a book of suggestions.  It’s filled with fantasies, idiots, and criminals. Don’t believe them or imitate them.

1644 06-73 Channah rescues Penny in her dreams

PREVIOUSLY:  Queen Channah has decided to take an opportunity to teach Hanim Qahramanah about how to train her girls, and combines the occasion with an early start to her honeymoon.  They are discussing trust.  NOW:

“Here, let’s try something,” Channah decided.  “Chas, will you be still and patient for me?”

“Yes, Domina.”

“Good girl.”  She squeezed Chas’s hand reassuringly and stepped around, removing Chas’s blindfold and then turning her to face sideways.  “Stay,” she smirked at Chas, then removed Penny’s blindfold to find her staring curiously but acceptingly at Channah.  Spinning her back to face Esmeray, Channah announced:  “Penny, I want you to give Esmeray every bit of your attention.  Chas, you can listen, but when I’m ready for you, I want you to give me your full attention as well.”

“Of course, Domina.”

“Penny, I’ve taken off your blindfold for a moment so you can watch Esmeray, and listen to her, and give her every one of your senses.”

“Yes, Domina,” she agreed, seriously, looking up into Esmeray’s eyes.

“Esmeray, I want you to take Penny’s hands.”  Esmeray stiffened, and Channah repeated soothingly:  “It’s okay, Esmeray.  Here—even better…”  She reached down into the box and removed two pairs of something that looked like purple mittens with short belts attached, handing one pair to Esmeray and commanding the girls:  “Penny and Chas, hold up your hands in front of you and make them into fists.”

“Domina?” Penny asked, surprised and even recoiling a bit, while Chas did as she was told.

“Did you see that reaction, Esmeray?”

She nodded slowly.

“What did you see?  How did she react when she wondered if I was going to have her be aggressive?”

“She—didn’t like the idea,” Esmeray nodded uncertainly.

“Correct!  No, she did not.  She’s very sweet and trusting.  Even more than the others.  That’s why she’s perfect for you to practice on.”  Then, turning back to Penny, Channah clarified:  “Obviously you girls will leave the mucho toro macho posing to the mamluks.  I meant, curl your fingers and thumbs as if you were trying to make weak little fists.  Imagine your lover is carrying you away against your will and you’re going to beat ineffectively on his chest in a futile gesture of protest.”

“Domina!”  Penny protested weakly, turning pink and breathing faster, while the women laughed.  But she held her hands up in loose little fists. 

“See how her thumbs are outside like they’re supposed to be?  Actually, she’s been trained to fight like the rest of them.  She just doesn’t have the… let’s be honest, the cojones to be a toro.”

“I see that.  More of a vaca marica.”

“Qahramanah…” Penny whined softly.

“Is that resistance?”  Esmeray snapped, and when Penny swallowed and shook her head, she concluded:  “I didn’t think so.”

“Slide the glove over her fist.  Pull it as hard as you can, and then fasten the belt around her wrist,” Channah instructed, demonstrating on Chas.

“I’m not sure it’s big enough…”

“Fortunately, the two of them are almost identical in size.  One of the many reasons they make such a perfect pair.  And they’ve been carefully measured in the past few weeks.  Do you remember, Penny?”

“Yes, Domina.  For… grown-up clothes,” Penny blushed charmingly again.

“Physically grown-up, at least.  As much as you’re going to.  As a boy anyway.” When they were both done binding their girls’ hands, the straps around the wrists locking their hands into fists inside the thickly-padded gloves, Channah stood back and repeated:  “Now you can touch the leather instead of the girl.”

“And she’s—she’s really quite helpless already,” Esmeray marveled, facing Penny and holding her by her leather-cuffed wrists and leather-bound fistettes. 

“Now, this is a very important and intimate moment,” Channah cautioned her.  “Imagine she is your daughter.”

“She’s not going to like that,” Esmeray shook her head, something ugly and fierce stealing across her face and eyes, as Penny quickly looked down, gasping.

Channah considered a moment.  “Have you ever had a pet?”

“I had a puppy once.  On the streets of Constantinople.  We protected each other.”

“Imagine she’s your puppy.  That puppy.”

Esmeray suddenly beamed.  “I like that idea.  He’s—she’s—my little savior.  I’d love to make her my pet.  She’d be perfect!”

Channah smothered a smile.  “Then the stars have aligned for you, Esmeray dear.  As Penny’s quaramanah, she is yours to do anything you see fit to when she’s under your authority.  Anything your heart desires.  Your puppy, your plaything, your piglet, your placemat.”  Channah shrugged.  “Anything you want to fashion her into.”

“Good.  You’re my puppy now!” she informed the girl gaily.

“Yes, Qahramanah,” Penny answered, uncertain but unresisting.

“What I want is for both of you to learn to trust one another and be close to one another.  Partly that’s about force, Esmeray—showing her you’re always in charge, correcting her immediately for any infraction, and occasionally reminding her how utterly she is yours, even when she’s been a good little doggie for you.”

“Yesss,” Esmeray nodded, looking down at Penny with an odd light in her eyes. 

“But you don’t want a Spartacus who’s only obedient as long as he has to be.  You want a pleaser who genuinely wants to submit to you.  Penny’s naturally submissive so she wants to obey and follow.  But you want her to feel that submission for you, especially for you.  More for you than anyone except for me.”

“But trusting is stupid,” Esmeray frowned and shook her head, disagreeing, looking troubled.  “Penny’s not stupid.  Discipline is better.”

“Actually,” Channah agreed, “none of your slave girls are slouches in the intellect department.  We don’t recruit many idiots.  There’s no reason to, unless they have some extraordinary compensating talent.  Everyone on this platform, almost all the mamluks and jawari, are smart.”

“Then—” Esmeray made a frustrated gesture.  “What are we trying to achieve here?”

 “Trust, Esmeray.  I thought that was clear.  As it turns out, you are wrong about trust.  Discipline is useful, but discipline and trust go together.  They’re not substitutes.  Not when molding a servant.  Every one of my vassals and slaves on this platform proves it:  trust is smart.  Yes, trust can always be betrayed.  And yet it’s necessary—humans couldn’t survive without it.”

I survived.”

Channah cackled.  “Ah, Esmeray, the memory plays tricks.  Do you remember where I found you?”

She reddened.

“Locked underground like a half-drowned rat, likely bound for the inquisitor’s stake?  Do you remember the first time I took you back to Constantinople, a few years later, and you ran back to your old street?  Alley, really?”

“You—you knew about that?!” Esmeray gasped, surprised and worried.

Literature Section “06-73 Dance of the Qahramanat VIII”Part 73 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—1076 words—Accompanying Images:  1641-1644—Published 2025-04-25—©2025 The Remainderman.  This is a work of fiction, not a book of suggestions.  It’s filled with fantasies, idiots, and criminals. Don’t believe them or imitate them.

PREVIOUSLY:  Queen Channah has decided to take an opportunity to teach Hanim Qahramanah about how to train her girls, and combine the occasion with an early start to her honeymoon.  NOW:

The Art of Control

“Let’s get these girls dressed for the dance,” Channah began.  “Knowing how careful Fang is, there should be two of everything in the box.  We should start with the blindfolds.  Can you find them?”  And when Esmeray handed her one, she continued:  “In a situation like this, with two girls trapped between us, at our mercy…” she flashed a wicked grin at Chas, as she reached up and spun him around to face Penny.  Esmeray, on the far side of Penny, followed her example.  Since the women were taller than the two girls, barefoot or in heels as they were now, they could see one another over the girls’ French Hoods, and Channah could now see Penny’s eyes over the back of Chas’s shoulders.  “And in most situations when I am playing with more than one pet,” meeting Penny’s eyes and relishing his uncertain, worried look, she continued, “I like to keep them herded close together.”

“For control?”  Esmeray asked.

“Yes!  Very good.  For control…” she snickered.  “And especially, with trans girls, because it embarrasses them.”  She used her hips to bump Chas forward until she and Penny were touching, trying in vain to keep their crotches from bumping and turning their heads slightly so they weren’t kissing. 

“It really does!”  Esmeray laughed appreciatively, watching and imitating as Channah raised the blindfold over Chas’s eyes, with the padded silk side towards her, adjusted it, and then strapped it behind Chas’s head.  “She looks afraid!”

“They both do!  Wouldn’t you be?”

“Don’t they know you well enough to trust you, Mistress?”

“Maybe.  Maybe not enough, yet.”  She met Esmeray’s eyes and winked.  “Maybe too well.”  And they both laughed.  “Seriously, girls, we’re married.  How many times have I told you, I have plans for you?  Plans to have you by my side, serving me, for a long time.  You should know by now I’m never going to hurt you… too badly.  Certainly not injure you, you know, permanently.”  She rolled her eyes and sighed.  “Both of us will even protect you from anything that’s worse than what we have planned for you, when you’re in our control.  But Esmeray and I—and every succubus and qahramanat set over you—reserve our rights to torment you and test you…. To push you, even a little bit past what you thought your limits were.”  Then, after a final adjustment to the blindfold, she turned Chas’s head and showed Esmeray her little finger under the strap at the back of Chas’s head.  “See how my pinky fits under Chas’s blindfold, here where it’s tightest?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“You might think the straps should be super-tight, but that’s not so.  And it can even damage your girl.  If you make anything too tight, your girl may not be able to mind you any more because she’s so focused on the pain from an overly-tight bond.  Or to serve you properly because she’s lost feeling or use of an extremity.  And somehow, the bonds can make the blood move unevenly through the body, making some parts too sanguine, and some too dry, injuring your girl.  A broken girl is a joy, but an injured girl means more work for you.”

She nodded approvingly, as Esmeray checked Penny’s blindfold.  “Obviously, you want to make sure everything is secure, and certainly that your jariya is not able to escape anything you choose to bind her with.  But secure is different from tight, especially with leather and metal restraints since they’re harder to stretch or fray than rope.  If these were wild boys or girls, it would be different.  But with tame girls like these, you can even ask them.”

“Ask them?!”

“Here, like this:”  And she leaned close to Chas, running her hands down the girl’s sides, raising goosebumps.  “Chas, honey doll, how does your blindfold feel?  Too loose?  Too tight?”

“Neither, Domina,” Chas answered.  “It’s well-fit.”

“And how about your eyes?  How much can you see?”

“Nothing, Domina.”

“Not even a sliver of light from around the edges?”

“No, Domina.”

Channah raised her arm, as if saying “ta da!”

“How do you know if they’re lying or not?”

“You have to know your girls.  Really pay attention to them and get to understand them.  If they’re really tame and trustworthy, they’ll tell you the truth.  If they’re a pleaser.”

“What’s a pleaser?”

“Oh dear, you are new to this.  A sub who actually wants to please you.  It doesn’t mean they can.  They may be too small, or too nice,” she pointed at Penny and Chas, bringing a smile to Esmeray’s face.  “But at least they’re minded to try.  Some of these girls will lie, but it’s usually because they’re trying to keep you happy.  When it comes to their own safety and comfort, or their own limits, they’ll over-promise what they’re ready for, and underestimate your demands.”

“So… if Penny lies about the strap, it’s because it’s too tight and is going to hurt her, not because she’s trying to escape?”  she asked, doubtfully.

“Head of the class!  Which means you have to be alert to signs your pet is overheating or shutting down, more than getting ready to bolt.  Especially if they have a relationship with you:  They want to please you, even if they’re too ashamed to admit it, even to themselves.  Also, unless they’re especially stupid hucows, they have to know their top is going to figure out whether or not they’re playing games, sooner or later.  Ultimately, the better you know your slave girl, the more accurately you can predict her, anticipate her, control her, and—when necessary—defeat her.”

“We—the succubae—have been training these two for years.  And they’re not stupid.  Can girls panic and make mistakes?  Yes.  Trans girls, especially, when they’re embarrassed by their feelings.  And when they do, you absolutely punish them, severely,” she reached around Chas with both hands, squeezing and wrenching her cage in one hand and Penny’s in the other, to demonstrate, as they each flinched and cried out.  “They’re so at our mercy, it’s easy to make them bitterly regret it every time they don’t trust you with their total truth and obedience.  As their superiors, we need to teach them—and they need to learn—to trust us completely, with every one of their most-private dreams and fantasies, and their very-deepest and most private secrets.  Every so often, you should make it a habit to pull them aside, individually, and ask them about what they’re feeling and thinking—so you know it.  “Yes, Mistress,” Esmeray answered thoughtfully. 

Literature Section “06-72 Dance of the Qahramanat VII”Part 72 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—1092 words—Accompanying Images:  1637-1640—Published 2025-04-24—©2025 The Remainderman.  This is a work of fiction, not a book of suggestions.  It’s filled with fantasies, idiots, and criminals. Don’t believe them or imitate them.

PREVIOUSLY:  Channah, a Queen of Hell, for reasons of her own, has married two human transgender girls she is taking through the Hell of Lust to reach their honeymoon destination.  At the foreboding Chang’an Castle, Penny and Chas have been told to open Duchess Fang’s wedding gifts to their Domina, Queen Channah, while the succubae and qahramanat watch.  NOW:

Operant Conditioning

“Oh—I apologize, Domina,” Hong bowed from her position kneeling on her saddle’s back.  “I didn’t—”

“No, it’s fine” Esmeray interrupted hastily, reaching out, almost as if she were fighting her own arm to get it to move.  “I’m sorry,” she murmured quietly, while Hong and the two succubae exchanged significant looks, and the girls scrambled to catch up.  “I—recognize them.  These are for… prisoners.”

“Or in this case, lovers,” Channah clarified gently.  “Not you—ever.  Only the girls.”

Esmeray met her eyes.  “The girls?”

“Only them.  Ever.  I promise.  Using them on the girls might even… help you.”

“Help me?” she frowned.  “To use it on them?”

“Yes.  You may find it… empowering.  But if you never want to use them, it’s fine.  We’ll definitely bring them with us on the honeymoon.  Fang and Hong, they are lovely.  A more fitting gift than you might even have thought.  But it is the very significance and importance of the gift that makes it more serious.”

“What—what are they, Domina?”  Penny asked.

“I know now,” Chas whispered.  “They’re not—exactly what I’ve—seen.”

Channah looked at Chas closely, stood up, approached him, and squatted down beside both girls, surprising them by feeling them.  “But you’re not bothered,” she pronounced.  “At least, not in the same way as Esmeray.  Good.”  She turned to Penny, smiling archly, still holding them both.  “They’re to restrain you girls so you’re helpless for me and I can have my way with you.”  And she gasped when Penny did.  “Good,” she nodded, causing Fang and Hong to exchange an amused glance.  She stood and returned to her seat as Esmeray slowly reached into the box again, pulling out bright red pieces.

“Eyes,” she nodded, considering one of the pieces.  “This one is for the eyes.”  She drew out another.  “And… the mouth?”

“Yes,” Hong confirmed.

Channah was peeking into the package she had opened, and met Fang’s gaze, smiling, before closing it again.  “I’m going to save that one.  Thank you, Fang.  Thank you, Hong.  Thank your benefactors, girls.”

“Thank you, Domina,” the girls chorused.  “Thank you, Hong Qahramanah.”

“You’re very welcome, girls,” Fang and her own wife touched hands.

Trying Out the Wedding Gifts

“I want to be the first to cover their eyes,” Esmeray declared.  Penny and Chas exchanged a nervous look.

“Oh, look at the girls,” Channah smiled.  “Actually…” she considered for a moment, then laughed wickedly.  “I like that idea.  It will let you, Esmeray, have your first chance to observe the girls, and I think it will set the right… mood for the honeymoon.  Let’s release Hong’s girls back to her so she can begin.”  Channah stood again, as the other women imitated her.

“Hong, the Hongettes are yours again.”

“Yes, thank you, Domina,” she curtsied, deciding not to mention or inquire about the nickname.   Instead, she purred:  “Stand and stretch yourselves, bitches.  You need to be ready for hard service again in a minute.”  The four girls, all looking even more excited than before, stretched and rose, loosening up after their service as saddles.

“Esmeray, attend closely today.  First to me, of course.  But you’ll also have plenty of opportunities to observe what to expect when we return next week, and how Hong handles her jawari.  So watch and learn.  And if we’re going to blindfold the girls…” she laughed wickedly.  “They won’t have any idea what’s required of them.  So Esmeray, you’ll have to watch this week extra carefully to learn.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Esmeray agreed.

“First lesson, Esmeray, when you’re managing the girls…” Channah commented, moving so that Chas and Penny were between them both.  “You should always be considering control.  Do you have it, how to keep it, and whether you’re in any danger of losing it.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“With two tops, or dommes, and two bottoms, or subs, in an open area like this one, with no walls or other obstacles to help you corral your subs, I often like to trap the subs between us, the way we are doing right now.”

The girls glanced around in surprise at the first thought of their position, while Esmeray asked:  “What about the edges of the hetaraslakos?  Couldn’t that be a barrier?”

“Very good,” Fang nodded approvingly.   “It’s good to think about how you can use your environment in each moment.

“I agree,” Channah nodded, “but the reason I didn’t want rely on it is because simply backing your girls against a cliff is an active threat which itself is out of your control.  Unlike a wall, which you can usually count on to stay in place and limit not only your sub’s actions, but also to limit the number of environmental factors out of your control.”

“Out of my control?” she asked.

“When we’re ready for edgeplay, literal edgeplay, we might back the girls against the edge of the platforms.”

“Please, no, Dom—” Chas began, hushing when Channah placed her finger on the girl’s lips, otherwise ignoring her.

“Hush. No one is speaking to either of you girls.  It’s adult time now.”  And looking back at Esmeray, she continued with her thought:  “But what if there’s a sudden gust of wind?  Or your girl loses her balance or panics?  Or one of the damned throws an object, either to get your attention or out of frustration?  The damned are usually pretty focused on trying to reach you, but they’re not always the best-reasoned, or therefore predictable, of creatures.  The point is, once you’re sure you have control, you can take your girls to the edge.  But you get total control of your girls first, to limit the number of variables you have to worry about at one time.”

“Yes, Mistress.  Thank you.  That is helpful.”

Behind Esmeray, Hong switched back to Chinese with her girls and they began moving with purpose to form a line before her, listening to her.

Behind Channah, Fang strolled to the band of aging jawari as they finished their piece of music, and spoke with them in rapid-fire Mandarin as they nodded and bowed to her.  Chas looked a bit sad as she watched their interactions.

“What’s the matter, honey bar?” Channah asked curiously, touching Chas’s chin. 

Her eyes flickered to Channah’s, then away again, embarrassed, and she whispered:  “I was wondering… if there was a time Fang looked upon her jawari musicians with the same tenderness she shows now… for…”. Chas forced herself to look back at her and almost linched at the expression of pity in Channah’s eyes. 

“Time is a far crueler mistress than me,” Channah acknowledged.  “I’m sorry, hucow.  But if it’s any consolation, Fang values her old jawari, too.”  She sniggered.  “Dirty old jawari have their uses.  Their desperation to please… is delicious.” 

Satisfied with the orders she had issued, Fang sat on one of the benches, as calmly and precisely as she did everything, mainly focused on Hong, but briefly meeting Chas’s eye, startling her, making her wonder if she had heard the exchange.  Fang winked so that Chas looked back at Channah, then blushed harder and looked down.  Both succubae laughed as the drummers began a new piece, pounding out a much heavier percussive beat than they had before.  Soon, they were joined by a sly and suggestive melody and harmony, and finally, two of the women—one a soprano, the other a tenor—began singing to one another and the world. 

One of the last things Penny noticed before she was blindfolded, was the way the devils and demons below changed their movements and sounds when the music changed.  They were neither singing nor dancing; indeed, they could hardly be described as rhythmic.  And yet, there was something about their movements that was affected by the music from the band; some quality about their voices and expressions that complemented what the orchestra was doing.

Literature Section “06-71 Dance of the Qahramanat VI”Part 71 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—1317 words—Accompanying Images:  1633-1636—Published 2025-04-23—©2025 The Remainderman.  This is a work of fiction, not a book of suggestions.  It’s filled with fantasies, idiots, and criminals. Don’t believe them or imitate them.

PREVIOUSLY:  Channah, a Queen of Hell, for reasons of her own, has married two human transgender girls she is taking through the Hell of Lust to reach their honeymoon destination.  At the foreboding Chang’an Castle, Penny and Chas have been told to open Duchess Fang’s wedding gifts to their Domina, Queen Channah, while the succubae and qahramanat watch.  NOW:

About Men, Girls, and Dogs

Chas and Penny knelt near the center of the hetaraslakos, surrounded by their four counterparts kneeling in saddle position supporting the girls’ four superiors, and began carefully removing the red paper wrappings from the packages without damaging them.

Esmeray laughed harshly.  “You are girls now,” she decided, amused and slightly contemptuous.  “A man, like a dog, would just rip the paper off to see what was inside.”  And then she laughed again.  “And so would I!”

“You’re admitting you’re a dog?” Hong asked demurely, but not kindly.

Minutes after spoiling to initiate a fight, Esmeray casually waved a hand, unphased in the slightest by an insult that in some cultures was considered quite severe.  “Like a dog.  Even being like a man is better than… this,” she added, as the girls blushed three different shades of red.

“I would do the same,” Channah admitted, causing Hong to redden in turn, as Fang glared at her.  “And I am in no way like a dog.”

“Certainly not, Domina!” Hong agreed insistently, in a strangled voice, and even Esmeray had the presence of mind to murmur her agreement, without taking her eyes off the packages.

Turning her corrective gaze on Esmeray, Channah continued:  “But you are both right, we have worked very hard to support Chas’s and Penny’s development into the demure and proper young ladies they were meant to be.  Girls, I selected Esmeray for you for many reasons, but none of those reasons were to unwind your ladylike decorum and deportment.  You are my wives and I wanted you because of who you are, including the sweet and feminine young ladies you have become.”

“Yes, thank you, Domina,” they agreed, still pink.

“I know you’ve endured worse from your… stepbrothers, who have never understood your path.  Worse, because they meant it hurtfully.  And while I understand their contempt, and Esmeray’s amusement, and even share them to some extent, I never want you to change.  Promise me you will always be my sweet young girls.”

“We promise, Domina,” they murmured, staring fixedly at the contents of their packages but making no move to remove them, their ears burning.

Finally turning her gaze on the girls, she continued:  “Esmeray has not had the opportunities and training Hong has enjoyed all her life.  And I find her inappropriate candor delightfully refreshing, at least among us ladies and girls.  Never in the Show, where all my operatives have important parts to play.”  Her face softening slightly, she glanced back at Esmeray.  “To the extent they can.  But her views on your young womanhood are not among the reasons I chose her for you.  You will of course accept her insults, because she is your Qahramanah.  Try even to enjoy them as part of your training.”

And when she paused, the girls, thus prompted, managed to choke out:  “Yes, Domina.”

“But let her be the man.  I think part of her soul is one, as much as yours are female.  Her male part is necessary for your proper training, but being men—or even boys—is not for you.”  Esmeray, managing to look slightly discomfited herself, nodded as if trying to memorize something important.  Then Channah grinned, becoming jocular again:  “So get on with it, you big girls!”  As Esmeray clapped delightedly.

The Arts of the Spring

“Classic of the White Madam, and Other Spring Palace Illustrations,” Penny read the title of the elegantly-bound book in front of her, in confusion.  “Arts of the Bedchamber,” Chas read hers, her squeaky speech suggesting considerably less confusion.

As soon as they read the titles, Channah burst out laughing as Fang and Hong tittered politely.  “You had them translated into Latin, of all languages?!”

“I understand Latin is becoming a liturgical language in the West.  It seemed more amusing—and marginally less barbaric—than English,” Fang explained.  “Also, knowing barbarians lack subtlety, I asked my corrupted Jesuit missionary to render the words so vulgar and explicit even your girls would be able to understand them.”

“You’re bad,” Channah snickered.  “Look at their faces!” she broke into peals of laughter as the girls, reaching the cover illustration inside, looked like they would crawl into the little packages and wrap themselves up in the used red paper if they could.  “I love how sweet and polite they are!  Esmeray, surely even you can see how charming they are.”

“Perhaps—in moments like these,” she conceded, also enjoying herself.  “They’re so embarrassed!”

“You’d think they were more innocent than they are!  A week ago, yes.  But in the past week…”

“These are translated from the older texts, pre-Confucian in origin.  I’m confident they haven’t tried a twentieth of what is discussed in them,” Fang replied.

“I’m sure you’re right!  Oh, these are perfect wedding gifts, Fang.  Close them up, girls.”

“For such modest girls, they’re very attentive, Domina,” Hong observed.

“They certainly are!  Good students, I should think.”  She clapped her hands sharply.  “Close them!  I don’t want you seeing anything quite yet.  We shall explore these thoroughly all week!”

Channah, Fang, Hong, and even the four Hongettes from their crouched positions, laughed at the idea, while the girls reluctantly obeyed their Domina and set the packages back in the boxes.

“We have a book like this,” Esmeray admitted.  “I have never seen it, but I have heard it mentioned.”

“One Thousand and One Nights!”  Channah nodded thoughtfully.  “Yes, I should look into getting them a copy of that, which they should be able to read in the original.  And perhaps the Indian and ancient Egyptian texts on the subject.”

“Now, girls,” Hong continued, “Rise, set the books by your Domina, and each of you take one of the remaining gifts.”  When they had, Hong, with barely a pause, said:  “Chas, kneel before your Domina with the package.  As close as you can get without crowding her.”  Hong paused, looking questioningly at Fang, who asked:

“With permission, majesty, although the last gift is for your benefit, we had it in mind parts of it might be used, and all of them at least shared, by your girls’ qahramanah.  Would you prefer to open it…?”

“Not at all!  By all means, Penny, kneel before Esmeray as Chas is kneeling before me.” 

“But—this is the largest gift of all!” Esmeray protested as Penny maneuvered it in front of her.  And then, weighing it with one hand without taking it from Penny:  “And the heaviest by far, I would guess.”

“You go first then, child, while I watch,” Channah decided.

“Then hold tight, girlie!” Esmeray cautioned, before ripping the paper with a single swipe of her fingernails, then using her hands to tear open one side of the package instead of opening the top, while the other women laughed at her raw enthusiasm and earnestness.

“Her genuineness does have a… refreshing quality, Domina,” Hong conceded politely.

She started pulling gorgeous, gold-studded, tooled purple leather straps covered with gold buckles and rings, from the box which she and the girls at first stared at in confusion, before Esmeray suddenly tightened like a watchspring, gasped in recognition, and threw them violently back in the box, looking horrified.

Literature Section “06-70 Dance of the Qahramanat V”Part 70 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—1197 words—Accompanying Images:  1623-1626—Published 2025-04-22—©2025 The Remainderman.  This is a work of fiction, not a book of suggestions.  It’s filled with fantasies, idiots, and criminals. Don’t believe them or imitate them.

06-69 Dance of the Qahramanat IV

PREVIOUSLY:  Channah, a Queen of Hell, for reasons of her own, has married two human transgender girls she is taking through the Hell of Lust on a flying chariot ride to reach their honeymoon destination.  At the foreboding Chang’an Castle, Penny and Chas have just had their first sight of their qahramanah, Hanim Esmeray, who in turn has just met Fang’s wife Hong and immediately clashed with her.  When Hong turns her back on Esmeray, Fang cries out in warning  NOW:

Hong pivoted with surprising speed on her impractical fighting boots as Esmeray laughed, taking her hand off the hilt of her scimitar.

“Esmeray,” Channah snapped, “Did you know your slaves’ legs went to jelly the moment—the very instant—they set eyes on Hong?”

And Hong chose that moment to emphasize the point by snapping:  “Show respect, bitches!”

“No, Your Majesty,” Esmeray muttered, trying not to sound jealous, watching reluctantly but attentively as the four girls fell adoringly to grovel at Hong’s feet.

“Hong, in fifteen years on the hetaraslakos, have you or anyone you’ve known suspected you could get such a reaction out of the damned by urinating on them?”

“No, Your Majesty,” Hong murmured, trying not to look embarrassed.

“Let me make this clear, abīdBoth of you, as tiresome as you may be, are useful and valuable chattel of the Crown.  And both of you have things to learn.  If you want to ruin your rival, show her up and enjoy it when I punish her.  In fact, Fang and I will make this more interesting:  every full moon, Fang and I will decide which of you has done better, and give the winner an opportunity to humiliate the loser.”  Both women stood straighter at that, looking daggers into one another’s eyes.  “But if either of you damages the other—my property—Lilith help me, I will make you train your own replacement and then have you tortured for the rest of your human life.”

“Yes, Domina.”  “Yes, Your Majesty,” they murmured, heads bowed.

Putting Girls in Their Places

When Esmeray bowed her head, her eyes fell upon the two girls still frozen at her feet with their lips on her boots.  As if the shutter on a bull’s-eye lantern had suddenly been flipped, she gushed unexpectedly, startling no one half as much as Penny:  “Penance!” she leaned down and pulled her up.  “Get up, you two!”

And the moment they were standing, she threw her arms around Penny and cried, squeezing her:  “My little savior!”  Pulling back, she seized Penny’s cheeks and kissed her on the lips enthusiastically, heedless of the way her scars and her faerie-touched eyes and her sudden mood shift had overwhelmed the younger woman.

Releasing her, she turned to Chas.  “And you must be her whorish little friend who’s brought her back to me as a girl!”  She kissed her as fiercely and genuinely fondly as she had kissed Penny, leaving each girl as baffled and anxious as the other. 

Finally on their feet without hands on their necks holding them down, the girls were able to look around them for the first time.  In addition to the dramatic, even terrifying landscape of hell and its slavering crimson inhabitants, they saw the surface of the hetaraslakos was about 12 to 15 feet higher than the killing ground around it, and that four of the eight edges were specialized:  One facet had an enormous futon strewn with differently-shaped pillows, with a fence around it, almost like a cage or… or a crib.  A second was actually a glass platform, each block of glass resting on an iron grill and framed with iron where the grout would have been between blocks of stone, allowing the audience to see everything going on above them through the floor.  A third was an artificial pond with glass walls built from the same basic structure as the glass platform, using bronze in place of iron, and filled with water at almost unimaginable cost and effort in this place.  And the fourth was an iron framework, as complex as a cathedral, rising another 15 or 20 feet above the platform, with arms and stairs and loops everywhere.  Nearer the middle of the platform were racks containing a variety of toys and instruments, some of which the girls recognized as floggers, whips, and canes; and others with purposes the girls could not guess.  Nearer the stairwell rising at the center of the platform, and surrounding it on three sides, were a cluster of benches seating 20 musicians with different instruments.  The musicians stared carefully and doggedly directly ahead of themselves, studiously ignoring Channah, Fang, and their group.  The musicians all appeared to be older jawari, struggling twice as hard, and with half as much success, as other women to maintain their beauty.

“Now that that’s all forgotten,” Channah beamed, spreading her arms innocently, as Fang snickered at the satirical segue.  “Fang has honored us with wedding presents.”

“Square saddles!” Hong snapped her fingers, and her four submissives scrambled in front of her, startling Esmeray, shuffling to the four corners of a square with their arms out at right angles, touching one another’s fingertips to space themselves properly, before dropping to their bellies and moving their knees up to their sides.

“Girls,” Channah stepped forward, pointing to the girl at her feet.  “This is saddle position.  See how she is on her shoulders and knees, with her knees spread wide apart?”

“Yes, Domina,” they murmured, embarrassed.

“Every position a saddle girl can take is uncomfortable.”  She couldn’t prevent herself from smiling at the arousing thought.  “Especially on stone.  Even when they’re not trying to hold presents off the ground.  Because of the festivities we have planned, and because frankly the position is more pleasant for us as a footstool than an actual saddle, we won’t make them hold these positions for long.  But it’s better than sitting on the stone, and Esmeray, the effects can be… debilitating to your pets, depending on how long you make them maintain position. The point here is that in this position, their knees take enough of their weight they still breathe, while their shoulders and pelvises take enough weight to keep their knees from breaking.”

And with that, Channah—followed in quick succession by Fang and Hong, knelt with their knees outside the girls’ and their bottoms on their backs.  “Come on, Esmeray, sit,” Channah gestured, and Esmeray hesitantly did so, smiling a bit despite herself.  “Fang, is there any particular order you recommend they open the gifts?”

“Hong?” Fang asked in turn, and Hong instructed her bitches: 

“Honghua, Hongjiao, present gifts.”

Two of the girls managed to raise their presents off the ground, even from their current, uncomfortable positions, as Hong explained with a curtsy to Channah:  “Domina Channah, Domina Fang recommends your two sisterwives open these two gifts at first, simultaneously; then the remaining two.”

“Then by all means, proceed.  Girls?”  She gestured to Penny and Chas, standing awkwardly on the platform and wondering what, if anything, they should be doing.  “Kneel between us and open your gifts simultaneously.”

Literature Section “06-69 Dance of the Qahramanat IV”—Part 69 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—1097 words—Accompanying Images:  1619-1622—Published 2025-04-21—©2025 The Remainderman.  This is a work of fiction, not a book of suggestions.  It’s filled with fantasies, idiots, and criminals. Don’t believe them or imitate them.

PREVIOUSLY:  Channah, a Queen of Hell, for reasons of her own, has married two human transgender girls she is taking through the Hell of Lust on a flying chariot ride to reach their honeymoon destination.  At the foreboding Chang’an Castle, Penny and Chas have just had their first sight of their qahramanah, or jawari-trainer: a woman with wild hair and a cut face, flirting with death by pissing on demons while precariously balanced on a ledge above them.  NOW:

As the wild thing turned around again, once they were able to force their eyes away from the terrible scars across her flesh and take in other details of her, they could see the robe she wore was an entari—a long Turkish robe with a high collar, buttoned from her sternum to her crotch but open above and below.  Between the entari and her skin, she—obviously, scandalously, and in defiance of all public modesty—was wearing only a sheer white chemise, cut unusually tightly, that did nothing to conceal the inner curves of her breasts or of her thighs, or of the scars marking both of them.  The sleeves of the entari went to her wrists, slit and flaring below the elbows.  Her cavalier boots rose to the middle of her so-conspicuous pale thighs.  A wide studded black leather belt circled her waist with a scabbard hanging from it, matching the thick studded black collar around her neck.

The collar around her neck reminded Penny that Hong had also worn a slim but definite cherry red choker.  As an indentured slave of the succubae herself, Penny knew what the collars meant.  But she had little enough time to dwell on it now, with the number and caliber of quick-witted, active women in positions of command all around them.

Even as the woman turned, she was letting her sheer chemise drop back into place, reaching to just above her knees, meaning—Penny still having the capability to be shocked at the novelty of the thought—her underwear was outside the tops of her boots.  Without her arms holding the entari open, it fell to cover her crotch, a minimal level of decency, if in no way a signal of modesty.  And each girl found herself wondering if the same scarring covered the tenderest and most private parts of her body, the ones they hadn’t seen…

“They’re mad for being peed on!”  She marveled, her eyes alight with a strange, unsettling combination of delight and disgust, as she strode towards the arrivals, sheathing her blade.

They’re the mad ones.” Fang shook her head slightly.

“I love it,” Channah, who seemed to love all things chaotic and defiant, responded convincingly. 

“I think they love it and they hate it,” Esmeray opined, with a disarming sincerity.  Her rapidly-evolving emotions of discovery, amazement, disgust, and sick fascination flitted across her face in rapid succession right in front of their eyes.  Coming near them, the woman bowed like a man before the succubae.  “Your Majesty.  Your Grace,” she addressed them in turn.

Even Hell Can’t Hold Both of Them

And then she caught sight of Hong Qahramanah.  She came up short, subconsciously facing off against the Queen Bee with back straight, legs spread shoulder’s width apart, knees bent, and hands on her hips, a moment away from readiness to fight.  Hong, consciously or unconsciously, mimicked her as the two women ran their eyes judgmentally up and down one another’s bodies from crown to toe, assessing.  The air between them practically sparked with lightning.  They were so different from one another; it was inconceivable there could be any single prize for which both of them would be competitive.  So not a rivalry per se, for anything that could be identified.  But there was a definite clash, perhaps of alchemical discordance, or simply between two personalities too large and dominant to share normal space with one another.

“This must be the smug whore-taira,” the woman willfully mispronounced the Greek hetaira, which meant companion or courtesan.  And then punctuated her disdain with a deliberately overdone, gong-sounding:  “Fong.”

“And this must be the feral madwoman,” Hong gave back as good—or bad, to be sure—as she had gotten.  “Esma-crazy.”

“Esma-crazy”—presumably Hanim, Penny realized—looked at Channah and demanded:  “I’m supposed to learn from her?” while in the very same instant, Hong looked at Fang and burst out:  “I’m supposed to teach her?!”

“Now, ladies,” Channah began, as Penny—followed immediately by Chas—chose this moment to drop to her knees and press her lips to the toes of Hanim’s cavalier boots, immediately asking herself whether she was actually tasting drops of urine, or only imagining it. 

“Hanim Qahramanah,” they chorused.  “We are honored to meet you.”  But although obviously aware of them, their new Qahramanah wasn’t paying any attention to them.  Yet.

She was listening—for a moment—to Channah:  “Esmeray, believe me, Hong has things to teach you even I might not know.  Things you will find useful in this assignment and the future. And—”

Esmeray made a barking sound of disbelief:  “Ha!  These girls are obviously already completely pussy-whipped.  I don’t need any skills to train them, certainly not those of a porne—”

Esmeray!”  Channah’s voice cracked like a whip strike shutting Esmeray’s mouth for her, before Hong could react other than to take a step back from the gravity of Esmeray’s insult, while Hong saved face by laughing musically and affecting .  “Don’t underestimate your task.  I can make anyone obey.  Remember?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” she swallowed, some distant memory flashing across her eyes.

“What I need from these jawari is much more nuanced.  And none of my succubae, who know fifty times as much as you, can do it.  Don’t underestimate the challenge I have set you.”

“Yes, Your M—”

“Domina,” Fong interrupted her rival smoothly, actually turning to put her back to Esmeray and interpose herself between the qahramanah and the Queen.  Speaking with a respectful tone, she began:  “She is right, with apologies, I know you had good reasons for selecting these sad flowers, but to a woman like me, with the goals you have assigned us, your wives are very boring and easy marks.  As little as the prospect of training foul-smelling barbarian novitiates interests me, it should take much less time than teaching a stinky crazy woman like her how to do so.  Why not let me add them to my stable for a few weeks or months?  There is an unused barn where we can stable them without bothering anyone, except for me, of course, separately from my Han thoroughbreds—”

“Hong!” Fang hissed.

“I’m sorry, Domina, but—”

“Don’t turn your back on her, haughty girl!”

Literature Section “06-68 Dance of the Qahramanat III”Part 68 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—1036 words —Accompanying Images:  1615-1618—Published 2025-04-20—©2025 The Remainderman.  This is a work of fiction, not a book of suggestions.  It’s filled with fantasies, idiots, and criminals. Don’t believe them or imitate them.