PREVIOUSLY: Channah, Chastity, and Penance are honeymooning at Channah’s secret tropical paradise. After becoming concerned Chastity was playing her (and afraid she was being gullible), Channah is angrily and rigorously testing Penny by pushing her limits. She has not been allowed to empty her bladder since the previous day. NOW:
“Please I don’t want to dishonor you—”
“Dishonor yourself, you mean,” With a slightly-strained giggle, Channah commented, an undertone of brittleness in her voice at odds with the forced cheerfulness: “And good morning to your tiny little friend there. I love that reaction from a bitch! And it should prevent you from messing up my bed, so you can focus on me the way you ought.”
Combined with the fact Penny was becoming fully-alert, something about the way Channah had said ‘bitch’ resonated with the other, subtle cues she had given that something was terribly off. She pushed her face gently into the bottoms of Channah’s feet and begged “Dom—Domina, please, may I approach and worship your feet?”
“Well… you hardly need to approach, do you? But yes, why don’t you do that,” she agreed, still sounding distant, pushing them against Penny’s face as she felt the girl begin servicing her heels, pressing harder than necessary to make it physically difficult for Penny to move her lips and tongue. Enjoying her girl’s efforts, Channah began moving her feet, pressing and rubbing one on her face or neck while she held the other one still for Penny’s attention. Penny’s eyes were closed again, as she concentrated on pleasing Channah, her whole world narrowing to Channah’s feet.
“May I—may I touch them with my hands, Domina?”
Channah giggled. “If you must.”
Opening her eyes, she was immediately gazing, adoringly and subserviently, on Channah, her pupils dilating pleasingly at the very sight of her magnificent nudity. “Omigod,” she whispered, before pulling herself together and proceeding with what she’d planned to ask: “I—I think I must, Domina. I—I—please, may I ask you a question Domina?” she begged, as she sucked on Channah’s big toe, and then lingeringly, each of her other toes.
“If you must,” Channah answered, less amused, the comment coming across as reserved and skeptical.
Penny redoubled her efforts, caressing Channah’s feet with her hands while continuing to suck her way along Channah’s toes, her big eyes looking beseechingly, with a pleasing subservience, and awed with an appropriate adoration, whenever they were opened, locked on Channah’s hypnotic eyes. Finally, she worked up her courage enough to ask: “Domina, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry for whatever I did, I can tell you’re upset.”
“Can you?”
“Yes, Domina.”
“Good. Just from my voice?”
“Yes, Domina.”
“Good.” And she placed the soles of her feet against her girl’s head and pressed down on it hard enough to raise her hips from her chair, watching with interest as Penny struggled to remain in place and still move her tongue and lips enough to at least signal her desire to continue worshiping Channah. “But that wasn’t a question, was it, bitch?”
“Please—please, I’m sorry, please tell me what I did wrong.”
“You’re… what? Asking me to justify my mood?”
“Goodness NO, Domina! And I’m ever so sorry for wasting your time, Domina, but whatever it was—I don’t want to do it again! Please help me be a better wife—”
“Slut,” she corrected.
“Slut! I am your slut, I am your slave, I swear it, at least—I want to be! Please help me learn so—”
“Is it really so hard to be a good servant?”
Penny kept sucking her toes, in silence except a few gurgling noises from the pressure of Channah’s weight forcing them deeper and deeper into her mouth, for several beats, before blurting: “Ah bone t’ umber and.”
Channah couldn’t help laughing, although it was a sharp, unpleasant, unforgiving sound. Relaxing back down into her chair, she eased up the pressure on Penny’s face and snapped: “Were you trying to speak to me? In English?”
“Yes, Domina. I’m sorry, Mistress. I’m afraid I—I don’t understand what you’re asking?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“No, Domina,” Penny began, then—seeming to realize she had said something else wrong before Channah needed to spell it out, she continued, redoubling her efforts at groveling by working on Channah’s toes and the balls of her feet: “I’m sorry, Domina, not to me. I’m sure—I can see you think it should be—that of course, it should be–obvious I mean. But whatever it is—I’m sorry!” she suddenly whined loudly.
“Don’t you like my feet anymore?” Channah threw her off-balance with another unexpected, unobvious question.
“I adore your feet, Domina, I love them! I worship them—”
“Your little clitty doesn’t.”
“It does! It does I swear, I just—I just feel so badly that I’ve upset you. Please, Domina, please tell me what I did wrong so I can apologize for it—I do apologize for it, whatever it was—”
“Well, that’s appropriate,” she acknowledged reluctantly, marginally mollified. “No one who’s displeased me should be happy.”
“I’m not , I sw—”
“Then, if you want to please me, why aren’t you answering my question?”
Penny was silent and still a moment, her eyes darting as she tried to make sense of Channah’s question, unfortunately reminding her Domina of the way Chastity had done the same thing that morning. Penny’s eyes locked on her face as it twisted into something harder and less-forgiving. Channah saw the panic and desperation to please, rising in her little girl as she saw she was further-upsetting her Mistress instead of placating her.
“I’m sorry Domina, I’m sorry—I—I forgot the question.”
“You what?!” she barked, dropping her feet and leaning forward on her chair, happy to see the look of loss in Penny’s eyes as she followed her feet back to the floor.
“I—I—have to pee so badly I can’t think straight—”
“What is wrong with you, Penance Batonnoir?”
Penny froze, staring at her like a deer spotting a hunter, and then something, some understanding, flashed in her eyes like a beacon of hope. “I know!” she gasped. “I know! I’m stupid!” she sounded so incongruously overjoyed at the realization Channah—despite her ugly mood—genuinely laughed, throwing her head back and shaking it slowly. “I’m stupid! I’m sooo slow—please—please may I have your permission—” Penny was scrambling off the bed and dropping to her knees at Channah’s feet. “Please—please let me—” and her lips began pressing on Channah’s toes, the arches of her feet, her ankles, everywhere Penny could reach, as she continued: “I’m sorry for being so—so stupid and slow, Domina. I hate it!” And, gratifyingly, Channah could tell she meant it. “I fucking hate it!”
“Penny!” she sounded genuinely shocked.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I soo hate it! And you’re right—you’re right, it’s the last thing I want to admit. You make me feel so worthless and low—” Penny sounded appeasingly miserable.
Literature Section “07-19 Footsucking Bimbo”—more material available at TheRemainderman.com—Part 19 of Chapter Seven, “Channah’s Slavegirls: Pawns of the Court of Lust”—1127 words—Accompanying Images: 2070-2074—Published 2025-07-19—©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.