Explicit version containing phallic, oralsex, analingus, and penetration themes at 06-104 Triggering Chastity at Patreon.com/TheRemainderman
PREVIOUSLY: Chas is shackled by her ankles with her wrists shackled behind her, blindfolded, and gagged, with her ears plugged. Esmeray is shackled by the ankles overlooking the sea of devils and demons, restrained from falling down into the chasm they inhabit, only by a waist-high guard rail; while Hong holds her gently from behind, holding hands with her arms around Esmeray. They are surprised by a new arrival. NOW:
“Your Grace!” Hong gushed, releasing Esmeray, turning, and curtsying in a single fluid motion, matching the position already assumed by her four jawari.
Esmeray, distracted by the physically stunning succubus in front of her and with no real good alternatives, settled for squatting where she stood, holding the top rail to keep her balance and help her pull back up to a standing position. Having grown up in Ottoman Constantinople, unlike many Europeans, Esmeray had met plenty of black women in her life. But none like this one. She was well over six feet tall, voluptuous, and musclebound from head to toe with beautiful midnight-black skin, long thick braided hair, an intelligent, resolute face, and a determined expression that would deter anyone but a fool from wasting her time with nonsense. She wore a light brown dress with white and dark brown geometric patterns Esmeray had never seen before, heavy brown almost masculine boots—perhaps because no boots made for normal women would have fit on her feet—and carried a large, heavy-looking canvas bag as if it were filled with air.
When she spoke, it was with a charming, musical accent almost at odds with her deep alto voice: “Hong, always a pleasure.”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Hong blushed, pleased.
“These are yours?” she asked, gesturing to her jawari.
“Yes, Your Grace. Th—”
“And who is this?” she gestured towards the shackled woman.
“Hanim Esmeray Azlynn,” Hong answered immediately, startling Esmeray with her knowledge of Esmeray’s second name. “Her Majesty’s Qahramanah.”
“Ah,” the woman nodded significantly, with the faintest hint of a smile. “That makes more sense, then.” Turning to Esmeray, she continued: “The Queen told us you were wild. Well,” she shrugged, with just enough of a hint of embarrassment to soften the statement, “I think ‘crazy’ may have been the actual language. But I admit I didn’t expect to find a Qahramanah chained up. That’s fairly atypical.”
“It’s her first day, Your Grace,” Hong explained smoothly, a fact for which the embarrassed Esmeray was glad on this one occasion. “And she was faced with a… challenging situation. It did not seem to be punishment, only correction,” Hong clarified.
“You look calm enough,” the woman opined, looking her up and down. “Are you going to give me any trouble, or are you ready to be unchained? We have a lot to do, and not a lot of time to do it.”
Esmeray expected the last thing she would be inclined to do with a woman of this one’s stature, is make trouble. And in the unlikely event she did, it would be carefully-planned, from behind, and heavily-armed. Not shackled to a ledge. “I’m recovered Your Grace,” she followed Hong’s lead. “Thank you.”
“You can release her,” she addressed Hong again. “Is this one—” she gestured at the naked young jariya shackled, bound, blindfolded, earplugged, and bent over the rail beside Esmeray “The English jariya called Chastity?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Good. You—” she tossed a jar of olive oil to one of Hong’s girls. “Prepare her.”
“Immediately, Your Grace,” she answered, quickly and unceremoniously moving to the helplessly-bound girl as they all watched—who wouldn’t have?—Hongan raise the bottle and artfully hold it a foot or so over Chastity’s back, so that when she began to pour, it came down directly on her coccyx with a force they all could immediately imagine, would feel like a stream of water to Chas, who jerked in surprise, and then tugged, reflexively and quite uselessly, from side to side as if trying to escape both the stream and her bonds. The oil then followed gravity downhill, causing Chas to shiver, before dripping from the lowest point of her to the floor.
The woman laughed harshly. “Good. Hong, you have trained your bitches well.”
“Thank you, Duchess Kadidia,” she answered, using the opportunity to communicate the woman’s name and rank to Esmeray.
“Commendable artistry. Thank you for reminding me of its benefits. I was very—in an overly goal-oriented mood. There’s not much time, but there’s enough for pleasure.” Hongan blushed and curtsied cutely before Kadidia. “Girls, while your Qahramanah releases Esmeray, I want the four of you to overstimulate our bad girl so she doesn’t feel neglected. Use your four tongues and all forty of your fingers to lead her into distraction.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” they answered as one. Hongjiao and Honghua dropped to their knees on either side of Hongan while Hongzhi, her greater original distance from Chas making her like the runt of a litter, spread her legs to stand on either side of the other girls and leaned forward over them.
Kadidia frowned as if making an artistic evaluation, trying not to laugh. “Hmm… there’s not a lot of room there, is there? You two on the sides can each keep one arm behind your sister.”
“Yws msh Kdd,” they murmured. Hongan had ducked down, running her hands lightly along Chas’s calves and feet. Hongjiao and Hongua dipped their hands in the oil before snaking them around her hips to play with her. And Hongzhi used her hands to smear oil all over Chas’s back and shoulders.
Hong hissed with interest while Esmeray swallowed, looking down with all the judgment of a nun. “It is pretty,” Kadidia concurred, setting her bag down, squatting beside it, and removing two brown leather harnesses from it. Rooting deeper in her bag, she produced a small but elaborately-decorated wooden box, which Hong recognized as the last of her Domina’s wedding gifts to Channah. Standing up, Kadidia opened the box, which contained two objects: One a pair of golden tongs, the other both ordinary and extraordinary at once. Ordinary, if suggestive, enough in unmistakable shape. Extraordinary in its composition, which neither of the curious women really recognized or understood: a deep, perfect black that absorbed light around it so perfectly no surface was even discernable. Yet surely it must have one?
Using the tongs carefully but confidently to grip the base of the rounded tube, she set the box aside and asked Hong: “Who’s the one standing?”
“Hongzhi, Your Grace.”
“Hongzhi, please get the bottle of olive oil.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“You other girls—as much as I’d enjoy seeing olive oil splashed over you—” they laughed coyly up at her, awaiting her command. “I need two of you to lean forward, using the railing as leverage, and take hold of Chastity’s shoulders. In just a moment her legs are going to give out, and I don’t want the weight of her body to wrench her shoulders.” The girls nervously nodded, doing as they were bidden. “Yes, Your Grace.”
“As soon as she falls, the four of you are to release her and lay her on her back with her hands above her head… there,” Duchess Kadidia pointed to a spot on the platform near where they had left Channah and Penance, but was now hidden by a thick, unnatural blackish-gray cloud of swirling smoke surrounded by ten succubae and one incubus.
Hong gasped, amazed she hadn’t felt anything as the coven members arrived, and realizing just how charged with passion, agony, and energy the air around them had become to mask the disruptions their arrivals must have caused.
Kadidia was cautioning them: “Once this begins, do not talk to me except in extreme emergency. Stay close to us, but do not cause any distractions. I will need to concentrate on Chastity.” Stepping forward and holding the object close to Chastity, she nodded at Hongzhi: “Pour more oil. Don’t be stingy, that’s right. And now the tripper,” she indicated the daggerlike blade with her free hand. When it was coated, the thick oil giving it a surface to shine and reflect the light of the torches as long as it clung to it, she lined it up and pushed it forward, its touch causing Chastity, to stiffen in surprise before slumping, dead weight, as Kadidia had warned she would.
Literature Section “06-104[X] Triggering Chastity”—more material available at TheRemainderman.com—Part 104 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—Abridged 1330 words::Explicit 1415 words—Accompanying Images: 1856-1859—Published 2025-06-01—©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.