Stories – Page 13 – The Remainderman (Frank Speech)

06-53 Hella Honeymoon X

2025-04-062025-04-02 admin

*1566 06-53 Legs straight, toes pointed–Training her girls right*

“Concentrate on making sure Penny’s laces are even, perfectly matched from top to bottom, tight enough so there’s a bit of tension on every length of lace, but not so tight that you squeeze Penny. Remember, she’s going to help you next, so you don’t want to do a bad job for her!”

“Of course not!” Chas assured her. “Penny, I’m trying my best.”

“I know you are,” she responded confidently.

“Aww….” Channah teased them. “Such sweet girls.” She spun Penny back and forth again, making minor adjustments and appraising the laces in front and back critically, then circled her once before nodding in approval. “That’s very good! Now let’s do Chas.”

What Mama Likes

When she was satisfied with both corsets, she clapped her hands delightedly and announced: “Next gift!”

These contained not just one, but a stack of simple, and semi-sheer, linen shifts. The girls gasped modestly. “They’re better than the half-shifts, but they’re hardly even all there!” Modest Penny protested.

“Count yourself lucky I’m offering you anything at all, young lady! Once we arrive at my palace, you won’t need to wear anything.” They squeaked in surprise at the idea. “Not a stitch of clothing all week. And,” she laughed, “I’d prefer if you didn’t. But if you must, knowing what shy young near-virgins you are, I will allow you wear these.”

“Thank you, Domina,” they chorused.

“That didn’t sound very enthusiastic, Penny,” she chided.

“I apologize, Domina. I—” and when she saw Channah was watching with one eyebrow cocked for her to finish the thought, she did, miserably, shoulders slumping and murmuring in embarrassment, knowing she was repeating herself: “I think I’ll feel more naked with one of these on than off.”

Channah whooped and clapped. “Then my evil plan is working! Go on, put them on. And remember, while we’re at the palace, you girls are to wear these and only these. I don’t want you to don so much as a hairpin otherwise, until we leave.” They exchanged a glance and shivered, glad to pull the shifts over them and tugging them down as far as they would go. Which was not very far, especially over the stays.

Watching them with amusement, she snorted. “Nice and short, so I can see your pretty legs. that’s how I like my girls to be nearly-dressed.”

“Yes, Domina,” Chas pressed her lips together and raised her eyebrows at Penny, who looked away, embarrassed but also excited.

“Now the next one. Are your nails trimmed?”

“Yes, Domina,” they chorused, turning red as they found frilly white satin panties and hose.

Work It, Girl

“Starting with these items, I want you to practice being sensual and sexy for me whenever you get dressed or undressed in front of me.”

“Domina!” They blushed. “What do you mean?” Penny sounded more embarrassed; Chas, more intrigued.

“I want you to move and stretch and dress with the grace and beauty of a ballerina performing on stage. Start with the panties. Turn away from me.” She chuckled at their soft noises of surprise and ineffective protest. “Now use your fingers and thumbs gracefully to open them wide. Now, lean forward.”

They squealed in protest and she insisted: “Bend. Over. Girls. Hold your panties close to the ground and step into them gracefully—toes pointed like ballerinas. And don’t lose your balance like dorks.” They giggled again, a combination of embarrassment and amusement, as they followed her commands, beginning to warm to the game. “Now the other foot. Now, keeping your legs straight, draw the panties up to your waists, wiggling your hips a little as you pull the panties over them.”

“Oh, no…” Penny moaned, not entirely mortified, but doing it, as Channah laughed at them and they laughed at the whole exercise.

“Very fetching, girls. Now, we’re going to show you two different ways to put your stockings on. First, take one stocking…”

“These are too long! They won’t stay up!” Chas protested.

“You’re obviously not paying attention,” Channah shook her head. “Take your stocking and stand in front of the low table. Put one foot on the table and keep the other on the ground. Now lean forward as far and as low as you can, and roll the stockings up and pull them on.”

“We don’t need to bend over like this, just to roll them up,” Penny laughed, shaking her head.

“I think that’s the point, silly!” Chas told him.

“Very good, Chas. Because it’s not necessary, I know you’re doing it for me, putting on a show, for me. Trying to turn me on.”

The girls gaped at one another in surprise. “Is it working?” Chas asked.

“Cheeky girl!” Channah smirked, watching her turn red, looking pleased with herself. And admitted: “Maybe just a little bit. I’m going to watch you practice this all week so you get better. You can push your hips out and curve your back while you do it, too—curve your back the other way, ninny!” She chortled at Penny. “Why do you think you’re wearing stays?! Arch your back to emphasize your hips and chest. You’re not trying to look like an old woman!”

“Domina! This is most—well—impractical!” Penny complained indignantly, but even she had a faint smile on her face, getting into the spirit of the proceedings.

“Be glad I had these stays made short in front. True, I had reasons of my own, but imagine how impractical it would feel if the stays were cutting into your thighs now. Good girls,” she complimented them. “And if I were you, Penny, I’d be practical by thinking about the fact bare-handed spankings are very much on the menu on a honeymoon!”

“Yes, Domina,” she blushed.

“Much better, now pull the rolled stocking on over the ball of your foot, and as soon as you’ve done so, set the ball of your foot back on the table. Keep it there, toes touching the table, heel arched prettily off it, bent over as far as you can manage while rolling the stocking up your leg. If you’re still bending over with your back arched when you get it to the top, you’re ready for the dancehall!” They both laughed and shook their heads, trying to pretend they were more shocked than they were feeling at this point. When they were finished, they both stayed bent over, looking back at her upside-down, waiting for permission to move. “Veeerry good, girls,” she beamed, clapping her hands. “Now, find the three garters on that side of your stays and attach them to the tops of your stockings. Here, let me help.”

Literature Section “06-53 Hella Honeymoon X”—Part 53 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—Continued from 06-52—1087 words—Accompanying Images: 1566-1568—Published 2025-04-06—©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.

Stories

06-52 Hella Honeymoon IX

2025-04-052025-04-01 admin

*1562 06-52 Chas helps Penny tighten her corset^*

Reassurance

They sat together in silence for some time, deep in their own thoughts, and comfortable with the quiet holding them together for a while.

After a long, long time she sighed: “Now you know the worst of me.” She laughed ruefully. “Not a very romantic beginning to a honeymoon.”

Penny looked up at her. “But real. And intimate.”

With a concerned frown, she leaned down and softly pressed her lips to Penny’s, their eyes both closed, focusing on the connection between them. Suddenly Channah changed the game, using her tongue to press open Penny’s lips, which she allowed, yielding as her Queen claimed her with a low moan. Channah was very much the aggressor, and she laughed softly when something—a tightening, a low squeak, something—by Penny let her know how much she was reacting, and how badly she was suddenly being pinched.

“Come here,” she growled, pulling Chas to her and giving her the same treatment, and getting the same result, while feeling Penny nuzzle and softly kiss the side of her neck.

Becoming Decent

Pleased when they were both moaning, she pulled away and rubbed their elbows. “Stand up, girls, I have presents for you! Up! Up!” And as they stood, their moans turning to groans, she slapped each girl sharply on the buttocks, eliciting surprised yelps. “Stand up straight.”

“It hurts…” Penny whimpered.

“I know.” She licked her lips, pointing archly with her hands to two piles of gifts. “Penny’s, and Chas’s. Open the top one first.”

Curious, they did so, gasping as each girl pulled gleaming white stays from her first box. They looked at one another in wonder.

“You’re adults now, girls. Technically,” she snickered. “If you weren’t such little bitches you’d be called ‘women.’ But I can assure you, you two immature little ladies will continue to be guided by me and to obey me.” She liked that the knowledge of that, and the certainty it was true, embarrassed them. “Decent grown women wear stays. And I want you to be decent—beyond reproach—when you aren’t slutting out in private for me. There should also be five sexy little half-shifts in the same box.”

“Yes, Domina,” they admitted, finding them, looking delightfully awkward and embarrassed. “Go on, put one on, to protect your stays.” Each half-shift was a tube of fabric extending from under her arms to just below her waist, with bands of fabric over each shoulder to keep them in place. “I feel more naked with this on than I did before,” Penny complained, confirming it by covering her crotch with her hands.

“Good, that’s an added bonus then, isn’t it, my panting little crêpe?”

“What?” Penny looked at her, eyes wide, mouth opened in an ‘O’, so shocked it wasn’t until a moment later she turned red and looked away. “I’m sorry, Domina, I didn’t mean to sass you.”

“I hope not. Now you’re going to have to help one another with the stays because they’re pairs-of-bodies, laced in front and back. If you try to put one on by yourself there’s a good chance it will twist every which way. Let’s do Penny first. Chas, set yours down and take hold of the back of the stays while Penny holds the front, and slide it over her.” She watched with amusement as the girls struggled with the unfamiliar garment. “Oh, here,” she lent a hand until the garment was situated on Penny. “Now, Chas, stand behind Penny. Before you start lacing, make sure the modesty panels are smooth and flat against the skin. Both for beauty, and for comfort since we’re putting these so close to your skin and the panels are much stiffer and thicker than your half-shifts. Once those are flat, you’re going to pull the back laces tighter while Penny does the front. You see the bow is at the bottom, so you’re going to start at the top, but—NO, Chas,” she swatted Chas on the bottom causing her to blush and smile with embarrassment.

“This isn’t a strength contest. The first time especially, you have to coordinate the lacing in front and back. If you compare the panels in front and back—” she showed Chas, spinning Penny around like she was a mannequin mounted on a swivel, while both girls giggled, causing her to giggle too. “Silly girls. You see it’s wider in the back. The stays have to be at least tight enough so no skin shows between the panel and the body. But the goal isn’t to squish Penny, it’s to give her a nice cylindrical shape.”

“What are these?!” Penny asked, examining the padded strip that ran along the top inner edge of her stays.

Channah laughed merrily. “What do you think? Stays are intended to flatten and raise a lady’s breasts, making her upper body more cylindrical. But not too much so—women don’t want to look like men! So the pad gives you a little help. It’s one of the two reasons we’re putting them on under your dresses.”

“What’s the other?”

“It will be easier to show you when you help Chas. Chas? Here.” She waved a strap of reinforced fabric with a clip extending from the bottom of the stays. There were six in total, two in front and one in back of each body of the stays. “It’s a garter. A Succubaean invention. I’ll explain it more when Penny can see one.”

“Garters were invented by succubae?” Chas asked in surprise. Channah was beginning to learn that although Chas deferred to Penny in many areas, either because she wasn’t interested or she wasn’t confident of her knowledge in them, their roles reversed when it came to such things as fashion, style, and manners expected of the gentry.

“Not garters, silly. Attaching them to stays instead of wrapping them around the legs.”

“Why?”

“Wait for your next surprise,” she softly tapped the tip of her index finger on Chas’s nose. “You’re worse than Penny when it comes to fashions!”

Literature Section “06-52 Hella Honeymoon IX”—Part 52 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—Continued from 06-51—1002 words—Accompanying Images: 1562-1563; for 06-50, 1564-1565—Published 2025-04-05—©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.

Literature Section “06-52 Hella Honeymoon IX”—Part
52 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête
Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—Continued from 06-51—1002 words—Accompanying Images:
1562-1563; for 06-50, 1564-1565—Published
2025-04-05—©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.

TAGS:
adventuresofradicalprovocateurs, tudor, england, femdom, humiliation,
teaseanddenial, succubus, transgender, sissy, sisterwife, honeymoon, polyamory,
corset, slip,

Stories

06-51 Hella Honeymoon VIII

2025-04-042025-04-01 admin

1558 06-51 Raise the red flag! NO QUARTER!!!^

She shook her head, horrified and awed by her own evil. “I did that.” And then, again: “I did that.” There was a long silence, Channah lost in her thoughts, the girls too shocked and appalled and even sympathetic to who she had become now, all at once, to say anything.

Finally, she resumed, still out wherever her thoughts were: “I’ve done terrible things.” Then, surprisingly, she laughed fondly, and explained: “Húanglóng. It was Húanglóng. We were allies, considering the more permanent connection between our two Courts that eventually manifested in our marriage, and already nearly as close to one another as I am to my Duchesses and Dukes. He asked me what it accomplished, and whether it wouldn’t be better to try and teach them better, rather than dispatching them to… wherever they go. Went.”

They knew these were words she had not spoken to many humans in her entire long life, if any. And they waited silently, almost breathlessly, so she could continue. “When I was cut off from Heaven… I think I remember a time I had more…” she frowned, searching for the word. “Compassion. Or maybe, kindness… Or…”

“Love?” Penny whispered, and she looked down at him, gratefully and with surprise.

“Yesss…” she hissed, unconsciously imitating his whisper, before she went back to wherever she had been. “Love,” she nodded wonderingly, mulling it over in her own mind. “I think I still feel love… some… I love myself. I love my sisters and brothers.” She looked down at them. “And I’m starting to fall in love with you. I’m sure of it. There are a few humans I can love, and you… feel that way to me. It’s one of the reasons I married you. But there’s definitely something—” she pinched her lips together, hard, sounding hoarse: “Something I’ve lost. Something that made me… less vindictive. Less proud. Less… abandoned. I didn’t act this way. Oh, I acted rashly, and even—even with malice.” She swallowed.

“Being the Queen… everyone looks to me. At first, I thought: Obviously I should be the Queen. I’m the best! The most-powerful, the most-beautiful, the most-caring—at least in hell—the most-natural leader; and of course I want to be the Queen. I should be put first! I deserve to be put first! But the others can’t imagine, and I daren’t show them, the burdens. Any weakness at all. Either for my own sake, lest they sense vulnerability and try to take advantage of me… or for their sake, lest they panic that their leader has the same doubts they do.”

“Of course, Heaven is a cypher to me. As is the Lord. That… soul, that warm connection to knowledge of what is right and good, is gone. But I can still think, and feel, and breathe. On Earth, are Queens and Kings not chosen by the Lord? And is it any different in hell? Some demons have speculated, even argued before the Conclave, that we were banished to Hell because Heaven lacked the power to destroy us completely. But most of us who felt—the force, the sheer power,” she gasped at the ancient memory, shaking her head sadly, “of what was done to us that day… have no doubt we could have been extinguished as easily as crushing an ant underfoot.”

Tears came to her eyes again. “Was it mercy? Was it supposed to be mercy, or an even-worse punishment than death, to be banished here?!” She came back to them, to their eyes. “If I’m right, and we were deliberately spared… then why should I, like a Queen or King among humans, be divinely selected? If the Lord sought fit to preserve Hell, is it not His? Along with its hierarchy?”

The she pursed her lips, and continued more quietly: “To love humans… is so rare for me. It feels almost… dirty. That, most of all, if it happens… you can never tell anyone that I love you. You cannot tell anyone I’m even thinking I could love you, or talking about it. Do you understand?”

They nodded breathlessly, responding to her urgency. “Because we hate humans. Some of us think that was the reason for our fall—our jealousy at humans, and the love they enjoyed—still enjoy! You can’t imagine the fury we feel—to see humans are still loved, despite their vile evil! They’re—you’re—worse than us, you know? Because you’re capable of better. You have full access to Heaven—perhaps, to love—if you only want it enough. Every soul that ends in hell deserves to be there a thousandfold. Because they had a choice!”

“Didn’t you?” Penny asked, looking as shocked as Chas at the words that had come out of her mouth.

“You’re impossible!” She managed to look incensed, amused, and rueful all at once, before sinking back into something closer to sad acceptance. She whispered: “Maybe.” She shook her head. “Once. I just… can’t… quite remember. If you can be my apostle and awaken me, by all means—do so, little priest.”

“I’m not a priest,” she blushed. “I’m ordained.” Her face fell. “Was ordained. But I’m still a student. I’ve never held an appointment.”

“You’re still ordained, darling,” Channah assured her. “You think a succubus can’t feel that? Practically see it?” She focused in intently on Penny, as if urgently trying to reach him. “Darling Penny, to return to your earlier question, I’ll never ask you to battle the Catholic Church if your conscience moves you to remain a part of it. I promise. I do need educated servants, and I have many of them. But if I wanted you two,” she admitted Chas back into the discussion with her eyes, “and your sisters, to fight the Church, we would have made sure you understood why you were going to school all of those years. We let you go to grammar school and you, Penny, to University, because we wanted to let you choose your own path. Because you can’t serve your purpose to Us if you can’t think and feel for yourself. You two girls are delicate instruments, useless to us if we try to force you to point, or measure, or report what we want to hear.”

“Why would the Lord allow me—” Penny began.

“You ask me about His purposes?” She laughed caustically. “What it means, why you remain sacred and set apart—is a discussion for another day. Probably with another person. Maybe with your confessor, if he can really be trusted. But not with me—” her voice almost broke again “—because I don’t know the why of it. Only the fact of it. You have not lost your grace, Penny. I don’t know why. But I think it must be because, as I told you—as long as you live, you are free to make your own choices. There are always choices, and they always have consequences. But on Earth, it is never too late to change your mind. And I’m sure—that is, I think—it’s you’re your mind and heart that matter to Heaven, that Heaven judges; not that of Popes or Bishops. Not in relation to you, anyway. Yes, there is a church in this Earthly world, with priests, with some influence, maybe even power, if you want to call it that. But Heaven, not Earth nor anything or anyone in it, gives and withdraws grace. The human rituals and ceremonies are, at best, an assent, or perhaps a way of communicating with the Lord what His human servants think is in service to Him.” She shrugged, and finished in a small voice: “I think. I just don’t know.”

Literature Section “06-51 Hella Honeymoon VIII”—Part 51 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—Continued from 06-49—1283 words—Accompanying Images: 1558-1561—Published 2025-04-04—©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.

Stories

06-50 Hella Honeymoon VII

2025-04-032025-04-01 admin

*1555 06-50 A pain that still sears after 6,000 years^*

“On the other hand, the war among the demons is fought in Hell, and on Earth, and it is a war of genocide. The Lord may abide abominations like the Devils and Zombies to exist, but I will not. Any more than they would willingly suffer the Succubae to exist. We seek to exterminate the Devils and Zombies, as surely as they would exterminate the Succubae and the Vampires—and our allies, the Dragons—if they could.”

“This is a war of survival and preservation! Dear Chas, dear Penny, we must win our war against the Devils and Zombies, or they will wipe us out. They would eradicate all my sisters and brothers—and all our human operatives, including you both—in a heartbeat. They would save me for last, and torture me at their leisure until they were ready to dispose of me. It’s terribly unfair, but the Abominables—the Devils and Zombies—have made it clear in the past that they will attack and kill the youngest, the most-innocent, the most-vulnerable of my children just to spite me if they can! Can you imagine?! Children who will never be operatives, orphans, the unwanted, and the hunted—people I rescue! Just out of loathing and hate. They’re… they’re not even animals! MY children!” She shook her head, leaving no doubt in the girls’ minds that she was genuinely horrified and enraged by their conduct. “But it’s even broader than us individually. We fight for beauty… passion, and love! Art! The pleasures and lovely things in this world, and even those few we may find in hell. The vampires, for the vibrancy of life itself! And the dragons… well, honestly, they’re a little lazy. But generally mild-mannered, if you leave them alone; and they really do tend to leave others alone, as long as they can get what they need to survive.” She laughed, shaking her head. “My husband—First-Husband to you—Húanglóng, King of the Dragons, the indolent sod, doesn’t have a spiteful bone in his body.”

“Compared to our real war, our unholy war, the contest against Heaven is a distant second front: we need souls to fill our ranks, and to deprive our enemies. But it’s less a war, more like… the Border Reivers: English raiding into Scotland, Scots raiding into England, sometimes Reivers raiding without even bothering to cross the line. But it’s all about pillaging the border lands—in our case, Earth. Hell couldn’t breach Heaven if it tried. And Heaven created the border itself, because it doesn’t want hell. Or any of its denizens. I’ve already asked you to puzzle on that. I cannot possibly give you the answer, because I don’t understand Heaven. My soul has been banished from it, and all knowledge and feelings of and from it. When we were cut off—” she shook her head, her voice dropping to a whisper and breaking: “When we separated…” She pressed her lips together, actual tears springing into her eyes, unable to continue for a moment, her face tight and passionate.

“Oh, Domina!” her girls cried in unison and squeezed her tightly and warmly, holding her tightly as her lip quivered and, with a shake of her head, she gave up and allowed herself to cry, holding them right back, hearing them sob sympathetically for her.

Channah’s Confession

“I think you’re ready. I think I’m ready.” Her face became seriously thoughtful, and she squeezed them both, pulling their heads together on her breasts, each girl straddling one of her legs so she could see both of them easily, her eyes flicking back and forth without straying from them, so they both remained intimately enraptured by her gaze and her words, feeling an intimacy they may never have felt in their lives, and certainly not since their mothers’ presence. In a second of shared semi-comedy, all the more intimate because it intervened in the midst of such intimacy, both girls winced and tugged up on their little cages so they rested on her thighs instead of pinching and pressing between them all. Even with that adjustment, the girls were not quite comfortable—they were almost Channah’s size and the position they were put in was not only intimate with her, but cramped and awkward. And somehow, that was right; a way for them to demonstrate their devotion and subservience, their lesserness and the slightly pathetic quality of the uneven yet affectionate relationship between them, even in her most-intimate moments and embrace.

“I want to tell you—I want to admit to you—who I am. Something I have not even shared with all my wives.” She snorted. “Certainly not with Húanglóng, or any other creature of Hell. It is—a vulnerability. A weakness, I dare not show to anyone in hell, or almost anyone on Earth, only those completely loyal and devoted to me. But it is so hard to carry alone, always alone… can I trust you with this?”

“Yes, Domina,” they gasped, confirming and therefore pledging their loyalty and devotion, lips as wide and relaxed as their eyes, practically hypnotized although she used no magic on them—no magic other than sincerity. It was too important a matter for any illusion or artifice.

“I would die before I would tell anyone else,” Penny promised, looking emotional.

“Oh, sweetie,” she kissed her forehead sweetly, then Chas’s as she assured her the same.

She pinkened slightly, and they saw something in her face they had never seen before; something embarrassed. Something even ashamed. She started in the faintest whisper, hardly willing to make the thoughts real by speaking them. “It is essential for the trust between us to blossom and secure us to one another, for you to know the worst truths. I have done terrible things.”

“I—I can be an evil bitch,” she admitted. “I just feel such rage at things I know should not be, such desperation to protect my sisters and brothers—I’m a very passionate woman,” she concluded, looking down into both of their eyes in turn, searchingly, intensely, seeming to find the shred of understanding she was hoping for in their wide, open eyes. “In the heat of the moment, especially under pressure—I try to act calm and stay in control—but I just see red. It’s so hard.” She bit her lip, shaking her head slowly and slightly as she stared into space, as far from the girls as they were rooted and locked to her in that moment, completely moved and honored by the vulnerability and mistakes she, who was so much more prominent and older than they, should share with them. “And sometimes the blackness of fear. And they left me without limits. I reacted to challenges with…” She considered, before settling on “extreme prejudice, towards all enemies, all challengers, even all obstacles. I acted, then, as a youngling, the same way the devils act now.” She waved a hand dismissively. “The zombies are without limits, without restraint, but they aren’t intentional enough for comparison. It’s almost like they just do, without thought. Which doesn’t absolve them of anything, only makes them more despicable. But the devils and their allies, like us, act with intentionality and awareness. And there were times, long ago,” her voice becoming hushed, as if she could prevent heaven itself from overhearing her dark thoughts, “when I acted as they did. I did kill—” she bit her lip. “I did kill humans simply for being in the possession of my enemies.”

The girls shuddered, and she felt it and softly wailed, squeezing them even harder, her face vulnerable and scared. “Please—I’m sorry—I did it—Just for a human being in their consideration, because I viewed them as property. I did it for the same reason you burn your enemy’s house down, not because you care about the house, or even think about the house, but because you want to take from its owner.” She made an indignant sound. “I don’t know! Maybe it was more! Because they were worse than property—something hateful, something hated. Even if they were too young or too defiant to have chosen them.”

Literature Section “06-50 Hella Honeymoon VII”—Part 50 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—Continued from 06-49—1362 words—Accompanying Images: 1555-1557. Published 2025-04-03—©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.

Stories

06-49 Hella Honeymoon VI

2025-04-022025-03-31 admin

*1552 06-49 Devil luring neglected children to the sin of suicide^*

“The lesson I’m trying to impart today, is that humans fight organized religions, in the name of organized religions, every day, and have done so since the day the second religion—however you want to define it—arose. I trust your educations were complete and accurate enough that you are aware of the Papal Schism a hundred years ago, where there were two Popes fighting one another, both in the name of the Lord against one another?!”

“Yes, Domina,” they agreed, concerned and disturbed at the idea.

“And even today—I know you are both English, and doubtless feel loyalty to England.” She rolled her eyes at the idea of someone caring about something like that. “Do you consider the French to be Catholics?”

“Of course,” they agreed.

“Pious Catholics?”

Chas deferred to Penny, who cautiously declared “as pious as most others.”

“A good answer. I know you’re aware England, Spain, the Holy Roman Empire, and, incidentally, the Pope, wearing his other hat as leader of the Papal States, were at war with France and Venice through most of this past decade. And although not spoken publicly or made officially…”

“No!” Penny cried, in shock, guessing where she was going. “No!”

“What?!” Chas demanded, as Channah smiled.

“It’s nice to see all those school fees and tithes aren’t going completely to waste on orgies and pederasty.”

“DOMINA!” Penny huffed.

“I’m sorry, honey,” she patted Penny’s shoulder. “Please forgive me for shocking your sensibilities unnecessarily. And to answer your question, Penny, yes: Yes, yes, a resounding yes: Of course the French and the Venetians have spoken with, and cooperated in practice with, the Ottoman Muslim Caliph against the Catholic Pope. Exactly as the Crusaders themselves aligned with Venice, Pisa, and Genoa to sack Constantinople and dismember and cripple the Byzantine Empire—the most powerful Christian kingdom fighting Islam—in 1204. Because, as they say in the East, my enemy’s enemy is my friend.”

She had so shocked the girls by connecting the dots that Latin authorities and clergymen allowed to be taught, with the obvious truths they tried to prevent people from seeing, that they were stunned into silence.

She allowed the pause to continue, and the girls to think, for a good minute or more that seemed even longer, before she continued: “The Succubae are engaged in a contest with the Lord and the Angels. But the battle between good and evil takes place within each human soul. Not on Earth, or in Hell. It is not a war between realms. It’s a competition for recruits. And at least Penny will have been formally presented with the question before, why does the Lord allow Hell to tempt humans? I won’t answer that question for you, I’ll ask you to answer it yourselves. Think on it a good long while, and discuss it with one another. I will look forward to hearing what you have concluded when you’re confident. Obviously I wouldn’t have let the priests have you and train you for so long, if my only preoccupation were human souls. Or if I wanted to corrupt yours. Or for you to corrupt others’ souls. Would I?” She enjoyed the silence she heard, even Penny too confused and thoughtful to argue.

Unholy War

“No, I trained you to fight our war, our true and unholy war, the war of the Succubae, against our sworn enemies.”

“Who?” The girls asked breathlessly.

“The Devils,” she practically spat, unable to keep her voice even when she spoke of them. “Above all others, the vile, disgusting, contemptible Devils. And their allies. The Zombies—fucking disgusting” she shook her head with an expression of revulsion. “You can’t imagine how disgusting, and if you’re lucky, you’ll never need to find out. The exact opposite of Succubaean beauty and love of the erotic. Nobody likes either of them, or wants to be around them, although the Genies and the Spirits are so unprincipled and vile they usually cooperate with the unbearable ones, against us.”

There was another silence, both girls looking up at their Domina in awe and consternation at what she was saying, trying to make sense of it. And perhaps even more, trying to reckon with the fact anything could upset Channah enough to interrupt her normal, utterly unflappable and practical demeanor.

Finally, she wrenched herself back to the present, and to them, looking down, almost surprised to see how intently they were looking back at her. She smiled faintly, touched. “You’re both so darling. But that is the war I raised you two to fight. A war that benefits Heaven, not because I have any affection for Heaven, but purely instrumentally, because it diverts our attention and energies from Heaven. This the war that matters the most to me, and to the Succubae, and our operatives—to every one of us.”

“How can a war among Demons, possibly matter more than the war between Heaven and Hell?!” Chas asked with uncalculated candor and genuine curiosity.

“Penny, was that the right question?”

“Not if—” she blushed and corrected what she meant to say. “Domina, you said it was not a war between heaven and hell, but a contest for human souls.”

“Do you see armies of angels battling devils? Or saved souls fighting the damned? No. Now your turn, Chas. Matter to who?” she asked.

“What?” they both asked. “The Lord does not consult me, but doubtless you are right, the contest for souls means more to the Lord, and to some humans, than the war among the Seven Hells. But it is our war with one another that matters the most to the demons. This will bring you back to the question I already posed you: Why does the Lord, suffer Hell to exist? What purpose do we serve to Heaven, that we were banished instead of annihilated, when we rebelled? Whatever answer you come to, I suspect it will persuade you of what you really need to understand: That no matter what the reason is, the Lord does suffer Hell to exist, and the only ‘battleground’ between Heaven and Hell is inside humanity. I am where the Lord put me, doing what the Lord allows me. My fortunes are subject to the Lord, and the number of servants I have depends in part on what the Lord allows, but my life, and my existence, are not threatened.”

Literature Section “06-49 Hella Honeymoon VI”—Part 49 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—Continued from 06-48—1064 words—Accompanying Images: 1552-1554. Published 2025-04-02—©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.

Stories

06-48 Hella Honeymoon V

2025-04-012025-04-01 admin

The girls complied with her command to hold hands with one another, making it all the better by their embarrassed expressions as they held hands. “For all the world, one would think you were perfect strangers asked to hold hands, rather than girls who grew up on the same estates.” Still squeezing her girls tightly, she turned and kissed each one on top of the head. “Or is your awkwardness because of past… familiarity?” She chuckled softly as they blushed and nearly pulled their hands apart.

“Whatever you have or have not been to one another, you’re sister-wives now—my sisterwives—and you will need to work and play as a team to please me. Practice makes perfect, and this is your chance to practice in security and safety. It will be just the three of us, for seven days and nights. As a Queen, my duties cannot be ignored for a week so I will have to hold Court and meet with my nobles and ministers each day, while you attend to me and take care of the chores. We will be alone, which means no servants. Sindonie has raised you properly, to remember your place is in service to me, and therefore, you now know, in service to my Court, and not to expect human servants dedicated to you, whatever the roles we play here at Fensmere Manor in front of outsiders. In addition to being a chance to spend quality time together and define our own relationship, it will be a chance to test yourselves and show me your joy in service of me, just as I take pleasure in serving the Realm. As always, you serve the Realm by serving me.

“To take an entire week with you girls, when I have two worlds’ full of operatives and servants to manage while fighting our war, should tell you how much you mean to me, and to the Realm.” She squeezed and kissed the tops of their heads again, more slowly and thoughtfully, as they shivered with pleasure.

The Contest for Souls

“Thank you, Domina,” Penny spoke from her heart, as she always did, the same reason she couldn’t stop herself there: “‘Our war…’”

Channah shook her head, knowing already what was coming. “Did you think I wouldn’t know what’s on your minds? What—I presume—has been on your mind since you first saw and felt the satanikoklus, Penny? Finish asking your question, sugarbear.”

“Are we? ‘At war?’” she asked quietly, uncomfortably.

“We are. Always and perpetually. It can be quite draining sometimes, especially to remain on top of our enemies as long as I have.”

“Domina…” Penny sounded like she was on the verge of crying. “Domina, who are we at war with?” Penny barely whispered, scared to death but asking it anyway. In her other arm, Chas remained silent, but her body tightened and coiled up as tightly as a spring, as tightly as Penny’s, telling her the question mattered deeply to both girls.

“Who do you think?” She asked, amused when Penny—who normally couldn’t keep her mouth shut to save her life, hesitated.

Finally, it gushed out: “Domina, as my guardian, you sent me to the Bishop of London’s grammar school for six years—”

“Me too!” Chas squeaked. “For seven!”

“And—and you let me—take vows at Cambridge—I know I should—I must—be defrocked now, but for the Lord not for me! I was studying canon law at Jesus College, Domina! How could you let me—how could you want me—?”

She burst out laughing. “Didn’t I just tell you these seven days are a special and safe time? Answer. My. Question.”

“Our Lord!” they both burst out, sounding agonized.

“What utter poppycock!” she chortled. “Certainly not! I sent your jawari sisters to grammar school as well. And your mamluk brothers as long as they could manage not to get kicked out, although a fat lot of good it did for them!” she rolled her eyes. “Do you have any idea how many girls and boys I’ve provided with religious training over the years?”

“No.” Penny whispered again.

“I was going to say, more than the Pope, but obviously that’s not true,” she conceded.

“I’m not saying I don’t have antipathy towards the Lord. The Lord banished us to hell. Do you think we find the climate there any more pleasurable than the human damned? We do not. It’s bloody awful. It’s one of the reasons I spend my time here! And we do fight organized religions whenever they get in our way, just like the human princes who battle with and try to control the church, and the human clergy who fight one another, and secular states. Because I paid for your educations, I know you both are well familiar with the war between the Ummah and the Body of Christ that has been raging for, literally, centuries? Going considerably better for Christianity in the West than the East these past decades.”

Both girls understood her reference to the West as the Reconquista, which had defeated the Emirate of Grenada, the last Muslim state in the Iberian peninsula, and restored Christianity throughout the Iberian peninsula thirty years earlier; and to the East as the Ottoman Empire’s seemingly inexorable advance, defeating the nearly 1,500-year-old Byzantine Empire seventy years ago, repeatedly defeating Habsburg, Venetian, Genoese, and Pisan interests in the years since, and occupying Rhodes only seven years before, ejecting the last of the Catholic military orders involved in the Crusades from the last of their territories in the Eastern Mediterranean.

“The Mahommedans?!” Penny and Chas burst out. “But they’re infidels!”

She snickered thoughtfully. “I have no interest in persuading you Muslims believe in the Lord, and that’s something I suppose theologians can reasonably argue. I’m all for human religions battling with one another. It’s most helpful.”

“But as your guardian, your education—good or bad—reflects on me personally, so I must explain to you, although there’s no perfect analogy, calling Muslims ‘Mahommedans’ is, to a Muslim, something close to a Catholic hearing themselves described as a ‘Peterite’ or a ‘Paulinite.’ Muslims consider Mohammad—and Jesus—to be prophets, not deities. Implying otherwise is simply inaccurate, so I won’t abide you speaking it out of ignorance. If you’re going to lie, do it on purpose, to deceive. If you’re going to speak the truth, trouble yourself to know what it is.”

“Yes, Domina,” they both reacted almost physically to the rebuke, as confused and anxious as they were ashamed.

Especially Penny, who was easy to sting by challenging the intelligence and education he treasured as a fundamental part of his identity; and who added, “I’m sorry, Domina.”

“It’s all right, dear,” she reassured her, leaning her cheek on Penny’s hair for a minute. “Humans make mistakes, and if they’re clever, they try to learn from them.”

Literature Section “06-48 Hella Honeymoon V”—Part 48 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—Continued from 06-47[X]—1149 words—Accompanying Images: 1549-1551. Published 2025-04-01—©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.

Stories

06-47 Hella Honeymoon IV (abridged version)

2025-03-312025-04-02 admin

*1545 06-47 Pretty hair for pretty girls^*

EXPLICIT VERSION AVAILABLE AT https://patreon.com/TheRemainderman

“Penny Batonnoir!” Sindonie chided her.

“I’m sorry Mistress!”

“Calm down and blame yourself, as I expect you to do with any feelings you have about how you’ve been treated the past week. What do you think, will you be neglectful when you’re with the Queen? Or will you girls help one another to make sure every inch of you is soft and appealing for Her Majesty when you bathe, before upsetting her?”

Unenthusiastically but sincerely, they promised not to be neglectful, turning away to rub the oil everywhere on themselves they could reach while frantically trying to stay covered.

“Good. And in back.”

“In back?” they asked, genuinely confused.

“Don’t even try to do it yourselves.” And when they tensed up in shock again, she reminded them: “Every part of you is in bounds for your Domina. You belong to her body and soul, outside and… inside. Such are the vows and magical bonds you have made with her. Prepare yourselves accordingly to honor her.” And then, as they reluctantly obeyed her, she continued: “No skimping. If I’m not satisfied with your work, I’ll do it myself, and believe me, the thought holds as little appeal for me as it does for you.” she shook her head and shrugged. “I have to tell you, the talk has been that you girls already should have learned this lesson. Did I hear wrong?”

They didn’t answer her in words, only by blushing, and on this occasion, she didn’t make them.

Hair and Makeup

“Good girls,” she finally allowed. “Back on the bench.” She hummed, as she usually did, while she brushed and pinned up their hair. “One last wedding gift for you. I want you to look pretty. When you’re with your Queen, help one another with hair and makeup. At least to check one another’s appearance before presenting yourself to her. Do you understand me, darlings?”

“Yes, Mistress Sindonie.”

“I hope so. If you present yourselves to the Queen with dry patches or loose hair or smeared makeup—” she shook her head, unable to even complete the thought, but communicating its gravity effectively as she lightly applied gloss to their lips—their fair complexions did not require anything bolder—and the faintest hint of color to their cheeks, before applying charcoal around their eyes. The amount she used was significantly heavier than the fashion, but it was the look the Queen preferred in her girls, matching her own appearance. Sindonie understood she had grown to prefer heavy black eyes during her centuries in Egypt, and had not been moved by more recent fashions to change her views.

Finally, judging her work done, she let out a relaxed breath, smiling at her girls in their mirrors. “You girls look lovely.” They blushed happily and thanked her as she ran a reassuring hand over their hair. “You’re ready. So here’s what’s going to happen.” She smiled mysteriously. “I’m going to walk out that door, and you girls are going to wait exactly one full minute. Then you’re going to leave your towels here,” she nodded and repeated herself before they could protest, “Yes, I know you like to be modest…”

“I want to be…” Penny interrupted imploringly, struggling to even complete the thought, as if she still didn’t understand.

“A girl!” Chas completed her thought for her, imploringly.

“I know sweeties. But this is a special occasion. Try to remember you are her girls, and she knows that—practically insists upon it—regardless of whether you’re dressed or not. You have nothing to be ashamed of. Your little cages are hardly bigger than a plump girl’s. Believe me, you’re going to like what’s coming, so be in your very best mood. The Queen has a very special and loving surprise for you, but she wants you to join her as you are. Do you understand? Will you obey?”

Put that way, of course they would.

Family

They emerged cautiously from the bathroom, with their hands held awkwardly in front of them, to find a pile of boxes wrapped in tissue paper on the table before Queen Channah, who was sitting on her lounge, so beautiful and perfectly-put-together the girls gasped involuntarily, their reactions clearly pleasing her as she gestured them to approach her.

“Domina!” Penny gushed. “You look so beautiful!” And she did. She wore a perfectly-tailored scarlet brocade dress decorated with gold medlars and brilliantly shined black boots higher than her knees, as revealed by the slits in her dress extending as high as her hips. It had short sleeves and a fabric collar looser, but generally shaped like, the leather collars of the girls. Her hair was swept up in a single ponytail high on her head which was held not by a ring, but an exquisitely-detailed gold tube tastefully accented with rubies. And her long fingernails were painted black. In short, she was stunning, beyond exotic, and tempting as a siren. Her black eye-liner and -shadow matched the girls’, although her lips were redder than theirs. Her eyes danced with merriment and mischief and those red lips were twisted in her favorite expression, a sexy superior smirk.

“You do,” Chas echoed, her sincerity as obvious as Penny’s.

“Oh, you girls are so sweet,” she complimented them, then sniggered. “And so modest. After the games we’ve played,” enjoying watching both boys turn as red as cherries. “Oh, come here, girls,” she invited them, raising and holding out her arms toward them without moving, watching their nude forms, decorated only by the ensorcelled cages and collars she had locked them in, as they scurried over, neither one of them relaxing their modest posture even as they half-sat, half-flopped, on either side of her on the couch. They smiled shyly and wiggled themselves more tightly against her sides as she wrapped her arms around them, pulling them into herself. And finally, as she nudged them onto their sides pressed against her, their knees rising and crossing one another over her, they felt safe bringing out the hands they had been using for modesty. “Put those hands on my chest, right between my breasts. Go on, I want to see you holding hands for me.” And when they hesitated one more second: “Hands. Together. Now.”

Literature Section “06-47 Hella Honeymoon IV”—Part 47 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—Continued from 06-46[X]—Abridged 1042 words::Explicit 1052 words—Accompanying Images: 1545-1548. Published 2025-03-31—©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.

Stories

06-46 Hella Honeymoon III (abridged version)

2025-03-302025-04-02 admin

*1542 06-46 A nagging unease in the conscious mind…^*

EXPLICIT VERSION AVAILABLE AT https://patreon.com/TheRemainderman

continued from 06-45

Bathing

Sindonie led Chas and Penny to the hidden doorway between the private chapel and the second step of the family’s private staircase, allowing them to return from the chapel to the Queen’s private quarters without going through any public spaces. They did have to pause while Sindonie peered through a peephole to make sure no one was in the Great Chamber, and wait while Sindonie stepped through confirming visually and audially that the coast was clear, before she ushered them swiftly across the Great Chamber to the Privy Chamber of the Countess, shooing them into the garderobe while she made sure the human servants had prepared the baths properly and escorted them out of the Privy Chamber. Finally, she summoned them from their end of the garderobe, right next to the door, where they had huddled to stay as far away from the creepy Earl as possible. These days, the Earl spent most of his time chained to the privy hole at the other end of the garderobe, avoided by everyone who could avoid him; and the garderobe windows were kept open whenever the weather permitted to keep it smelling fresh. The Countess’s clothing was neatly arranged on racks and cabinets in her Privy Chamber so she could avoid the garderobe, and its smell, entirely.

The bathroom—very specifically, a room holding two bathtubs, a water furnace, and pipes for filling and draining the bathtubs—was the only one of its kind for leagues in any direction. Certainly, some of the King’s palaces had similar facilities; but they were rare, in the extreme, reserved only for the wealthiest and highest-ranked, like the Defalaises.

The girls sank into their baths, contriving to keep their blankets between them and their governess until they were in the water, sighing contentedly. Truly, the baths were a rare and precious luxury the girls had not known until moving to Fensmere; and quite rarely before they turned 18. They were only allowed to use the baths—and in fact, required to do so—now that they were adults because of their marriage to the Queen, who required her servants to be squeaky-clean and fresh. So it was typical enough that Chas was splashing and soaking merrily the moment he settled in; but it highlighted that Penny seemed uncharacteristically subdued and distant.

Sindonie frowned questioningly. “Is everything all right, Penny?”

Penny glanced back at her, surprised and maybe a little embarrassed she hadn’t been aware her mood was so obvious. “Yes, thank you, Mistress. I think—I don’t remember it very well, but I think I remembered…. A nightmare—something about a bathtub, I can’t quite—”

“You certainly did.”

“I did?” she looked startled Sindonie would know.

“Yes, the men were talking about it. Apparently you both kept sleeping, but your cries eventually became so loud, and your movements so violent, they spread to Chas and the two of you woke up the men. It started early this morning. Fortunately, Obedience was still in the room and scurried them out without waking you.”

The girls exchanged a wondering look. “I can’t really… remember it exactly, only I’m sure I was in a tub, like this one…” she idly stirred the warm water back and forth, enjoying the way it felt running through her hands. “But I could swear—it seemed really important I remember.”

“Obedience told the men it was the spiked wine, and that it had an especially strong effect on you because you were unused to wine. Especially not Succubaean Hippocras.”

“What’s ‘Hippocras’?”

“Spiced wine. Or in the case of the succubus, liberally spiced and spiked. It’s a wonder you slept as well and as long as you did.” Her face softened. “But I’m sure you girls were exhausted.” They nodded their agreement. “Well, of course your main duty on your honeymoon will be to make sure your Domina is happy, but hopefully you will have some more opportunities for rest.”

“I’ll give you a few minutes to wash,” she told them. “And when I come back, you’re to be dried and sitting right here,” she patted a bench facing two large mirrors on the wall.

“May we get dressed first, Mistress?” Penny asked.

“Nope,” she smiled impishly. “But there’s a reason for that. Cover yourselves with the clean towels next to your baths. Do not touch those filthy blankets again.”

“Yes, Mistress,” they chorused, looking at one another curiously.

Skin Care

“Wait. Two more things. First, because your collars are ensorcelled, they won’t be affected by water. They won’t absorb it, let alone be damaged by it. So you can dip your heads underwater and should do so. Second,” She pointed to a pot of lotion made with sesame seed oil, beeswax, and honey. “I’ll give you a few extra minutes to care for your skin. Be careful to get it everywhere. You want your skin to be soft and smooth for your Domina. Everywhere,” she emphasized mischievously, imagining their reactions, as she turned and walked out, hearing them starting to speculate about what was going on as she closed the door.

When she returned, she found them sitting on the bench, each with one towel wrapped around their long hair, a second tucked under their arms, and a third around their waists. Although as she entered, she caught a flicker of movement from their waists and guilty expressions on their faces.

She frowned at them, putting her hands on her hips, watching them turn redder but not volunteer anything, until she figured it out and her face turned sympathetic. “Oh. You girls haven’t even had a chance to talk about—” she gestured “—anything that has happened to you, have you?”

They hesitantly shook their heads, as she walked around behind them, making a tisking sound, and running a finger along the top of each of their backs, above the towels. “Dry as a bone. Why didn’t you help one another?”

She met their eyes in the mirrors, seeing the dismay and consternation about what to say etched on their faces, pressing her lips together to avoid smiling too obviously. Then she gave up and laughed. “We’re all girls here,” she insisted. “There’s no reason for modesty. And by the way.” She moved up behind both of them, her hips and breasts pressing against them, resting her hands on their shoulders. “I may not be your valide anymore, but I will always outrank you. And now that you’re adults…” she ran a fingernail along each girl’s collarbone, laughing harder as they gasped, pulled away, and protested:

“Mistress Sindonie!”

She clamped her hands on their shoulders, holding them still, to finish her sentence. “I have the same privilege as any of your other superiors, jawari. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mistress,” they acknowledged, tight as drums.

“Oh, relax, dearies,” she rolled her eyes, patting their shoulders and moving off them. “My point is, next time you’re feeling squeamish about touching one another… think again.” She sat down on a cushioned chair nearby and crossed her legs, raising her eyebrows expectantly. “Go on. Do now, in front of me, what you were too silly to do when you had your privacy.”

They swallowed and moved with extreme awkwardness and embarrassment as she enjoyed herself, not particularly interested in them sexually—such a thing wouldn’t even have been likely to cross her mind if their own reticence hadn’t caused such a scene—but mightily amused as they tried to hold their own towels in place while rubbing lotion onto one another’s backs.

Finally, covering themselves as best they could, they reluctantly turned to meet her eyes, hoping to meet with her approval. She shook her head and stared pointedly. “Did you use it everywhere?” “Ohmygod!” Penny burst out, squeaking and covering her mouth with shock at her own sacrilegious outburst.

CHAPTER SIX PART 46: “LE SACCAGE DE LA SALE BÊTE ROUGE (RAMPAGE OF THE DIRTY RED BEAST)”

2025-03-30 Literature Section “06-46[X] Hella Honeymoon III”—Abridged 1305 words::Explicit 1332 words—©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.

Stories

06-45 Hella Honeymoon II

2025-03-292025-03-27 admin

1539 06-45 Lady in London/Jariya in Constantinople

continued from 06-44

“Why is qahwah a secret?” Penny asked, beginning to eat with Chas.

“First, because it’s an advantage. We always prefer to keep our advantages over our enemies, for as long as possible,” Sindonie explained. “Second, we always want to avoid unexplained contacts with other parts of the world that the humans don’t have. Everywhere we go, we try to blend in and be like the hucows as much as we can.”

“Hucows?!” the girls laughed. “Is that like…”

Sindonie pinkened. “Human cattle.”

“But we’re—”

Christendom, dar al-Islam, and Beyond

“Let’s stay on track, shall we? Speaking Arabic as fluently as you both do, you can range from Spain to India and the Balkans to the ports of the Indian Ocean without raising an eyebrow. In Christendom, you can be what you are, gentle English. Your class was at one advantage the Countess intended you to have by selecting you.

“But because you’re both so fair and pale, and you would have trouble blending seamlessly, in dar al-Islam—the Muslim world—your story will be that you are Saqaliba—from the Balkans. The other option would be Circassians, but since saqaliba live amongst Christians, you’re less likely to be caught posing as a Saqlabi. Either way, it’s a near-perfect cover for a mamluk or jariya because as Christians and pagans, respectively, Saqaliba and Circassians, like blacks, are preferred as slaves in the Western part of dar al-Islam. Many if not most mamalik and jawari are Saqaliba or Circassian. To serve the Queen outside Christian and Muslim territories, you would have to learn other languages.”

“Does she have operatives in Cathay?” Penny asked, wide-eyed. “The West Indes?”

“And beyond. She has operatives everywhere there are people. I’m told those include parts of the world no one in Europe has ever even heard of. Now try your qahwah, girls,” she insisted. And when they hesitated to touch their cups to their lips, she said: “I know it smells harsh. Try it. With sweetening, you’ll come to enjoy it.”

And they did. “I do love sugar, Mistress,” Penny admitted.

“I know you do, dear. Now eat up. Not rudely, but efficiently. The human servants were beginning to prepare baths for you when I took your food.”

Honeymoon Advice

“Is there anything we need to know about our seclusion to be prepared, Mistress?” Penny asked between bites.

“According to rumor, you girls have already learned most of what you need to know for the honeymoon,” she teased them again, watching them squirm a moment, a distant look coming into her eye as she doubled down. “I remember when I first met each of you. You did look girlish to me, as many children do. But the way you evolved and grew… you’re both quite lovely and feminine.”

“Thank you, Mistress,” they chorused, turning redder.

“The Queen has a remarkable eye for transgender jawari. I’ve met dozens of them and like you, most of them don’t even need makeup. Your Svadhishthana Cages will help you look like beautiful young women by preventing the further growth of hair. But to preserve your beauty, it will be important for you to keep eating carefully, avoiding male animal flesh, and using the herbs and spices as you’ve been trained, even when you are out on your own.”

“Yes, Mistress,” they answered. “We understand,” Penny amplified.

After considering carefully for a moment, Sindonie continued: “To answer your question, I know you’ve had a very hard week, and that you are struggling with anger and confusion about the changes. Especially the cages, collars, and twisters, and… what she expects of you to serve her cause.” Their eyes blazed with the truth of that, and their hurt. “Oh, dear girls, I’m so sorry,” she reached forward, placing a gentle hand on each girl’s shoulder and neck to connect and empathize with them. “Even I, who was not adopted as a child but came into the Queen’s service as an adult, have had to face—challenges.” She bit her lip, shaking her head slightly but firmly as if rejecting something. “Serving our Queen is not easy. But the same can be said for any human King. Their concerns are not ours.”

“Your honeymoon is a time for you to heal your connection with Her, to feel the joy of your union with Her, while learning your new relationship with Her. Try to find other outlets for your anger, like working hard to serve her. And sublimate the feelings you can’t work out, into your natural submissiveness. In this respect, you are more fortunate than the mamluks. We’ve given you all the tools we can to prepare you to be content, even joyous, in your service and obedience to her. The mamluks have rigid honor where you have bent desires, but honor keeps them even more emotionally separate, from Her and from other humans, even as it protects their loyalty and fidelity. You have… this. There is no ‘honeymoon’ for the mamluks beyond what they enjoyed of your trials. They are pushed out into the world, not sheltered at home from it.”

“Also, now that you are proven and sworn to Her, She can start to share Her amazing knowledge and experience with you. You cannot even imagine the worlds she moves through. If you can relax, and follow her lead, try the new things—like qahwah—that she tries to show you, you will be a richer and better person for it. And, I am told, you will know dark delights that she only shares with her jawari.”

The boys shivered with both the warmth and the chilly thrill of anticipation, looking at one another, and then back at her, anxiously, seeking and receiving reassurance from one another and her eyes. “Thank you, Mistress Sindonie,” they chorused.

Valide to Valide

“Good. Here, stand up,” she urged them, walking to one side of the table and embracing both girls for a long, tight hug. “With your initiation,” she began, her voice cracking as all three of them began to sob together, “With it, I will no longer be your valide. For most jawari, that role would belong to the most-senior jariya; but for the two of you, your valide will be your Domina. I promise, though, I will always be your governess, and I will always be here for you.” With a final, intense squeeze, she implored them: “Trust and obey your Queen and Domina and—” she could hardly say it “valide in all things. Trust and obey her. Promise me!”

“We promise!” they bawled, delaying their separation.

But finally, she shook her head and backed away, wiping her eyes and waving vaguely toward the stairs. “Come! We’ve taken too long already. Penny—no, you’ll want to keep your blanket around you—girls, please work together to bring the tray with you and set it in the Great Chamber.”

CHAPTER SIX PART 45: “LE SACCAGE DE LA SALE BÊTE ROUGE (RAMPAGE OF THE DIRTY RED BEAST)”

2025-03-29 Literature Section “06-45 Hella Honeymoon II”—Accompanying Images: 1539-1541. 1142 words—©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.

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Stories

06-44 Hella Honeymoon I

2025-03-282025-03-27 admin

1535 06-44 Penny begs Sindonie for breakfast

PREVIOUSLY: Like a substantial minority of the biologically male orphans, slaves, and refugees “adopted” into Channah’s global family of proto-operatives, Chas and the slightly-younger Penny had been raised as transgender girls. Upon Penny’s eighteenth birthday, they had undergone the hazing and trials to become jariya women: For six days and nights they were guilted, punished, trained, seduced, subjugated, intimidated, cajoled, drugged, teased, confused, gaslit, sleep-deprived, tormented, and broken to the ultimate will of the succubae. But unlike almost any of the orphans, their wedding to Channah as her 35^th and 36^th sisterwives—her first human brides in centuries—had comprised the last phase of those trials. After suffering the Seven Indignities, the protracted ceremonies allowing the girls to demonstrate their loyalty and worthiness through their submission and suffering, they had finally been allowed to sleep. NOW:

Graduation

The girls were awakened by the smell of hot eggs and bacon, their first hint they had been allowed to oversleep. Blinking and rubbing their eyes like schoolchildren, they discovered the sun was well up in the sky, although from the North-facing windows they could not see its exact angle. They were where they had fallen asleep the previous night, on futons laid on flattened pews in what they could not help thinking of as a private chapel but, as a desecrated church that had never been restored, had been taken by hell as a satanikoklus of the succubae.

Sindonie, their governess of a decade, sat smiling across from them on an uncovered pew. As always, she was practically, if exquisitely, dressed, reflecting at once her personality and class. There could be no doubt she was a member of the gentry, England’s lower nobility. Her clothing was neat, to all appearances unworn, made of the finest cloths not reserved for upper nobility. The girls could not remember ever having seen her disarrayed, or even with a scuff on her boot or a single hair out of place beneath her hood; certainly nothing as vulgar as being sweaty or dirty, no matter the temperature. But typically for her, atypically for her class, she wore little or no jewelry, the cuts of her dresses were simple with clean lines, and she avoided fashions like tall heels or dress loops that would hamper her movements.

Between them stood a low table, cleared of the night’s empty cups and wine bottles, now filled with a silver tray loaded with the eggs and bacon they had smelled, as well as breads, sweetbreads, water, milk, sugar, and a hot pot of something having a strong and brisk odor they had never smelled before.

“Mistress Sindonie, is this for us?” Penny marveled.

“Yes, it is,” she beamed.

“And you brought it to us?!” Chas wondered.

“I did,” she nodded, cocking one eyebrow as if to say “can you believe that?” “I even boiled the qahwah myself, because it is considered a secret of the Court. So you’re not to speak of it to outsiders.”

Since they didn’t even know what qahwah was, they weren’t worried about spilling the beans, so to speak. Instead they looked at one another, somewhere between dazed and amazed, before Penny asked quietly: “Mistress, are we part of the Court of Lust now?”

She smiled again, warmly, and nodded. “You are. You’re still not quite fully married, but you have completed the trials—and before you start looking worried, don’t. You’ve endured the trials and passed the tests. The hard part is done, now it’s time for your reward. You and the other members of your class will be formally initiated into the Court of Lust when you return.”

“Return?” Penny asked, a little anxiously.

“Reward?” Chas asked, a little hopefully.

“From your honeymoon with Channah! Which is a celebration, mind you, my dour little Penny—a celebration for all three of you to bond in seclusion and seal your marriage—not a challenge.” Meeting their eyes for a moment, and reading them instantly, she tossed her head to one side. “Do your business, girls. There’s a screen over there if you’re still feeling modest. Although,” she snickered, “It may be a little late for that, from what I heard.”

Both boys blushed, intensely. “Mistress!” they chorused in protest to their childhood governess, both opting to scurry behind the screen, holding blankets around themselves for modesty, doubly happy to escape from her sight.

“I’ll always be your governess, but you’re adults now, girls.” And meeting their eyes as they returned, reading their minds as she so often seemed to do, she confirmed: “It’s much better to stay near the food. The chapel desperately needs a good airing-out. Big George modified the top of the windows so they can be opened to vent,” she nodded toward a thin strip of glass at the top of the stained-glass windows where George had painstakingly moved grout and glass from their original stone frames to metal ones mounted on hinges, “but they have to be small and high to keep prying eyes from seeing inside. So it will take awhile for this—” she smirked again, shaking her head and teasing them. “You girls’… scandalous activities….”

They both opened their mouths to protest but shut them decisively, reddening again.

“I had to bring your food because the human servants couldn’t be allowed in here to smell the—evidence of debauchery in the chapel, or find it filled with naked men and girls.” And without their having to ask, she again anticipated: “Your Dominae left yesterday—”

“Yesterday?!” they chorused.

“Yes, you’ve been asleep almost twenty hours. The men woke up earlier this morning.”

“Thank you for bringing us our breakfast—or dinner?—Mistress,” Penny bowed slightly in appreciation while Chas echoed him.

The Honeycomb

“You’re welcome.” She had been preparing two cups, putting milk and sugar in them before pouring a brown, almost bitter, stream of steaming-hot liquid into the two cups. “Qahwah,” she explained. “Because you girls are soft and sweet, I’ve put milk and sugar in it so it won’t be too strong for you. When you return from your honeymoon, if the Queen hasn’t taught you already, I’ll teach you girls how to make it for everyone.” She giggled. “You have to make it in the Countess’s bathroom, away from the eyes of cook and the kitchen maids.”

“What is it?” Penny asked. It was always Penny who asked.

“A hard little bean from a plant that grows far up the Blue Nile. It gives you energy and sharpens your mind. Now that you know who your Queen is—” she met their eyes briefly— “yes?”

“Yes, Mistress,” they nodded, still showing traces of the awe and anxiety they felt at the revelation.

“Penny told me,” Chas explained. “Although I can’t imagine—”

“You won’t have to, not for long,” she assured them. “The Queen will take you through the honeycomb in her realm to your honeymoon. It’s how she and members of the Court travel around the world.”

“Where are we going?”

Sindonie smiled. “I suspect I know, a particularly wonderful place she calls her natural cloister. But I’m certain she’ll want to tell you, or more likely show you, herself. The honeycomb is how the Court stays in communication with all our operatives, and the reason you were taught Arabic. The honeycomb is also how the qahwah came to England, from the Queen’s palace in Cairo. You know we have always discouraged you from drinking small beer, Chas?” Chas nodded slowly. “No discouragement required for our prudish little Penny, of course. Whose example should have illustrated the truth, that small beer for breakfast and dinner doesn’t actually protect health.” She shook her head. “Now you can both drink qahwah instead. Wine and spirits should be for celebration—or comfort—not for sustenance.”

“Why is it a secret?” Penny asked, beginning to eat with Chas.

CHAPTER SIX PART 44: “LE SACCAGE DE LA SALE BÊTE ROUGE (RAMPAGE OF THE DIRTY RED BEAST)”

2025-03-28 Literature Section “06-44 Hella Honeymoon I”—Accompanying Images: 1535-1538. 1170 words—©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.

Category: Stories

What Mama Likes

Work It, Girl

Reassurance

Becoming Decent

Channah’s Confession

Unholy War

The Contest for Souls

Hair and Makeup

Family

Bathing

Skin Care

Christendom, dar al-Islam, and Beyond

Honeymoon Advice

Valide to Valide

Graduation

The Honeycomb