06-86 Esmeray’s Torment; Hong’s Mercy

PREVIOUSLY:  Channah extended her arm straight out towards the tangled knot of clothed qahramanat and naked jawari, snapping her fingers decisively in command.  “Don’t you dare let the truth-speaker go.  Keep her here, in the hetaraslakos.  Do not break the ritual.  Bind her if you can, but I want her conscious and don’t you dare let her interrupt us again!  Then mount them both on the rails!”  “You biiiiiiitch!” Esmeray screeched, and “Yes, Domina,” Hong solemnly swore, and “Yes, My Liege!” the four naked girls imitated Fang.  NOW:

Hong commanded one of her girls in Mandarin, who ran to the other side of the platform while Hong and her other three Hongettes struggled to wrestle the howling, flailing, fuming Esmeray over onto her belly so they could get her under control. 

“Get your filthy paws off me you gorillas!”  Hong’s eyes narrowed at the insult, taking it at first as racist, taking advantage of an opportunity to seize Esmeray’s arm in the first step of a wushu hold.  “Don’t touch me with your naked filth!  I promise god I will destroy the—the filth—AAUGH!” the last sound was more one of frustration at her inability to find words damning enough to express what she was feeling, than any reaction to the physical stresses being placed upon her.

Hong executed her arm-lock, twisting Esmeray’s arm upwards behind her back and eliciting a sharp scream of pain. 

“BIIIITTCHH!”  Esmeray screamed, which Hong understood, and then baffled her:  “Keep your naked monkeys off me!”

Hong was taken aback.  She was straddling the crazy gwáinòuh’s hips now, with her left knee on one side and her right boot on the other, rolling Esmeray’s bent arm away from its natural position and placing extreme stress on it, while her submissives—theoretically trained in the martial arts, but obviously not as seriously as Hong—were wrestling as ineffectively as Hong was fighting.  Honghua and Hongjiao were using every ounce of their arm strength to fight Esmeray’s powerful leg muscles, while Hongan was at imminent risk of learning how much stronger jaw muscles were than fingers, if she kept trying to hold Esmeray’s head still by gripping her chin.

Was Esmeray stupid?  Hong wondered.  Jawari were one thing.  Jawari could be little air-headed ninnies (and Hong often thought her girls were) as long as they were attractive enough and sporting enough.  And apparently, according to the screaming devils below, it was quite possible for qahramanat to arouse them while being completely out of their minds.  But a qahramanah could not be stupid—and she had not seemed stupid to Hong, at first.

Then, as Hongzhi hurried back into view, carrying her irons, which Hong had commanded her to fetch, it all clicked into place:  This woman, who hardly paid attention to a submission hold, and kept talking about naked monkey parts, shuddered and stilled the moment she set eyes on the irons.  Her language wasn’t about race.

“Please no.  Please, no!”  voice plunging from a scream to a frightened moan, resistance evaporating, practically limp in their arms, moving only her head to shake it, Esmeray pleaded.  “I’ll be good.  I’ll be good.  I promise, I’ll be good.  See?  See?  You can hurt me it’s okay but please don’t please don’t use—use those.  PLEASE!”

And as Hong put the pieces together, she shuddered, as if she had taken a sudden chill.  Hong was not shy, or delicate, or squeamish, or easily intimidated, or scared, or timid, or submissive—she had been a best-in-class alpha as long as she could remember.  Even her parents’ stories of her childhood portrayed her that way.  She had faced, and faced down, monsters and threats aplenty in her own life.  But the things she had seen, the women who hadn’t been as strong as her—like her own sister….  In an instant, Hong knew the essence of Esmeray’s story, and without surrendering her hold or her control, she eased back on the stress to end the deliberate pain.

She shook her head at Hongzhi to pause, considering.  Esmeray was acting as if she had finally figured out what Hong and her girls had known since the moment they’d first engaged:  clearly, Hong was the only decently-trained fighter among them; a match for Esmeray’s size and heavier than her jawari, who were deliberately chosen for being petite, among other stereotypically-female features the succubae considered predictive of success in the tasks they would be assigned.  But…

“I’m sorry.  My Domina’s orders were clear.”  She nodded at Hongzhi to come closer:  “To restrain you.”

“She said if—if!”  Esmeray wailed.  Hong was surprised she had had the presence of mind to register Channah’s words so accurately.  “She said she wanted me conscious and you daren’t let me interrupt her again, I know!  But she said to bind me if!”

“If I can,” Hong finished the sentence, adding reasonably:  “And I can.”

“No!  That’s not true!”

“You doubt my ability to restrain you?” she inquired, momentarily applying more pressure.

“No, no I don’t, I—oh, please don’t!”  And when Hongzhi reached toward her neck with the collar, she began thrashing and resisting again.  “Nonononononononono…..” the protest trailing off into a howl like a wolf, and then into crying.

Hong sighed.  She couldn’t take pleasure in forcing herself on a genuinely unwilling and terrified victim.  She wasn’t a soldier.  And if the woman kept making noise, she’d have to gag her.

“Hongzhi, stop.”  And when Esmeray quieted down, Hong offered:  “I suppose if you’re quiet and still, it is less likely to ‘interrupt’ my Domina than if you’re thrashing and wailing.  Therefore it may be difficult to bind you without interrupting Her more than necessary.”

“Oh, yes,” Esmeray agreed, sighing with relief.  “Yes, please.”

Hong stared at her shoulder blades for a moment and decided, reluctantly:  “Very well.  If you cooperate completely, I will keep my hold on you, not bind you.  But one single spot of resistance—”

“I understand.  I’ll be good Ms. Hong, I promise, I’ll be good.”  She liked that all right, smiling despite herself.

“Good.  Let’s see if you can get to your feet without your left hand.”  Hong stayed still a moment longer, emphasizing her control over the woman, then warned her girls:  “Keep a close eye on her—be ready to shackle her if we need to.”

“Yes, Qahramanah,” her girls nodded, as Hong stood, carefully, maintaining her hold as Esmeray struggled to her feet.

“Jongzhi, rest your shackles across my shoulders in case I need them.  I will walk her over to the display rails.  Please bring her jariya.”

As they started up the stairs, Hong asked:  “Are you afraid of heights?”

“No… not particularly.  Why?”

“Because some people become upset near the edge.  If that happens to you, I will have to chain you in completely, and gag you.”  As they approached it, Esmeray’s angle of view became steeper and steeper; and she was able to see devils who were closer and closer.  As soon as one of them spotted her, the volume of the devils rose again with excitement, and they surged forward like red cattle, packing tighter together than before, even as their agitation increased. 

Esmeray started breathing faster as the reality of where they were headed sank in more strongly.  But to her credit, she did not slow or even flinch.  She allowed herself to be walked to the very edge, where a series of rectangles, like half-height gates with a hinge on the left side of each connecting it to a support post, and a latch on the right side allowing it to be secured to the next post over, served as a low guard rail.

“Continue right up to the rail.  She ordered you to be displayed,” Hong explained pointedly, but not unkindly.  “I have to bind you to the rail.”

“No—”

“Look at it!”  Hong explained.  “It’s for your own safety.  But I can do your ankles only and give you the key so you’ll know you can get out.”  And then softly:  “That’s the best I can do.”

Esmeray hesitated, then nodded, a tiny nod of reluctant assent, as she stepped onto the bottom rail, pressing the tops of her thighs against the upper rail, her face set in stone as Hong knelt and secured her ankles.

Literature Section “06-86 Esmeray’s Torment; Hong’s Mercy”—more material available at TheRemainderman.com—Part 86 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—1300 words—Accompanying Images:  1732-1735—Published 2025-05-08—©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.