PREVIOUSLY: Channah, a Queen of Hell, for reasons of her own, has married two human transgender girls she is taking through the Hell of Lust on a flying chariot ride to reach their honeymoon destination. Now comes the hard part—landing. NOW:
Their minds realized, through the screaming senses of their bodies, that this chariot was going to touch back down on the ground, whether under Channah’s control, or that of merciless gravity. The faint hope and desperate prayer of survival suddenly reminded the girls they needed to prepare for that absolutely certain impact. They frantically stuffed their corks back in their bottles, set them in their slots at the front of the chariot, then braced themselves as tightly and desperately as they could, arms deep through the leather straps bolted to the chariot, bodies pressed tight against the outer edges and back of it, their free arms crossing one another’s at the wrists to clench onto the back edge of the chariot with knuckles whiter than their dresses.
From their vantage point, the horse and chariot seemed to be coming in too low over a final, monumental two-story arch separating the road from the open ground, as if the horse’s hooves would hit the top of it and he would tumble through the air, crippled, throwing their chariot forward over him. Gaining a final impression of a formation of guards waiting to their left on the sand, the girls’ faces tightened into closed-eyed, rictus-grinned masks of clenched muscle. And at least one of them might have screamed, only the speed with which events were progressing preventing their bodies from attempting something instinctive and crazy like jumping over the sides of the chariot before it hit, knowing:
There was absolutely nothing they could do except pray—
And with a breathless panic their bodies felt weightlessness for a second as Fury stopped and dropped, their momentum exactly matching Fury’s deceleration and therefore shrieking up their nerves that they were in free-fall just like their bodies had feared all along. We told you so, assholes! Before the bone-jarring reconnection with the ground at once caused an instant terror this was it, followed by the realization they were still alive and on the ground. Then just as they started to hope, they were panicked by a final jolt—the wheels running off the end of the road into the sand, they opened their eyes in alarm to see the black stone wall on the opposite side of the triangle rushing at them with too much speed.
They gasped and breathed in relief as Fury decelerated, squeezing one another’s hands again, almost in disbelief that Fury and Channah had had everything well in hand after all, and nothing bad was going to happen to them for defying the gods by attempting flight.
Domina Fang
“Oh my. Oh my.” The girls squealed and hugged tightly and happily, before a cold, unfriendly woman’s voice with a heavy accent they didn’t recognize, interrupted them, speaking Arabic:
“Come out of the chariot now. Fury is ready to be done with it.”
They turned, seeing soldiers on both sides already releasing Fury’s harness and simultaneously detaching the twin tongues of the chariot from the harness, careless of the fact that as a two-wheeled vehicle, the chariot would pitch forward and unceremoniously eject them the second it was loose. Penny didn’t begrudge the horse at all, he had just performed a miracle for the girls’ benefit. But it was oddly deflating and disappointing for yet another denizen of hell to confirm that here, Channah’s horse was of significantly more importance and regard than the two girls. And after surviving such a flight! Penny thought unreasonably. As if mundane death or injury was less likely after a miraculous and unexpected survival.
All thoughts of honoring their Queen with their ladylike dignity were pushed aside by the imperative to get out of the chariot. Penny was about to jump off the side of it, telling herself it couldn’t possibly be scary after what they’d just been through, only to notice another soldier already folded up in footstool position below her.
With a slight lack of decorum induced by haste, Penny half-scrambled, half-fell out of her side of the Chariot while Chas did the same on the other side, wincing and flinching “Sorry!” as her shoes landed on the soldier’s back with more force than she would have intended, and too much momentum to completely avoid her heels digging a bit into the poor man before she staggered down to the sand, barely stumbling to a halt as someone caught her arm, stopping her inches before bumping into them.
Raising her eyes up the detailed red leather boots and tooled red leather armor, Penny immediately registered from her shape this was a woman, and from her clothing she was wealthy and well-appointed. As her eyes continued up, she knew the woman would have been a head taller than her even if they were both barefoot. And finally, looking up into her face, she gasped in surprise to find a woman with lovely, glowing pale amber skin, exquisitely curved horns carved in bas relief, and eyes that for a split-second she registered with fright as demonic, perhaps because of what Penny sensed behind them. Those eyes looked back at Penny like a cat’s, trying to decide whether it wanted to waste its time toying with an ant, or simply ignore it. Penny shrank back involuntarily, sensing the woman’s satisfaction, before something about the woman’s face, or perhaps the patterns tooled into her leather armor, jarred an even stronger impression:
“Are you from Cathay?!” Immediately aghast, even as the woman’s brows knit further in displeasure, Penny stumbled on, curtsying as best she could, feeling particularly pathetic in the awkward semi-curtsy she was forced to make with one arm still held rigidly by the woman’s strong hand: “I’m sorry, Mistress, I’ve never met anyone from Cathay before.” Penny was a stranger in hell, but even without the benefit of having read Dante’s Inferno, she would have had no doubt at all the woman outranked her. Everything about her, from her clothing to her appearance to her attitude to her speech to her position here greeting her Queen, screamed she was of high rank. And eventually Penny got around to saying the right thing: “You’re so beautiful and exotic, Mistress. More than I could have imagined from woodcuts.”
“Human ignorance never ceases to amaze me,” she concluded, her eyes softening just a little bit at the compliment.
Literature Section “06-63 Hella Honeymoon XIX”—Part 63 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—1048 words—Accompanying Images: 1596-1598—Published 2025-04-15—©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.
