Tag: england

1637 06-72 The Master and Apprentice whisper and plan…
1638 06-72 … Their jawari can only wait and worry
1639 06-72 We have to trust our Domina and Qahramanah.  I do…
1640 06-72 It’s going to be okay, Penny… we have each other

PREVIOUSLY:  Queen Channah has decided to take an opportunity to teach Hanim Qahramanah about how to train her girls, and combine the occasion with an early start to her honeymoon.  NOW:

The Art of Control

“Let’s get these girls dressed for the dance,” Channah began.  “Knowing how careful Fang is, there should be two of everything in the box.  We should start with the blindfolds.  Can you find them?”  And when Esmeray handed her one, she continued:  “In a situation like this, with two girls trapped between us, at our mercy…” she flashed a wicked grin at Chas, as she reached up and spun him around to face Penny.  Esmeray, on the far side of Penny, followed her example.  Since the women were taller than the two girls, barefoot or in heels as they were now, they could see one another over the girls’ French Hoods, and Channah could now see Penny’s eyes over the back of Chas’s shoulders.  “And in most situations when I am playing with more than one pet,” meeting Penny’s eyes and relishing his uncertain, worried look, she continued, “I like to keep them herded close together.”

“For control?”  Esmeray asked.

“Yes!  Very good.  For control…” she snickered.  “And especially, with trans girls, because it embarrasses them.”  She used her hips to bump Chas forward until she and Penny were touching, trying in vain to keep their crotches from bumping and turning their heads slightly so they weren’t kissing. 

“It really does!”  Esmeray laughed appreciatively, watching and imitating as Channah raised the blindfold over Chas’s eyes, with the padded silk side towards her, adjusted it, and then strapped it behind Chas’s head.  “She looks afraid!”

“They both do!  Wouldn’t you be?”

“Don’t they know you well enough to trust you, Mistress?”

“Maybe.  Maybe not enough, yet.”  She met Esmeray’s eyes and winked.  “Maybe too well.”  And they both laughed.  “Seriously, girls, we’re married.  How many times have I told you, I have plans for you?  Plans to have you by my side, serving me, for a long time.  You should know by now I’m never going to hurt you… too badly.  Certainly not injure you, you know, permanently.”  She rolled her eyes and sighed.  “Both of us will even protect you from anything that’s worse than what we have planned for you, when you’re in our control.  But Esmeray and I—and every succubus and qahramanat set over you—reserve our rights to torment you and test you…. To push you, even a little bit past what you thought your limits were.”  Then, after a final adjustment to the blindfold, she turned Chas’s head and showed Esmeray her little finger under the strap at the back of Chas’s head.  “See how my pinky fits under Chas’s blindfold, here where it’s tightest?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“You might think the straps should be super-tight, but that’s not so.  And it can even damage your girl.  If you make anything too tight, your girl may not be able to mind you any more because she’s so focused on the pain from an overly-tight bond.  Or to serve you properly because she’s lost feeling or use of an extremity.  And somehow, the bonds can make the blood move unevenly through the body, making some parts too sanguine, and some too dry, injuring your girl.  A broken girl is a joy, but an injured girl means more work for you.”

She nodded approvingly, as Esmeray checked Penny’s blindfold.  “Obviously, you want to make sure everything is secure, and certainly that your jariya is not able to escape anything you choose to bind her with.  But secure is different from tight, especially with leather and metal restraints since they’re harder to stretch or fray than rope.  If these were wild boys or girls, it would be different.  But with tame girls like these, you can even ask them.”

“Ask them?!”

“Here, like this:”  And she leaned close to Chas, running her hands down the girl’s sides, raising goosebumps.  “Chas, honey doll, how does your blindfold feel?  Too loose?  Too tight?”

“Neither, Domina,” Chas answered.  “It’s well-fit.”

“And how about your eyes?  How much can you see?”

“Nothing, Domina.”

“Not even a sliver of light from around the edges?”

“No, Domina.”

Channah raised her arm, as if saying “ta da!”

“How do you know if they’re lying or not?”

“You have to know your girls.  Really pay attention to them and get to understand them.  If they’re really tame and trustworthy, they’ll tell you the truth.  If they’re a pleaser.”

“What’s a pleaser?”

“Oh dear, you are new to this.  A sub who actually wants to please you.  It doesn’t mean they can.  They may be too small, or too nice,” she pointed at Penny and Chas, bringing a smile to Esmeray’s face.  “But at least they’re minded to try.  Some of these girls will lie, but it’s usually because they’re trying to keep you happy.  When it comes to their own safety and comfort, or their own limits, they’ll over-promise what they’re ready for, and underestimate your demands.”

“So… if Penny lies about the strap, it’s because it’s too tight and is going to hurt her, not because she’s trying to escape?”  she asked, doubtfully.

“Head of the class!  Which means you have to be alert to signs your pet is overheating or shutting down, more than getting ready to bolt.  Especially if they have a relationship with you:  They want to please you, even if they’re too ashamed to admit it, even to themselves.  Also, unless they’re especially stupid hucows, they have to know their top is going to figure out whether or not they’re playing games, sooner or later.  Ultimately, the better you know your slave girl, the more accurately you can predict her, anticipate her, control her, and—when necessary—defeat her.”

“We—the succubae—have been training these two for years.  And they’re not stupid.  Can girls panic and make mistakes?  Yes.  Trans girls, especially, when they’re embarrassed by their feelings.  And when they do, you absolutely punish them, severely,” she reached around Chas with both hands, squeezing and wrenching her cage in one hand and Penny’s in the other, to demonstrate, as they each flinched and cried out.  “They’re so at our mercy, it’s easy to make them bitterly regret it every time they don’t trust you with their total truth and obedience.  As their superiors, we need to teach them—and they need to learn—to trust us completely, with every one of their most-private dreams and fantasies, and their very-deepest and most private secrets.  Every so often, you should make it a habit to pull them aside, individually, and ask them about what they’re feeling and thinking—so you know it.  “Yes, Mistress,” Esmeray answered thoughtfully. 

Literature Section “06-72 Dance of the Qahramanat VII”—Part 72 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—1092 words—Accompanying Images:  1637-1640—Published 2025-04-24—©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.

1633 06-71 The shock of memory
1634 06-71 The thin veil between reality and imagination
1635 06-71 Aging Divas still know how to entertain
1636 06-71 A kind of accompaniment for the Concertmaster

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 to reach their honeymoon destination.  At the foreboding Chang’an Castle, Penny and Chas have been told to open Duchess Fang’s wedding gifts to their Domina, Queen Channah, while the succubae and qahramanat watch.  NOW:

Operant Conditioning

“Oh—I apologize, Domina,” Hong bowed from her position kneeling on her saddle’s back.  “I didn’t—”

“No, it’s fine” Esmeray interrupted hastily, reaching out, almost as if she were fighting her own arm to get it to move.  “I’m sorry,” she murmured quietly, while Hong and the two succubae exchanged significant looks, and the girls scrambled to catch up.  “I—recognize them.  These are for… prisoners.”

“Or in this case, lovers,” Channah clarified gently.  “Not you—ever.  Only the girls.”

Esmeray met her eyes.  “The girls?”

“Only them.  Ever.  I promise.  Using them on the girls might even… help you.”

“Help me?” she frowned.  “To use it on them?”

“Yes.  You may find it… empowering.  But if you never want to use them, it’s fine.  We’ll definitely bring them with us on the honeymoon.  Fang and Hong, they are lovely.  A more fitting gift than you might even have thought.  But it is the very significance and importance of the gift that makes it more serious.”

“What—what are they, Domina?”  Penny asked.

“I know now,” Chas whispered.  “They’re not—exactly what I’ve—seen.”

Channah looked at Chas closely, stood up, approached him, and squatted down beside both girls, surprising them by feeling them.  “But you’re not bothered,” she pronounced.  “At least, not in the same way as Esmeray.  Good.”  She turned to Penny, smiling archly, still holding them both.  “They’re to restrain you girls so you’re helpless for me and I can have my way with you.”  And she gasped when Penny did.  “Good,” she nodded, causing Fang and Hong to exchange an amused glance.  She stood and returned to her seat as Esmeray slowly reached into the box again, pulling out bright red pieces.

“Eyes,” she nodded, considering one of the pieces.  “This one is for the eyes.”  She drew out another.  “And… the mouth?”

“Yes,” Hong confirmed.

Channah was peeking into the package she had opened, and met Fang’s gaze, smiling, before closing it again.  “I’m going to save that one.  Thank you, Fang.  Thank you, Hong.  Thank your benefactors, girls.”

“Thank you, Domina,” the girls chorused.  “Thank you, Hong Qahramanah.”

“You’re very welcome, girls,” Fang and her own wife touched hands.

Trying Out the Wedding Gifts

“I want to be the first to cover their eyes,” Esmeray declared.  Penny and Chas exchanged a nervous look.

“Oh, look at the girls,” Channah smiled.  “Actually…” she considered for a moment, then laughed wickedly.  “I like that idea.  It will let you, Esmeray, have your first chance to observe the girls, and I think it will set the right… mood for the honeymoon.  Let’s release Hong’s girls back to her so she can begin.”  Channah stood again, as the other women imitated her.

“Hong, the Hongettes are yours again.”

“Yes, thank you, Domina,” she curtsied, deciding not to mention or inquire about the nickname.   Instead, she purred:  “Stand and stretch yourselves, bitches.  You need to be ready for hard service again in a minute.”  The four girls, all looking even more excited than before, stretched and rose, loosening up after their service as saddles.

“Esmeray, attend closely today.  First to me, of course.  But you’ll also have plenty of opportunities to observe what to expect when we return next week, and how Hong handles her jawari.  So watch and learn.  And if we’re going to blindfold the girls…” she laughed wickedly.  “They won’t have any idea what’s required of them.  So Esmeray, you’ll have to watch this week extra carefully to learn.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Esmeray agreed.

“First lesson, Esmeray, when you’re managing the girls…” Channah commented, moving so that Chas and Penny were between them both.  “You should always be considering control.  Do you have it, how to keep it, and whether you’re in any danger of losing it.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“With two tops, or dommes, and two bottoms, or subs, in an open area like this one, with no walls or other obstacles to help you corral your subs, I often like to trap the subs between us, the way we are doing right now.”

The girls glanced around in surprise at the first thought of their position, while Esmeray asked:  “What about the edges of the hetaraslakos?  Couldn’t that be a barrier?”

“Very good,” Fang nodded approvingly.   “It’s good to think about how you can use your environment in each moment.

“I agree,” Channah nodded, “but the reason I didn’t want rely on it is because simply backing your girls against a cliff is an active threat which itself is out of your control.  Unlike a wall, which you can usually count on to stay in place and limit not only your sub’s actions, but also to limit the number of environmental factors out of your control.”

“Out of my control?” she asked.

“When we’re ready for edgeplay, literal edgeplay, we might back the girls against the edge of the platforms.”

“Please, no, Dom—” Chas began, hushing when Channah placed her finger on the girl’s lips, otherwise ignoring her.

“Hush. No one is speaking to either of you girls.  It’s adult time now.”  And looking back at Esmeray, she continued with her thought:  “But what if there’s a sudden gust of wind?  Or your girl loses her balance or panics?  Or one of the damned throws an object, either to get your attention or out of frustration?  The damned are usually pretty focused on trying to reach you, but they’re not always the best-reasoned, or therefore predictable, of creatures.  The point is, once you’re sure you have control, you can take your girls to the edge.  But you get total control of your girls first, to limit the number of variables you have to worry about at one time.”

“Yes, Mistress.  Thank you.  That is helpful.”

Behind Esmeray, Hong switched back to Chinese with her girls and they began moving with purpose to form a line before her, listening to her.

Behind Channah, Fang strolled to the band of aging jawari as they finished their piece of music, and spoke with them in rapid-fire Mandarin as they nodded and bowed to her.  Chas looked a bit sad as she watched their interactions.

“What’s the matter, honey bar?” Channah asked curiously, touching Chas’s chin. 

Her eyes flickered to Channah’s, then away again, embarrassed, and she whispered:  “I was wondering… if there was a time Fang looked upon her jawari musicians with the same tenderness she shows now… for…”. Chas forced herself to look back at her and almost linched at the expression of pity in Channah’s eyes. 

“Time is a far crueler mistress than me,” Channah acknowledged.  “I’m sorry, hucow.  But if it’s any consolation, Fang values her old jawari, too.”  She sniggered.  “Dirty old jawari have their uses.  Their desperation to please… is delicious.” 

Satisfied with the orders she had issued, Fang sat on one of the benches, as calmly and precisely as she did everything, mainly focused on Hong, but briefly meeting Chas’s eye, startling her, making her wonder if she had heard the exchange.  Fang winked so that Chas looked back at Channah, then blushed harder and looked down.  Both succubae laughed as the drummers began a new piece, pounding out a much heavier percussive beat than they had before.  Soon, they were joined by a sly and suggestive melody and harmony, and finally, two of the women—one a soprano, the other a tenor—began singing to one another and the world. 

One of the last things Penny noticed before she was blindfolded, was the way the devils and demons below changed their movements and sounds when the music changed.  They were neither singing nor dancing; indeed, they could hardly be described as rhythmic.  And yet, there was something about their movements that was affected by the music from the band; some quality about their voices and expressions that complemented what the orchestra was doing.

Literature Section “06-71 Dance of the Qahramanat VI”—Part 71 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—1317 words—Accompanying Images:  1633-1636—Published 2025-04-23—©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.

1623 06-70 RAPUNZEL was less-sheltered than you girls!
1624 06-70 Those aren’t “palaces.”  Are they?
1625 06-70 I don’t think she can get pregnant that way
1626 06-70 So cute!  I wonder what they’re for?

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 to reach their honeymoon destination.  At the foreboding Chang’an Castle, Penny and Chas have been told to open Duchess Fang’s wedding gifts to their Domina, Queen Channah, while the succubae and qahramanat watch.  NOW:

About Men, Girls, and Dogs

Chas and Penny knelt near the center of the hetaraslakos, surrounded by their four counterparts kneeling in saddle position supporting the girls’ four superiors, and began carefully removing the red paper wrappings from the packages without damaging them.

Esmeray laughed harshly.  “You are girls now,” she decided, amused and slightly contemptuous.  “A man, like a dog, would just rip the paper off to see what was inside.”  And then she laughed again.  “And so would I!”

“You’re admitting you’re a dog?” Hong asked demurely, but not kindly.

Minutes after spoiling to initiate a fight, Esmeray casually waved a hand, unphased in the slightest by an insult that in some cultures was considered quite severe.  “Like a dog.  Even being like a man is better than… this,” she added, as the girls blushed three different shades of red.

“I would do the same,” Channah admitted, causing Hong to redden in turn, as Fang glared at her.  “And I am in no way like a dog.”

“Certainly not, Domina!” Hong agreed insistently, in a strangled voice, and even Esmeray had the presence of mind to murmur her agreement, without taking her eyes off the packages.

Turning her corrective gaze on Esmeray, Channah continued:  “But you are both right, we have worked very hard to support Chas’s and Penny’s development into the demure and proper young ladies they were meant to be.  Girls, I selected Esmeray for you for many reasons, but none of those reasons were to unwind your ladylike decorum and deportment.  You are my wives and I wanted you because of who you are, including the sweet and feminine young ladies you have become.”

“Yes, thank you, Domina,” they agreed, still pink.

“I know you’ve endured worse from your… stepbrothers, who have never understood your path.  Worse, because they meant it hurtfully.  And while I understand their contempt, and Esmeray’s amusement, and even share them to some extent, I never want you to change.  Promise me you will always be my sweet young girls.”

“We promise, Domina,” they murmured, staring fixedly at the contents of their packages but making no move to remove them, their ears burning.

Finally turning her gaze on the girls, she continued:  “Esmeray has not had the opportunities and training Hong has enjoyed all her life.  And I find her inappropriate candor delightfully refreshing, at least among us ladies and girls.  Never in the Show, where all my operatives have important parts to play.”  Her face softening slightly, she glanced back at Esmeray.  “To the extent they can.  But her views on your young womanhood are not among the reasons I chose her for you.  You will of course accept her insults, because she is your Qahramanah.  Try even to enjoy them as part of your training.”

And when she paused, the girls, thus prompted, managed to choke out:  “Yes, Domina.”

“But let her be the man.  I think part of her soul is one, as much as yours are female.  Her male part is necessary for your proper training, but being men—or even boys—is not for you.”  Esmeray, managing to look slightly discomfited herself, nodded as if trying to memorize something important.  Then Channah grinned, becoming jocular again:  “So get on with it, you big girls!”  As Esmeray clapped delightedly.

The Arts of the Spring

“Classic of the White Madam, and Other Spring Palace Illustrations,” Penny read the title of the elegantly-bound book in front of her, in confusion.  “Arts of the Bedchamber,” Chas read hers, her squeaky speech suggesting considerably less confusion.

As soon as they read the titles, Channah burst out laughing as Fang and Hong tittered politely.  “You had them translated into Latin, of all languages?!”

“I understand Latin is becoming a liturgical language in the West.  It seemed more amusing—and marginally less barbaric—than English,” Fang explained.  “Also, knowing barbarians lack subtlety, I asked my corrupted Jesuit missionary to render the words so vulgar and explicit even your girls would be able to understand them.”

“You’re bad,” Channah snickered.  “Look at their faces!” she broke into peals of laughter as the girls, reaching the cover illustration inside, looked like they would crawl into the little packages and wrap themselves up in the used red paper if they could.  “I love how sweet and polite they are!  Esmeray, surely even you can see how charming they are.”

“Perhaps—in moments like these,” she conceded, also enjoying herself.  “They’re so embarrassed!”

“You’d think they were more innocent than they are!  A week ago, yes.  But in the past week…”

“These are translated from the older texts, pre-Confucian in origin.  I’m confident they haven’t tried a twentieth of what is discussed in them,” Fang replied.

“I’m sure you’re right!  Oh, these are perfect wedding gifts, Fang.  Close them up, girls.”

“For such modest girls, they’re very attentive, Domina,” Hong observed.

“They certainly are!  Good students, I should think.”  She clapped her hands sharply.  “Close them!  I don’t want you seeing anything quite yet.  We shall explore these thoroughly all week!”

Channah, Fang, Hong, and even the four Hongettes from their crouched positions, laughed at the idea, while the girls reluctantly obeyed their Domina and set the packages back in the boxes.

“We have a book like this,” Esmeray admitted.  “I have never seen it, but I have heard it mentioned.”

“One Thousand and One Nights!”  Channah nodded thoughtfully.  “Yes, I should look into getting them a copy of that, which they should be able to read in the original.  And perhaps the Indian and ancient Egyptian texts on the subject.”

“Now, girls,” Hong continued, “Rise, set the books by your Domina, and each of you take one of the remaining gifts.”  When they had, Hong, with barely a pause, said:  “Chas, kneel before your Domina with the package.  As close as you can get without crowding her.”  Hong paused, looking questioningly at Fang, who asked:

“With permission, majesty, although the last gift is for your benefit, we had it in mind parts of it might be used, and all of them at least shared, by your girls’ qahramanah.  Would you prefer to open it…?”

“Not at all!  By all means, Penny, kneel before Esmeray as Chas is kneeling before me.” 

“But—this is the largest gift of all!” Esmeray protested as Penny maneuvered it in front of her.  And then, weighing it with one hand without taking it from Penny:  “And the heaviest by far, I would guess.”

“You go first then, child, while I watch,” Channah decided.

“Then hold tight, girlie!” Esmeray cautioned, before ripping the paper with a single swipe of her fingernails, then using her hands to tear open one side of the package instead of opening the top, while the other women laughed at her raw enthusiasm and earnestness.

“Her genuineness does have a… refreshing quality, Domina,” Hong conceded politely.

She started pulling gorgeous, gold-studded, tooled purple leather straps covered with gold buckles and rings, from the box which she and the girls at first stared at in confusion, before Esmeray suddenly tightened like a watchspring, gasped in recognition, and threw them violently back in the box, looking horrified.

Literature Section “06-70 Dance of the Qahramanat V”—Part 70 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—1197 words—Accompanying Images:  1623-1626—Published 2025-04-22—©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.

1627 06-68 Domesticated bunnies don’t recognize predators
1628 06-68 Orphan bunnies deliberately imprinted on mother-predator
1629 06-68 Know your predators:
NOT the Easter Bunny
1630 06-68 Good girls mind their momma on Easter
1631 06-68 Girls pose respectfully with their Qahramanah
1632 06-68 Happy Easter!  Wait, did somebody die?

Literature Section “06-68 Easter Lessons”—Part 68 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—Accompanying Images:  1627-1632—Published 2025-04-17 to -20—©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.

1608 06-67 Hong laps up the girls’ helpless need to please her^
1609 06-67 The Hongettes crawl after their goddess^
1610 06-67 Esmeray Pissing On and Pissing Off Devils^

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.  At the foreboding Chang’an Castle, Penny and Chas are about to be introduced to their qahramanah, or jawari-trainer.  NOW:

At Fong’s description of how desperately eager her jawari were, the three women laughed together, a slight edge of contempt tinging the sounds.  “Then let’s proceed.  We’ll make introductions, open the gifts, and then celebrate.”

“Yes, Domina.”  And then, snapping down at the jawari on their knees around her:  “Up!  You’re released for now.  Get up!”

Hetaraslakos

The girls scrambled to their feet around her, thanking her formally, her own four jawari assembling behind her while Fang wrangled Chas and Penny back into the awkward half-bent positions she had forced them to assume before, and began striding toward the door on the outside edge of the little courtyard.  Hong watched with an amused, admiring smirk, nodding approvingly as if she had learned something useful.

“It’s your Castle, dear Fang.  Please, lead us on,” Channah suggested.

“Of course, Your Majesty.”  She marched the girls past the Queen, continuing to use her hands to keep them bent at awkward angles for walking, making Chas open the door to the building on the other side of the courtyard.  This revealed another wide hall running straight through to the far side of the building.  But in the middle of this building, the hall widened even further to make room around a broad stone staircase leading down, with four parallel sets of handrails seeming to beckon them further into hell.

Fang led them down, both girls seriously afraid of falling and desperately using the handrails, while the succubae and the qahramanah laughed at their anxiety and desperate efforts.  “That’s definitely something my fawning little playthings are going to learn to practice,” Hong Qahramanah promised.

After descending a story or two into the soil, there was a simple passage, adorned only with occasional torches, close enough so they were never in complete blackness, but far enough that at times, the passage and the people moving through it were silhouettes and broad outlines.  Ahead of them was a stairway back up, constructed exactly like the one they had just descended.  And as they approached it, they became conscious of a low noise, at first something like the wind or the way leaves rustled across pavement in the wind.  But as they reached the bottom of the staircase and proceeded upwards, it got louder, becoming more like whispering that quickly started to rise, clarifying itself into the sound of a thousand agitated voices, shouting and screaming the same meaningless gibberish that was not quite an actual language, as the wretches back at the satanikoklus had barked out. 

“Pay attention on these stairs!”  Fang snapped.  “Remember I’m behind you.  If you can’t stay standing, fall forward into the stairs.   If you make me lose my balance, you’ll be regretting it for centuries.” 

“I suppose I could do without them for a few hundred years so you could exact your revenge,” Channah mused unhelpfully, emphasizing the time scale succubae reasoned in.  “Are you girls feeling humbled and cooperative for meeting your new qahramanah?”

“Yes, Domina!” the girls assured her in voices strained by their efforts to stay focused on the stairs.  Fortunately for them, stumbling up was easier—or at least felt easier and safer—than coming down had been.  For some reason, the throaty, evil sound of Hong Qahramanah’s laugh behind them, a human’s, an almost-stranger’s, and that of a singularly contemptuous bitch, stung even more than the amusement of their dominae.

As constrained as they were, they could hardly see more than three or four stairs in front of them at a time.  But it felt, and was then impossible to deny, that this stairway was significantly longer than the stairway that had taken them down to the gallery.  The voices kept growing louder and more distinct as they rose, finally cresting as they emerged from the top of the stairway, finding themselves on one of the elevated octagonal stone platforms they had seen from the chariot, dominating the killing grounds outside the castle walls.  These were the hetaraslakos, which both girls, having studied Greek, had realized at some point, meant Companion’s Pit.  Or Courtesan’s Pit.  And here, the thunderous sound of the screaming voices left no doubt they were surrounded by a crowd larger than an army.  From their volume, their number might have included every single one of the thousands of milling, restless damned they had seen filling the randomly-walking walls of the crumbling town around the castle during their descent.

“I think your mad qahramanah may have gathered all the damned here already,” Fang observed.

“She’s a self-starter,” Channah agreed, as they paused at the top of the stairs, and even the girls could twist their heads well enough to see who they were talking about.

The Radioactive Witch

At the extreme edge of the platform in front of them, a headful of long, wild, lustrous black hair marked and concealed most of the top half of a woman almost as voluptuous as the succubae themselves, with a prominent ass jutting back at them from under the fringe of her hair, draped in expensive, embroidered, colorful fabric.  The toes of her black boots were literally over the edge of the platform, with her back arched and her hips thrust forward, meaning the dimensions and shape of her buttocks were even more impressive than they appeared at the moment.  She was waving a radically curved Persian shamshir, waggling her hips from side to side, and screaming insults, but whatever exact sounds she was making were drowned out by the absolute furor erupting from the crowd immediately below her, sounding like bleating sheep finding their will to resist at the last minute in the slaughterhouse. 

“What is she—” Penny choked off her question before finishing, remembering who she was being held by.

Channah seemed to think she knew—she was laughing with sheer joy; and perhaps it was the sound of that that caught the woman’s attention, because she looked back over her shoulder, making them all afraid for a second she would lose her balance, before she stepped back, shaking herself and moving her shoulder in a gesture even Penny, blushing, understood. 

While she was facing away, performing that most private of gestures with glaring publicity, Chas and Penny tried to calm their own faces from the shocking sight of hers.  Her hands, cheeks, forehead, even the bridge of her nose were marked with scars from old cuts, and brutal ones.  Something tugged at Penny’s memory, conspiring with the spiked wine to try and surface, but was dragged back underwater before Penny could quite catch sight of it.  The woman was about Hong’s age, maybe a couple of years younger, and for a second…

Literature Section “06-67 Dance of the Qahramanat II”—Part 67 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—1105 words—Accompanying Images:  1608-1610—Published 2025-04-19—©2025 The Remainderman.  This is a work of fiction, not a book of suggestions.  It’s filled with fantasies, idiots, and criminals. Don’t believe them or imitate them.

1605 06-66 Hong ❤️ Fang colon A real and mannered love^
1606 06-66 Penny and Chas anxious to please superior woman^
1607 06-66 Lesser girls instinctively know they belong at the Uberfrau’s feet^

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.  At the foreboding Chang’an Castle, their Dominae confront Penny and Chas with four young women whose beauty challenges their own… and then with every girl’s worst nightmare:  the mean girl who has it all, over them all.  NOW:

One Alpha Bitch to Rule Them All

The young lady standing with utter confidence in the courtyard, looking idly around it as if bored and waiting for something interesting to happen, was achingly beautiful. 

So striking, so self-assured, so symmetrical, and so gorgeous, she made the four beauties who had preceded her look like plain wallflowers, and made Penny and Chas feel the same way.  She positively glowed with health, and apparently she felt dominant enough to pause a beat before even acknowledging the two succubae.

Like every other woman in the courtyard and harem—every other human woman—Penny and Chas knew. 

Instantly, deeply, before their conscious minds had had time to process it, their subconscious and their bodies knew. 

That she was The One.

The Queen Bee.

The alpha female.

And, of course, she knew it, too.  How could she not?

Her poise was absolute.

Even the ruthlessly-drilled, relentlessly-trained guards couldn’t keep their eyes front.  Inevitably, their gaze were drawn to her, and they could only hope their ruler and their liege lady didn’t notice.

But obviously, they did.  They noticed all the affected humans around them, and chortled deep in their throats, too entertained by what they were watching to have any interest in bringing it to a premature end.

“I can hardly wait,” Channah murmured mysteriously in anticipation.

“Your girls went to water the moment she appeared,” Fang reported gleefully, knowing she was embarrassing them, and enjoying it.  Fang momentarily dropped her hands to the girls’ buttocks, gripping them and pressing her middle fingers hard to emphasize her dominance before returning them to their position of control on the girls’ necks and hair.

As the überbitch tossed her hair, turned toward, and approached them, Channah agreed proudly:  “They’re most responsive,” before admitting seriously:  “You are amazing, Fang.  It’s another reason I want them to spend time with you.  So she can spend time with you.  Teach her.”

Fang turned her head to meet Channah’s eyes and opined seriously:  “That girl is not simply a ‘wild’ horse.  She is a crazy horse.  She cannot be trained.  Only used, and taught what she wants to learn.  But of course, Your Majesty, I will do what I can.”

“She does respond well to… challenges.”

Fang smiled.  “Which brings us back to… I can hardly wait.”

The young woman curtsied, deeply and precisely, as her four attendants dropped to their knees behind her and lowered their heads to the stone, holding their gifts out before them without allowing them to touch the ground.   Her attendants were about the same age as Chas and Penny; their superior—clearly, in every way—perhaps five or ten years older.

“Dominae,” the young woman greeted them, startling the girls, who had only been taught to use the greeting as Channah’s wives to her, and those she appointed in her stead.

As if to clarify things, Fang bent forward slightly, murmuring “My hearth,” as the woman stepped forward and kissed her on the lips, the two lingering to touch tongues.

Stepping back and sparing a first glance for Penny and Chas, the same look you would give a pair of ants interfering with a picnic by crawling across your blanket, the girl shook her head slightly in disbelief.  “I don’t have to train these two, do I, Domina?”

Fang laughed appreciatively.  “No, dear one.  We’re going to introduce them to their qahramanah.  The one you are to coach.  She is waiting for us in one of the heteraslakos.”  Pulling the girls’ heads in tight to her shoulders to alert them she was speaking to them, Fang clarified:  “But like all jawari, you girls are to address all qahramanat properly and respectfully on the rare occasions you are allowed to meet them, by dropping to your knees and kissing their boots, holding the position until they instruct you how they want you to behave.  It is an element of your training.  You will find it makes you more respectful toward all of your superiors.”  And with that, she let go of them. 

After a second’s hesitant uncertainty, with the glance they shared so often before acting, both girls dropped to their knees and planted their lips on the toes of each of her perfect boots.  With their world reduced to her boots and the stone she was standing on, they noticed a gold anklet around her left boot with four pendants hanging from it, each one a delicate crystal hexagonal prism set in gold.  “You are always to greet her as Hong Qahrahmanah, and your own qahramanah as Hanim Qahramanah.  In front of others, you may never use abbreviations, never skip the honorific.  Your relationship with your qahramanah is all about protocol, protocol, protocol.  Do you understand, girls?”

“Yes, Domina,” they murmured, trying to speak without lifting their lips from the perfectly-polished, highly-reflective surfaces of the cherry red boots.  And then:  “We are pleased to meet you, Hong Qahramanah.”

Hong ignored them, speaking to Fang instead:  “I myself have never had the honor of meeting another qahrahmanah before.”  She didn’t sound like she considered the prospect an honor.  She sounded like she considered the idea as boring as the idea of training Penny and Chas.

“This one is special,” Channah interrupted.  “Unlike you and the other four, training girls is not her… natural inclination.”

Fang snorted, apparently finding something about that amusing.

“But she has special skills necessary to train my little housegifts.” Changing the pitch of her voice, she addressed the girls:  “You girls are honored to be among the first generation of jawari to be favored with the benefit of a qahramanah to train you.  Yours is only the sixth to be appointed.  Hong was the first.  And her little jawari—what are they called?”

“I made them take new names to remind them, and everyone they know, that they are mine now,” Hong reported, as casually as one might mention finding a misplaced spoon.  Although the girls could not see anything other than her boots, vague movements reflected in them, and the black stone floor, they could sense as she twisted a bit, gesturing back over her shoulder:  “Honghua, Hongjiao, Hongzhi, and Hongan.  Show respect, bitches.”

And immediately the four girls swarmed forward and began pressing their lips to her boots, so she was now surrounded by a ring of six subservient jawari.  The excitement and enthusiasm of her four girls were palpable and intense.  Either they were eagerly looking forward to something special, or they were simply the highest, happiest people in hell.

Channah and Fang congratulated her on their responsiveness.  Laughingly, Channah asked:  “You made them add ‘Hong’ to their names?”

“No, their old names were stupid and didn’t go with mine so I just gave them new ones.”

“Eminently practical,” Channah complemented her, and snickered.  “Are they ready?”

“Of course, Domina!  They are predictably—pathetically—eager.  Desperate, as men are.”

Literature Section “06-66 Dance of the Qahramanat I”—Part 66 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—1143 words—Accompanying Images:  1605-1607—Published 2025-04-18—©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.

1602 06-65 Fang effortlessly bitch-walking the girls^
1603 06-65 Four Beauties to rival Chas and Penny^
1604 06-65 The Queen Bee Alpha Female Überfrau^

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.  At the foreboding Chang’an Castle, Penny and Chas are trapped, held by their Domina Channah while the mysterious and powerful Duchess Fang tests their compliance with her thumbs in the girls’ mouths, her long nails tickling the backs of their throats.  NOW:

“Mmm… your big pink dolphins make nice and compliant pond fish.  Your eager surprise visitor will be very pleased with their gentle dispositions.”  Fang spoke carefully, almost going out of her way to concentrate on Penny’s conflicted eyes as the faintest expression of satisfied pleasure, almost hidden successfully, flashed across her face.

Channah, who always seemed to know everything, gratifyingly stiffened a bit in surprise behind the girls.  “Visitor?  Who?”

As soon as the glint of amusement was gone from her face, Fang looked up at Channah, keeping her hands where they were.   “Your other wild horse.  I mean beside that one.”  She nodded her head toward Fury, who gave a snort of satisfaction.  “Not domesticated and neutered like these two.”  Her mouth twisted in a cruel smile, enjoying humiliating them in passing.  “Apparently, she was eager to observe their first dance.”

Channah, back to her usual self, snorted with satisfaction.  “Then I’m glad she missed it.  These two are so fun to play with, I couldn’t wait until we reached our paradise.  I gave the girls a little taste of what’s expected of them at your satanikoklus.”

“And how did they handle it, Your Majesty?”

“Like they were practically born to it.  Of course, Penny’s the shy one, but they were both most enthusiastic.”  The girls blushed at this description.

Fang smiled down at them, not entirely nicely, pulling her thumbs outward in their mouths, her sharp nails like fishhooks pulling up and out, distending their cheeks, as she laughed deep in her throat, eventually popping her thumbs out and lightly slapping each girl’s cheek.

“And do they know what pleases you, Your Majesty?  Although I gather from Penny’s sharp intake of breath, that she has some idea?”

“She knows exactly what I want,” Channah replied, both of them pleased at the way Penny squirmed.

“Then I suppose the only question is whether she loves you enough to give it to you,” Fang mused, looking contemplatively, almost judgmentally, at Penny’s burning, blushing face.

“That is about the size of it,” Channah sniggered.

Without letting go of Penny’s chin, or allowing her to break eye contact, Fang lowered her other hand to rest on Chas’s crotch, and then squeeze it.  Chas shuddered and cried out with surprise, but not resistance.

“It doesn’t feel like you’re asking very much.”

“I’m really not,” Channah chortled, seeming to have a lot more fun with this exchange than the reserved Fang.  “Might we impose on you, Fang dear, by continuing this conversation at your hetaraslakos?”

“Of course.  Your company there is always welcome.  Also, if I may, I had wedding gifts prepared for your girls.  Perhaps it would please you if I shared them now?”

“Really?”  A saucy glint immediately appeared in Channah’s eye, and she spoke for all three of them when she said:  “By all means, my curiosity is not the only thing you’re arousing.  We would like to see!”

Fang looked at the girls, as serene as always, deadpanning:  “I’d pull you by your little leads, but you’re far too short.  I’d have to walk with my knees bent.”  So she took each girl by her hair and the scruff of her neck, making them bend forward a little bit, and bitch-walked them towards the nearest door.  “As you know, Your Majesty, we actually have three hetaraslakos, one on each side.  But today, I would guess the best to try would be one of those you flew nearest, because they may have attracted a larger share of the damned.”

The girls remained carefully silent but shared what they would have liked to have been a furtive glance between themselves.

“You didn’t know?” Fang asked for the second time since they had met.  “You didn’t recognize any friends or relatives?”

“Fang… you’re naughty,” Channah teased.  “It’s no fun when you give everything away.  Yes, girls, the red devils and demons are the damned.  Or,” she reflected thoughtfully, “What we call the damned.  Since I suppose, technically, you could say everyone here, other than the quite rare sill-living visitors such as yourself, is damned.  But we use the term to mean them, the most-miserable and least-capable residents of hell.” 

Penny opened her mouth to ask about it, then visibly craned her neck toward the Countess, as much as her hand would allow, and fell silent.

Fang nodded.  “A wise girl does not keep buying before she learns the price.”

As the women walked, they switched to another language neither girl understood, or indeed had ever heard before.  They were busy enough without listening:  At the uncomfortable angle Fang was holding them, it took all their effort and attention just to crane their necks enough, and raise their eyes enough, so they could see where they were going well enough to avoid falling flat on their faces.  Although the inflections and tones of the language the women spoke were strange, neither one felt like their conversation was directed at the girls.  Instead, Penny’s best guess was, Channah was asking questions about Chang’an, or perhaps all of Hell in her absence, and Fang was answering them.

In the middle of the large and elegant building nearest the central triangle where they had landed, there was a small, parallelogram-shaped courtyard.  What appeared to be fashion workshops were visible through the windows on the right, facing a large, ornate, heavily-barred door to their left flanked by two impassive soldiers who came to rigid attention with eyes front the instant they detected Fang’s group approaching.  Immediately above the doorway were two balconies on the second and third floors, with a handful of beautiful women chatting and looking out from them over what seemed like a perfectly dismal little courtyard to Penny.  Putting herself in their place, and considering by comparison how much she missed the cool breezes and rich green-and-brown colors of Earth, she could only imagine how sterile and unpleasant life must be here to make standing on one of those porches, in this place, attractive.  It’s not like there were cool breezes on the balcony, after all; only the ever-spraying sand.

The beautiful girls immediately summoned an older woman, who nodded and bowed repeatedly as Fang spoke with her, before disappearing from sight.  The two guards, hearing the exchange, used a heavy key to unlock the gates and swing them open, confirming what had been obvious when they were still closed:  namely, that a pair of heavy wooden doors painted yellow, were immediately behind the gate.

Channah and Fang continued to wait, speaking animatedly, the Duchess continuing to use the girls as armrests, until the yellow doors were pulled open by four girls so absolutely beautiful, they immediately made Chas and Penny feel self-conscious.  Each girl carried a box wrapped in delicate red paper.  Rather than emerging, they stayed with the doors, two of them holding each one of them open, and all of them curtsying as they faced one another. 

After a momentary, but nonetheless dramatic, pause, a fifth girl strolled out of what seemed to be a harem.

And she reset the bar.

Literature Section “06-65 Hella Honeymoon XXI”—Part 65 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—1077 words—Accompanying Images:  1602-1604—Published 2025-04-17—©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.

1599 06-64 Fang bends and twists the helpless girls to her will^
1600 06-64 The girls show respect to their new Domina^
1601 06-64 Fang forces the girls to take her thumbs^

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.  Landing at the foreboding Chang’an Castle, Penny stumbles and is caught by the mysterious and powerful Duchess Fang.  NOW:

The tall, powerful, high-ranking woman didn’t move her arm an inch, or tell Penny to rise, and somehow Penny knew she wanted her to stay in her awkward and clearly-dependent half-curtsying position to emphasize her weakness.  With her other hand, the woman ran her fingers through Penny’s reddish-brown hair, frowning.  “Red.  You must be the one called ‘Pen-ants.’”

“Yes, Mistress,” she began, not about to correct her, and amazed anyone would have considered her important enough to mention.  “I’m honored—”

“Yes, you are.”  And then, with a glint of a genuine if predatory smile, she let go of Penny’s arm, asking in surprise:  “Nothing’s been explained to you, has it?”

Penny stumbled back and recovered her balance, opening her mouth but relieved enough when Channah strode up, saving her the need to speak by interjecting.

“Of course not!  She’s practically a child!  Get over here, Chas!” she called, as she and the woman embraced one another with a confusing, stressful combination of intimacy, warmth, and tension.  “And I don’t mind you having a bit of fun and another avenue for… working things out.”

Penny, of course, had no idea what they were talking about, but thought it a near-certainty it portended nothing good, trying her best to remain submissive and pleasant, instead of bursting out with the hundred questions she had—about what they were saying, about this remarkable succubus, and about anything and everything she had experienced since walking through the portal.  The reptilian smile shared by the two succubae didn’t give her any greater comfort.

“Your Majesty,” the woman, in her turn, bowed shallowly but quite formally.  “You honor me.”  Whether she meant with her visit, or… whatever had just passed between them, Penny was uncertain.

“My dear Fang, may I present my two new Princess-Courtesans, Chastity and Penance Batonnoir.”

Both girls curtsied again, formally and deeply, bowing their heads.  “Mistress,” they chorused.

“I look forward to… having you both,” the woman said, her imperfectly-concealed expression of distaste casting doubt upon her polite words.  Words chosen as carefully as she always spoke, making it seem her ambiguous wording was deliberate, as Channah laughed:

“I’m sure.  Girls, this is Duchess Fang of Chang’an, my oldest and most-powerful vassal in China.  What you call Cathay.”

“China?”  Penny asked, as she was wont to do. 

Channah smirked, stroking Penny’s hair possessively.  “Penny’s just full of questions.  I’m sure you’ll enjoy helping her learn how—and when—to ask them properly.”  Then she stage-whispered in Penny’s ear:  “You’d better behave around this one.  She’s known as a very effective trainer.”

“I’m sure I will,” Countess Fang agreed, looking at Penny as if she were sizing the poor girl up to see how many wolves she could feed.

“What outsiders call ‘China’ considers itself, with some justification, the center of the human world, with a vast population and more-developed technology and culture than many other human domains.  ‘Cathay’ is a term for the open steppe country North of China, origin of the Mongols who not too long ago nearly conquered all of Asia and Europe.  You see, Penny, when you ask me a question, I will answer it.  And then, I will make you do something for me.  Remember this favor when you return.  I certainly will.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Penny swallowed and shrank back against Channah without intending to, stifling her urge to ask what Chinese people called China.

“I’m appointing Fang as one of your Dominae,” Channah advised them.  “Whenever you visit here without me, she will be in charge of you, and of course you are to obey her as you would obey me.”

“Yes, Domina,” the girls agreed nervously.  “A pleasure to meet you, Domina,” they curtsied again to Fang.

Pleasing Channah

Penny took extra, nervous care to curtsy as low as she could and to hold her pose as long as she could without disrupting the pace of events.  And something in Fang’s eyes took notice, not displeased with her courtesy…. or perhaps her fear.  “Duchess Fang has consented to help with your training in the arts of pillowing and love.”

The girls gasped, both reflexively making eye contact with their new trainer, who seemed more curious about, than pleased or displeased by, their surprise and embarrassment, or by Channah’s announcement.

“And while I know you’re going to love the next week with me, I thought it would be a perfect start to our honeymoon for her to help you get in the right mindset for it by helping you remember and focus on what’s most important about it.”

“Which is?” the Duchess prompted them.

“Pleasing Domina?” Penny whispered.

Fang put her hand under Penny’s chin, forcing it up with her fingers and running her thumb aggressively around Penny’s lips.  Despite herself, shocked little Penny might instinctively have tried to pull away if she hadn’t already been backed against Channah with nowhere to go.  Continuing to regard Penny predatorily, even as she put her other hand on top of Chas’s head possessively, she commented:  “There might be some hope for you yet, big-open-inviting-mouth princess.”

Penny snapped her lips closed, only to find herself sucking on Fang’s thumb.  Rather than withdrawing it, Fang quite deliberately pushed it further in.  “A thumbsucker.  I’ve seen babies and toddlers do that in China, but never adults.  Are you an infant?”

“More of a natural-born toe-sucker once you get to know her,” Channah smirked, then clapped approvingly:  “Look at the poor darling’s face!  She feels violated and embarrassed.”

“But too polite and intimidated to spit me out,” Fang observed, working her thumb back and forth in Penny’s mouth while the two succubae laughed.  Looking at Chas, she said, simply, “Open!” and pushed her other thumb into Chas’s mouth.  “Close!”  and Chas snapped her lips shut around her other thumb.  She was now held in the same awkward fashion as Penny, and subjected to the same suggestive motions.  “Your two pink dolphins are easy to catch.  I don’t think they have much future in the wild.”

“Hothouse flowers,” Channah admitted, putting her arms around both girls while Fang, licking her lips, stepped closer, so her legs were pressing into their crotches and their heads were forced slightly back against Channah’s shoulders, and Fang, with a mildly curious expression, pushed her thumbs as far as she could into the girls’ mouths, liking it when their eyes watered and they struggled not to choke at the tickling of her long nails on the backs of their throats.

Literature Section “06-64 Hella Honeymoon XX”—Part 64 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—1081 words—Accompanying Images:  1599-1601—Published 2025-04-16—©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.

1596 06-63 The powerful, mysterious Duchess Fang^
1597 06-63 Duchess Fang catches Penny^
1598 06-63 Handsome Incubus Prince saves sweet sissy^

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.

1593 06-61 Imagining the worst^
1594 06-62 A red fire shooting across the sky of hell^
1595 06-62 Ready or not, coming in hot^

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 to reach their honeymoon destination.  But before they get there, she’s taking them on a memorable hellride.  NOW:

As their destination grew closer and more real, sensation—and then immediately panic—rose back in them from oblivion to preeminence.  Their eyes could see, and their bodies feel, that the movement each sensed corresponded to one another again.  And those senses immediately started clamoring that they were hundreds of feet above the ground, with nothing under them to hold them up, and indeed that they were descending toward it.  Hurtling toward it!  Their bodies remembered what they may never have consciously realized in the limited world of short distances they had spent their lives living in:  That when unsupported things fall, they accelerate, with potentially-gruesome consequences.  Their senses started screaming at them to do something, anything, to stop their fall.  When their minds knew full well, they could do nothing.  Nothing but hold onto one another and trust in their bold Domina’s confidence.

Hard Stop in Chang’an

Below them, the city—for that was what it was, many times larger than the village of walls around the satanikoklus—unfolded, with large straight whitish stone main avenues and narrower red trails snaking between them around a confusing welter of incomplete wall fragments at angles to one another.  There would be three walls with a fourth missing; wide gaps instead of narrow doors in curtain walls; softer dark-gray pumice blocks piled on top of more solid white granite; and a complete absence of floors to insulate any of the occupants from the searing heat of the naked sand. 

The humidity rose, reminding them how fortunate they had been without it, and they began to feel the strikes of tiny grains of driven sand again, making their bodies long for the remembered peace of the upper atmosphere.

Their destination within the city seemed plain enough:  A single huge building, a castle, solid black—a rock-solid black granite, not the cheap gray pumice used elsewhere to fill out and replace stronger stones—right where the three roads met, with a wide strip of cleared space—a killing ground—separating its outer walls from the densely-packed jigsaw jumble of lesser structures surrounding it.  The only structure in each of the three killing fields was a single solid hexagonal structure in the very center of it.  The castle’s position, in contrast to the satanikoklus, was to no degree arbitrary.  It was exactly where the three roads met—their focal point, in fact.

The castle’s basic design was triangular, with the arriving roads connecting to the three angles where the walls met.  The outer walls—and even more, the monumental gateways at each corner—were massive, beyond massive, and several stories tall.  Within them were smaller walls, structural rather than defensive, and something they had not seen since coming to hell:  solid four-walled structures with proper terrace roofs and doors closing doorways.  At each corner, an actual metal gate served to exclude outsiders from the castle itself.  And immediately behind each gate a series of triangular bunkers provided a warren of passageways barely wide enough for a chariot to pass, between the bunkers and under arches riddled with murder holes.

Cannon and soldiers dotted the tops of the walls, illuminated, like the castle itself, by an intense cluster of the flares scattered at much lower density throughout the landscape.  This confirmed some shred of reason in the madness of this place, that the otherwise-unremarkable site had been specifically chosen for the castle, and thus the city, for an actual reason:  because of the concentration of naphtha seeps coming from the land here.

Inside the castle there were soldiers and servants, human in appearance like the one who had served them back at the satanikoklus.  Outside, prevented from entering by either by magic or the heavy gates, was a seething ocean of the crimson, almost tomato-colored red demons and devils.

“Why do you think they’re that color?”  Chas said, having to speak loudly over the wind flowing past them, but nothing like the clamor of the creatures at ground level. 

Penny frowned in thought, then made a face.  “No.  Oh dear.  It’s like… maybe it is, scar tissue?  Or—”

“Or even, open wounds,” Chas suggested with a similarly appalled face, imagining she was finishing Penny’s sentence.

But Penny clarified:  “Or the most intimate flesh.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well—the lips.  The inside of the mouth.  The nipples and—”

“The rawest parts,” Chas finished.

“The most vulnerable,” Penny agreed.

“It’s like they’ve been skinned…” Chas swallowed.

“But no.  They can’t be,” Penny shook her head, perhaps trying to persuade both of them with the power of insistence.  “Devils are just red.”

But even that gory thought was not enough to keep their attention, not with as much of Channah’s hell-brewed spiked wine as they’d had, and even more, the constant barrage of fantastic and previously-unimagined sights bombarding their senses from every direction.  Even the maddening sand wouldn’t discourage them from trying to take in as much as they could.  Some few hundred yards from the castle, one of the red creatures had caught sight of them and its excitement, almost desire, spread like a wildfire from its origin to envelop the entire crowd in the same kind of frenzied, mad efforts to reach the chariot that had characterized their departure.

The chariot passed close over the three-story castle walls, close enough to make out faces watching them with enough wide-eyed interest to indicate flying horses and chariots were rare as eclipses even in hell.

The closer they got to the ground, the faster they seemed to be moving, vertically and horizontally, a kind of optical illusion that insisted to the senses they were accelerating (read: falling) in an uncontrolled descent, and thus to their deaths or at least grievous bodily harm.  It was a jangling alarm that sounded and reverberated through every nerve and sinew of their bodies, clang-a-langing like demanding children banging spoons on pots.

The three roads seemed to traverse the castle, passing through numerous gates and under several building as they did so, meeting in the center of an open triangle of red sand interrupted only by three seeps, the whole clearing perhaps 10 or 12 times the length from Fury’s nose to the stern of the chariot.  They were approaching it directly over the road to the satanikoklus, descending between three-story buildings lining either side of the road that seemed breathtakingly close at the speed they were rushing past them, with nothing solid to hold them up or in line.

Literature Section “06-62 Hella Honeymoon XVIII”—Part 62 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—Abridged 1079 words—Accompanying Images:  1593-1595—Published 2025-04-14—©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.