feet – The Remainderman (Frank Speech)

Stories

07-32 Spicy Hot Dangerous Eating in Mesoamerica

2025-08-112025-08-11 admin

*2152 07-32 You wanna play with fire? Then come play with me…*

Additional image containing cannibalistic themes at 07-32X Spicy Hot Dangerous Eating in Mesoamerica at Patreon.com/TheRemainderman

PREVIOUSLY: Channah, Chastity, and Penance are honeymooning at Channah’s secret tropical paradise. After a round of rough angry sex leaving her girls feeling compliant and adoring, and sending the girls to do chores while she worked, her girls have prepared dinner. NOW:

Channah took her girls, Chastity and Penance, by their hands and led them to the dining room. “Oh, that’s lovely!” she beamed, leading them to her seat at the head of the table, facing the garden, and then pausing expectantly. The girls dropped her hands and pulled her chair back from the table for her, then once she had sat, pushed her back in.

Penny laid her napkin in her nap, apologizing: “I’m sorry, Domina, we hope you are pleased with the food. We didn’t—we aren’t even sure what most of this is!” while Chastity poured her wine, looking surprised and concerned when she caught the smell from the bottle.

Channah laughed: “It’s not really ‘wine,’ is it?” she teased. “Because they don’t have grapes here—yet—it’s made from cacti!” Then she waved a hand dismissively. “That’s right, you don’t even know what those are. A plant that needs so little water it can grow in the desert! This is the most-exotic drink I’ve ever tasted, anywhere in the world, blended with chocolate, honey, and chili pepper. Hmm…” she mused happily. “Thank you, girls, you’re caring for me so well. Part of me would love to have you remain as my servants while I eat, and part of me would like you both to kneel under the table where you belong, but the truth is, I want to see your pretty faces and enjoy your pleasant company this evening. And picnic food is perfect for that. So please,” she captured a hand from each of them and squeezed it, “For tonight, sit on either side of me here.”

“Thank you, Domina,” Chastity answered, followed by Penny, as they sat.

“And the food looks wonderful! There are plenty of European ingredients for you girls to cook with later in the week, but to welcome you to this new world, I asked cook to prepare a feast of Aztec food. Things most Europeans still haven’t even heard of. It looks like the meats are… turkey and duck—maybe some iguana? The vegetables are squash, and the soup and bread are maize—corn—a very tasty grain of the new world. And all of it flavored with chili peppers. If I were you girls, I’d make sure to have a glass of water handy before eating anything!” While the girls scrambled to set out three more glasses and to fill them weith water, Channah picked up the ‘wine’ bottle from the table and poured both girls wine, giggling as she filled their cups nearly to the brim. “I know both of you—but especially Penny—are shy about spirits and I don’t want you two falling behind. Because this is going to knock you out!” Raising her glass, she asked: “What shall we toast to?”

“To you, of course, Domina!” Penny blurted immediately. “Our beloved Mistress!”

“To our Domina!” Chas echoed.

“Oh, thank you, my loves,” she did her best—which was not very convincing—to blush modestly as she sipped from her glass, but looked honestly pleased and touched. “Fortunately, in Hell, sovereigns may toast themselves without fear of hubris, so we can drink to me together! You girls had better drink deep to honor your Domina!”

And they did, Channah giggling as Chas bolted her entire glass in one go—regretting it immediately and entertaining her companions with her gasping, choking, turning red, sweating, and the way her very eyes seemed to bulge out of her head as if pushed from behind by steam from the heat generated in Chas’s throat by the drink. “Thank you, Chas, for your demonstration of such enthusiasm and commitment!” Channah complimented her, even as she refilled her glass. “And don’t you dare tell Penny I ever said this, but—” she faked a whisper “—maybe you should drink the next glass a little more slowly. Follow my example, and you can never go wrong.” Looking askance at Penny, who was frowning with concentration and licking her lips, processing what she had tasted and about to set her glass down after a single sip, before realizing both of her companions were watching her expectantly. “Now Penny dear,” Channah growled. “If you aren’t choking at all, it can only be because you weren’t bold enough!” Looking like a trapped fox, Penny drank several swallows in succession, waiting in vain after each successive sip for Channah to stop staring her down, until Penny finally began choking and sputtering, blushing as they teased her for her lack of adventurousness.

“Now, do your best to keep up, Penny, or I’ll put you on your back under my foot with my toes in your mouth and start pouring wine down my leg to watch you sputter like Chas,” she threatened, teasing until she caught Penny’s involuntary pant, dilated pupils, and pink cheeks, and roared at her embarrassed arousal. “You filthy girl, you would like that, wouldn’t you? Fortunately, there’s plenty of time for that later! I want—I demand!—intelligent dinner conversation! Penny, you’re a smart girl. Start us off! And no sex talk! You must drink every time you ask a question and twice every time Chas or I ask one!”

“Tell us what you know of the Aztecs!” Penny gushed.

“Oh, you’re curious about the Indians of the Americas, are you? Drink!” she commanded, pausing until Penny did, although she looked more thoughtful than attentive, before beginning, her eyes narrowing watchfully, staying focused on Penny’s: “Years ago, one of my vassals, a useful but irritatingly sentimental fantasist, brought me a number of unpublished manuscripts from a secret Venetian library.”

“Venice!” Penny reacted.

“Yes, that’s where we found you, wasn’t it?” she teased, pretending surprise. “Who would have expected to find such a useful little English girl—” she paused, thought, and shrugged deciding the word fit well enough— “there, of all places? It was written by a Florentine bureaucrat on the secrets of wielding political power. Most astute. The Aztecs could have benefitted from access to it. I suspect Cortes did. Did you know, this vast land of millions,” here she gestured vaguely towards her garden, and the great valley beyond, “probably larger than all of Spain itself, was conquered by a few thousand Spanish adventurers—hardly even a proper army—with a motley assortment of modern weapons? Their weapons helped.” She shrugged. “And the pox helped them even more.”

“The pox?” Penny asked, looking shocked.

“Oh, yes. I’m not surprised the stories coming back to Europe omit that; not nearly as dramatic as warfare and politics. You know of the Black Death, from the time of Edward III?” Both her girls shuddered immediately. “Something very like that is going on here, all around us, right now.” And even as she saw the fear leap to their eyes, she raised her hands placatingly. “Don’t worry—you’re not at risk.”

“How can that–?” Penny began.

“Because you’re—the Europeans—the source of the infection. Just as the Black Death was brought from Asia to Europe, the Spaniards and Portuguese have brought the pox—and measles, influenza, mumps, typhus, and whooping cough, everything you grew up surrounded by—to the New World. In some ways, it was—and still largely remains—a paradise, lightly-touched by human hands. Make no mistake, it has dangers of its own. Not up here, in this heaven on Earth—the air is fresh, and free of miasmas, which is why Cortes built his capital here—safe as houses, one of the reasons my own palace is here. But there is danger in the hot, wet jungles and swamps along the coasts. So much so, the Spaniards have begun importing African slaves and forcing them to work in the lowlands. Because their own countrymen consider the New World so dangerous, only the most-desperate, most-ambitious, and most-rapacious will come here.”

“But even their plagues were not Cortes’s greatest weapons in conquering the Aztecs. They were—and are—the American Indians themselves,” she confided, gratified by the girls’ surprised expressions. “Yes. This was—and much of it still is—a land of city-states.”

“Like ancient Greece?” Penny asked in surprise.

“Quite! For almost a hundred years, it has been dominated by the Aztec Triple Alliance—more correctly called the Tenochca Empire—led by the city-states of Tenochtitlan, Tetzcoco, and Tlacopan. Although they controlled more land than anyone else—by far—they never completely eliminated their rival city-states. Perhaps they simply couldn’t manage it, but at least partly, it was because they understood war differently from Europeans. Europeans fight wars to become wealthier, or more powerful, or for vengeance. The Aztec and their neighbors fought for all those reasons, but another reason besides: The Aztecs’ adoption of Huītzilōpōchtli, a terrible god of war, the Sun, and sacrifice, as their patron deity. About a hundred years ago, following a great famine, Huītzilōpōchtli revealed to their priests that the famine was a punishment because the Aztecs had failed him; and that to redeem themselves, he required the Aztecs to appease him with human sacrifices.”

“So it’s true…” Penny murmured.

“From that time, their Empire thrived on the backs of human sacrifices. Sometimes dozens, sometimes even hundreds, a day are slaughtered. At the consecration of a new temple, it may even be thousands, killed in their temples, at the tops of their pyramids. The exact manner of the sacrifice depends on the god to which the sacrifice is made, and the purpose of that sacrifice.” Breathing faster, her pupils dilating, Channah continued: “For Huitzilopochtli, for instance, the god of sun and sacrifice, the sacrifice is ritually dressed and decorated, then dragged to the top of the pyramid where their hearts, still beating, will be ripped from their chest and placed in a cuauhxicalli, or “eagle gourd bowl.” The priest will then toss the heartless body down the stairs on either side of the pyramid like so many scraps discarded from a dinner table. Sometimes, to accommodate the number of sacrifices required, four sets of priests will work at once, on each side of the pyramids, sacrificing and throwing bodies down the four flights of stairs as quickly as possible. At the bottom, the bodies land on a platform called an apetlatl, where they might be cremated. But more often, they are returned to the warriors who took the sacrifice captive in the first place, who can either strengthen himself by eating the sacrifice’s flesh, or chop up the body and share it with others to increase his social standing. They would save the skulls for display on huge skull-rack displays called tzompantlis.” She emphasized her point by tossing a half-eaten turkey leg onto the floor as she chewed, licked her lips, and smiled wolfishly, noticing how shocked her girls looked. “My little sweethearts. You can’t even imagine the carnage, can you? The priests and the audience become so excited by it, they stab and cut and bleed themselves to add their own, smaller sacrifices to the gods.” Her voice sounded reverent, before she shuddered and came back to herself, snorting. “A few of them fuck. But the Aztec focus is much more on the literal kind of self-abuse. As limp as my own little girls.”

Noticing Penny glancing, bothered, at the turkey leg on her well-maintained floor, she snickered: “That’s right, Penny dear. It doesn’t belong there, does it? Why don’t you be a good girl and go fetch it?” And when Penny looked at her uncertainly, she barked: “Fetch!” Laughing as she scrambled out of her chair, she added: “On your knees. And bring it to me in your mouth. No hands, except for crawling.” She watched, her breath coming faster, as Penny hesitantly dropped to her hands and knees, crawling to the bone and—with difficulty—getting a solid grip on it with her mouth. Channah pretended not to notice her fastidious girl wiping the floor with a moist napkin before crawling back toward Channah, who was pointing at the ground immediately beside her right foot. Penny sat back on her haunches, looking up at Channah with an endearing, desperate-to-please expression that made Channah wet. Staring back at her with blazing eyes, Channah held her eyes for several seconds before taking the bone back and whispering loudly: “You’re going to drink from under my foot tonight. But not yet.” She clapped, breaking the spell and gesturing to Penny’s place. “Back in your seat for now.”

“In real wars, like Europeans, the Mexica—that is, the Aztecs—gathered every poor and powerless sod they could lay hands on, drafted them into service, and threw them at their enemies after bombarding one another with missiles, while the rich and powerful stood in the rear shouting orders. But in the flower wars, only the best and brightest, dressed as Eagle Warriors and Jaguar Warriors, led the fighting from the front, using their melee weapons to display their individual prowess, meeting their enemies at prearranged times and places in roughly equal numbers like sports teams, and bringing plenty of peasants along as bait for one another to capture and sacrifice. Their enemies could either oblige the Aztecs’ thirst for sacrifice by participating in—and on balance, losing—these flower wars, like European jousts only even more dangerous, against the cream of Mesoamerican soldiery, or face full-on attacks by the more-powerful Aztecs to take away their citizens en masse. After a century of feeding their sons and daughters to the bloodthirsty Aztec priests to buy their survival as a group, you can imagine how much they hated the Aztecs. And when the Spaniards arrived, with just enough force and novelty to unify the Aztecs’ opponents and tip the balance of power, they fought with a vengeance, providing Cortes with the vast majority of his army.”

The rest of their meal passed in much the same vein, learning about Aztec clothing, customs, politics, tribes, history, architecture, food—Penny’s questions were inexhaustible, and Channah’s knowledge of her human prey, deep and vast. Penny was spellbound, gazing at her guru with something like growing awe; and even Chas remained interested enough to learn about this world, in such detail. In England, no more than a few sentences’ worth of information about this new world—which the Spanish considered an important state secret—were even known; and even that was hidden and confused by the much larger volume of often-conflicting rumors rendering all of the stories that reached England, unreliable.

Toward the end of dinner, Chas asked about Aztec sports and games—a subject Penny had left out. After describing Ullamaliztli—the great ballgame played between teams of warriors, often in front of large crowds—and the individual throwing game of Totoloque, she told them about Patolli: “It’s a board game, named after the small red beans used as playing pieces. The players roll dice numbered zero to five, or throw five beans with marks on one side, to determine whether and how far their pieces can move on a board with four arms and 52 squares. Bets aren’t simply made on the game; they’re a fundamental part of the game. And the stakes can be high, like Aztec punishments. Each player has to offer six treasures, acceptable to the other player, as bets for the game.”

“What kind of treasures?” Chas asked, fascinated.

“Anything. Money, valuable stones or metals, practical things like blankets or clothing items, even services or total slavery to the other. If you roll a zero, you have to make an offering to Macuilxochitl, the god of games, who the Aztec believe plays in every game with the human players. The offerings to Macuilxochitl go to the winners of each round. Each round lasts until a player has moved all six of her pieces onto, around, and back off the board; and the game ends when either player loses everything.” And with a daring glint in her eye, she hissed for emphasis: “Everything.”

“That sounds fun!” Chas clapped her hands. “I want to play!”

“I’d love that,” Channah responded flirtatiously, winking at Chas and flustering her momentarily.

“Well, I don’t!” Penny protested, sounding as anxious as she looked.

“Oh, come on, Penny—please? I haven’t played any party games in forever!” Chas whined.

Channah rolled her eyes. “Come now, Chas, you know as well as I do that Penny is a dreadful spoilsport.”

Penny looked wounded. “I—I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be, it’s just that—I mean—‘losing everything’… that sounds really bad! And it’s gambling! St. Augustine says the Devil invented gambling!”

“Please!” Channah huffed. “That just goes to show how little the church understands devils. Those pedantic, bureaucratic, bean-counting apparatchiks wouldn’t even gamble with other people’s money.”

Penny looked deflated. “I’m sorry, Domina, I’m not sure he—or I—used the term properly. He meant—”

Their Mistress rolled her eyes. “I knew what he meant, honey. I’m just busting your balls—metaphorically for the moment—for being such a dull and selfish girl.”

“Please, Penny, would you just do it for me?” Chas begged, immediately making Penny feel torn.

“Think about it this way, little Miss Literal: I bought you from your aunt when you were what… nine years old? Literally speaking, you’re my ‘total slave’ already, and you have been for almost half your life. I could order you to do anything, or order you to give me everything you have, any time I’d like. Wouldn’t you rather have some fun with your Domina and sisterwife, and maybe even get a chance to boss me around—”

“Holy cow, I hadn’t even dared to imagine that!” Chas squeaked in surprise, causing Channah to shake her head slightly in amusement before she continued:

“than be little miss gloomy-pants and sit out the game while Chas and I have fun? What do you think you’re going to do while we’re playing?”

“You’re going to order me to do more chores,” Penny deduced despondently. “I thought—”

“You know what? Actually,” Channah raised her finger to stop her. “I wouldn’t,” she announced, sounding surprised at herself. “You know, I really don’t think I would. This is our honeymoon. The three of us are supposed to be bonding, and that’s what we’re going to do, even if you’d rather go pout by yourself.”

“I obviously don’t want to pout!” Penny protested, so exasperated she made every effort not to laugh. And then added hastily: “Domina! Mistress, couldn’t we do something else?”

“Like what?” Chas asked skeptically.

“Our Liege Lady knows so much—I thought we were having a fascinating conversation!”

“Oh. My. Gosh!” Chas howled, clearly pouting. “I’ve been listening to you do that for hours! Can’t we do something I want to do for awhile?”

“There must be something else you’d enjoy—”

“What?”

“Something, I don’t know… safer?”

“We’re married!” Channah objected. “You’re my wife! What are you saying, that you don’t feel safe—” Channah began, then made the mistake of meeting Penny’s narrowed eyes and paused, struggling her very hardest to maintain a neutral expression, before throwing up her hands and dissolving into laughter. Penny couldn’t help herself from laughing, either, but in her case, when the laughter forced itself to the surface, it dragged her hurt and anger into view with it and she laughed with poor grace.

“Penny!” Channah and Chas simultaneously managed to express their genuine shock at the fierce, raw intensity of the feelings on Penny’s face.

“It’s all right, I’ll play!” Penny was hyperventilating and averting her eyes from her companions, uncomfortable with allowing her own feelings out and trying desperately to cut off any discussion of them.

“Penny.” Channah said, quietly, reaching out and taking her girl’s hand. And when Penny instinctively tried to pull back her hand, Channah tightened her grip, managing to combine her usual commanding tone with an undertone of pleading: “Penny, stop!”

Penny jerked, almost pulling away again before she could still herself. “I’ll play, Domina,” Penny whispered, still looking away.

“Penny, look at me,” Channah instructed her softly, gently, waiting patiently until Penny could force her face up, revealing how distraught she was, eyes boiling with passion and tears. “I love you.”

“I know,” Penny blurted, all she could get out.

Softening her expression from concern to compassion and speculation, Channah added: “And you love me.”

“I do,” Penny managed. “I—I do!” And then she fell to her knees between Channah’s, sobbing, allowing Channah to guide her forward until she had crawled between Channah’s legs, and then to pull her head tightly into Channah’s lap and her embrace. “I—I do love you, completely, with every bit of my heart,” Penny confessed. “But—but—you—you’re such an evil fucking bitch!” Penny half-screamed, half-wept into Channah’s skirts, her shoulders heaving. “You treat me so badly. Why do I love you so much? I don’t understand.”

“Because I love you back, sweetie,” she murmured. “And I love that you can’t help loving me no matter how much you try to hate me. Oh Lilith and Cain, that’s the very very best! And because you need someone wicked to love. Someone like me, who truly hungers for your love and adoration. Oh, baby, I can’t get enough of it, especially because you can’t help yourself. I’ve told you your conflicted, tainted love is the sweetest ambrosia there is, to me. And you need to love an evil fucking bitch, Penny, my darling. You do! You need it. I promise you—no matter what you want to pretend, no content little adoring hausfrau will ever do for you, darling. Only an evil fucking bitch will ever do for you, pudding. A wicked goddess like me.” Cradling Penny’s head in one hand, and rocking Penny back and forth between her knees, Channah used her free hand to pull Chas into their embrace, understanding with perfect clarity how badly and how much her other wife needed to be part of this, feeling her, too, start to cry. Channah held them both against her. She was so overcome—the back of her brain only keeping her calm by reminding her, or promising her, this was the Yoke’s doing, not hers, and that the Yoke was necessary to her plans—that she found herself crying and murmuring sweet nothings with them.

“I didn’t break you, Penny. I just broke you to me. You were shattered already—don’t you see? Long before we met. That sweet, fragile, gentle web of cracks down your soul, so slight it was almost invisible, except as a slight opaqueness. Not even you could have seen it back then if you’d had anyone to help you look for it. But you can see it now, can’t you, baby?”

“Yes, Domina!” Penny howled, like a wounded animal, bawling into her lap, held warm and safe between her legs and under her protective arm and her friend. “But it doesn’t make any sense—”

“It does. I promise you, it always does. But you don’t need to understand it, because I showed it to you,” she whispered. “You’re so beautiful and broken… both of you, in your own ways… you have to know… I have to show you the poignant beauty of you. Lover!”

“Do you really love me?” Penny asked, her fear and disbelief plain in her voice. “Really? It’s not just some trick?”

“Yes, of course!” Chas bawled, answering the question whether it was directed to her or not, falling on top of Penny and hugging her around her waist as Channah, surprised, held her breath to let him finish. “I’ve loved you as long as I can remember!”

“And I love you!” Channah promised in turn, meaning it. “Sometimes—sometimes I think I’m crazy. Sometimes I think it’s the Yoke. Well, it has to be the Yoke, to feel this much! But it’s real. I know what I am, and I know what I need. I know I’m a total fucking cunt—”

“No! No, I’m sor—” Penny began.

“Hush your Domina is speaking!” Channah reminded her, laughing wryly. “And believe me, I’m not apologizing, sugar bear. Far from it. But I’m not stupid. I know what I am. Who else could possibly ever love that? And normally I don’t need love. It doesn’t even cross my mind. Or, I didn’t—or, I don’t know. But when I first came across humans—men—so wrecked, so totally destroyed, but still surviving, somehow still going and capable of shattered, fragmented, irrevocably damaged love, so submissive and undemanding and accepting it tastes just like worship—Lilith and Cain it filled up a part of me I didn’t even realize was empty—hadn’t even recognized existed! It’s what a goddess needs, children! Like water! I know, it risks becoming a distraction—a weakness—it’s not what I am! I don’t think men were supposed to be so fragile and yet so resilient that something so demolished could continue to walk and breathe and love a goddess, not really. They’re meant to love women—an equal relationship with their own kind. Not in the yielding, sacrificing, unconditional-surrender way a goddess needs and deserves to be loved. Of course no healthy being, no whole soul, no real man, could love this. Ravana, even fucking Húanglóng …. I would torture them all to death if I could, and they me. But do you imagine I don’t know a mirror when I’m looking in it? Fuuuuuuuuuuckkkk!” She cried intensely to the ceiling before folding her body down and around them both. “But I love being me, I love it–this—adoration—whatever it is, and I love you—you both—sooo much for completing me!”

“I love you I love you I love you so much I do love you…” she heard Penny suddenly whispering, pleading, professing, and at the same time expressing amazement, or even apologizing—whether to herself, or to her conscience, or to God, or even to Channah, only heaven above could say for sure. Penny’s voice was muffled, clasped between Channah’s legs as she was, her face cradled to Channah’s lap; and there were so many things going on at once it took Channah a moment to notice Penny was not just nuzzling her legs and lap, but kissing her down there, as assiduously and repeatedly and with as much abandon as she was professing her love. They were simple kisses, sweet and romantic kisses, but of course they made Channah want something more.

Literature Section “07-32 Spicy Hot Dangerous Eating in Mesoamerica”—more material available at TheRemainderman.com—Part 32 of Chapter Seven, “Channah’s Slavegirls: Pawns of the Court of Lust”—4406 words—Accompanying Images: 2146-2153, 2154X—Published 2025-08-11—©2025 The Remainderman. This is a work of fiction, not a book of suggestions. It’s filled with fantasies, stupid choices, evil, harm, danger, death, mythical creatures, idiots, and criminals. Don’t try, believe, or imitate them or any of it.

Stories

07-31 The Naked Debutantes

2025-08-032025-07-27 admin

*2141 07-31 Have I got a treat for you boys… see anything you like?*

*2144 07-31 Channah protecting her sissies from the Jaguars*

PREVIOUSLY: Channah, Chastity, and Penance are honeymooning at Channah’s secret tropical paradise. After becoming concerned Chastity was playing her (and afraid she was being gullible), Channah angrily and rigorously punished, tested, and bedded her girls before being appeased and sending the girls to do chores while she worked. The girls have just finished their chores, bathed, and are ready to let her know that dinner is ready. NOW:

Chastity and Penance remained naked except for the marks and tack Channah had imposed upon them. For marks, both girls’ hindquarters were fading from bright red towards a fierce brownish-purple; and Chastity’s torso, upper arms, and upper legs, especially, were heavily scratched, abraded, and sensitized, covered with faint but vivid red marks. For tack, both girls wore their Chakra Reins—collars, piercings, cages, twisters, and triggers—inside and outside their bodies; wrist cuffs; ankle cuffs; and the hobbling chains that limited their strides significantly and their hands even more.

In the hall outside her command room, the girls fell to their knees and crawled forward to two of the four supplicant positions shown on the floor. Each supplicant position was marked with five tiles. Four obrounds were positioned along the sides of an imaginary diamond shape on the floor—two smaller obrounds approximating the width and length of lower arms from elbows to wrists; and two larger obrounds approximating the width and length of lower legs from knees to ankles—with a round stone positioned between the two arm stones along the centerline of the imaginary diamond. The obrounds were spaced widely enough to force a tall man to stretch uncomfortably to cover them. Smaller gurls like Chastity and Penny could not possibly reach them, but forced their knees and elbows apart, and their hips and shoulders and foreheads down, as far as they could manage, hoping their efforts would be sufficient to avoid punishment. They looked like frazzled frogs who had been pinned down and pushed to the ground by giant boots. But in fact they were exhausted, shaken slavegurls who had each been accused of defiance, badgered, shouted at, corrected, spanked, terrified, and stomped on by their angry Mistress, until she had reduced them to the quivering puddles of submissive flesh they resembled now; and who had been harangued and kicked the first time they reported to her here, to teach them how she wanted them to enter in the future, while their Domina’s more-important visitors laughed at them.

They waited, disregarded supplicants, quietly and unobtrusively, where and as they had been trained, on the cool hard floor, for the attentions of their Domina, while she met with people who were much more important and higher-ranked than them: her vassals the succubae and incubi, her officers and officials in Hell, her qahramanat, and her mamalik. Here, in her office, or command room, Domina and her wives were outside the bubble of their marriage, where their Domina had made it clear she expected her inferior morganatic wives to behave appropriately for their station, that of sub-humble jawari. Needless to say, none of her visitors were jawari; because she would have no truck with the likes of them outside of their assignments and services. They certainly had no role in administering her Court or her Empire!

Because they entered on hands and knees with their heads bowed subserviently, the tiles on the floor near them were all they could see until she summoned them forward and gave them permission to rise. But from their earlier entries, they knew that like most of her home, the throne room was open to the outside, made with the same colorful carved stone as the rest of it, facing a formal pool in the central part of her garden, although the furniture and working parts of the room were set well back from the edge of the roof to protect them from wind-driven rains.

Channah herself sat comfortably on her throne, an ornate gold affair decorated with the same strange figures and motifs, in the same strange style, as the stones of her house and the gold of her bed and her smaller, simpler bedroom throne. This one, a formal throne of state, sat on a dais rising two feet above the surrounding floor, was flanked with side-tables, was wide as a love seat (allowing her to sit up or lounge to the side as she preferred while conducting her business) and rose in the back to an impressive height—a true throne of command, suitable for the conduct of official business from her mountain retreat. She was regally clad, in keeping with her throne, in formal robes of state to conduct her business: a high-necked floor-length scarlet brocade gown embroidered with golden serpents and medlar fruits, a pair of tall shiny black boots, and a tall, viciously spiked crown of gold decorated with rubies. And she would either be holding, or nestled beside, her onyx scepter, a heavy hexagonal rod topped with a human skull.

All of her visitors appeared before her throne, inside a large and complex magic circle mosaic. The dominant shapes were an outer circle perhaps four yards in diameter, circumscribing a pentagon, circumscribing an inner circle closer to three yards in diameter, circumscribing a pentagram. The circles, pentagon, and pentagram were made of a hard, shiny white grout forming ridges rising an inch or two above the tiles, contrasting with the level greenish-gray grout used everywhere else within the house. And each of the 21 oversized tiles within the larger circle were inscribed in silver. The centermost stone, the focal point of the pentagram, was the most elaborate by far: marked with a serpent wrapped around and riddling through a rotten medlar in the shape of a broken heart. Each of the other tiles was inlaid with an astrological symbol, or a more-arcane symbol of some kind Penny could not identify.

Everything about the circle set the girls’ hair on end and their spines tingling. Despite the care and artful grace with which it had been designed, its evil pattern was irreducibly sinister and jarring. And it generated a palpable energy field the girls could feel when they knelt in their supplicant positions, even though those were several feet outside the circle. There was something magnetic or electric, something warping, that came off the circle in malevolent waves.

The Queen’s visitors came from nowhere and disappeared to nowhere. They were incorporeal—ghosts, the girls had thought in terror at first, until Penny, staring down at the floor below her in wide-eyed terror, had recognized Kadidia’s voice during her previous visit and deduced that they were not spirits. Or at least, not standalone spirits; but perhaps, spirits of her vassals summoned to her in the circle for her to address, before being released by her and allowed to return to themselves.

Finishing with one vassal, a succubus by the conversation, she dismissed them as the girls had heard her do other visitors earlier in the day, with a double clap of her hands and the command: “atrudha!” (Arabic for “Dismiss her!”).

This time, however, unlike the previous occasions on which they had awaited her pleasure, when she had summoned them forward to order them to perform new chores, this time she continued to ignore them. Instead, to the girls’ mortification, she clapped her hands once and called: “min kambiridj-‘arni rujar!” (“from Cambridge—show me Roger!”); “min Sademtsaowah-‘arni ‘iismiri!” (“from Sademtsaowah—show me Esmeray!”); “min tshanghan-‘arni Kai!” (“from Chang’an—show me Kai!”). Things went from bad to worse—from the girls’ perspective—when they recognized not only Roger’s and Esmeray’s voices, but those of Cutter and Martin as well. The Queen’s entire conversation with the visitors was conducted in Arabic, which still seemed unusual to Chas and Penny, who still expected their bullies, their qahramanah, and Channah, to speak English by default.

“Your Majesty!” the five voices chorused, presumably while bowing and curtsying deeply.

“My qahrahamanah. My mamalik. You may rise. Attend to me! Roger, have you found Frances?” The girls, whose thoughts so far had primarily been hoping none of their English bullies would notice or recognize them, knew Frances well. She was another English jawari, only 2 or 3 years older than Chas; and they were startled to hear that she was missing. But they dared not raise their heads or react in any other way.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Roger answered. “Mistress Rivqah scried her position and we deduced she was trying to reach her mother’s house. We intercepted her there yesterday, before she could make contact with any of her family.”

“Where is she now?”

Roger, Cutter, and Martin guffawed nastily. “You asked us to make an example of her, Your Majesty, so we dropped her in the servants’ cesspit.”

“I commend your enthusiasm, boys, but can we be sure she hasn’t drowned? We do actually need her.”

“We tested the depth with a rod and there’s only three or four feet of muck down there. We tied her to a rope just long enough to let her drop in chest-high.” He snickered. “Although we may have given her the impression, ah, she would be left to dehydrate and drown down there.” Cutter and Martin snorted derisively.

“As much as I like the idea of leaving her there a few more days, I think her time—and Eleanor’s—would be better spent training with Esmeray before the ritual. And further punishment is always available in, you know, Hell,” Channah snickered. “No risk of her avoiding what she deserves there. So tomorrow, pull her out, make Eleanor help her clean off. And I mean, clean, clean, clean, first in the creek and then when she can be allowed in the servants’ area, in a barrel of warm soapy water. I won’t have her stinking up my bath at Fensmere, let alone my domain, with the filth of Earth!”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the boys agreed.

“I want you waiting with her and with Eleanor in the Satanikoklus at noon sharp. I want both of them hogtied for transport.”

“Yes, Your Majesty!”

“Kai, inform the duty Timorite at Chang’an that I want her to pick the jawari up from the Satanikoklus and deliver them through the Honeycomb to Esmeray at Sademtsaowah. Esmeray, inform the duty Timorite at Sademtsaowah to expect the girls tomorrow afternoon.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Esmeray responded. “Will—if I may ask—Will Penny and Chas be returned to me before the next ritual so that we can try full rehearsals? Or should I prepare for deeper training with just Eleanor and Frances?”

Something about her manner or gestures, or those of Channah, must have pointed out the girls kneeling on the floor within the visitors’ field of view, because Roger gasped and then burst out laughing. “Wait—no. That’s impossible. Those cannot be our Penny and Chas!”

“They are indeed,” Channah laughed, as the girls’ bullies made sounds of incredulity and astonishment. “Girls, get up on your knees and grab your new boobies for your boys!”

Scarlet and practically dying inside, but in no way willing to risk angering Channah, and mindful of her command to be enthusiastic little sluts for her, both girls rose up, sitting back on their haunches with their knees still spread. Chastity, excited even as she was nervous, artfully emphasized her breasts, pushing them up while she grabbed them at the base. Penny, self-consciously, put her hands modestly over her breasts.

“Princess! I didn’t tell you to cover your tits modestly!” Channah laughed even harder. “I said ‘grab’! As in, show off! Put your hands under your breasts, cup them and squeeze them to make them stretch and swell and stick out further! Go on, no place for reticence when you’re a whore!”

The ashamed girl did as she commanded, to a chorus of rude whoops and catcalls from their bullies and Kai. Channah noticed with satisfaction that Esmeray was able to watch neutrally, only the way she shifted uncomfortably betraying her ambivalence about what she was witnessing.

“Now turn around, away from the boys, spread your knees, put your shoulders down on the ground, and jiggle those big round beautiful bottoms and hot pussies for your mamalik!”

Penny and Chas, whimpering and moaning with embarrassment and fear (and for Chas, just a little bit of defiant excitement) obeyed, setting off another round of even more enthusiastic responses.

“You’ve been training them hard, Your Majesty,” Cutter gushed. “Their asses are so beautiful and bruised….”

“I have, and they are,” Channah agreed flirtatiously.

“And they’re obedient as hell,” Roger growled. “Damn, I mean, Your Majesty, I don’t suppose your offer to fuck them is still open, now that they’re real girls?”

Penny couldn’t help herself: she raised her head to see her Domina, who was looking sly and thoughtful. Desperately she shook her head and whispered under her breath pleading with her Domina—more like, willing her Domina without the courage to ask her—to say no.

Channah shook her finger slowly and sexily in a “no” signal to Penny and smiled evilly, looking Penny straight in the eye and seeing her swallow nervously, before she looked back up at her vistors and asked: “Are you sure? I thought you were too much of a ‘man’ to fuck my little girls.”

“Well—that’s when they were fake girls, Your Majesty. I apologize—I meant no disrespect. To you. No disrespect to you. Sissy boys in dresses. But now… heaven above, they’re completely female. In every respect!”

“Their minds are unchanged. Their souls…”

Roger made a dismissive noise. “I’m not planning to take their souls, Your Majesty. Those are irrelevant. I want to possess their new bodies.”

“Who wouldn’t?” Channah agreed snarkily, as her bullies laughed. “What are you working on right now?”

“We’re learning, Your Majesty, as you commanded, as much as we can about how the manor operates, so we can help you manage it. But we don’t actually have any duty assignments right now.”

“Continue learning until you leave, and don’t breathe a word of any of my plans. When we return to Fensmere next week, Roger, I will make you my Castellan. Cutter will be in charge of the mansion and its staff, and Martin the head of the field staff. Don’t let those titles go to your heads, boys—I’m not picking you because any of you have a reputation for effective management or work habits or dutifulness even good sense.” She laughed shortly and deliberately insultingly. “Don’t interfere in the actual running of anything—leave that to the Butler, the Housemaid, and the other senior staff. You’re to be in charge of…” She rolled the last word around in her mouth, savoring it: “Discipline.”

“Oh, yes,” the three bullies laughed, sounding as if they were hugging and clapping one another on the shoulders in celebration.

“You can use your positions to get revenge on everyone who mistreated you in the past, but only in the context of your duties. Believe me—you’ll find more pleasure in their fear, awaiting your vindictiveness—than tearing up my household immediately. And my household must run well. A scared and miserable staff is fine—delightful, really—but the laundry must be cleaned properly, the house must be kept dusted and polished, the food must remain delicious and interesting, the servers polite—in short, the Sun itself must continue to shine out of my ass over that house, so that my life is as convenient and pleasant as possible, and my guests, from the lowliest deliveryman to the King himself, continue to be awed and amazed by the splendor of my mansion. Do you understand?!”

“Yes, Domina,” they agreed, sounding more muted.

“The reason I want you in charge is for operational security, not the actual operation of the household itself. I’m giving you the three highest positions in the house—after my Governess, Sindonie, who will remain in charge of the noble children, as you can imagine—so you can enforce discipline and security on the household, or at least, all of the commoners within it. Without ever telling anyone there are new rules, or explaining them out loud, you will build and enforce a new regime at Fensmere. A culture of obedience to me, and silence about my business. I’m already aware there are the vaguest rumors circulating out in Cambridgeshire, and perhaps even further afield, about… changes people have noticed to the household. Even questions about me. Well, we’re going to stop that process when you return, so that my Sipahi ranging the countryside can continue to stoke the rumors of demons abroad in the countryside. Your duties for capturing and disciplining escapees will expand from my slaves to include the entire staff and population of the manor and the village. Once someone joins the manor or the village, they will remain there until they are buried, unless they receive my leave to depart. Only trusted staff will be allowed off the premises at all; and then they will be sent in groups. Staff and their families will not share any of the business of the manor, or the village, with visitors or tradesmen, beyond the minimum necessary to accomplish their business. And, most importantly, when the King arrives, our staff will have no doubt about where their loyalties need to lie. I will instruct my tailor in Sademtsaowah to help you dress appropriately for your work.”

Then, changing tone: “Esmeray, as I’m sure you’ve gathered, training Eleanor—and especially Frances—will be different than training these sweet, compliant girls.”

“Yes, Domina. Although I’m surprised… as more-experienced jawari, I thought they would be fully-broken.”

“Oh,” Channah waved her hand dismissively. “In many ways, they are. But they were always trained differently than my two girls. Or, more precisely, my two girls were always trained differently than any of the other jawari. In this generation, anyway. That’s why I wanted you to meet and work and play with them first, so you would see them for who they are, not lump them in with the other rabble.” She laughed sharply, and not entirely nicely. “Boys—I need you to pay attention to me, not my little sluts’ bottoms. Girls—” she bent forward, addressing them, “—Keep your knees on the floor but rest your arms on my dais, straight out in front of you like you’re holding on for dear life, and worship my boots with your tongues and lips!”

“Yes, Domina,” they hurried to obey, seeming to make Channah gasp with excitement at the sight of their distressed, worried, sorrowful faces… and to compel her to ram the toes, and occasionally the heels, of her boots harder into their vulnerable mouths while she continued her conversation with her visitors.

“Why don’t you boys come through to Sademtsaowah with your prisoners tomorrow, to provide security for Eleanor and Frances while Esmeray begins their training. They’ll be kept in the kennels at night; but whenever they’re not locked in the kennels, you’re to monitor and contain them so they can’t get away from Eleanor. Don’t help Eleanor train them unless she asks—it’s her job to be their qahramanah, not yours—but do be of assistance to her however she asks in handling or training her charges. Kai, please find quarters for them near Esmeray. And then…” she shrugged, visibly delighted that she was able to tease at least three boys and two girls with diametrically-opposed desires, with a single taunt. She shrugged. “Depending on how well-behaved my girls have been, and how helpful you’ve been…. we’ll see about introducing my three bully-boys more… intimately to my new girls.”

“Yes, Your Majesty!” the three Englishmen laughed celebratorily, even as Penny and Chas, too stunned to even take it all in, buried their heads in their hands, making little sobbing-whining noises too primitive and instinctual to have a name. “Oh! And, ah…. One of you let Big George know I want him to come along with you. My Castellan has a couple of projects requiring his expertise. Is there anything else?” she asked, giving them a moment before continuing. “Then carry on with your assignments.”

“Yes, thank you, Your Majesty!” they responded.

Channah clapped twice: “aitrudhum!” (“Dismiss them!”) and the light in the room changed slightly. Whether it was darker, or the quality of the light had changed when the sterile bluish ghosts had disappeared, leaving the warmer, yellower, indirect Sunlight from the garden alone to illuminate the room, neither girl could tell for certain from her perspective hanging at Channahs’s feet. Leaning forward, knowing she had their full attention, Channah purred. “You girls look so cute and sweet and submissive, sucking my boot tips and heels and looking up at me so sadly and pleadingly. Ha!” she clapped and shook herself with delight. “I think you both know you’re going to have to be very good—practically perfect—if you want to avoid the attentions of Roger and his bully-boys entirely, don’t you? So better suck up your very hardest! And at this moment, I mean that very literally! Open your little pieholes wider, go on, wider, streeeettttcch those lips out and push your faces as far forward as you can on the tips of my boots. Oh, come on… you especially, Penny, with your well-known big mouth! I want to see you swallow half of that boot. I want to hear you—yes! Woo-hoo!” She clapped with glee as Penny—looking like a fish with its mouth stretched by hooks—started to make gargling and gagging sounds as the toe of Channah’s boot started tickling the back of her throat. “PUSH, BITCH, PUSH!” Screaming as loudly as she could at Penny while leaning as close down towards her foot as she could, she fairly seethed with joy as Penny’s face turned red and her throat and mouth began involuntarily contracting in an instinctive attempt to clear her throat.

Resting her chin on her fists, Channah enjoyed watching the girls suffering and debasing themselves to please her for what seemed forever, before her smile grew even wider and slyer. “This is the best honeymoon ever!” she barked. “I’d ask you why you came to disturb your Domina’s important business, but I don’t want this moment—this pathetic display—to end!” She giggled nastily. Setting aside her crown and her scepter in a leisurely fashion, she continued: “If you’re done with your chores, nod your heads with my boots in your mouths. Ha ha! Excellent! If you’ve bathed yourselves, nod your heads. Good! And if you’ve served dinner in the dining room? Veeeerrry good, darlings. Oh! I have a fun game! Without removing my boots from your mouths—or biting my toes!—I want each girl to remove her boot. You can use your hands to pull them off, but your mouth must stay wrapped around that boot, and that boot needs to remain deep inside your mouth in gag-a-bitch position, until you’ve removed it entirely, and I accept it from you. Oh ho ho, that’s cute… look how hard you gurls are working on those boots. You two look really ree-diculous!” she guffawed. “Like a couple of Maltese puppies down there, wearing only your dog-collars.” When they removed her boots nearly simultaneously, she laughed again: “A tie! Good doggies! Such committed, devoted little puppies…” she purred, rubbing her knuckles under their chins before taking her boots and setting them aside. “Penny, your first chore tomorrow is to polish my boots. I want them gleaming!”

“Yes, Domina,” she answered, hanging her head in shame at how Channah was making fun of them.

“No time for your pouting,” she chided. “Worship my feet. While they’re still warm and layered with the smell of leather. I’ve had a long, stressful day while you two have been cleaning without a care in the world. Go on, use your mouths and your hands to relax me.” She observed them, sighing and relaxing back in her throne as they kissed her heels, sucked her toes, rubbed the balls of her feet, and caressed her arches. “Oh… that feels good. You girls are naturals. I may need to keep you two with me to de-stress me at the end of each day… mm….”

When she felt her breathing deepen and slow, she ordered them: “That’s enough for now, sweeties. Now put your arms back on the dais, stretched out toward me, armpits on the edge of the dais, that’s good. And use your toes to brace your legs and knees right where they are. I’m going to put pressure on your faces, and I don’t want you to fold or slide.” Ignoring their confused expressions, she waited for them to move their arms and feet into the positions she had commanded. Then she stepped on their faces with the soles of her feet, relaxing a moment, feeling their breath tickling the soft skin in her arches, while she untied her robe and slipped it from her shoulders. Then, bracing her feet on their faces and her shoulders on the back of her throne, she raised her hips and slid her robe out from under her, settling back down and draping it gently in its accustomed resting place over the back of her throne. Finally she put her feet back down on the dais and slid her hips forward off her throne, dropping into a squat immediately above and in front of them, her beautiful bare legs emerging from the slits cut up to her hips on both sides of the simple tube dress.

“Stand up! Go on!” And when they had, she rested her arms around their necks, with her hands on their shoulders, using them to steady her as she jumped off the dais to the floor. Devastating Penny with a flirtatious look, she flicked her head back towards her dais and commanded: “Get my heels for me, bitch.” Taking advantage of her most-vulnerable moment, when she was stretched forward as far as she could reach to touch and pull on Channah’s mules, she slapped her ass. And as she took the high-heeled sandals from her and set them on the ground, using their shoulders for support again, she slid into the sandals, kissing each girl quickly before leading them towards the dining room.

Literature Section “07-31 The Naked Debutantes”—more material available at TheRemainderman.com—Part 31 of Chapter Seven, “Channah’s Slavegirls: Pawns of the Court of Lust”—4316 words—Accompanying Images: 2141-2145—Published 2025-08-03—©2025 The Remainderman. This is a work of fiction, not a book of suggestions. It’s filled with fantasies, stupid choices, evil, harm, danger, death, mythical creatures, idiots, and criminals. Don’t try, believe, or imitate them or any of it.

Stories

07-24 Cleaning Channah’s Feet (abridged version)

2025-07-242025-07-18 admin

CAUTION: Contains themes of heavy bondage and degradation some readers may find disturbing (even the abridged version).

Explicit version containing bullying, goldenshowers, punishment, analpenetration, and cleanup themes at 07-24X Cleaning Channah’s Feet at Patreon.com/TheRemainderman

Penny was panting, faster and faster, as Channah tested her bladder, before with a desperate last shake of resistance, Penny squeaked and groaned with an unmistakably defeated sound.

Channah couldn’t help herself, she laughed while she stood up, stepping back and trying to sound outraged: “Naughty-little-girl embarrassed herself, didn’t she?” And this time she didn’t wait for her girl to start talking; didn’t even give her a chance to, hauling back and walloping Penny’s bottom: Crack! “AAAAAAAAAAAH!” followed by a lot of caterwauling and gibberish she couldn’t even have made sense of if she was listening, which she wasn’t because she was doubled over so hard watching Penny completely lose control.

“Oh, Penny! You dirty bitch!” she howled, laying Penance’s Bull-Daddy down well out of the way. “I ought to spank you for that!” She stepped toward her throne, unable to avoid the little lake, laughing as hard as Penny was crying. “What are you doing with your head still under my throne? Silly girl! Back up! Back up!” she commanded, as Penny did back up, her arms moving right into the pool as Channah slid her throne forward and sat down on it, over Penny’s head, grabbing her by the hair, then leaned back in her throne, lifting Penny’s tear-soaked red face so she could see it and putting the soles of her feet right on it. “Dirty girl! I told you what the consequence would be, didn’t I?”

“Yes, Domina!”

“Then start doing your duty, bitch. Back on your heels.” And when she hesitated, Channah put her feet on Penny’s shoulders, kicking her backwards so her extremely sensitive butt slammed into her own heels, producing another pleasing, squealing sound as Channah pushed her soles into Penny’s face to keep her from rising back. “Unh-uh! STAY!” She snapped, as if she were talking to a dog. “Bad puppy! Go on, puppy! Lick! Lick!” And she moaned with pleasure as she felt Penny obey her Domina, even as she continued to wriggle her hips to alleviate the pain from her bottom. “Good girl,” Channah cooed. “Good. Girl.” Knowing she would be unable to leave her throne until the floor was cleaner, she dropped her right foot to the ground while Penny worshipped her left , and then she dipped her left foot while Penny was sucking on her right. “Thaaat’s the way, goooood gurl. Oh… look how devoted you are, baby! Yess…. Stick that tongue between my big and second toes. It’s sooo wet in there. Now lick the bottoms. Oh, other foot. What a mess! But you must be thirsty, the way you’re going to town. We’re going to explore that, darling!”

After a pause to listen to Penny lick, she continued, almost lazily: “Use your hands to hold my ankles—gently! While you clean the bottoms of my feet. Why should I do all the work to hold my legs up? You’re the offender! I’ve given—at a guess—tens of thousands of whoopings in my life, including to boys much younger and smaller than you, and I can assure you, you are the single most pathetic little worm I’ve ever dealt with. The good news for you, little marshmallow, is that you’ve always been soooo sweet and submissive you don’t give me much cause to beat you.” She giggled: “Well… except the way you keep turning me on with what a submissive, disgraceful, dirty slut you really are… practically begging for more torment when you do that in front of a demon, aren’t you, horny girl? But other than the times you seduce me into it, you shameless girl, there will be occasional days, like today, when I need to prove to you, or to myself, or perhaps even to a third party, how totally submissive you are. But if you keep up your good work, striving really hard to show me how much you love and respect me, after your pathetic display of weakness today, I’m pretty sure beatings will be rare for you, and I will never get close to hitting you as many times as… well, even wimpy little Chastity. But certainly never treating you the way any real men could expect: ten, twenty… I’ve hit boys, you know, real boys, as many as fifty times before.” Penny made a defeated, overwhelmed sound. “Oh hush and keep cleaning my feet, bitch! We’ve already seen how weak and pathetic you are; that’s what I’m trying to tell you! Don’t you get it, dummy?” She used her heel to cuff Penny across the cheek, emphasizing her dominance further. “I’m talking here!

She continued, teasing her and taunting her and praising her and insulting her by turns, serving her sole after sole, occasionally allowing herself a detour to test Penny’s cage while she kept licking, until finally Channah giggled in triumph, prodding and testing with her foot to confirm her suspicion as Penny groaned with her humiliation. “Theeeere it is, my perverted little mushroom. I knew talking dirty to you while disgracing you would bring back your little man sometime! And it’s so hard now, almost like a real twelve-year-old boy, isn’t it? Isn’t it?!”

“Yes, Domina!”

“Goood girl! What a good girl! Admitting what a naughty little girl you are is the first step to giving into your nature. You are my helplessly-devoted little girl, aren’t you?”

Literature Section “07-24[X] Cleaning Channah’s Feet”—more material available at TheRemainderman.com—Part 24 of Chapter Seven, “Channah’s Slavegirls: Pawns of the Court of Lust”—Abridged 891 words::Explicit 1113 words—Accompanying Images: 2092-2095—Published 2025-07-24—©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.

Stories

07-19 Footsucking Bimbo

2025-07-192025-07-18 admin

*2070 07-19 I could get quite used to this, thought Alice*

*2072 07-19 I’m sorry, Domina. I wished my little peepee would be proportional to the rest of my body*

PREVIOUSLY: Channah, Chastity, and Penance are honeymooning at Channah’s secret tropical paradise. After becoming concerned Chastity was playing her (and afraid she was being gullible), Channah is angrily and rigorously testing Penny by pushing her limits. She has not been allowed to empty her bladder since the previous day. NOW:

“Please I don’t want to dishonor you—”

“Dishonor yourself, you mean,” With a slightly-strained giggle, Channah commented, an undertone of brittleness in her voice at odds with the forced cheerfulness: “And good morning to your tiny little friend there. I love that reaction from a bitch! And it should prevent you from messing up my bed, so you can focus on me the way you ought.”

Combined with the fact Penny was becoming fully-alert, something about the way Channah had said ‘bitch’ resonated with the other, subtle cues she had given that something was terribly off. She pushed her face gently into the bottoms of Channah’s feet and begged “Dom—Domina, please, may I approach and worship your feet?”

“Well… you hardly need to approach, do you? But yes, why don’t you do that,” she agreed, still sounding distant, pushing them against Penny’s face as she felt the girl begin servicing her heels, pressing harder than necessary to make it physically difficult for Penny to move her lips and tongue. Enjoying her girl’s efforts, Channah began moving her feet, pressing and rubbing one on her face or neck while she held the other one still for Penny’s attention. Penny’s eyes were closed again, as she concentrated on pleasing Channah, her whole world narrowing to Channah’s feet.

“May I—may I touch them with my hands, Domina?”

Channah giggled. “If you must.”

Opening her eyes, she was immediately gazing, adoringly and subserviently, on Channah, her pupils dilating pleasingly at the very sight of her magnificent nudity. “Omigod,” she whispered, before pulling herself together and proceeding with what she’d planned to ask: “I—I think I must, Domina. I—I—please, may I ask you a question Domina?” she begged, as she sucked on Channah’s big toe, and then lingeringly, each of her other toes.

“If you must,” Channah answered, less amused, the comment coming across as reserved and skeptical.

Penny redoubled her efforts, caressing Channah’s feet with her hands while continuing to suck her way along Channah’s toes, her big eyes looking beseechingly, with a pleasing subservience, and awed with an appropriate adoration, whenever they were opened, locked on Channah’s hypnotic eyes. Finally, she worked up her courage enough to ask: “Domina, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry for whatever I did, I can tell you’re upset.”

“Can you?”

“Yes, Domina.”

“Good. Just from my voice?”

“Yes, Domina.”

“Good.” And she placed the soles of her feet against her girl’s head and pressed down on it hard enough to raise her hips from her chair, watching with interest as Penny struggled to remain in place and still move her tongue and lips enough to at least signal her desire to continue worshiping Channah. “But that wasn’t a question, was it, bitch?”

“Please—please, I’m sorry, please tell me what I did wrong.”

“You’re… what? Asking me to justify my mood?”

“Goodness NO, Domina! And I’m ever so sorry for wasting your time, Domina, but whatever it was—I don’t want to do it again! Please help me be a better wife—”

“Slut,” she corrected.

“Slut! I am your slut, I am your slave, I swear it, at least—I want to be! Please help me learn so—”

“Is it really so hard to be a good servant?”

Penny kept sucking her toes, in silence except a few gurgling noises from the pressure of Channah’s weight forcing them deeper and deeper into her mouth, for several beats, before blurting: “Ah bone t’ umber and.”

Channah couldn’t help laughing, although it was a sharp, unpleasant, unforgiving sound. Relaxing back down into her chair, she eased up the pressure on Penny’s face and snapped: “Were you trying to speak to me? In English?”

“Yes, Domina. I’m sorry, Mistress. I’m afraid I—I don’t understand what you’re asking?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“No, Domina,” Penny began, then—seeming to realize she had said something else wrong before Channah needed to spell it out, she continued, redoubling her efforts at groveling by working on Channah’s toes and the balls of her feet: “I’m sorry, Domina, not to me. I’m sure—I can see you think it should be—that of course, it should be–obvious I mean. But whatever it is—I’m sorry!” she suddenly whined loudly.

“Don’t you like my feet anymore?” Channah threw her off-balance with another unexpected, unobvious question.

“I adore your feet, Domina, I love them! I worship them—”

“Your little clitty doesn’t.”

“It does! It does I swear, I just—I just feel so badly that I’ve upset you. Please, Domina, please tell me what I did wrong so I can apologize for it—I do apologize for it, whatever it was—”

“Well, that’s appropriate,” she acknowledged reluctantly, marginally mollified. “No one who’s displeased me should be happy.”

“I’m not , I sw—”

“Then, if you want to please me, why aren’t you answering my question?”

Penny was silent and still a moment, her eyes darting as she tried to make sense of Channah’s question, unfortunately reminding her Domina of the way Chastity had done the same thing that morning. Penny’s eyes locked on her face as it twisted into something harder and less-forgiving. Channah saw the panic and desperation to please, rising in her little girl as she saw she was further-upsetting her Mistress instead of placating her.

“I’m sorry Domina, I’m sorry—I—I forgot the question.”

“You what?!” she barked, dropping her feet and leaning forward on her chair, happy to see the look of loss in Penny’s eyes as she followed her feet back to the floor.

“I—I—have to pee so badly I can’t think straight—”

“What is wrong with you, Penance Batonnoir?”

Penny froze, staring at her like a deer spotting a hunter, and then something, some understanding, flashed in her eyes like a beacon of hope. “I know!” she gasped. “I know! I’m stupid!” she sounded so incongruously overjoyed at the realization Channah—despite her ugly mood—genuinely laughed, throwing her head back and shaking it slowly. “I’m stupid! I’m sooo slow—please—please may I have your permission—” Penny was scrambling off the bed and dropping to her knees at Channah’s feet. “Please—please let me—” and her lips began pressing on Channah’s toes, the arches of her feet, her ankles, everywhere Penny could reach, as she continued: “I’m sorry for being so—so stupid and slow, Domina. I hate it!” And, gratifyingly, Channah could tell she meant it. “I fucking hate it!”

“Penny!” she sounded genuinely shocked.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I soo hate it! And you’re right—you’re right, it’s the last thing I want to admit. You make me feel so worthless and low—” Penny sounded appeasingly miserable.

Literature Section “07-19 Footsucking Bimbo”—more material available at TheRemainderman.com—Part 19 of Chapter Seven, “Channah’s Slavegirls: Pawns of the Court of Lust”—1127 words—Accompanying Images: 2070-2074—Published 2025-07-19—©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.

Tag: feet

07-32 Spicy Hot Dangerous Eating in Mesoamerica

07-31 The Naked Debutantes

07-24 Cleaning Channah’s Feet (abridged version)

07-19 Footsucking Bimbo