femdom – Page 7 – The Remainderman (Frank Speech)

06-92 Channah Demands More Penance

2025-05-172025-05-17 admin

*1809 06-92 Channah acts surprised Penny feels violated*

*1810 06-92 Penny may not be able to sleep tonight*

PREVIOUSLY: Channah has been passionately and aggressively dominating and making out with Penny, teasing the girl relentlessly. Now she wants more than Penny’s consent to take advantage of her. NOW:

“What I want now is your full-fledged participation. I love you, honey, and I’d really like to fuck you. But if you’re not ready, that’s okay. I’m never going to force you again. Unless you beg first,” she amended flirtatiously. “If you’re not interested in loving me, I can exclusively take my pleasures elsewhere.” She shrugged, looking disappointed, and started to lift off Penny, watching curiously at the intense emotions overwhelming the girl, washing and flashing across her eyes.

“NO! No, no, Domina, I realized—I swore—in that place—I’m yours. I love you, I’m yours,” she clarified emphatically, reaching to take Channah’s hand urgently, pleadingly, and kiss her knuckles with her eyes closed in passion. It was the first active motion she had made since being ordered to show passivity towards Channah.

“Aww… that’s sweet,” Channah conceded, meaning it, and settling back down on top of her, their bare flesh sparking with electricity as Channah pretended to rearrange herself, letting them feel one another sliding against each other, separated only by the cruel barrier securing Penny. She frowned curiously, as if she was confused. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Domina. Yes, ma’am, I’m sure. I’m sure!”

“But…” she raised her finger to her chin, looking into space thoughtfully, then sharply looked back down. She was making fun of Penny, and Penny felt the heat in her face. “But… I thought you knew what I wanted.”

“I do. I do, Domina!”

With a twitch of the lip revealing the fun she was having, she leaned down again, resting her elbows on Penny’s shoulders and folding her arms, looking straight down into the submissive girl’s eyes. “What’s that?”

“what, Domina?” Penny asked in a small voice.

“It’s not a difficult question, darling girl. What. Do. I. Want? I just want to make sure you understand. Because this time, it will be about your thorough and enthusiastic participation.”

“My—” Penny’s face went red, her eyes popped, and her voice turned into a squeak. “What?”

Channah kept her lips pressed together but laughed merrily behind them, in the worst attempt ever to conceal mirth. Finally she rolled her eyes and gave up, sounding positively delirious. “Penny, my love, I’ve never seen such a face before! Regretfully, while I appreciate your efforts, it doesn’t seem like you’re serious about wanting what I want.”

“I am, Domina, I swear! I want you to get what you want!”

She snorted, turning up her nose. “Not quite the same thing, is it, muffin? And certainly not enough for me. I’m not bargaining with you, I’m explaining how it is. Drawing a line in the sand. No more half-measures, sweetie. No more pretending to be a damsel in distress while I play the bad girl.” She shrugged, sitting up and rolling Penny’s nipples between her fingers. “Unless, that is, you’ve already convinced me you really, desperately want me to be your bad girl, and you to be my sweet little damsel in distress.” Penny drew a sharp breath, as startled as she pretended to be confused and fascinated. “Well, I love to act and to play games. You know that. But with my wife, I want more. I want to know you’re really with me. That you like appeasing me. Is that so unreasonable, for a Domina to want that from her housegift?” she asked, with wide-open innocent eyes.

“No,” Penny croaked, “Of—of course not, Domina.”

She smirked, tickling Penny’s nipples. “You showed your true colors already, under me in the satanikoklus, didn’t you babygirl?” She laughed, and laughed even harder at Penny’s mortification to be reminded of how submissive she had been for Channah. “Look at you. You’ve been waiting for me your entire life, haven’t you? While trying to pretend you weren’t. This time, I won’t shoulder that burden for you. Playing is one thing. Hypocrisy and denial are another. This time, I can’t have either of us experiencing any doubt about whether we’re playing together, as a couple, or if I’m being some… beast,” she pouted, her fingers tracing Penny’s chest. “I need to know, and even more… you need to know, sugar pie. Well, to admit it.” She looked off towards one side, speaking too casually: “This isn’t just about my insecurity, or a wife making her Domina feel loved, you know. The magic simply won’t work unless you’re totally sincere.”

“The… magic?”

“In all the excitement and being overwhelmed, you haven’t even noticed it yet, have you, my sweet little cherry?”

“Noticed what?” Penny asked, hoarse again, eyes darting and scanning. Channah raised a finger and circled it in the air, like a hawk circling and watching for potential prey, the circles getting smaller as she brought it down over Penny’s torso, continuing to tighten in until her finger pressed on Penny’s navel.

“Is your belly-button a little sore, darling?”

“What—yes! My whole tummy but I thought—” she exclaimed in surprise, raising her head to look down at her stomach, feeling disoriented, almost a touch queasy, at more evidence of how thoroughly she had been separated from her body, from the world, from reality itself. A tiny ruby fruit, round like an apple, but with distinctive gold prongs ringing one end like a crown, glittered in a gold setting, pinned to her body with two gold piercings, one in the center of her navel, and the other in the flat skin immediately above the edge of her navel.

“The ring—more of a wire, really—stretches down into your tummy and anchors it around your intestines and spine.” Penny gasped in a fascinated horror at the idea, and at the idea of the ring penetrating her—if it had even been her, when she was, well, gone. Horrified at being penetrated at all, freaked out about the penetration being so deep, and especially feeling uneasy that such a thing could have occurred without her knowledge. “Anchoring it to your spirit there.”

“What—what is it, Domina?” Penny asked fearfully.

“It’s your Manipura ring. Of course,” she shrugged, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “Stuffy old swamis and yogis would quibble with our understanding and usage of the chakras and related concepts. But how would any of them know more than us about succubaean magic? Or where to seize and pin down parts of the souls of humans?” The answer—to Channah, but certainly not Penny, who had no idea what she was talking about—was obvious: “They wouldn’t. Do you recognize it?” she asked curiously, with a mischievous smirk.

Penny, staring at it, made the connection and recognized it. “It’s—it’s the same thing, the fruit, on the paddle—a medlar!”

“Very good, child! But describe it accurately. My paddle, acknowledging my ownership,” she corrected. “Or recognizing your chattel status, your paddle. Either one is acceptable, but not merely ‘the’ paddle.”

“Your paddle, Domina,” Penny corrected herself, red-faced.

Literature Section “06-92 Channah Demands More Penance”—more material available at TheRemainderman.com—Part 92 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—1154 words—Accompanying Images: 1809-1813—Published 2025-05-16—©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.

Stories

06-91 Penance Yields (abridged version)

2025-05-152025-05-15 admin

*1806 06-91 I’m NOT ignoring your misery. I fucking love it!*

Explicit version containing masturbation, chastity, and orgasm themes at 06-91 Penance Yields at Patreon.com/TheRemainderman

PREVIOUSLY: Channah is passionately and aggressively dominating and making out with Penny. NOW:

The weaker girl was going nowhere without Channah’s permission, her body overwhelmed almost as fully as her mind, neither of them capable of offering Channah anything resembling resistance—only compliance and cooperation.

“Mm…”. Channah slid her lips across Penny’s cheek and growled in her ear, “Feel how desperate you are. You’re a bit of a slut, aren’t you?”

“Oh yes. Yes I am, Master! Domina!” Penny cried, and then almost screamed: “Please free me Mistress, I can’t stand it!”

She just giggled, her hips moving faster and faster while Penny remained frustrated. If it had been an ordinary item of such elaborate jewelry, she couldn’t possibly have used it this way. Even the finest jeweler in the world could hardly smooth every edge and facet of each stone and the gold metal joining them, perfectly enough to feel this good. But her metalsmith was so connected with her media she might have done, even without the thin layer of clear ceramic or glass she had used to finish the piece, making it a smooth and perfect whole instead of multiple different components held together with settings and cement.

“Who do you belong to?” Channah demanded bitchily, smirking.

“Yours! Of course, yours, Domina! Ha-ha-haaugh!” the last of it was not laughter, but something much closer to a desperate crying that made Channah even hotter.

“I’m sorry, what were you asking me about? I can’t remember,” Channah’s lips tightened and struggled to remain sealed over Penny’s when she was smiling this widely, but Penny didn’t seem to mind any more than her Domina, who was moving at a jackhammer pace, a low animal sound beginning in the back of her throat.

“PLEASE let me out, Domina!” Penny wailed around Channah’s lips when Channah darted her head down to nip her ear.

“nehhh-verrr,” she whispered softly in the same ear, pushing down on the girl’s pinned wrists to reinforce her control, barely able to speak between her own moans. And then: “Suffer for me, bitch!”

“I am!” Penny screamed, and Channah roared, as Channah’s hips and body shifted from a piston motion to a pure shudder that gripped her from head to toe.

“Oh, Domina, oh, Mistress, no, it’s not fair! It’s not fair!” Penny howled, making a broken pouting sound, as Channah gasped and cried out with her slow, shuddering return, enjoying every lingering moment, just as she was enjoying squeezing every drop of sadistic joy from Penny’s protests and whines and unavailing struggles under her for relief.

“No—no, it’s not, is it?” Channah laughed throatily, shoving her tongue hard down Penny’s throat and holding it, even as she straightened all her limbs out to the four corners around them and lay on Penny as her final shivers subsided, ignoring or perhaps enjoying Penny’s miserable sounds, and restless movements of discomfort.

When Channah was finally still, and not only the shivering, but the tingling sensation singing in every one of her nerve ends finally started to calm, she rested her hands on Penny’s forehead and lay her cheek on top of them, to relax.

“No-ho-ho-ho-ho….” Penny moaned, quiet in her misery so as not to disturb Channah’s relaxation.

Finally, Channah sighed. “What a good, passive, respectful mattress you make, Penny dear.” Drawing languidly back and resting her elbows on Penny’s chest, feeling very satisfied and calm, while Penny’s body was still rigid and singing with both desire and pain, she crossed her upper arms and looked down into Penny’s eyes, eating up her compliant, accepting misery. She practically purred, as she wiggled her hips again, just enough to let Penny know she was thinking about the girl’s unhappiness. “What?” she asked playfully.

“Oh…”. Penny groaned, rolling her eyes.

“I asked you a question, bitch.”

Penny looked surprised. “You know my—my—” she struggled for a word.

“My little girl,” she proposed.

“Yes, Domina. Your little girl… You make me sooo hot, Domina, you’re so hot and—and the way you move…”

“How I move?” she prompted, wiggling her hips again for a moment.

“You’re so—lithe, so serpentine…”

“Oh, hush,” she rested one finger across Penny’s lips, just enjoying pushing her buttons and pushing her around, like a cat playing with a toy, or perhaps a victim. “You don’t have anything useful to say. Serpentine? Darling, have you forgotten what I’m capable of? Am I not a serpent when I want to be? What I did had nothing to do with my serpentine side.”

Then she frowned down at her girl, grasping and squeezing her cheeks, unnecessarily hard, not really to control her head, but simply to get her attention. To bring her eyes, which were rolling and wandering practically independently of one another, back into focus attentively on her master.

“You know what I want. You’ve known it for days. And I already told you that’s how you could get what you want, just like Chas.”

Penny started nodding, in fear, yes, but for the first time, something more than fear—a desire for closeness, perhaps, or simply to obey and to avoid disappointing her hell-goddess—competing with it in her eyes. When she spoke, it was in a small, uncertain voice: “I—I will submit to you, Domina, you know I will. Please, Domina, do what you want to do. Take what you want from me. Please, Domina.”

“Hunh-unh,” Channah shook her head, smiling smugly. “I’ve already done that. We’ve already established I can take what I want, anytime I want, haven’t we?” she asked, sniggering when she felt Penny move under her. “Answer me,” she slapped Penny’s cheek lightly.

“Yes, Domina,” she answered, nodding sheepishly.

“And I can intimidate and bully you into doing what I want, even when you hate the idea, can’t I?”

“Yes, Domina,” she whispered. “That’s pathetic,” Channah shook her head, her smirk of contempt and satisfaction almost becoming a sneer again.

Literature Section “06-91[X] Penance Yields”—more material available at TheRemainderman.com—Part 91 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—Abridged 979 words::Explicit 1086 words—Accompanying Images: 1806-1808—Published 2025-05-15—©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.

Stories

06-90 Tongue-Tied Penance (abridged version)

2025-05-122025-05-12 admin

*1803 06-90 A Sermon on Abstinence–Love vs Sin*

Explicit version containing masturbation, chastity themes at 06-90X Tongue-Tied Penance at Patreon.com/TheRemainderman.

PREVIOUSLY: Penny emerged from total isolation to a crashing overload of sensation to find herself, physically naked and emotionally-wrecked, in Channah’s protective, affectionate embrace. Comforted by her, overwhelmed by the need and longing she had felt to be saved by Channah, and the reality of being saved by her, she accepts Channah’s kiss. NOW:

Penny melted into Channah’s kiss, something starting as a sigh becoming a moan of passion, her passion dissolving all conscious thought in her, her body twitching unbidden and unintended. Channah’s tongue tickled her lips, caressed her teeth, and flirted with Penny’s. Penny reciprocated, automatically, wanting to feel more of her Domina, and suddenly she felt Channah’s hand around her chin and cheeks, pushing her face away and holding her still.

Surprised, she whispered: “Please—don’t stop,” her eyes swimming back into focus and finding Channah’s, inquiring.

“I won’t,” Channah shook her head decisively, squeezing Penny’s cheeks with the hand that was holding them. Penny didn’t lift a finger to disentangle herself. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t even imagine it. “But you need to.”

“I–?” Penny didn’t even know what she was talking about.

“I like to tongue-dance, but reciprocating is a pleasure I associate with men. Are you a man?”

Penny stared at her, pinkening, before admitting in an embarrassed squeak: “No, Domina.”

“Do you want me to kiss you?”

“Oh, yess,” Penny gushed, practically swooning at the thought. “Please!”

“Then you need to keep your tongue passive when we kiss. It’s not to move more than minimally necessary, and it should stay on the floor of your mouth, out of my way, at all times. Anything else will be considered resistance and obstructionism. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, Domina, ofph coursze,” Penny nodded, practicing and sensing what it felt life for her tongue to remain supine in her mouth. “But why?”

“Wait, remind me… do I need a reason?” she asked, curiously.

Penny reddened. “No, of course not, Domina.”

“That’s right! Do you know, my metalsmith and I invented restraint devices long, long ago? We did!” She sniggered with pleasure at the recollection, taking her hand off Penny’s jaw and moving it straight down the front of Penny’s body, tickling her and eliciting a whining sound she seemed to take delight in. “It looks like something’s pinching you, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Domina.”

“Maybe I should talk to her about designing a restraint for your tongue. The trick would be, designing one that keeps your tongue under control without interfering with speech or eating. You won’t be of nearly as much use to me if you can’t speak,” she mused, her finger on her chin again, pretending to consider it seriously. “Perhaps a tongue stud with a little chain, connecting it to a post in the floor of your mouth?”

Penny was scared. “What are you talking about, Domina? I don’t understand! I don’t want to do anything wrong, Domina, I promise. I want to be your good girl.”

Relenting, she smiled fondly. “I know you do, dear. Then obey me. If I really needed your tongue to stay inside your mouth, you would be in tongue-restraint, to keep it away from females of any species—human, demonic, or otherwise—by even a quarter-inch. I’m just commanding you to be passive when we kiss because I like it! I like reminding both of us I’m your Domina, and you’re my jariya. Do you have a problem with me exercising my prerogatives to humiliate, belittle, or otherwise put you down for no reason other than my own pleasure?” she asked challengingly.

Penny shrank back slightly, eyes wide, and shook her head, disconcerted as always by the part of her that liked the way she treated her. “No, Domina. Not at all, Miss.”

“Oh, that’s good,” she snickered. “ ‘Not at all, Miss.’ I like that answer. Then keep every part of you, however… small…” she smiled wickedly, tickling Penny again. “Out of my mouth. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, Domina. I’ll be good,” Penny promised, opening her mouth and leaning up towards Channah.

Channah leered at her, bringing her hand back up to take hold of Penny’s jaw and shove it back down, considering Penny.

“Ahm sahy,” Penny apologized, keeping her mouth open and her tongue down.

“You look ridiculous! No—hold it open, I like it when you make a fool of yourself for me.” She laughed, both at Penny’s obedience, and how crestfallen she looked. She moved her hand back to Penny’s body again, enjoying Penny’s desperate squirming. “Does it hurt?” she asked archly, both of them knowing exactly what she meant.

“Yeshmaahm,” Penny nodded earnestly, making her laugh even harder.

“Good. Suffer for me, my little pretty.” And like a bird of prey diving to rip some hapless little fish from a stream, or some harmless little varmint from a field of grass, she dove her head back down again, sealing their mouths together and slithering her tongue back into Penny’s mouth again, relishing Penny’s moans of combined lust and discomfort, while her hand continued to play gently with Penny as her tongue ravished Penny’s mouth.

Penny raised her arm towards Channah, not to be uppity, but automatically, wanting to touch her more, and she laughed into Penny’s mouth as she seized Penny’s wrist and slammed her arm back onto the mattress.

Rolling expertly on top of her jariya, she broke their kiss just long enough to raise her dress above her waist before sliding down to straddle Penny’s hips, cooing and sliding her other lips up and down over Penny’s chastity as her tongue got back to its ravishing.

Her tongue, much longer than Chas’s, and apparently more flexible, not only tickled her lips, caressed her teeth, and petted her tongue, it went wherever it wished, sliding between her jaws and her cheeks, and when she felt particularly devilish, ramming down into the back of Penny’s throat with eye-watering, gag-inducing force. Channah obviously relished every second of Penny’s suffering, her eyes dancing as Penny choked and gasped, struggling for breath and baffled by the confusing messages on the back of her throat telling her body to swallow and to reject the invader.

She broke their conversation for a moment to ask: “Can you feel the way I feel about you?”

“Oh, yes,” Penny groaned helplessly. “Your skin is so slippery and smooth. Ow it hurts…” she protested, not talking about Channah any more.

“I love it! And I love you, my passive little bitch,” Channah growled, continuing to slide up and down, up and down, pressing harder for her own sense of closeness, before smashing her face back down on Penny’s, using her tongue to drive so deep down her throat that pure reflex made Penny try to escape, while Channah used the mattress beneath her and Channah’s mouth above her to trap her and hold her in place, leaving her little mouse with nowhere to flee.

Literature Section “06-90[X] Tongue-Tied Penance”—more material available at TheRemainderman.com—Part 90 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—Abridged 1081 words::Explicit 1144 words—Accompanying Images: 1803-1805—Published 2025-05-12—©2025 The Remainderman. This is a work of fiction, not a book of suggestions. It’s filled with fantasies, idiots, and criminals. Don’t believe them or imitate them.

Stories

06-89 Channah & Penny 4ever I

2025-05-112025-05-11 admin

PREVIOUSLY: Penny is isolated without being able to sense anything about space, time, the world, or even her own body. She is so isolated she wonders if she even existed or if her memories are the imaginations of a momentary consciousness flickering in nothingness. NOW:

The first moment was overwhelming.

As everything returned, she felt completely overloaded by light, sound, smell, taste, feeling, gravity, movement, her frantic heartbeat, her panicked breath.

Data crashed in, fired like musket balls and flung at her like buckets of scalding water, crushing her from all directions at once, as if her entire existence was being obliterated by fire. There was so much of it that when the assault began it meant everything and nothing at once.

She had been searching for a whisper or a flutter of distant candlelight, any tiny thing to break the nothingness. And instead, she had been hit by thunderous screaming and a burst of direct sunlight straight in her eyes.

It all happened so fast, after the utter stillness of before. But it took a moment for her brain and body to accelerate and re-synchronize with the raging torrent of water and the speeding avalanche of life. She experienced that glacial moment as forever, and it would stick with her always, even as she struggled to remember already, what the utter stillness and absence that had preceded it had really been like.

Then her body and mind started processing data again, remembering they had once done so normally and routinely, and falling back into their well-worn tracks to move forward.

She felt the sharp tug at her bottom and then the gentle, warm hand between her legs removing it and casting it away, as the last of the wicked plug left her behind, ending her total violation and occupation, even as it allowed her to start trying to process what she had been through, in a way she hadn’t been able to reach when she was… gone.

Next, seconds and minutes later, she started making sense of everything else.

The smell of frankincense, myrrh, opium, and the very very essential and musky scent of one unique woman, maybe even something too deep for conscious awareness, embraced Penny with the certain knowledge of where she was, fundamentally and totally: Domina! She was with, held close and tight by, her Domina.

That was the essence, the meaning, of everything. Of being back: She was safe, back in the arms of her Domina.

She moued in joy and relief and safety and love.

From that core of certainty, her awareness felt secure enough to widen back to something like normality.

She was lying on her back on a soft, warm bed, cradled in her Domina’s warm, gentle arms. The air was hot and moist—hell insistently reminding her where they were, even before the low, distant roar of a thousand worried voices and the clanking, booming jangle of the band faintly sounding at the very threshold of perception, told her she had not moved too far. Persuading her she had not been away for too long, no matter that it felt like a lifetime, the wall between before and after that… whatever it had been, so massive and high she could not even see back over it to gauge how different her place was now.

She felt her Domina’s cheek against her forehead; Channah’s reassuring arms and breasts cradling her neck and shoulders; Channah’s silky smooth dress against her bare flesh; Channah’s legs wrapped protectively around her bare ones; Channah’s boots resting on Penny’s bare feet and ankles, possessing her in a profoundly comforting way.

She was safe in the arms of her Domina, and to Penny, in that moment, they were nothing but loving and assuring and inspiring and protecting her, like a mother and wife and nurse all wrapped up together as one. Then her brain sighed, putting all the comparisons together:

Duh. Like an angel.

No. Not just like one. Whatever had happened to her, however she had fallen, Channah was an angel, and no one had ever felt that truth more strongly than Penny did in that moment. Penny’s heart leapt as she realized she, literally, had a guardian angel! Penny felt the full and wonderful import of that now, a feeling of peace like she had never known before.

“Domina!” Penny sobbed, immediately crying, finding her arms and using them to roll slightly to her right. With her left arm (her right arm trapped between them), she hugged her angel with desperate joy. She wanted to wrap all her limbs around her Domina, but after what she had been through, the fact Channah was controlling her and constraining her—and Penny could feel her mastery—was the most reassuring and wonderful feeling in the world.

Limitations of any kind were real; they were the certainty confirming she was not alone and nowhere. She could remember their absence from her banishment, more keenly than she could remember anything specific about what the banishment itself had felt like. But that—that horrible interruption in her existence—was the last thing she wanted to think about now.

She broked down and wept, chest heaving, wracked with sobs, in Channah’s arms as her Domina wrapped and swathed her reassuringly, comforting her with her warmth, and her protective envelopment, and her throaty murmurs of reassurance: “It’s okay, baby. It’s all right. You’re back here with me, darling. That’s all that matters. My sweet girl.” She kissed the top of Penny’s head, sliding against Penny’s hair and the sense of softness from her lips even touching Penny’s skull. She had one arm under Penny’s head and shoulders, and Penny burrowed her face into the crook between Channah’s breast and arm, staining her beautiful brocade with Penny’s salty tears, Channah not caring in the least about clothing no matter how precious, when her little girl needed to be comforted and welcomed back. And Channah’s voice and manner and words and gestures and even excited heartbeat, everything about her, confirmed that, how true her compassion was. “My little honey bear. Oh… ohhh, my little darling. There, there. You’re safe. You’re safe in my arms, sugar.”

One hand held Penny’s shoulder firmly, while the other patted and stroked Penny’s back and side. Meanwhile, Channah’s booted feet wrapped themselves around Penny’s naked ones, her upper heel hooking around Penny’s ankles and gently pulling them on top of her other leg. Penny leaned in harder to her, face buried completely in Channah’s breast, wrapped in and enraptured by the sweet, distinctive perfume of her amazing body, the totality of her presence, the bliss of being in complete communion with her.

Channah’s dominance over Penny, in every category that might be compared—spiritual and physical, emotional and rational, sensory and force of personality—was total.

And Penny knew it, deeply, profoundly, and intensely, in that moment.

Physically, as an angel, Channah was unnaturally strong and magnetically attractive, while Penny was, ultimately, only human; something paler and less than the stuff of heaven itself.

Mentally and emotionally, in addition to whatever undoubted angelic or demonic superpowers of hypnosis and seduction Channah had, she had hundreds of human lifespans’ worth of experience and practice, versus Penny’s worldly body and single life that were only just getting underway in earnest.

And Channah was in her own element, one she had centuries of familiarity with; while Penny was just returning from a place more distant than she could have conceived of before, a place that made Fang’s heteraslakos in the Hell of Lust, seem as familiar and nostalgic and homey as the half-remembered, more-imagined gentle Buckinghamshire countryside where the person Penny had once been, innocent little Pen, lived with his parents before their deaths. Before Cambridgeshire and the manipulative demons, before Venice and his cold aunt, there where he had been whole, a child cared for as a child actually should be cared for, with the parents every child should have. After what she had just been through, in the preceding moments, and even in the past days of her hazing, lying here in sweet Channah’s arms truly felt like the soft, pastel imagamemories of early childhood.

Situationally, of course, they were in Channah’s world—literally, an entire world owned and ruled by her—whereas Penny was not merely lost, not merely out of her bailiwick, she was outside of the very world she had grown up in.

Channah had brought Penny here, surrounded her by what Channah wanted surrounding her, even dressed her—when she had still been dressed, and in a way, now that she was completely vulnerable and naked—exactly as Channah wanted her to be. This place, that Channah seemed to know well—to thrive in—that was somehow very important to the succubae, could not have been more alien, or less comfortable, let alone natural or connected, to Penny. It jarred with her soul like a sword being scraped blade-edge-down against a stone. In sum, Channah had Penny exactly where she wanted her and how she wanted her.

Channah was even fully-dressed, assertively to match her personality, whereas Penny wore nothing, as naked and vulnerable as a newborn baby in her mother’s arms. Well, Penny wore nothing that could protect her or strengthen her or help her; she had only Channah for. that. The only thing on her body was her master’s tiny cage, binding her and marking her as Channah’s virginal property. And there was the only thing, the terrible thing inside her, which her mind could not even bring itself to think about but she felt as a great unsettled discomfort, reminding her of her vulnerability: Channah literally held her and controlled her, inside and out. As she had definitively demonstrated by sending Penny away from everything with an embarrassing and uncomfortable, but ultimately simple, plug.

Channah and Penny were so connected, so completely bonded to one another, that they seemed to feel it rising, not merely simultaneously, but together, as one:

Even as Penny’s heart leapt with the urge to kiss her Domina, she felt the hand that had been soothing her back brush lovingly across her ribs to take her chin, and gently, gently lift her face to Channah’s, giving Penny’s abashed eyes time to gather their courage and rise, until…

Their eyes locked, their hearts and breaths synchronized, and while Penny’s mouth opened in wordless, silent, passive amazement and awe, Channah spoke and acted assertively, for both of them, as seemed only right and natural from now on, whispering: “Oh, my rhythm. My basis. My love.”

Then, turning her head as she leaned forward, Channah crushed her lips against Penny’s and pressed her tongue inside Penny’s receptive mouth, just enough to make it clear she could and did rule even that place.

Literature Section “06-89 Channah & Penny 4ever I”—more material available at TheRemainderman.com—Part 89 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—1754 words—Accompanying Images: 1799-1802—Published 2025-05-11—©2025 The Remainderman. This is a work of fiction, not a book of suggestions. It’s filled with fantasies, idiots, and criminals. Don’t believe them or imitate them.

Stories

06-54 Hella Honeymoon XI

2025-04-072025-04-02 admin

*1569 06-54 Cute girls trying on shoes^*

Once she was satisfied with every garter, she nodded. “Now stand like ladies, backs straight, take your other stocking, and sit on the couch.”

She watched as they scurried over to the sofa and sat there, looking at her expectantly. She didn’t disappoint: “Now, leave one foot on the floor again and pull the other one up on the edge of the sofa, heel on the cushion, toes hanging off the edge. I don’t know what you’re blushing for. You both have panties on already. Imagine if you didn’t!” She stepped closer to them, stroking their hair, loving the way Penny gasped and turned her chin to help Channah run her fingers down her cheek. “Roll up the other stocking, without moving your legs. Try to keep your backs straight and your shoulders back. And when you’re ready, you’re going to slip the stocking over your toes. As soon as you have the ball of your foot in the stocking, you’re going to straighten that leg—”

“What?!”

“You heard me, missy, straighten it and point your toe as high as you can manage while you roll the stocking on.” The girls giggled, not finding this nearly as easy as the standing position, and Channah laughed at their efforts.

“Even after all the training you’ve had, you’re not very limber, girls. We are going to work on that, I promise you. But,” she allowed reluctantly as she stepped back from them, “not too terribly bad, all things considered. Next gift!”

Finishing Touches

The next boxes held tall, sleek pumps of fine white leather, with three almost gladiatorial parallel ankle straps accented with golden brass studs and buckles.

“They’re beautiful,” Penny marveled. “But I’m afraid I’m going to fall on my face! They’re so tall!”

Channah laughed. “Practice makes perfect, girls, and I will expect you to practice. As you’ll see…”

Chas, absent-mindedly touched her collar and blushed. “They match!” Her observation surprised Penny, who imitated her automatically, both girls making “O” faces like little dolls, while Channah smirked.

“They certainly do.” Picking up the discarded boxes, she set them behind her, making the girls curious what they had missed. “As you’ll see in a moment. Now, I want you to practice putting your shoes on the same way you did your stockings. First, sitting on the sofa with your leg raised delicately, go on… not too bad… Chas, try smoothing your stocking with one hand while holding the shoe in place with the other, before buckling it up. Penny, no cheating! All three buckles with your foot in the air! Oh, that’s not graceful!” she tried very hard to look disapproving, and failed, snorting at Penny’s efforts.

“Um… Domina,” Chas looked discomfited again. “The top strap…”

“Indeed,” she agreed. The first two straps had buckles no different from those of a tiny little belt. The topmost, however, had only a “U”-shaped wicket on the mouth and a series of slits on the tongue, with no way to fasten them together. “You girls need to get better about checking the boxes thoroughly. These shoes really do match your collars.” She held up a small gold padlock and key.

“Domina,” Chas managed hoarsely as she smiled archly. “Here, lift your foot onto my lap. Point your toes and twist your leg so your toes point towards your midline, it’s much more graceful,” she assured the girls, snapping the lock shut, and then repeating the process with Penny, her hands feeling warm and intimate on their legs.

“They’re like little collars around our ankles,” Penny agreed, looking ambivalently at her leg where it rested on Channah.

“They are! You girls are so cute. Let’s see how you do standing, with one foot on the table, as before…”

“Only now we can hardly balance, Domina!”

“That’s not my problem,” she feigned innocence. “Come on, show me what refined young ladies you are. Don’t fall! Penny honey, hold Chas first while she finishes, then she can hold you. Don’t hold her like she’s a chamber pot! Face her, stand against her, and hold her hips to give her some stability!” Channah ‘helped’ by positioning Penny with her crotch tight against Chas’s hip, making both girls blush, the way she was struggling to smother a smile belying the idea it was an innocent exercise. “Don’t be shy. Much better! Now Chas will feel safe! Feeling safe is a good foundation for feeling sexy.”

Channah let the third tiny gold lock dangle from her fingers, offering it to Chas, who snapped it in place with his head bowed, not meeting her eyes; and then it was time for them to reverse roles. “Only now, Chas is even less stable than before. Which makes it more important than ever that you stand tightly together for stability.”

When they were done, she could see they were hesitant to move and laughed merrily at their worried expressions. “If you can make it to the sofa, you can sit there and I will even bring you your last two gifts.”

“Oh, Domina…” the girls breathed reverently, their suspicions of what the last box would hold at once confirmed and exceeded. Each box held a gorgeous white brocade dress, with the same gold pattern of medlars and the same cut as Channah’s scarlet dress. “We match!” with great hesitance and difficulty showing how moved they were, they rose to their feet and hugged her, kissing her on each cheek, each girl depending on Channah’s stability for their own even as they were trying to thank her.

And the three of them did match, beautifully. Once the girls were dressed they stood together, flanking their Domina, admiring themselves in the mirror. Even with their cripplingly high heels, the girls were still half a head shorter than Channah; the vibrance of her scarlet and black drawing the eye away from the girls. Their Queen was the peacock to their peahens, as was only fitting. But there was no doubt, all three of them looked amazing, and either of the girls on her own quite regal. All three dresses were beautiful and special temples, celebrating their wearers.

“Fortunately for you,” Channah began, “I had my servants stock up the palace already. I can see you won’t be able to do much carrying in those shoes!”

“And we certainly cannot kick them off, Domina,” Penny blushed.

“These dresses are made to go with the shoes, so don’t you dare take them off while wearing them or the hems will drag on the floor.”

“Yes, Domina.”

“Now, gather your shifts and half-shifts in one box apiece, that’s all you’ll need for the week. Or,” she proposed mischievously, “If you prefer, you can leave them behind.”

“No, Domina!” they wailed with mock seriousness.

Literature Section “06-54 Hella Honeymoon XI”—Part 54 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—1125 words—Accompanying Images: 1569-1571—Published 2025-04-07—©2025 The Remainderman. This is a work of fiction, not a book of suggestions. It’s filled with fantasies, idiots, and criminals. Don’t believe them or imitate them.

Stories

06-53 Hella Honeymoon X

2025-04-062025-04-02 admin

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

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

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

“I know you are,” she responded confidently.

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

What Mama Likes

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

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

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

“Thank you, Domina,” they chorused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Work It, Girl

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, Domina,” she blushed.

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

Literature Section “06-53 Hella Honeymoon X”—Part 53 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—Continued from 06-52—1087 words—Accompanying Images: 1566-1568—Published 2025-04-06—©2025 The Remainderman. This is a work of fiction, not a book of suggestions. It’s filled with fantasies, idiots, and criminals. Don’t believe them or imitate them.

Stories

06-52 Hella Honeymoon IX

2025-04-052025-04-01 admin

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

Reassurance

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

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

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

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

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

Becoming Decent

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

“It hurts…” Penny whimpered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s the other?”

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

Literature Section “06-52 Hella Honeymoon IX”—Part 52 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—Continued from 06-51—1002 words—Accompanying Images: 1562-1563; for 06-50, 1564-1565—Published 2025-04-05—©2025 The Remainderman. This is a work of fiction, not a book of suggestions. It’s filled with fantasies, idiots, and criminals. Don’t believe them or imitate them.

Literature Section “06-52 Hella Honeymoon IX”—Part
52 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête
Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—Continued from 06-51—1002 words—Accompanying Images:
1562-1563; for 06-50, 1564-1565—Published
2025-04-05—©2025 The Remainderman. This is a work of fiction, not a book of
suggestions. It’s filled with fantasies,
idiots, and criminals. Don’t believe them or imitate them.

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

Stories

06-51 Hella Honeymoon VIII

2025-04-042025-04-01 admin

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Literature Section “06-51 Hella Honeymoon VIII”—Part 51 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—Continued from 06-49—1283 words—Accompanying Images: 1558-1561—Published 2025-04-04—©2025 The Remainderman. This is a work of fiction, not a book of suggestions. It’s filled with fantasies, idiots, and criminals. Don’t believe them or imitate them.

Stories

06-50 Hella Honeymoon VII

2025-04-032025-04-01 admin

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

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

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

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

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

Channah’s Confession

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Literature Section “06-50 Hella Honeymoon VII”—Part 50 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—Continued from 06-49—1362 words—Accompanying Images: 1555-1557. Published 2025-04-03—©2025 The Remainderman. This is a work of fiction, not a book of suggestions. It’s filled with fantasies, idiots, and criminals. Don’t believe them or imitate them.

Stories

06-49 Hella Honeymoon VI

2025-04-022025-03-31 admin

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

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

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

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

“Of course,” they agreed.

“Pious Catholics?”

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

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

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

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

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

“DOMINA!” Penny huffed.

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

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

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

Unholy War

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

“Who?” The girls asked breathlessly.

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

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

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

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

“Penny, was that the right question?”

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

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

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

Literature Section “06-49 Hella Honeymoon VI”—Part 49 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—Continued from 06-48—1064 words—Accompanying Images: 1552-1554. Published 2025-04-02—©2025 The Remainderman. This is a work of fiction, not a book of suggestions. It’s filled with fantasies, idiots, and criminals. Don’t believe them or imitate them.

Tag: femdom

Finishing Touches

What Mama Likes

Work It, Girl

Reassurance

Becoming Decent

Channah’s Confession

Unholy War