2228 07-38 Chthonic Tarot–Suit Names & Symbols2229 07-38 Chthonic Tarot–Rank Names & Symbols2197 07-38 You know you’re born to lose and gambling’s for fools and that’s the way I like it, baby2198 07-38 What are *you* looking at? Perv or loser, you’re all the same to me2199 07-38 I’m not cheating. MY hands are both up here 2233 07-38 Go ahead. Say “hit me.” I dare you!
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Hong explains the Succubaean Rules of Perdition to Esmeray and her jawari as follows:
BASIC RULES
Deck—Uses the Chthonic Tarot, aka The Infernal Tarot. For playing (not divining) purposes, it is essentially a standard Tarot deck with 3 changes:
Face cards reordered to put women on top (KingsQueensCavaliersJacks to QKJC);
More regular cards (8 standard suits instead of 4);
Renumbering and renaming: pip cards shifted by 1, from 1-10 to 0-9; face cards renamed QPharaoh, KHuángdì, JSultanah, and CRajah; and trump card numbering changed from base-10 (decimal) to base-6 (senary).
Only suits and ranks are relevant to play. As in the Sixteenth Century, Pharaohs are high and naughts are low. “The Bouts” are 3 special trump cards: the Fool, I, and SSSIII.
Object—Win each trick, hand, and game. Pharaohs and Bouts 4 points; Huángdìs 3 points; Sultanahs 2 points; Rajahs and each trick won, 1 point; other cards 0.
Teams—2 to 8 (or more if you can find the cards), comprised of one player (mandatory) and their lovers (optional). The teams agree ahead-of-time whose consent is required to bind their team.
Lodge—Team members must be present (“resident”) in the lodge (a physical space, not a banker). No one else is allowed inside, and no one can enter or leave during the game.
Duration—The game starts once the number of deals is agreed, and lasts until all stakes have been delivered and everyone is sober (unless all teams agree to stop earlier)
Caste—Every resident is equal in the game, except only humans can shuffle, cut, or deal; it is bad form for high-caste residents to stake lower-caste teammates disproportionately
Stakes—Each team must agree on new stakes binding through the end of the game, before each deal. Stakes binding every team alike are encouraged, but each team need only agree to stakes that put at least one of their members at risk from at least one other team. Teams encouraged but not required to lay stakes each deal that are dependent on a per-trick, per-deal, and per-game basis
First Deal
The dealer and starter determined separately and randomly; player to left of starter cuts. Dealer deals out all cards with remainder to the starter, who can discard and replace any from her hand except she cannot discard the Pharaohs or Bouts.
Starter places a suit card on the table. No one can lead a Triumph card until one has been played.
Each player (moving counterclockwise) must follow with one card of that suit. Highest card of the lead suit wins
Players who cannot follow suit and have a Triumph, must play a Triumph. Whenever a Triumph is played, the highest Triumph always takes the trick.
Players who cannot follow suit or play a Trump must play a throwaway card
Trick winner keeps the cards face-down and leads the next trick. Trick losers deliver stakes.
Teams tally their scores; deal losers deliver their stakes.
Successive Deals—Teams agree on modifications to the basic rules. Modifications are strongly encouraged every turn. The deal and the start separately move counter-clockwise to the next eligible human and player, respectively.
CHANNAH’S FAVORITE RULE MODIFICATIONS AND VARIANTS
Players are encouraged to modify rules in as disruptive and confusing a pattern as possible to force the maximum number of player errors.
Dragon King—Once this variant is agreed upon, the starter of each deal (starting immediately) can unilaterally change and add rules at the beginning of each deal.
Queen Channah—Once this variant is agreed upon, the starter of each deal (starting immediately) can unilaterally add per-trick, per-deal, and per-game stakes and stakes at the beginning of each deal, if and only if the stakes apply to each resident equally and all residents can fully discharge their stakes before leaving the lodge without suffering an injury greater than normal wear and tear; e.g., nicks and bruises are okay but not much more, and the maximum amount of money at stake cannot be greater than the amount held inside the lodge by the resident with the least money.
Playing the Fool—The Fool can be played once. It cannot win a trick, but the playing team keeps it and its points; except if that team wins no tricks, the points go to the trick winner.
The Excuse—When playing the Fool, the player must make an excuse for their behavior before letting go of the card, or it goes to the trick winner
Use Me or Lose Me—If the Fool is played in any of the last three rounds, the winner of the trick gets the points for it.
Avenging Angel—Judgment SSSII takes World SSSIII
The Joker—10 point bonus if the Magician takes the last hand.
See Something Say Something—Special per-event stakes are agreed for every time a resident misses a cue, is slow to respond to a cue, or responds in error. Teams are encouraged to require a different language for each verbal response. Suggestions:
Royal Stooge—Whenever an off-suit face card is played on a Pharaoh or Huángdì of the lead suit, everyone except the off-suit-card-player shouts “Treason!”
Laughing Boy—When the Rajah of Diamonds is played (or otherwise becomes visible), everyone has to laugh heartily.
Fuck the Pope—Whenever IIIII-The High Priest is played, before the player releases it, either that player or one of their lovers (but only one person) must mutter a barely-discernable curse or disparagement of a specific religious leader.
Johnny Sausage—If any player tries to play I-Magician, and another player can be the first to shout “Johnny Sausage!” (or “Gimmee Hanswurst!”) before the card is positioned and the player has released it, the shouter captures the Magician and the right to play it without interference later in the same hand, and the person losing the Magician has to play a different card instead. The shouter gets the points for it.
Hail Channah—Before letting go of their card, anyone playing the Pharaoh of Hearts or the Pharaoh of Spades has to recite lengthy sycophantic praise for, or pine graphically and at length for, the Queen of Lust, e.g., “Hail Channah, the baddest bitch of them all, Hell lies at your perfect feet. Cursed art thou among demons, and cursed is the foul medlar of thy womb, Lust. Unholy Channah, Queen of Hell, chastise all men for their lust, now and after their deaths.” Players are encouraged to prohibit reusing sycophantic phrasing.
French Scoring—Each player’s score is adjusted based on the number of Bouts they have at the end of the deal. Where Z = the number of players in the game, players with 0 Bouts subtract 4+Z from their final score; players with 1 Bout subtract (4+Z)/2; players with 2 add (4+Z)/2; and players with all 3 add 4+Z.
Fitty Piece—Whenever a player plays an off-suit (throwaway) card, any or all of their own lover(s) may (but need not) call “gimmee fitty bitch!” Without affecting any other stakes or teams, i.e., in addition to the normal operation of the game, the team forfeits the game, but each “Judas” wins triple the trick and game stakes riding on that trick, from the player, regardless of whether that player agreed to all the riding stakes or not.
Repent at Leisure—Any resident who catches another player staring at them or any of their team mates (except if they are watching a player who is actively taking their turn) may require the starer to disclose what—other than the game—was foremost in their mind at that moment, and then prescribe a 2-5 word phrase describing their thought(s) every time they play for the rest of the game.
Pretty Please—If the thought involves another resident, the player (called a “beggar”) has to ask that resident to help them every time they say it. The resident is under no obligation to agree, but if they do, the beggar cannot refuse their help, with any reasonable accommodation they request.
Jeannerie—Pip-card order remains unchanged for the phallic suits (Wands, Clubs, Spades, Swords = PHSR9876543210 or QKJC1098765432A), but changes for the distaff suits (Cups, Hearts, Diamonds, Coins = PS0123456789RH or QJA2345678910CK).
Secret Admirer—In any game with 5+3x players the starter may name the Pharaohs of 1+x suits before seeing the leftover cards. Any person holding a named Pharaoh becomes the secret partner of the starter (meaning no one can signal to any member of any other team, whether they are or are not partners, except by what their card plays reveal).
Palace Intrigue—Combine Secret Admirer with Fitty Piece.
Berserker—If the starter names only Pharaohs already in her own hand, she gets triple points for winning that deal.
Succubaean Wedding—Before the first card is played, a player holding the Pharaoh and Huángdì of Hearts/Spades may show them to the other players and declare a sweet/spicy marriage. Each marriage adds 5 times the number of players to its holder’s score.
Queen of Spades—When a team with a spicy marriage plays their Pharaoh, the first team to (legally) play any Rajah on top of her wins that trick and the points for the spicy marriage. For the rest of the game, the rank order of all the phallic suits (Wands, Clubs, Spades, Swords) changes to RPS0123456789H (or CQJA2345678910K). Point values do not change.
Helmet QoS—As Queen of Spades, but any player with at least two distaff (Cups, Hearts, Diamonds, Coins) Pharaohs still in their hand and/or in their pile of tricks may slap a Rajah placed on top of a married Pharaoh and shout “Helmet!” or “Respect!”, then show their Pharaohs to the other players. The first player to do this wins the trick and the spicy marriage points instead of the Rajah player. For the rest of the game, the rank order of all phallic suits (Wands, Clubs, Spades, Swords) changes to PS0123456789RH (or QJA2345678910CK).
Cuck the King—Same as Queen of Spades, except that playing any Rajah, the Devil, or the Sun on top of either married Pharaoh transfers the points for their marriage and that trick; and for the remaining deals, marriage points are replaced by cuckoldress points for holding a Pharaoh of Hearts or Spades.
Helmet CtK—As Cuck the King, but any player with at least two distaff (Cups, Hearts, Diamonds, Coins) Pharaohs in their hand and/or in their pile of tricks may slap a Rajah, Devil, or Sun placed on top of a married Pharaoh and shout “Helmet!” or “Respect!”, then show their Pharaohs to the other players. The first player to do this wins the trick and the spicy marriage points instead of the Rajah player. For the rest of the game, the rank order of all phallic suits (Wands, Clubs, Spades, Swords) changes to PS0123456789RH (or QJA2345678910CK).
JollyRajah—Same as Succubaean Wedding, except that it is players with Pharaoh-Rajah combinations in Hearts and Spades who can earn points for declaring sweet and spicy marriages; and the rank order of all regular suits is PRS012345678H (or QCJA2345678910K). Rajahs earn 3 points and Huángdìs earn 1.
Húanglóng’s Inguinal Hernia—The following wild cards have the following powers:
Card
Description
Name
Translation
S ♠️
beats everything
Karnöffel*
Inguinal Hernia
7 ♠️
beats everyting but S of ♠️ IFF led to a trick. It may not be played to start
Teufel; Böse 7
Devil; Naughty 7
6 ♠️
beats everything but S, 7 of ♠️
Papst*
Pope
2 ♠️
beats everything but S, 6-7 of ♠️
Kaiser*
Emperor
3 ♠️
beats everything but S, A, 6-7 of ♠️ & P of any suit
Barde
Bard
4 ♠️
beats everything but S, A, 3, 6-7 of ♠️ & P, H of any suit
Herzog
Duke
5 ♠️
beats everything but S, A, 3-4, 6-7 of ♠️ & P, H, C of any suit
2208 07-37 “To Serve Man?” (gwailou Sakura-Haruka-Asuka)2209 07-37 Tiferet arriving in Paradise2210 07-37 The Hostess and Her Obedient Pets (Chastity-Channah-Penance)2211 07-37 Reflecting and preparing2212 07-37 Look what we found! Your hubby!2213 07-37 He’s so cute! Can we entertain him for you?2214 07-37 Riding the Yellow Dragon2215 07-37 Miriam-Húanglóng-Rivqah2216 07-37 Artist (Tiferet) and curious skeptic (Esmeray)2217 07-37 Esmeray’s heavy burdens2218 07-37 Big George and Jacob make it look easy2219 07-37 Jacob, Big George, and their big load2220 07-37 Supplying Paradise2221 07-37 more of Channah’s gwailou stocking paradise before the honeymooners arrive
(a few German expletives and other words mentioned, are defined after the text)
PREVIOUSLY: As a honeymoon gift, Queen Channah’s husband, friends, lovers, and wives have just pleasured her, and are now cuddling around her—or in Penny’s case, under her—sharing the afterglow. NOW:
No one spoke, or even moved, except Chastity and Penny, who had not been told they could stop soothing and honoring their Domina.
“Mmm… you girls’ lips are so soft, your kisses so tender…” Channah murmured. “You can sooth me with your hands as well,” she allowed, shivering as the girls’ gentle fingers joined their mouths, trailing tenderly over Channah’s legs and hips and waist as best they could in shackles. “Mmmm…. Gentler, silly girl,” she drawled, petting Chastity’s hair. “Softer… don’t even brush against me, just roll your face and tongue back and forth, changing the pressure without any friction…. What a lovely way to rest… although generally, I don’t allow girls with mouths as dirty as yours on me.”
“You allow your girls to be dirty?!” Húanglóng protested, trying unconvincingly to sound outraged, but it coming out closer to a luxuriant yawn.
“Oh, Lillith and Cain!” Rivqah hooted.
“Sooo dirty!” Miriam agreed.
“The filithiest foxes in the land!” Rivqah clarified.
“We are?!” Penny asked, sounding so genuinely and innocently shocked and scandalized by the notion everyone around her erupted in laughter.
“Of course not, darling,” Channah purred, snaking her other hand down to stroke Penny’s hair as well as she could from her position, as soothingly as she was Chastity’s. “I just meant I watched both of you shamelessly letting our First Husband step all over your tongues and faces with his big dirty feet. You girls are still my little sugar bears.” Then she giggled teasingly: “Now hush your sweet, dirty mouth and keep sucking the scum out of my bum.”
The demons and cambions erupted in laughter while Penny’s forehead—the only part of her face anyone could see—managed to turn bright red, and she tried to move as she protested, sounding badly hurt: “I didn’t—Domina! I—”
“And don’t you dare stop!” Channah quickly amended, tugging a fistful of Penny’s hair for emphasis, then moving her hands up to run along the outside of Penny’s thighs and hips. “We can’t have you getting distracted.”
“The poor girl probably can’t even breathe,” Húanglóng opined.
“What are you suggesting?!” Channah demanded lazily, trying to sound upset, and failing.
“Just that she’s a little slip of a thing, lovergirl,” Miriam assured her, giggling and touching her arm.
Húanglóng roared: “That, and you’re a gorgeous, spectacular prize cow, my voluptuous love!”
“Fucker!” Channah feigned outrage, laughing deep in her throat but not moving an inch. “You’re lucky she’s taking such sweet care of me, you bastard, and I can’t be bothered with you right now. But I’ll make you regret it.”
“How?” he scoffed, challengingly, leaning forward resting a hand on Chastity’s back to support himself, to kiss Channah’s knee.
“Oh, I’ll think of a way,” she vowed languorously, before addressing Penny: “Darling Pleaser, I think we may have identified another little specialty of yours.”
“68? Or analingus?” Rivqah asked, exchanging an amused glance with Miriam.
“Both. And she’s so much softer now,” Channah giggled. “They’re both just perfect now! I’m afraid my little vacuum mattress is going to have to get used to breathing with my voluptuous… generous…” (the three demons laughed uproariously, while their cambions and cattle remained carefully neutral) “body covering her like a blanket.”
“I don’t know what either of those is,” George admitted, embarrassed.
“What, a vacuum or a mattress?” Rivqah asked snarkily.
“No, Mistress,” George looked stricken. “The other—68 and… what?!”
“Oh, Channah my love,” Húanglóng scoffed, lifting her leg and kissing his way down her calf. “You’ve obviously been neglecting the education of my wyrmling!”
“He didn’t even manifest as a cambion until a few days ago!” Channah pointed out.
“We thought he was just a dumb carpenter!” Rivqah interjected, drawing a pinch and a glare from Húanglóng:
“Bad succubus!”
“Oh yes,” she assured him.
“You should let me take him to Lytos, and show him a bit of his Dragon heritage!”
Channah laughed caustically: “You’re kidding! He’s my carpenter! And he’s actually reasonably diligent! The last thing I want him to learn about is his ‘heritage’ of apathy and idleness!”
Rivqah, Miriam, and Jacob all roared with genuine, slightly-surprised laughter.
“Chastity, honey, you’re doing marvelously, but what I really need right now is a pillow for my head and Penny’s legs are starting to shake from supporting me. Come up here, face down, and slide back until your little cage klinks against Penny’s to be my little double pillow. Perfect!”
Jacob rolled over onto his stomach as well, and backed up toward Chastity. Seeing Miriam’s and Rivqah’s inquiring look, he grumbled defensively: “What?! I outrank them, at least! No need for her mouth to go to waste!”
“You’re lucky you’re so big,” Miriam allowed, letting it go with an amused glance at Rivqah.
“I’m serious!” Húanglóng complained. “I have great affection for all my little spawn. And he’s yours—no question about it, I can’t even visit him on Earth, let alone train him. I’m glad he’s in your care! But you brought him to hell; why not let him see what he’s made of?!”
“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of!” Channah responded, provoking another round of laughter from the succubae.
“I mean this!” he insisted. “And, honestly, I could use a good carpenter…”
“I’m sure you could use anyone capable of an honest day’s labor around your broke-down, lotus-eating—” the succubae were all laughing so hard she couldn’t even finish her sentence, ignoring his continuing protests. “Besides, I’m still trying to get pissed off at you for calling me fat!” she groaned torpidly, amusing her sisters further. “The last thing I’m in the mood for, is doing you any favors!”
“But darling that’s perfect,” he paused in his attentions and sat up, raising his hands in exasperation. “I’d be the one doing you a favor! Let me take this one, and the two sows, back to Lytos with me for a few days, actually, or a week or two would be even better—for your benefit, I mean—and I’ll have them as docile and eager to please as a handmaiden’s lapdog!”
“Are you kidding?!” Channah cried, scrambling up to a sitting position to face a surprised Húanglóng and pretending not to notice Penny making muffled noises and struggling for breath under her, and pretending not to notice her handmaidens’ amusement. “Do you think I don’t notice how obsessed you, and all the ambassadors and visitors from the other Courts are, with our operatives? Especially my jawari?! Most of them haven’t had a chance to play, physically, with a live human for—centuries! Don’t try to pretend you’d be doing me a favor!”
“Come now!” Húanglóng raised his hands, whether in protest or self-defense was not entirely clear, slipping into a mixture of English and German without intending to: “Part of your ladies’ entreaties to get me here was their concern about your little arschkriecher there being too big for her panties and too good for pederasty! I’ll overcome her little quibbles.”
Finally relenting towards her slave-wife, Channah rose up on her knees long enough for Penny to scramble out from under her, dizzy and panting like a winded puppy. Channah rolled her eyes and tried not to smirk too obviously at her little bunny’s distress as she shook her head. “You idle girls can make yourselves useful by refilling everyone’s’ glasses.” Then she returned her attention to her husband. “Unfortunately, I knew I would need expertise in canon law and she was the obvious choice. So I let the priests keep her too long. Hell, technically they still have her.”
Húanglóng looked skeptical. “Wait. Priests? I’d have thought they’d lay the groundwork for you—”
She waved a hand dismissively, knowing immediately where he was going. “Unfortunately, out of all the parish schools and colleges in England, she managed to find her way to the few devout ones. Besides—your ‘rationale’ is also obviously defective because it fails to explain what you can offer me for sweet Chastity here,” she observed, fondly pulling both her girls into her sides and petting their heads. Without letting their mouths anywhere near her face.
“She’s an idiot!” Húanglóng shrugged, as if it were obvious.
“Your magical powers can fix stupid?!” Channah demanded skeptically. Both of them ignored the expressions of betrayal and hurt on the girls’ faces as they discussed them.
“Not directly,” Húanglóng admitted, showing only a minimal amount of discomfiture. “But I expect Georgie and I can smooth over both their edges—”
“Ha!” Channah exclaimed, trying to look more indignant than she felt. Revealing her demonic spirit or essence, of whatever nature it was, by omission of any plea to his affections, she simply protested: “You can do everything you’re suggesting by staying here with me for a couple of weeks. And it would do you good, besides! To be surrounded by a more-vigorous environment.” Gently teasing him, she followed his unintentional lead in mixing languages: “You could even send a few of your Runde, Pumpel Drachenherzöge along for us to help invigorate.”
“Hear hear! We like that idea!” Miriam laughed.
“Actually,” Rivqah clarified, also following suit, “as long as they bring their Drachenpenisse, they can leave their herzöge behind in the Hell of Sloth!”
Looking mildly irritated, he retorted: “If the two of you graced us with your presence there again and made the invitation yourselves, I feel certain you could persuade any number of my valiant vassals to come assist you!”
“You will not be taking my Sukkubus-Prinzessinnen to Drachenland as if they were your—your… common drabs, Herr Drachenführer!“ She pounded her fist on the cushion beside her to pretend and emphasize her pretended seriousness. Despite her valiant efforts, she was ultimately unsuccessful in concealing her amusement. “Get me a fresh glass, sweetie,” she nodded toward Penny before turning her attention back to her husband, who was continuing:
“That would be all well and good except for one thing, my Queen!” The Dragon King looked at her significantly.
“What?!” she asked with exaggerated exasperation, looking only slightly uncertain since she didn’t know what he was referring to. Even as minor as it was, it was unusual enough for her to be attention-getting.
“You married me first, mein Drachenführerin!” He raised his finger so everyone would realize his was an important point, and more importantly that he was now consciously playing the bilingual game they had started. Like Channah before him, he completely failed to hide his amusement, and thus to persuade anyone of his righteous anger. “Which makes you the Sukkubus-Drachenkönigin of Lust and Sloth. Which makes them the Sukkubus-Drachenprinzessinnen of Sloth and Lust!”
“Scheiss die Wand an!” She cursed, slapping both her hands emphatically down on the cushions to her sides and just giving up, bursting out laughing and shaking her head as her husband, unnecessarily at this point, spelled it out:
“Which means I have everybit as much right to order them around as you do! And which, by the way, makes Lytus their homes, just as much as Sodom!”
“Sademtsaowah these days, my darling gelbe Zuckerschlange,” she cooed sweetly, leaning forward, unable to resist kissing her husband as they laughed and hugged one another.
Rivqah looked at Miriam and deadpanned: “I feel sick. I’m going to have to Die Wand anschreien.” Then she noticed Penny standing stock-still beside her, her face white, hands frozen on the verge of refilling Rivqah’s wine-glass. “What are you stopping for, mein Schätzchen?” she challenged, slapping her bottom to get her attention.
Penny shook her head to clear it and returned Rivqah’s gaze, saying—or perhaps asking: “I’m a… what? A succubus-dragon-princess of Hell?!” And then, still ashen-faced, she shook her head again. “That’ can’t be. I’m a priest!”
“Not. Any. More, I think it’s safe to say,” Miriam suggested, as the room dissolved in laughter.
Chastity, the only other person in the room not showing any amusement, managed: “I thought ‘princess’ was just a nickname, like—‘prissy.’”
“Oh, it was, darling,” Channah assured her. “And it still is.” She shrugged. “But it also happens to be true.”
“I thought I was a slave,” Penny frowned.
“Of course you are, Zuckerbär, don’t get all excited,” Channah confirmed patronizingly, making a dismissive gesture. “And—” she glared at her husband. “Even more importantly—You’re my slave and mine alone. Demon-human marriages are always left-handed.”
“As it turns out,” Rivqah raised her eyebrows, staring with pleasure into Penny’s lost eyes even as she dug her fingernails into Penny’s soft bottom to ensure she had the girl’s full attention. “Selling your soul isn’t as glamorous as devils try to make it sound.”
“But it does sound better, doesn’t it darling? Now keep pouring, slave-princess!” Channah rejoined, rubbing it in, before returning her lips and her hands and her attention back to her husband, managing to pout as she nibbled on his lower lip and stroked his manhood. “Mm… I really could use your help here a few days, honey… surely now that you’re already here, it’s just as easy for you to stay, as it would be for you to go back home?”
“Witch,” he replied, admitting—as his body already had: “You’re quite persuasive, darling. But then… so am I,” he observed, touching her back and watching her instantly relax, humming with contentment.
“You are, baby…. I don’t know which of us is going to win this argument…. But I wager we’re going to enjoy having it!”
“Now I want to argue!” Miriam announced, apropos of nothing.
“Me too,” Jacob admitted.
Suddenly Channah gasped, pulling back from her husband and looking into his eyes with excitement and definite calculation. “Daaarrrliiinnnggg…. Because, I’m concerned you’re going to persist in suggesting our marital status creates some kind of question about my chattel….”
“Uh-oh.” Húanglóng swallowed.
“I have the best idea.” She snatched her new glass of wine from Penny and took an excited sip, while Chastity was serving Húanglóng.
“That’s what I was afraid of,” he allowed, looking at her with an expression that was both intrigued and calculating.
“Sweet darling little Chastity was just begging me to play some games earlier…. Why don’t we make it a bet?”
“Oh! I’m listening!” Húanglóng was suddenly entirely interested in whatever she was going to say.
“Let’s play tarot for it! We’ve got everything we need… cards in the parlor” she pointed one perfectly-manicured long fingernail toward the parlor, and then managed to indicate both girls at once without setting down her glass “and pets right here.” Penny and Chastity exchanged a nervous glance, but apparently didn’t think this was the right occasion to ask what she meant. “We can make a side-bet,” she proposed, returning her free hand to the yellow dragon while she took another sip of the spiked wine.
“If I win,” the Dragon King began, “what do I get? I want your jawari, their qahramanah, and my dragonling for a week—a fortnight!” he amended hastily.
“Oh-ho! You greedy greedy serpent!” Clearly she was being emphatic deliberately, but there was no indication she wasn’t as surprised and affronted as she acted. “Greedy yellow dragon…” she crooned, then made a mock hissing sound and flickered her tongue at him. “First off, if we make this bet in the first place, you agree you have absolutely no claim to any part of them, or anyone else I marry, ever, and you won’t make any claims or suggestions to anyone, most importantly me, about it. Obviously, you’ll be first-husband and they’ll have to show you the respect my lord deserves…. Everything about our marital relations—and theirs—will be as we already agreed in our marital contract. But you’ll agree with me that nothing about the marital interest will disturb my property interest in them, or limit the property provisions of our marriage contract in any way in relation to marital objects. That’s not part of the bet, that’s a condition for my agreeing to make the bet in the first place! And by the way, I hope you don’t think I’m listening to your big, aggressive fingers down there in connection with our negotiation. My reaction to them is totally separate!”
“And I hope you don’t imagine your skilled, elegant… er… gently rounded fingers down there are negotiating with me, either! But I understand your condition on making the bet—and if you sweeten the bet itself enough, I can live with that so far as it goes.”
“Before we talk about my sweet hotpot,” she purred: “If you win more tricks than me—you get the services of these two jawari only, and this one qahramanah only, and my English carpenter George Manning, for exactly one week,” she bargained. “No… Jacob is an arrogant little prick and he practically begged me to be mean to him, so I’ll throw in Jacob too, on the same conditions. But with no one and nothing else. Not even a snail from my garden or a stich of my clothing or jewelry! Not even a Persian rock candy to freshen their breath or a bag of dates to sweeten your coffee with!” She paused for a second, staring intently into her husband’s eyes, almost as if she were done, before continuing: “And you have to keep them chained in your palace at—”
“Ah ah!” The dragon interrupted his wife, shaking his head and responding to her without either of them paying any mind or attention to what was going on among the others.
Miriam and Rivqah were exchanging another merry-eyed smirk, enjoying watching the reactions of the human (and cambion) bargaining chips as they stood around—or in the case of the girls, served drinks—listening to themselves being haggled over like a horse ride on an old nag. “This one’s not turned on,” Rivqah observed, checking Penny’s condition and reporting her findings in a stage-whisper. “I think her wittle feelings are hurt!”
“Same with this one!” Miriam agreed after tugging Chastity closer to her and checking. “She may even be pouting a wittle!” Miriam made a mock-sad-face, rocking with her silent amusement. “And the qahramanah and the stud both, er… what’s the phrase? Im Kreis kotzen.”
Rivqah covered her mouth to keep from laughing out loud: “Der große Drachenarschgeige just looks baffled.”
Miriam bit her own knuckle to keep silent, while the two royals continued to ignore their exchange completely.
Húanglóng was shaking his head firmly. “No ma’am. No way. Do it right. If I get to play with your toys, it’s with no restrictions, no strings whatsoever on my use of any of them. If I win—or, at least, win more tricks than you—then I get them with title for a week and no restrictions of any kind.”
“No, sir,” she shook her head firmly. “There’s one very important condition I won’t compromise on: You have to return them in good condition. At least as good as the condition you received them!”
“Subject to normal wear and tear,” the King qualified. “I’m not going to baby them or handle them with kid gloves!”
“Fine!” she snapped. “Is that all?!”
“Well, that depends on what you want?”
Looking happier to be discussing this subject, Channah answered immediately, as if she’d known what she had in mind all along: “I want you, and two of your best vassals—their selection being subject to my veto—to spend exactly one week at Sademtsaowah using every ounce of your persuasive powers training every single jariya I can spare from their duties and lay my hands on!”
“OH no… you want three dragons? Three full dragons? For the same length of time you’re offering a handful of cambions and livestock?! That’s a grossly unfair proposal! You can have me for five days, or the three of us for three days!”
“I agree with you,” Channah nodded surprisingly, making a placating gesture. “Obviously, darling, you’re my number-one love-bunny, husband, and king! Your time is more precious to me than anyone else’s, even my darling shu-wives. But I also know the prospect of having all my available, living, juicy, human—uh, did I mention alive?!—jawari at your disposal for a full week is so appealing, you’ll have to keep your own vassals from murdering one another for the privilege. And,” she concluded, triumphantly: “I’ll bet you’re actually terrified I’ll relent and agree to the shorter period you just demanded—aren’t you?” And when she found what she expected in his eyes, she clapped excitedly and laughed. “I knew it! All men are whores!”
“Of every species!” Miriam and Rivqah agreed simultaneously, saluting one another, taking a deep draught, and laughing.
“Of every species,” Channah agreed, following their lead down to taking adrink. “Even our dear, sweet incubi.”
“Especially your damned incubi!” the King charged, making the succubae whoop and agree.
“Also, my dear,” Channah continued, “you and I both know that in the exceedingly-unlikely event you win, I’m going to be absolutely furious! Whereas you—” she spread her hands as if it were self-evident.
“What?!” he challenged.
She crossed her arms and raised her chin defiantly. “You’re standing in front of me right now wondering whether you want to win this bet or if you’re better off losing it. Aren’t you?”
The mighty dragon king puffed up his chest and stretched to his full height, as if to intimidate his wife… and then threw up his hands in surrender, deflating like a punctured bladder. “Ohne Scheiss! Fine. You have a deal! Done!”
“Done!” Channah immediately responded, laughing as they shook hands, the gesture just formal and stylized enough even Penny and Chastity could tell it was a binding commitment they both took seriously. Notwithstanding the fact Channah leaned forward over their still-clasped hands for another kiss and giggle.
Turning away, Channah’s eyes fell on Penny’s angry red face and she came up short, laughing in genuine surprise: “What is wrong with you, my little lapdog?!”
“You—you—”
“Domina!” she reminded her sharply, a pleased smirk creeping into the corners of her mouth when Penny started over:
“Domina, you—you just—bargained us away like—like—”
“Chattel?” she suggested, quite consciously and deliberately returning Penny’s reckless, impulsive, unintended stare. And she burst out laughing again when Penny looked flummoxed and even more furious.
“Hellooo! Welcome to the club, Arschkriecher!” Jacob sneered caustically. “Where have you been? Maybe this one’s the bimbo!”
“But Domina—” emotions chased one another across Penny’s face, none of them easing her tense—and intense—stance. Then, softly, but if anything, with greater intensity than before: “I love you!”
“Awww…. That’s so sweet. I want to kiss you.” She sat down on the edge of the bench cushions. “But not just yet.” Seizing Penny’s hair and wrapping it around her fist, she commanded: “Open wide and lean back!” As she did so, she held out one hand toward Miriam and used the other to pull Penny gently but steadily back by the hair until she fell to her knees with her head face up on Channah’s thigh, her mouth obediently open. Miriam handed Channah a rag and a bottle of clear spirits and Channah raised these a few inches above Penny’s lips to keep the bottle clean before tipping it over. “I think by now, you know what this is going to feel like, so I don’t want any histrionics. I expect you to be a big girl and swish it around for at least one minute before you swallow it!” And with that, she poured about half a jigger’s worth into Penny’s mouth, pausing when Penny’s eyes shot open and started watering and Penny snapped her mouth shut. “Pathetic, baby, but just barely adequate as long as you do not swallow. Yet. Swish. Swish!” she repeated, as she let go of Penny’s hair and poured more clear spirits onto the rag, then began scrubbing Penny’s face vigorously, with special attention around her lips. “That-a-girl! Open wide again as soon as you swallow and I’m going to give you more since that first sip was so tiny—good girl!” she cooed, pouring again as Penny, hesitantly, with a tense expression, forced her lips slightly apart, smiling with a cruel satisfaction as she saw how hard Penny had had to struggle to do as she was told instead of spitting the harsh liquid out or choking it down. “Aaand a third…. If I taste the slightest hint of filth in your mouth I’m going to let Jacob or my hubby beat you tonight. Or maybe both of them.” This time, she could tell, Penny made a Herculean effort to accept as much liquor as she could stand, and to swish it as hard and as long as she could bear, before choking it down with a sad sound.
“Oooooh… baby…. That’s my sweet, brave girl!” she cooed, finally leaning forward to kiss her wife, licking around the inside of her mouth. “Mmm… those spirits are rough and tough, aren’t they? But here.” She set the spirits down, picked up her own wine glass, filled her mouth with a generous drink, and then returned her lips to Penny’s, holding her chin in place while she forced the wine into Penny’s mouth, with her big tongue following it in to both aggressively-occupy, and gently-tease, her wife’s mouth. Miriam, Rivqah, and even Húanglóng whooped and clapped in approval as Channah demonstrated how thoroughly Penny was in her power and under her spell, making a mess on Penny’s face and her own leg under Penny’s head by slowly and steadily pouring more wine into her mouth without completely disengaging their kiss. Penny swallowed frantically, gasping and struggling to show her obedience, minimize spilling, and breathe all at once.
Pausing a moment to look down with a smugly satisfied expression upon her pliant, gasping jariya (who was staring back up at her with something that looked like adoration and acceptance), Channah licked the excess wine off her own lips and whispered: “This is your night, baby. Yours, too, Chastity,” she spared a glance up at her other wife, before looking back down to enjoy the sight of her handiwork a moment longer. “Tonight—so to speak—all bets are off. You’re still mine, of course. But games aren’t any fun if your opponents aren’t trying their best! Jacob, you’ve gamed with me before, haven’t you?”
“Yes, Domina, at one of—”
But she cut him off without ever even breaking eye contact with Penny. “And you think I’m a hateful bitch, don’t you?”
Jacob hesitated.
“I know you want to agree…”. Channah smirked with pleasure.
“I—no one likes being treated—you know—”
“You’re wrong about that, but I take your point. You don’t like it, do you?”
“I hate it,” he blurted, venom spraying out of his mouth that—if it were chemical rather than emotional—would have burned every surface it touched, surprising even himself.
For her part, Channah gasped, looking up with an intense, aroused expression. “You really know how to get my attention, don’t you? Either that, or you’re so bunged- and bottled-up you can’t help yourself.” She shrugged carelessly. “Either way, it’s fine for me. As much as you hate me—you can’t say I cheated at anything as important at Tarot, can you?”
“No, Your Majesty,” he subsided back into formal servility, perhaps regretting the possible consequences of his earlier outbursts. “That’s true.”
Looking back down at Penny, she asked: “Did you hear that?”
“Yes, Domina.”
And with an ugly, sexy, mean, hot, taunting tone and expression, she challenged Penny: “If you actually have a problem with me being a total bitch who relishes humiliating and ignoring chattel like you, tonight’s the night to show it. It’s like the ancient Greek festival of Anthesteria. I’ll bet your priests didn’t teach you about that, did you? No? Of course not. I’m sure they skipped over all the really interesting festivals. At the Anthesteria, slaves were allowed to participate and party with the free citizens and even their masters, as equals. For that one night, any servant or slave with the guts to do so, could treat their lords and masters as equals, and their lords and masters had to accord them equal respect.” Breaking the intense gaze she and Penny were sharing, she looked up at Jacob, her lip curling in contempt, an unmistakable challenge. “I wonder if you would have stepped up, or slunk away?” Then she looked back down at Penny with the same challenging, insulting disrespect. “And you? Ha! This is your chance, pussy. If you really have any ounce of fire or masculinity in your tiny little purse, show it tonight. Raise the stakes, high enough to make me care. If you dare, dumpling. And then beat me at cards and force me to renegotiate with my husband.” She snorted with laughter. “Our husband!” she corrected herself, leaning forward and kissing Penny forcefully on the lips, driving her tongue hard into Penny’s mouth again to seal the challenge and making her gag before half-releasing her, half-throwing her aside. Looking aggressively around the room, meeting every other eye as if seeing what she might provoke, she drank more wine and barked: “We’ll play here. Do you girls even know what playing cards are?” she asked harshly.
“Yes, Domina!” Chastity responded glad to be able to claim her attention for a moment.
“Go to the adjacent parlor and bring back all the cards you can find. You—” she jabbed a finger down at Penny. “Pull the tallest of the benches into the middle of the room, without a cushion, so we can use it as a table. And then pull lower benches, with the best cushions on them, around it for us to play.” Then, humming, she walked over to the lacquered wooden boxes containing the wedding gifts for each of her wives and picked through them, while the Dragon King and her Duchesses exchanged an amused, excited glance.
A few German words and expressions you may come across
Arschgeige—ass-violin Arschkriecher—ass-kisser Die Wand anschreien—scream at the wall (vomit) Drachen—dragon Führer, Führerin—leader Gelbe—yellow Große—big Herzöge—dukes Im Kreis kotzen—vomiting in circles (feeling annoyed) König—king
Königin—queen Ohne Scheiss—without shit Penisse—penis Prinzessinnen—princesses Pumpel—loud fart Runde—round Schätzchen—sweetie Scheiss die Wand an—shit on the wall (what the hell) Sukkubus—succubus Zuckerbär—sugar-bear Zuckerschlange—sugar-snake
1848 06-102 My girls are trained to obey1849 06-102 I can make my little bitches do whatever you want!1850 06-102 Doubloons! Doubloons! (traditional Mardi Gras plea for gifts)1851 06-102 Bitches are throwing holy water now! RUN!
PREVIOUSLY: Esmeray is shackled by the ankles overlooking the sea of devils and demons, restrained from falling down into the chasm they inhabit, only by a waist-high guard rail. Hong is knowingly pushing the touch-shy Esmeray’s boundaries by holding her hands and pressing up against her back. NOW:
“Can you abide… more?” Hong whispered, a beat before shuffling even closer, slowly guiding—too gently to call it ‘pushing’—Esmeray’s hands forward and in front of her, and resting her head against the side of Esmeray’s, with her chin on Esmeray’s shoulder. A bit taller, as she was a bit older, the two women fit well where they were, Hong on the platform and Esmeray on the bar her ankles were shackled to.
Hong settled softly into the embrace. If she had wanted to clasp her own hands around the front of Esmeray, they were close enough to one another to do so; but she accepted Esmeray’s hands, holding hers almost like mittens, accepting the limitations Esmeray put on her.
“Are you matching my breathing?!” Esmeray asked suddenly, stiffening again.
But Hong laughed, softly and unthreateningly. “Very good! I am. It’s a relaxation technique.” And before Esmeray could go down that avenue any further, she began to explain: “The damned, you probably know from your human religion—do you have one?”
“I’m… familiar with Islam. Less so with Christianity.”
“The damned are in hell to suffer. Their suffering is constant, unending, and unrelieved here. Each of the demon races of hell are especially attuned to one human weakness, and expert in exploiting it. For the succubae…”
“Lust,” Esmeray said, her voice as stiff and wooden as her posture.
“Yes. And when I say ‘succubae,’ you understand the term may also usually include incubi. She gently moved her arms more tightly around Esmeray. “If women bother you—try to ignore me,” she whispered softly. “This means nothing to me, and I will be content if I can help it mean nothing to you. Concentrate on breathing, slowly and regularly.”
Esmeray wanted to tell her it already meant nothing to her, but although she had learned to lie—with great facility—to survive, it still wasn’t in her nature to prefer it, or even adopt it unconsciously or unnecessarily. It was a tool, not a rush. And she teetered on the edge of too many precipices she couldn’t quite bring herself to look over, to seek mendacity in the things she could allow herself to experience. So she said nothing, but instead, dubiously tried to breathe more slowly, fighting and overriding her own irritation at a suggestion that felt patronizing to her, but perhaps was not.
“Yes. The damned brought here by the direct intervention of the succubae—consorting within dreams, or in person; penetrating the succubus if male, being penetrated by it if female—often enough or intensely enough to be husked, are the red devils. They are enslaved for all eternity to the succubae who seduced them. If the succubus—or incubus, or if they were seduced by more than one succubae, any one of the succubae who seduced them—is in hell, they sense them and are drawn inexorably towards them. The crowd here are probably all Fang’s, although they can get confused… their minds are not… reasonable the way ours are. More instinctual and stupid. Can you guess why?”
“Because they’re brainless morons, driven by their stupid dicks like all men,” Esmeray guessed.
Hong giggled. “Essentially correct—they chose to surrender their reason and their souls to lust in life, and so they remain here, bereft of the former and enslaved to the latter.”
“And when their master is on Earth?”
“Lost. Although they tend to stay where they are, or if they have the instinct to remember it, to collect where their slaver was last located in hell. Doubtless legions of Channah’s conquests are shuffling and slavering their way towards us from every corner of hell right now.” Hong, having a mean streak of her own, giggled again at the thought. “When Channah returns here with her girls after her honeymoon, many of the devils who were within a week’s walk will have finally joined Fang’s in attendance here.”
“And the soldiers? And you? Are you… dead?” Esmeray asked, her voice barely even rising in discomfort and willfully trying to ignore it as Hong repositioned her feet, so now her legs were pressing against Esmeray’s.
“In order—yes, the soldiers, my ladies’ maid (who you met at the brothel door), and the other denizens of hell who retain their human form here, are dead and damned. But unlike their red counterparts, they were not husked in life. They were either damned by their own lust for, or fornication with, other Earth creatures; or they sinned in life at the behest, seduction, or command of succubae.”
“You’re talking about operatives.” It was a flat statement, not a question.
Hong laughed softly. “I think so. Does that bother you?”
“I was born bad,” Esmeray whispered. “I knew where I was headed before the succubae took me in.”
“Although the succubae are a bit cagey about it, they do consistently claim we have free will as long as we are alive.”
“And I’ve always exercised mine to be evil,” Esmeray growled. “But that doesn’t mean I want to dwell on it.”
“Right you are,” Hong conceded, moving along. “But no, the qahramanat, the jawari, and the mamalik—everyone with an operative’s job, is an operative. A living soul, trained to serve the succubae on Earth, since unlike the succubae, none of their dead servants can leave hell. I, and all my little boy-girls, are alive.”
“You serve her on Earth… but you’re in hell?”
“Like you. Visiting. For this.” And Esmeray knew she meant the hetaraslakos, and… whatever it was that was going on here. Before she could ask, Esmeray explained: “Hell is a place of banishment and suffering. Those are the only reasons it exists. I don’t know if there’s… science, or magic, or simply the corrupted or complete absence of Dao—what you would call God—behind it. The succubae are very cagey about it all. But the way I can understand it, is that each hell exists to torture; and thus torture is the essence of each hell, its sustaining force—it’s fuel. In this, the Hell of Lust, punishing the lusty for their lust gives this place, and its masters the succubae, their purpose, and therefore their power. Every measure of a succubus is taken and given by the amount of misery they can twist from lust.”
Esmeray gasped with understanding. “And somehow… this place intensifies what we do here, and what we do here… tortures the damned!”
“Yesss!” Hong nodded, pleased with her student. “Here, we enjoy everything they want most, the things their entire existence has been reduced to by their worldly surrender to lust, but can never, never, ever have again.”
“We’re whores,” Esmeray concluded bitterly. “Dancing-girl whores. I think I may be dead and damned, whether you are or not.”
Hong laughed gaily. “Please! We’re qahramanat—madames, circus lion-tamers, dominatrices, whatever you want to call us. We may be part of the entertainment, but we’re not the ones putting out. The jawari are the whores. Remember, the purpose of whores—pornoi—is to serve men’s lust. On Earth, that is physical, and women can do it despite their indifference. In Hell, it is spiritual: the devils—all, or virtually all, male at the castles of huskers like Channah and Fang—are reacting not to our female bodies, but to the amount of lust—that’s their desire, not their satisfaction—that we can wring out of our poor little boybitches. We magnify the devils’ agony by magnifying the lust they can sense but never slake.”
“I understand,” Esmeray sounded surprised. “But it still doesn’t explain why Channah chose me as one of these—” she struggled and accepted the least-objectionable of Hong’s analogies “—lion-tamers. Unless her real purpose is to humiliate us.”
“I didn’t mean to bury the lead. The damned exist here to be tortured. The only thing they are capable of in hell, is suffering. They are more than their suffering, but suffering is the only action they can take here. They respond to lust, and they respond to cruelty. That’s why I’m good at my work: I like sex, and I like torturing helpless little bitchboys who are stupid enough to let me know they crave me. The jawari of the succubae, mmm…” Esmeray could feel her smile, imagine her closing her eyes as she reveled in her thoughts. “They’re raised for this. Like veal calves, or hothouse flowers. Their lust, and their agony—physical but especially mental—interact to magnify the suffering of the devils, and thus the amount of power they send back. Our purpose is not to sate the lust of our jawari, but to magnify, thwart, twist, and whip it into a frenzy of suffering beyond all reason.”
“And so the devils react to me…”
“Ohh, girl… I’m still working that out. I’m not sure even the succubae understand it fully yet. I suspect you’re an experiment. But I think it’s the utter contempt, loathing, and hatred you feel for men, and our boys, especially when they become aroused. I can feel it… I’m sure the devils do, too. And you hate the devils directly, too, because you hate their lust. It may be your hatred for your jawari and the devils, combined with their lust for you, that is setting the damned on fire.” She shook her head, as if to clear it. “If Channah brought you here to punish you, I assure you it is only because somehow by punishing you, she punishes the devils and extracts more power from them.”
At that very moment, Hong’s jawari chorused as one: “Your Grace!”
And when Esmeray looked back over her shoulder, she saw the largest and strongest woman she had ever seen or even heard of.
1840 06-100 Hong’s empathy, Esmeray’s truth1841 06-100 Edging Esmeray 1842 06-100 What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger1843 06-100 1,2,3! Point to the biggest bitch on this balcony!
PREVIOUSLY: At Channah’s command, Hong has shackled Esmeray by the ankles overlooking the sea of devils and demons. Now she stands close behind her, challenging Esmeray to take her hand, wanting something from Esmeray. NOW:
Esmeray slowly put her hand into Hong’s, felt the dry warmth of her hand, and then, as a test, rolled her fingers around Hong’s fingertips, her palm wrapping around Hong’s knuckles.
Neither woman moved, not their hand, not their eyes, Hong encouragingly, Esmeray suspiciously, until Hong nodded reassuringly again, showing Esmeray her right hand and then shifting behind Esmeray until the younger woman could look over her other shoulder and see it. Steeling herself to patience, she took hold of it, the same as the other. A stupid test.
Perhaps sensing that anything that could be construed as smartassery by Esmeray, would be construed that way, Hong was very careful, simply making a soothing, approving noise, before explaining: “I’m going to step closer behind you if that’s all right.”
“Why? What do you want from me?” Esmeray demanded sharply, and Hong stopped, considering her answer.
“Two things. My Domina has commanded me to train you for something that I would have thought you were totally unsuited for.”
Esmeray snorted, shaking her head wryly and even managing a hint of amusement. “Oh, you noticed, did you?”
“I thrive by serving my Domina successfully. To do that, I have to understand you better—your feelings, your motives, your limits, and, yes, your clear but strange potential. Then…” she considered “I felt it too, as strongly as you, the reaction when we met. Very fierce and competitive. On the surface, we have been given the same job, even the same title. Obviously it is a test. Obviously it is a competition. And if it is a competition, I mean to win, as surely as you do. But…” Hong shrugged. “Competing with me, at least on my terms, in the way I understand… I think this is impossible for you.”
“You noticed,” Esmeray repeated, unable to keep the insecurity out of her voice entirely.
“Here my thoughts follow two paths. The first is that if we cannot compete directly with one another, we could become allies. Not friends. But allies. Every member of the Coven has, or will have, a qahramanah. So we each have at least 12 rivals, and very little chance to get to know any of the 11 others. You are obviously a lone wolf, and if you will forgive me,” she tittered carefully, “A crazy one.”
Yes, Esmeray conceded, thinking how mad her situation was, and that she felt quite sane by comparison. She was only mad by the standards of people who were privileged to live sane lives. But she responded: “Who’s crazier, the madwoman or her tormentor?” Almost, she let loose of Hong’s hands—almost, she threw them away.
Seeming to sense it, Hong squeezed back very gently and compellingly. “I don’t want to be your tormentor. It doesn’t benefit me at all, or give me any pleasure, because you don’t know how to enjoy being tormented by others.”
“No one enjoys being tormented.”
“You are wrong. Some people live in torment. Even if not of their own making, then they accept them, or simply cannot escape them. Some—maybe you, maybe your memories—even torment themselves. All my little boys-who-are-girls live in that dark palace. All jawari—even yours—are chosen for this potential, and raised to fulfill it. If you can understand this, you can master them better, faster, and more effectively. The fact you do not know this yet is more proof, if you are willing to see it, that I have a lot to teach you. But the job I have been given—we both have been given, me to teach, you to learn—Do you at least understand this is your job, to learn from me, whether you want to or not?”
“Yes,” Esmeray spat.
Hong huffed, whether from concern, arousal, frustration, or success, Esmeray wasn’t quite sure. Hong chose her words with even more care than usual, balancing loyalty to her Dominas with candor to her putative future ally. “This job I have been given—at first, it almost feels the job I was given is intended to provoke you.”
Esmeray relaxed slightly, ever so slightly, but it was there, and Hong sensed it, nodding with satisfaction behind her back. “You speak truly. I think we are enemies, but—”
“Unfair!” Hong protested, smiling at the long, lustrous, wild hair in front of her. It was beautiful hair. “You think everyone is an enemy.”
“Everyone is!”
“You, too, speak truly.” And, Hong thought, you seem to enjoy this sparring as much as I do, in your own tormented way.
“But I also understand the advantages of alliances. The necessity for them. In a world of enemies, allies are valuable. And your second path?”
“I ask myself: What is our real job?”
“To entertain our masters by clashing with one another, like harem gladiators?” Esmeray guessed dryly.
Hong laughed merrily. “Ooh la la, so cynical. I adore it. Again, you are probably right. And I think we can give them a good show. Don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“But… there is more. And I think, if I’m right, we are meant to teach one another. Our Masters’ minds work that way, layers hidden under layers, wheels working within wheels. But for me to explain it, you need to understand what this place is for, and what a qahramanah’s real job is.”
Hong bent her head, a slight sign of deference, and asked again, thrilling Esmeray with the unaccustomed sound of her own name: “Please, Esmeray. I ask again, can you bear to have me step closer to you?”
And after a beat, Esmeray nodded sharply, steeling herself and trying not to be obvious about it.
She felt Hong’s proximity before Hong actually touched her back. It was an electricity, a low buzz from her buttocks up through the arch of her back to her shoulders, sensing Hong’s field of energy before, with a gentle, accepting sigh, the perfectly-formed woman made contact with Esmeray’s scarred back. The deepest pressure was of her breasts against Esmeray’s shoulders; followed by her pelvis against Esmeray’s haunches. Esmeray kept reminding herself that, although deep, the touch was and had been soft, slow, and consensual. And although she couldn’t see Hong, she still held the woman’s hands, perhaps simply to prove to one or both of them that she could; or perhaps to reassure herself the hands were accounted for and therefore, not up to any mischief. Of course, Hong could bite her, her crazy brain reminded her unhelpfully—but she refused to think about that now, shaking her head to herself to dismiss the idea so she could learn whatever it was Hong was up to.
As if to prove she had no such intention, Hong asked softly: “Is this tolerable?”
“Yes,” Esmeray answered, almost but not quite entirely able to keep the edge of irritation out of her voice. So she forced herself to repeat herself, not wanting to actually feel Hong’s flesh—she couldn’t think about it, so she focused on trying to learn what Hong meant to teach her, telling herself this would be worthwhile, and that simply earning Hong’s trust would be worthwhile, ignoring all her contrary urges and feelings—the ravenous, dark ones—as best she could.
Then Hong pushed it by whispering: “Can you abide… more?”
1816 06-94 The sacred, the profane, and the damned1817 06-94 This is your bible now. And I am your priest1818 06-94 The Succubaean Bible is your training manual now, bitch1819 06-94 Penny practices what she’s been taught
Explicit version containing masturbation, CBT, chastity, and edgeplay themes at 06-94X What Channah Wants, Channah Takes at Patreon.com/TheRemainderman
PREVIOUSLY: After teasing and using Penny, Channah began explaining the succubae’s view of chakras and the functions served by the magical bonds she has locked onto (and into) Penny’s body. Then she finally started to drop the other high-heeled shoe on Penny’s head. NOW:
“I love you. I want you, the you that you want to be.” She shrugged. “If that’s a big, gorilla-like, hairy he-man, that’s who I want you to be, and that’s what you’ll become when you truly, deeply, willingly surrender yourself to me! But if you’re sincerely a woman… I mean, I know, you must know, we nurtured your interest in being a girl all along, but it was only for you, because we sensed the powerful feminine energy in you. Doing that, while the rest of the world nurures your masculine side, gives you real choice so you can freely decide, having lived as both a boy and a girl. But I’m confident it was the right thing to do, because you were so obviously meant to be a girl. That first time Chas confessed to you…” she giggled, Penny’s mind reeling at the idea Chas had shared their most-private conversations with the Court, and the succubae had known the things that had passed between them, for so long.
“Oh, I don’t want to get rid of anything you value. I love all the parts of you that you love. And believe me, we know what parts you love and how much you adore them. The parts of you that you can hardly take your hands off.” She giggled as Penny’s expression changed. “So… vulnerable. So… easy and urgent and ardent. And now, mean Auntie Channah has taken away your ability to play all those little games you and her like to play with one another…”.
Penny’s face was positively incandescent, the asymmetry in knowledge between her and her masters so pronounced it took her to a whole new level of vulnerability and she wished there were somewhere, anywhere she could crawl away in and hide.
But Channah continued, only her obvious amusement betraying her awareness of Penny’s intense embarrassment. “It would be a crime to get rid of an important part of what makes you so…” the palms of her hands were warm, sliding across Penny’s chest, her shoulders and upper arms, and even her neck, combining reassurance and gentleness with their counterpoints of control and even bullying. When her fingers passed over Penny’s nipples, they might pinch. Or after a particularly thrilling run up Penny’s side, they might slap. And when she worked Penny’s neck… she wasn’t just stroking Penny’s neck, she was pushing Penny’s chin up. So gently at first, that Penny didn’t even recognize what was happening. Then, it became a pleasant, masterful manipulation making her feel a warm, giddy vulnerability, being was in Channah’s hands. Only finally, at the end, did her manipulations become so forceful they made Penny understand Channah would push her chin up as hard as she wanted to, whether Penny was okay with it or not. The odd combination of reassurance and dominance was deliberately provocative, testing Penny and demanding she override her instinct to resist or beg off to instead go along with Channah’s will. Demanding she see that she wanted to. And Penny did go along with her, of course, blushing at the demonstration of her natural submissiveness to Channah, as her neck cramped and her clitty twitched traitorously from the discomfort and passivity Channah required of her. Was Channah right about Penny?
But Penny decided she knew this answer from experience already, maybe from the first time she had been in Channah’s presence, and felt her power: Channah was always right. Channah had lived a hundred times longer than Penny. What could there be she hadn’t seen, experienced, lived through, learned about? Of course, she saw Penny’s heart more clearly—and much earlier—than Penny herself, could. Doubtless it was easier to see for Channah, too, because she relished what she saw; whereas for Penny… Channah was showing her she was not who she had thought she wanted to be. Certainly not what society and the church wanted her to be.
“You’re so pliant. And you know how much pliant girls turn me on.” Channah dove down upon Penny again, her raptor’s teeth nipping at Penny’s lip just enough to shock, her arms seizing Penny’s wrists, using them for support and more-than-incidentally pinning her down, grinding down into Penny’s as she closed her mouth over Penny’s again and returned her demon’s tongue into Penny’s compliant mouth. Penny moaned softly and Channah felt her naked truth, the truth confessed by her unshielded body, with no mistake: Being kissed so forcefully made her little submissive girl melt again. Channah felt Penny’s hips and clitty start to twitch underneath her, not with resistance, but with desperation. She felt her girl’s knees and feet coming up along the sides of Channah’s hips and legs like a lover welcoming her master into her body, but too timidly to circle around her master’s legs and ass without permission. She felt the girl’s arms go limp under the silent mandate of Channah’s hands.
Laughing fitfully and talking sporadically as she continued to make out with Penny, whose breathing was becoming ragged, Channah continued: “I know, I know… boys, and girls with little clitties like yours, turn me on. Succubae are built to enjoy you, and to make you respond to us the way we want you to. But I especially like pliant girls. More than anybody.” She emphasized her point with a shivery wiggle of her hips. “And I can—tell you especially like me.”
She whispered in Penny’s other ear, brushing her lips against it as she spoke: “Don’t you want boobies, baby? And—you pervert—dainty soft little feet? And hips—I know you’d like to have wide, sexy hips and a thick juicy stern that you can lust after in your own mirror. Don’t you? Don’t you?” She laughed especially hard, catching sight of the surprise and trapped look in Penny’s eyes. “Or wait. You want to be a girl, but you don’t actually like girls—is that it?” She raised her head, pursing her lips to massage the moisture from their kisses into the rim of her mouth, looking at him questioningly.
“Yes—no—I mean, I like girls, Domina,” Penny managed hoarsely, her mind struggling and halting in its efforts to think, unsure how much she meant she was attracted to women’s breasts, how much she wanted to please her Domina, and how much she just hoped to make the conversation move on to something less dangerous and confusing. She was feeling all three of them, truly. But the part she couldn’t help blurting out was: “And—and I especially like you, Domina. I—I truly love you,” she whispered.
“Awwwww….” And this earned Penny Channah’s full attention for several minutes before she broke their kiss and spoke again: “And I especially like girls like you,” Channah agreed, trailing off, eyes unfocused but pointed at her hands and fingers, which were suddenly stroking Penny’s chest and rubbing Penny’s nipples. “I want you to have boobies I can suck on.” Penny gasped as Channah’s sultry eyes rose and met hers, defying her to look away. “And a big round sissy bottom that jumps and wiggles like a pert girl when I slap it.” Penny practically started hyperventilating as Channah slappic. “And, and…” a long pause followed as they kissed, nothing other than moans—in Penny’s case, verging on whines, especially when Channah used her knees and legs to force Penny’s higher and wider. “I—” even Channah was gasping now “—I want you to fill out a dress to your full potential. You’re so pretty, Penny. Mmm… If you had the hips and the bust to fill out your dresses completely…” she flicked her tongue obscenely and made a noise that almost sounded like a wolf’s bark, while Penny felt herself melting like bright pink strawberry snow.
1814 06-93 You need to be at peace with your place, slave1815 06-93 Oh, did I forget to mention the scary side-effects?
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. Oh, and there was something about unexplained magic having to do with the jewelry partially implanted in Penny while she was insensate… NOW:
Channah snorted at Penny’s choice of pronouns. “I knew you would choose to call it mine,” she shook her head, lips tight and flat in a mixed expression of amused, but exasperated, affirmation. “Still so hesitant to admit who you are, and how invested in our… entanglement you are. We’ll continue working on that. Yes. It’s my fruit, the medlar.” Pressing on it, emphasizing Penny’s tenderness for a quick second, she explained. “It’s the last of my wedding gifts to you.” She looked up expectantly.
“Thank you, Domina,” Penny managed, knowing she expected it and wanting to please her even while she was in shock about being locked up with yet another chain by her Master. This one had been not merely locked onto her body—like her collar and cage—or stuffed into her body like the tickler, but had been threaded through her organs and skeleton in a way Penny had only seen meat being sewn up for cooking.
Channah nodded briefly, pleased, and was about to speak further; but Penny’s anxiety about what had happened to her while she was banished from the world—and thus, from her own body—was so great that despite her training in passivity and receptiveness, she couldn’t help herself. She blurted out: “What does ‘Manipura’ mean, Domina?!” Her own voice sounded to her like the wail of an imperiled maiden struggling not to panic.
Fortunately, delight in her distress seemed to displace any irritation with Penny’s uppityness and with a surprised look, she observed: “You’ve never asked before. I thought perhaps you were familiar with the chakras?”
“No, Domina, please explain them to me?” Penny pleaded.
“In India, Hinduism and Buddhism have a tradition of practicing meditative arts known as tantra. The chakras are various focal points in the body they concentrate on in a variety of their meditative practices, to help influence energy flows within the body.” Channah shrugged. “The actual human connection to the divine…. Isn’t known to us, regardless of which tradition—that is to say, religion—it falls under. As far as we know, influencing energy flows may be genuinely part of the divine or simply a conceit by superstitious humans. Or, most likely, it may be a form of magic acting on them internally. That’s what we use the chakras for—to manipulate the flow of magic through living bodies.”
She noticed Penny’s frown of confusion and frustration, and held up her palm. “Don’t even bother to ask me about how or whether tantra actually works. For us, what matters is, the same or similar focal points are useful in directing the flow of magic through the body.” With a smirk, she placed her hands on Penny’s collar and neck, pressing down and squeezing enough to remind Penny (as if she needed the reminder) of Channah’s strength and control. “The Vishuddha is where we begin. It relates to communication and thus to hierarchy and interpersonal relations. It’s why your collar is so effective at linking us together, practically melding our souls to one another. As you already know, it also has to do with longevity.”
She twitched her hips: “Your Svadhishthana… maybe you understand this one already? Maybe you feel it?” She taunted Penny mercilessly, laughing archly at her wince of pain as Channah caused her to push her literal and unforgiving limits. “It is all about sex, procreation, and creativity. Lift your legs,” she commanded, rising up higher on her knees, and when Penny hesitated she prompted him: “Come on! Legs up! Right now!” And as soon as Penny raised them, confused, she reached back to swat her, hard, on the bottom, then slammed back down on her midsection knocking her legs back down to the ground. “Your Muladhara is your root. It goes to basic trust, core emotional state, and foundational energy. Does my presence there make you feel vulnerable?” And she twisted Penny, not brutally, but across a range of her insides so broad it took her breath away, making her feel like she was so full everywhere she was about to explode.
“Yes, Domina, yes!” Penny yelped, her frantic expression and wide eyes giving Channah a thrill of pleasure.
“I’ll bet you do. I’ll just bet.” And she relaxed her grip, a vise becoming a warm supporting hand. “And when we’re united, top and bottom together, as we should be? A whole? When you’re good to me and obedient and when I’m pleased with you, so we feel trusting and connected to one another? How does that make you feel, sweetheart? Safe and secure?”
“Yes, Master,” Penny sighed, so relieved and submissive she almost sounded strangled.
“Which brings us to our fourth bond.” She played with her belly-button, then ran her fingers over Penny’s tummy and chest, causing her to gasp. “Your new Manipura ring. It’s about enhancing your wisdom and power. It will also make you see more clearly and make your feet more sensitive.” She giggled throatily. “I’m going to take full advantage of that, believe me! Today, here, in the hetaraslakos, is all about power. But I’m sure, becoming more powerful doesn’t worry you. It’s the acceptance of wisdom.”
“Why—why would wisdom worry me?” Penny asked fearfully, knowing full well there was something Channah was preparing to drop on her. Something big, that Penny was going to find upsetting. Unless she’d just been messing with Penny’s head earlier….
“The ultimate wisdom is knowing and accepting—no. More than that: knowing and embracing! Enthusiastically embracing who you are and the world you live in so you can live the life you were meant to live. The Manipura ring provides the magic to help you realize the person you truly are, if you’re worthy enough. But you have to be able to admit it to yourself. If you can’t, our connection will never be complete and we can never have the relationship I want us to have, that I’ve been trying to build with you. It’s so important, Penny, I hope you can see that. It’s called a realization spell. Whoever you are, whatever you are, at your most basic level… the magic senses it, and helps you become the person you want to be. It relates to morganatic marriage because it helps ensure a good match for the Domina and a loving, unconflicted girl who can focus her energies on her Domina’s problems, instead of selfishly obsessing on herself. The subordinate, or base—” she pointed down at him “that’s you, precious—proves that she is worthy of the marriage by surrendering herself completely to her top. And in return, having shown that her true self is devoted to her master, she gets to become that true self. I mean…” she began, convincingly, as if she felt shy about discussing it, lending a charming vulnerability to her speech. It seemed she was barely able to meet Penny’s eyes but had to steal up to meet with them until Channah’s clear, innocent eyes were Penny’s whole world. Somehow, at some point, while Penny was being tied in knots by Channah’s entrancing face, her hips had started to move again down below, talking to Penny’s body behind her back and bringing the pain and the aching, aching deep desire back up to the maximum. “I keep calling you my ‘wife’ and my ‘bride’ and my ‘housegift.’ Could I spell things out any more clearly?”
“What?” Penny whispered, her mind whispering that she knew, but unable quite to accept it or to put it all together.
1809 06-92 Channah acts surprised Penny feels violated1813 06-92 Penance’s Manipura ring (pre-grafting)1810 06-92 Penny may not be able to sleep tonight1811 06-92 … Make that a week…1812 06-92 In fact, Penny may never sleep again…
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’twork 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.”
1806 06-91 I’m NOT ignoring your misery. I fucking love it!1807 06-91 Make that sad face and noise again for me, bitch!1808 06-91 Why torture YOURSELF? That’s MY job
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.
1799 06-89 Protect me, Channah!1800 06-89 Channah shields Penny from the storm1801 06-89 Tarnished Savior1802 06-89 Scarlet Angel
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.
1727 06-85 In the Realm of the Senses1728 06-85 In the Realm of the Spirit1729 06-85 With a Devil on both shoulders…?1730 06-85 The Maddening Discordant Orchestra1731 06-85 Frenzy
PREVIOUSLY: Penny has been completely deprived of all sensation—vision, hearing, smell, taste, and feeling; even their auxiliary aspects like balance and orientation and the awareness of her own heartbeat and breath. Outside her isolation, the world moves forward, with Esmeray trying to murder Chastity for defying her and disrupting Channah’s spell. Trying to recover, Channah has just put Chastity’s earplugs back in, cutting him off again. NOW:
Fang crouched over the effectively-mummified Penny, with her hands steady on Penny’s ajna, the third eye in her head, and muladhara, the basic center of trust in her root—or as close to them as her hands could be. Channah and one of Hong’s girls knelt on the restrained Chastity. Hong and her other three jawari struggled to restrain the still-livid, almost-rabid Esmeray. Like Penny and Chastity, when she could keep her skirts down, Hong almost appeared to be fully-dressed, if sweaty and disheveled with a whore’s slightly smudged makeup. Unlike them in one respect, the plunging neckline of her cheongsam had already been ripped open, revealing the inner edges of her breasts in a manner that would have been most fetching if it weren’t for the exigencies of the moment. Hong’s girls were disheveled, and naked, from head to toe, even their cages discarded on the other side of the platform with nothing to interrupt their shiny sweaty perfect cinnamon skin except the marks Hong had made on them with her fingernails and her stiletto heels. All of them had been forced to interrupt their own ritual to come running to the aid of their overlords in separating the murderous Esmeray from the rebellious Chastity, while the band played on, in accordance with its standing orders, to doggedly play until they were told to stop no matter what they saw or heard or felt, no matter what happened to them.
“Those fucking little bitches! And of all the times for this!” Channah spat, furious, astonished, and amused all at once, and shaking her head ruefully. Yet for all that, she couldn’t help but reveal the genuine, sharp concern beneath: “How is she?!”
Fang, like Chas and all the others, would have known who she meant, even if she hadn’t been caring for her. “She’s fine,” Fang assured her Queen soothingly, still snickering herself, meeting her Master’s eyes insistently to convey her seriousness and certainty despite the irresistible lightness of her mood. “Everything is fine, My Liege. I promise!”
“Then why are we both laughing?” Channah threw up her hands in exasperation as she stood, flicking her head at Hong’s girl and watching from the corner of her eye as the girl hopped to her feet and darted to help her sisters, her little noodle flopping irrelevantly.
“Because it’s funny!” Fang laughed merrily like bells pealing on a sweet summer day.
“It fucking is. It really fucking is! Isn’t it?”
“IT IS NOT FUNNY YOU INFERNAL WHORES!” Esmeray screamed and spit. Only unlike Channah, Esmeray was so out of her mind there wasn’t anything figurative about the spitting. “Bintāni al-haram!”
Hong and her girls gasped, mortally terrified to be so close to the woman, even in her vicinity, their eyes fearfully sidling to those of Channah and Fang for their reactions, to see if the five of them should dive down the stairs back to the protection of the castle in pursuit of minimum safe distance, or if they should continue to hold the defiant madwoman down.
Channah and Fang looked at one another in a shock that rapidly dissolved into even harder laughter, trying and failing to appear stern and judgmental, slowly shaking their heads in wonder, their eyes alight with gaiety, sharing an intimacy that was rare and profound because they found themselves in such a rare situation it was fresh, taking them back to their own youth. Esmeray, an even more rare specimen than Penny: A human, throwing the truth of what they were in their faces in an almost naïve attempt at disrespect, instead of hiding and burying that truth, which every human who knew or imagined the ancient succubae dreaded in their heart in the dark of night.
Without looking away from Fang quite yet, Channah extended her arm straight out towards the tangled knot of clothed qaharamanat and naked jawari, snapping her fingers decisively in command. “Don’t you dare let the truth-speaker go. Keep her here, in the hetaraslakos. Do not break the ritual. Bind her if you can, but I want her conscious and don’t you dare let her interrupt us again! Then mount them both on the rails!”
“You biiiiiiitch!” Esmeray screeched, and “Yes, Domina,” Hong solemnly swore, and “Yes, My Liege!” the four naked girls imitated Fang. And that was the last Channah paid them any mind, the sound of them fading as Esmeray’s speech devolved into a profane mishmash of bastardized Turkish and Arabic that almost complemented the discordant, insistent music of the band. Below and all around them, incredibly, the roar of the damned had grown even louder than before, louder than either Channah or Fang could remember hearing.
The moment was so real and genuine, Fang felt comfortable breaking through the centuries and millennia of formal fealty that had calcified their once-passionate relationship, the bond they’d shared before they understood their new reality, even back before their Fall, to tell her what she needed to know: “It’s kind of your fault, Channah,” she laughed. “Stop, and experience!”
“But Penny—”
“I’m telling you, she’s fine,” Fang assured her master, understanding Channah’s concern. Every moment she was cut off from her own metabolism, Penny was at extreme risk: In life, her soul needed her body, inhabited her body; and her body incarnated her soul. With the connection interrupted by the Ajna-nerve wall, Penny’s mind could go mad—a typical mind would have already—and her body could die. They couldn’t do anything for her mind beside monitor it, because the wall was something they were doing to it already. The most powerful sorcerers debated whether a soul in this state even was alive, but agreed that at best it was on a knife’s edge. But what Fang could do—and was doing—was reassuring Penny’s body in her absence, persuading her Penny was alive, that she was alive, reminding her heart to beat, her lungs to breathe, every cell and organ of hers to continue going through the motions necessary for life. Indeed, the actions arguably constituting life.
That was what Channah had been doing when Esmeray lost her shit, throttling Chas and bowling Channah over in the process of her violent struggles with the thrashing, desperate, senseless Chastity. A particularly violent jackknife by Chas had thrown Esmeray full-on into Channah’s back, impossible to ignore, impossible even to weather, knocking her away from Penny and breaking her sacred contact.
Back in this moment, frowning curiously at Fang, Channah did make herself pause to experience this moment, this place, comprehensively—with her full complement of outer senses, and also with her third eye, taking herself out of her narrow focus…
And gasping.
“Yes!” Fang nodded excitedly. “Discordance… on a potentially astrological scale.”
“Yesss….!” Channah agreed, breathing faster, practically leaping to kneel beside Penny, opposite Fang, restoring her connection to Penny, and joining Fang’s consciousness and hands at Penny’s ajna and muladhara.
“Feel her, Channah!”
And then Fang saw something she never saw. Something that no one saw, not from the Queen of Lust: uncertainty. Almost fear. In this moment of connection, Channah whispered her confession, as she needed to: “I’m not ready! I don’t feel ready—”
“My liege, you’re ready,” Fang assured her, moving the hand on Penny’s muladhara to be on top of Channah’s so she could give her a reassuring squeeze. “She’s ready. Finally,” she widened her eyes for emphasis, reminding Channah how long she had been working towards this.
“But—we haven’t even shared solitude—”
“Then do it now,” Fang urged her. “Use the wall.”
“How can I know she’s ready, when I couldn’t even—”
Fang nodded with understanding. “The one thing you can’t do, in all of hell and Earth, because it’s beyond your comprehension.”
“But then—how did Chava—?” She shook her head uncomprehendingly.
“Maybe she didn’t. Maybe it was Penny. Most likely, it was just an accident.”
“Our plan—it’s hubris. Madder than Esmeray! Pure good can never surrender to pure evil.”
“We know that.” Fang struggled to conceal her exasperation. Of course, it was the steadiest of all who didn’t, perhaps couldn’t, really internalize the doubts until the moment of crisis. “You know that already, My Liege. And that’s not what we’re doing. We’re just doing what can be done, the closest we can come. A makeshift bridge.”
“And if it doesn’t work—”
Fang laughed at Channah, to show her the absurdity of the last-second surfacing of doubts they had harbored from the very start. “You know this. Then we start again. Or if we can’t make it happen, we wait for it to happen again.” She shrugged and smiled, the immortal’s joke: “It will give us something to do. It will happen. Again, and again, and again. Every one of our enemies has found one—”
“And ultimately failed!” Indeed, it had been their very success in the attempt that had been their undoing in the world.
Which was why Channah had waited for so long before she even considered it. Perhaps it was the only reason the Succubae alone still roamed the Earth: because demons could not understand the good, and therefore struggled to use it instead of corrupting it. Fang honestly didn’t know what the correct course of action was. After so many millenia, she wasn’t even quite sure she cared. She was pretty sure the High Coven, maybe the whole Court, had agreed to go along out of some brand of inertial boredom or simple fatalism, rather than a careful analysis of their enemies’ mistakes and how to avoid them.
Fang shrugged, doing and deciding what she urged Channah: “It is a mystery. It will always be a mystery. You must know even better than me. Experience it and tell me—is this the best moment we are likely to have? Or not? Decide, don’t decide, roll the dice. Time and heaven don’t care. Only we do.”
