Tag: hell

1558 06-51 Raise the red flag! NO QUARTER!!!^
1559 06-51 Murder the prisoners. Every. Single. One.^
1560 06-51 My treacherous hand has drawn my own blood!^
1561 06-51 My sword and honor are stained by the blood I have drawn^

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1555 06-50 A pain that still sears after 6,000 years^
1556 06-50 Thank you for saving us, Super-Succubus!^
1557 06-50 D.A.R.E.-Dragon saving kids from the scourge of drug-addled zombies!^

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

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

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

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

Channah’s Confession

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1549 06-48 Domina Valide^
1550 06-48 Different dimensions^
1551 06-48 The ignominy of ignorance^

The girls complied with her command to hold hands with one another, making it all the better by their embarrassed expressions as they held hands.  “For all the world, one would think you were perfect strangers asked to hold hands, rather than girls who grew up on the same estates.”  Still squeezing her girls tightly, she turned and kissed each one on top of the head.  “Or is your awkwardness because of past… familiarity?”  She chuckled softly as they blushed and nearly pulled their hands apart. 

“Whatever you have or have not been to one another, you’re sister-wives now—my sisterwives—and you will need to work and play as a team to please me.  Practice makes perfect, and this is your chance to practice in security and safety.  It will be just the three of us, for seven days and nights.  As a Queen, my duties cannot be ignored for a week so I will have to hold Court and meet with my nobles and ministers each day, while you attend to me and take care of the chores.  We will be alone, which means no servants.  Sindonie has raised you properly, to remember your place is in service to me, and therefore, you now know, in service to my Court, and not to expect human servants dedicated to you, whatever the roles we play here at Fensmere Manor in front of outsiders.  In addition to being a chance to spend quality time together and define our own relationship, it will be a chance to test yourselves and show me your joy in service of me, just as I take pleasure in serving the Realm.  As always, you serve the Realm by serving me.

“To take an entire week with you girls, when I have two worlds’ full of operatives and servants to manage while fighting our war, should tell you how much you mean to me, and to the Realm.”  She squeezed and kissed the tops of their heads again, more slowly and thoughtfully, as they shivered with pleasure.

The Contest for Souls

“Thank you, Domina,” Penny spoke from her heart, as she always did, the same reason she couldn’t stop herself there:  “‘Our war…’”

Channah shook her head, knowing already what was coming.  “Did you think I wouldn’t know what’s on your minds?  What—I presume—has been on your mind since you first saw and felt the satanikoklus, Penny?  Finish asking your question, sugarbear.”

“Are we?  ‘At war?’” she asked quietly, uncomfortably.

“We are.  Always and perpetually.  It can be quite draining sometimes, especially to remain on top of our enemies as long as I have.”

“Domina…” Penny sounded like she was on the verge of crying.  “Domina, who are we at war with?”  Penny barely whispered, scared to death but asking it anyway.  In her other arm, Chas remained silent, but her body tightened and coiled up as tightly as a spring, as tightly as Penny’s, telling her the question mattered deeply to both girls.

“Who do you think?”  She asked, amused when Penny—who normally couldn’t keep her mouth shut to save her life, hesitated.

Finally, it gushed out:  “Domina, as my guardian, you sent me to the Bishop of London’s grammar school for six years—”

“Me too!” Chas squeaked.  “For seven!”

“And—and you let me—take vows at Cambridge—I know I should—I must—be defrocked now, but for the Lord not for me!  I was studying canon law at Jesus College, Domina!  How could you let me—how could you want me—?”

She burst out laughing.  “Didn’t I just tell you these seven days are a special and safe time?  Answer.  My.  Question.”

“Our Lord!” they both burst out, sounding agonized.

“What utter poppycock!” she chortled.  “Certainly not!  I sent your jawari sisters to grammar school as well.  And your mamluk brothers as long as they could manage not to get kicked out, although a fat lot of good it did for them!” she rolled her eyes.  “Do you have any idea how many girls and boys I’ve provided with religious training over the years?”

“No.”  Penny whispered again.

“I was going to say, more than the Pope, but obviously that’s not true,” she conceded.

“I’m not saying I don’t have antipathy towards the Lord.  The Lord banished us to hell.  Do you think we find the climate there any more pleasurable than the human damned?  We do not.  It’s bloody awful.  It’s one of the reasons I spend my time here!  And we do fight organized religions whenever they get in our way, just like the human princes who battle with and try to control the church, and the human clergy who fight one another, and secular states.  Because I paid for your educations, I know you both are well familiar with the war between the Ummah and the Body of Christ that has been raging for, literally, centuries?  Going considerably better for Christianity in the West than the East these past decades.” 

Both girls understood her reference to the West as the Reconquista, which had defeated the Emirate of Grenada, the last Muslim state in the Iberian peninsula, and restored Christianity throughout the Iberian peninsula thirty years earlier; and to the East as the Ottoman Empire’s seemingly inexorable advance, defeating the nearly 1,500-year-old Byzantine Empire seventy years ago,  repeatedly defeating Habsburg, Venetian, Genoese, and Pisan interests in the years since, and occupying Rhodes only seven years before, ejecting the last of the Catholic military orders involved in the Crusades from the last of their territories in the Eastern Mediterranean.

“The Mahommedans?!” Penny and Chas burst out.  “But they’re infidels!”

She snickered thoughtfully.  “I have no interest in persuading you Muslims believe in the Lord, and that’s something I suppose theologians can reasonably argue.  I’m all for human religions battling with one another.  It’s most helpful.”

“But as your guardian, your education—good or bad—reflects on me personally, so I must explain to you, although there’s no perfect analogy, calling Muslims ‘Mahommedans’ is, to a Muslim, something close to a Catholic hearing themselves described as a ‘Peterite’ or a ‘Paulinite.’  Muslims consider Mohammad—and Jesus—to be prophets, not deities.  Implying otherwise is simply inaccurate, so I won’t abide you speaking it out of ignorance.  If you’re going to lie, do it on purpose, to deceive.  If you’re going to speak the truth, trouble yourself to know what it is.”

“Yes, Domina,” they both reacted almost physically to the rebuke, as confused and anxious as they were ashamed. 

Especially Penny, who was easy to sting by challenging the intelligence and education he treasured as a fundamental part of his identity; and who added, “I’m sorry, Domina.”

“It’s all right, dear,” she reassured her, leaning her cheek on Penny’s hair for a minute.  “Humans make mistakes, and if they’re clever, they try to learn from them.”

Literature Section “06-48 Hella Honeymoon V”—Part 48 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—Continued from 06-47[X]—1149 words—Accompanying Images:  1549-1551.  Published 2025-04-01—©2025 The Remainderman.  This is a work of fiction, not a book of suggestions.  It’s filled with fantasies, idiots, and criminals. Don’t believe them or imitate them.

1542 06-46 A nagging unease in the conscious mind…^
1543 06-46 … a vivid nightmare in the unconscious (edited)^
1544 06-46 Fighting to surface^

EXPLICIT VERSION AVAILABLE AT https://patreon.com/TheRemainderman

continued from 06-45

Bathing

Sindonie led Chas and Penny to the hidden doorway between the private chapel and the second step of the family’s private staircase, allowing them to return from the chapel to the Queen’s private quarters without going through any public spaces.  They did have to pause while Sindonie peered through a peephole to make sure no one was in the Great Chamber, and wait while Sindonie stepped through confirming visually and audially that the coast was clear, before she ushered them swiftly across the Great Chamber to the Privy Chamber of the Countess, shooing them into the garderobe while she made sure the human servants had prepared the baths properly and escorted them out of the Privy Chamber.  Finally, she summoned them from their end of the garderobe, right next to the door, where they had huddled to stay as far away from the creepy Earl as possible.  These days, the Earl spent most of his time chained to the privy hole at the other end of the garderobe, avoided by everyone who could avoid him; and the garderobe windows were kept open whenever the weather permitted to keep it smelling fresh.  The Countess’s clothing was neatly arranged on racks and cabinets in her Privy Chamber so she could avoid the garderobe, and its smell, entirely.

The bathroom—very specifically, a room holding two bathtubs, a water furnace, and pipes for filling and draining the bathtubs—was the only one of its kind for leagues in any direction.  Certainly, some of the King’s palaces had similar facilities; but they were rare, in the extreme, reserved only for the wealthiest and highest-ranked, like the Defalaises.

The girls sank into their baths, contriving to keep their blankets between them and their governess until they were in the water, sighing contentedly.  Truly, the baths were a rare and precious luxury the girls had not known until moving to Fensmere; and quite rarely before they turned 18.  They were only allowed to use the baths—and in fact, required to do so—now that they were adults because of their marriage to the Queen, who required her servants to be squeaky-clean and fresh.  So it was typical enough that Chas was splashing and soaking merrily the moment he settled in; but it highlighted that Penny seemed uncharacteristically subdued and distant. 

Sindonie frowned questioningly.  “Is everything all right, Penny?”

Penny glanced back at her, surprised and maybe a little embarrassed she hadn’t been aware her mood was so obvious.  “Yes, thank you, Mistress.  I think—I don’t remember it very well, but I think I remembered…. A nightmare—something about a bathtub, I can’t quite—”

“You certainly did.”

“I did?” she looked startled Sindonie would know.

“Yes, the men were talking about it.  Apparently you both kept sleeping, but your cries eventually became so loud, and your movements so violent, they spread to Chas and the two of you woke up the men.  It started early this morning.  Fortunately, Obedience was still in the room and scurried them out without waking you.”

The girls exchanged a wondering look.  “I can’t really… remember it exactly, only I’m sure I was in a tub, like this one…” she idly stirred the warm water back and forth, enjoying the way it felt running through her hands.  “But I could swear—it seemed really important I remember.”

“Obedience told the men it was the spiked wine, and that it had an especially strong effect on you because you were unused to wine.  Especially not Succubaean Hippocras.”

“What’s ‘Hippocras’?”

“Spiced wine.  Or in the case of the succubus, liberally spiced and spiked.  It’s a wonder you slept as well and as long as you did.”  Her face softened.  “But I’m sure you girls were exhausted.”  They nodded their agreement.  “Well, of course your main duty on your honeymoon will be to make sure your Domina is happy, but hopefully you will have some more opportunities for rest.”

“I’ll give you a few minutes to wash,” she told them.  “And when I come back, you’re to be dried and sitting right here,” she patted a bench facing two large mirrors on the wall. 

“May we get dressed first, Mistress?”  Penny asked.

“Nope,” she smiled impishly.  “But there’s a reason for that.  Cover yourselves with the clean towels next to your baths.  Do not touch those filthy blankets again.”

“Yes, Mistress,” they chorused, looking at one another curiously.

Skin Care

“Wait.  Two more things.  First, because your collars are ensorcelled, they won’t be affected by water.  They won’t absorb it, let alone be damaged by it.  So you can dip your heads underwater and should do so.  Second,”  She pointed to a pot of lotion made with sesame seed oil, beeswax, and honey.  “I’ll give you a few extra minutes to care for your skin.  Be careful to get it everywhere.  You want your skin to be soft and smooth for your Domina.  Everywhere,” she emphasized mischievously, imagining their reactions, as she turned and walked out, hearing them starting to speculate about what was going on as she closed the door.

When she returned, she found them sitting on the bench, each with one towel wrapped around their long hair, a second tucked under their arms, and a third around their waists.  Although as she entered, she caught a flicker of movement from their waists and guilty expressions on their faces.

She frowned at them, putting her hands on her hips, watching them turn redder but not volunteer anything, until she figured it out and her face turned sympathetic.  “Oh.  You girls haven’t even had a chance to talk about—” she gestured “—anything that has happened to you, have you?”

They hesitantly shook their heads, as she walked around behind them, making a tisking sound, and running a finger along the top of each of their backs, above the towels.  “Dry as a bone.  Why didn’t you help one another?”

She met their eyes in the mirrors, seeing the dismay and consternation about what to say etched on their faces, pressing her lips together to avoid smiling too obviously.  Then she gave up and laughed.  “We’re all girls here,” she insisted.  “There’s no reason for modesty.  And by the way.”  She moved up behind both of them, her hips and breasts pressing against them, resting her hands on their shoulders.  “I may not be your valide anymore, but I will always outrank you.  And now that you’re adults…” she ran a fingernail along each girl’s collarbone, laughing harder as they gasped, pulled away, and protested:

“Mistress Sindonie!”

She clamped her hands on their shoulders, holding them still, to finish her sentence.  “I have the same privilege as any of your other superiors, jawari.  Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mistress,” they acknowledged, tight as drums.

“Oh, relax, dearies,” she rolled her eyes, patting their shoulders and moving off them.  “My point is, next time you’re feeling squeamish about touching one another… think again.”  She sat down on a cushioned chair nearby and crossed her legs, raising her eyebrows expectantly.  “Go on.  Do now, in front of me, what you were too silly to do when you had your privacy.”

They swallowed and moved with extreme awkwardness and embarrassment as she enjoyed herself, not particularly interested in them sexually—such a thing wouldn’t even have been likely to cross her mind if their own reticence hadn’t caused such a scene—but mightily amused as they tried to hold their own towels in place while rubbing lotion onto one another’s backs.

Finally, covering themselves as best they could, they reluctantly turned to meet her eyes, hoping to meet with her approval.  She shook her head and stared pointedly.  “Did you use it everywhere?” “Ohmygod!”  Penny burst out, squeaking and covering her mouth with shock at her own sacrilegious outburst.

CHAPTER SIX PART 46:  “LE SACCAGE DE LA SALE BÊTE ROUGE (RAMPAGE OF THE DIRTY RED BEAST)”

2025-03-30 Literature Section “06-46[X] Hella Honeymoon III”—Abridged 1305 words::Explicit 1332 words—©2025 The Remainderman.  This is a work of fiction, not a book of suggestions.  It’s filled with fantasies, idiots, and criminals. Don’t believe them or imitate them.

1532 06-43 Channah addressing her mamalik in her Cairo palace
1533 06-43 Channah addressing her jawari in her Cairo palace
1534 06-43 Channah addresses her children

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continued from 06-42[X]

Her bridegirls, on their knees before Channah’s elevated throne, had together placed a fine silver chain around her left ankle, symbolizing her power over them, from which she hung the magical keys to their Svadishthana Cages, as they watched from inches away.

Smirking, she had then leaned forward and secured her second rings around their necks:  their Vishudhha Collars.  They appeared to be very similar to one another:  thick straps of soft white leather decorated with brass studs, each having a brass heart-shaped slave tag with their full name—Chastity and Penance, respectively—on the front, and the legend “Property of Countess Anne Batonnoir, Fensmere Manor” on the back.  Chas’s was slightly wider than Penny’s, while Penny’s had a gold chain decorating its lower edge.  At the ceremony itself Channah had laughingly declined to explain what the collars did, cautioning only that if they didn’t obey her, they would regret it.  But afterwards, while holding Penny in an uncomfortable and embarrassing position beneath her, she had explained this much:

“The Byzantine Mural is yours.  I made it, so it will always tie you to me, but it’s yours, defiled to you as part of our wedding ceremony like the anklet and ring you gave me.  And to the rest of the world, it’s cheap cast-iron.  The leather collar, like Chas’s, is also yours, with the usual powers.  What looks like a gold chain, however, is something altogether different.  But you knew that, didn’t you?”  He nodded quietly, having seen—and felt—the great sapphire set in the heavy gold collar stretching from the upper part of his neck to the tops of his shoulders.  “The Yoke and Star of Bethlehem are mine.  They are always connected to me, and always in my consciousness.  When I call to them, they call back; and they burn like the sun to me no matter how far away from me they are.  So I can always find them, and I will always be able to find you.  I am dressing you up in my property like a lord dressing his servants in his livery, or a pet owner dressing their pet.  The Yoke is as much my property as you are.  I am merely storing it around your neck, little girl, and letting it provide magical shelter to you, the same as my hamper offers you your bed when I send you to it.  Do you understand?”

“Ye—yes, Domina,” she answered, nodding earnestly and nervous lest Channah might suddenly pinch or throttle or otherwise assault her with her hands.  “I understand.  Thank you, Domina, for lending me your shelter.”

“Good answer, girl.  This,” she flicked the brass heart engraved with her name, “Cheap brass, is yours.  Entertainment.  Obviously not a part of my masterpiece.  Like the mural, like all my magic, my collar conceals itself to all but my courtiers.  But by my command, the secrecy of the collar goes further.  It can only be seen for what it is, by the five of us:  me, my two most loyal Duchesses Miryam and Rivqah, the metalsmith who forged it, and you—the person who has the most to lose by revealing its existence to anyone. Others will see it as just another service collar, when they expect to see you collared—probably, when I or one of my servants has you on a leash.  And they will see it as a girl’s choker, or even a tight necklace, when they don’t expect you to be collared.  Fortunately, your neck is feminine enough there’s no need for it to cover your Adam’s Apple, so I don’t need to worry about that. 

“The Yoke will not protect you, or any part of you, from harm by misadventure.  You can be hurt or killed like anyone else.  If someone outside my Court, or even outside the five of us, were to learn about it or get the idea whatever they see around your neck is valuable, say, from you—can you imagine how quickly they would turn on you for the most-precious stone in Christendom?”  She smiled with satisfaction, seeing she had understood the moment she was collared.  “And like your chastity, it can’t be removed by natural means or by other people.  Only supernatural means, by me.”  She shrugged.  “Or, since it doesn’t protect you, of course, by anyone on the planet willing to saw your head off.  So, I think you understand how very, very vital it is that no one ever get any idea of what you’re wearing?”  He nodded urgently, but silently.  “Good.  If I were you, I would also stay very close to my protectress.  The one person powerful enough to protect you if word of what’s around your neck were to get out.  The one person who can remove the collar without removing your head, and who actually finds you useful enough to lend her collar to.”

“Yes, Domina, thank you, Domina,” he dared to answer.

“It will prevent aging, and provide you safety from disease, infirmity, and the ravage of time, for as long as you’re useful enough to me to let you keep it.  Meaning your clean, tight, hairless skin will remain as vibrant and beautiful in a dozen years, even a hundred if you’re useful enough to me that I want to keep you in it that long, instead of moving it to a more-useful courtier.  Meaning you can remain as part of my court on Earth, as long my Ladies’ Maids.  Even as long as me.  IF you make sure to remain useful.  IF you apply yourself to every task I set you, for me.  IF you use your skills to serve my court.”  She snickered.  “So naïve, I can see you’re still as angry with me as you are fearful.  Doubtless you’re telling yourself you’d rather be free than immortal.  But I’m patient.  Sometime—not long from now, even in human terms—you’ll find you’ve become accustomed to the idea of living forever, even as a eunuch who suffers for his Domina.  And you won’t ever want to take it off.  I know you’ll want to remove the Byzantine Mural—of course, who wouldn’t?  But not this.  Eventually, you’ll do whatever I say to keep it on.  Eventually, you’ll do whatever it takes, no matter how repugnant or vile the task, to keep it.  Eventually, my Court and the other denizens of hell will be your only peers, because you will have outlived everyone and everything you know in this world.”  He shivered involuntarily at the thought.  “And then, little girl, you will be my perfect little pawn.  Allll mine.”

In exchange for her collars marking them to the world as her owned wives, the girls had knelt before her again and each given her a silver ring—actually a fine chain, soft and accommodating as they were expected to be—and placed it on a toe of their Domina’s left foot, symbolizing her superiority to them.

Their third exchange was in some ways the most intimate:  As they continued kneeling before her, heads bowed, each of them offered her a tiny silver-mesh globe like a miniature tea-infuser, as she cut a lock of each of their hair, enclosing it in the silver-mesh globe and hanging each girl’s egg from her waist chain, where they joined 34 others, each given to her by a previous sisterwife, and each of which, by giving her a part of their flesh, gave her the power to ensorcell them at any time or distance.  In exchange, she presented them with their Muladhara Twisters, or Intimates:  the special tools of behavior- and body-modification unique to them, that only she or—with her permission, as part of their play group—her friends would ever use on them, and that would only ever be used on each of them.  The first was a long, wicked, black wooden paddle, the black sticks upon which she had based their human surname.  Chas’s was engraved, “Chastity’s Lover Boy,” and Penny’s “Penance’s Bull Daddy,” prompting a round of guffaws and jeering comments from the assembled succubae, incubi, damned, and operatives watching the proceedings.  She also produced mysterious, elongated, jewel-encrusted gold ornaments—Chas’s diamond-studded, Penny’s ruby-studded.

For the breaking phase, rather than breaking a glass, while the girls were held down on the floor, Channah trampled them.  When Penny passed out from the pain, Channah rolled her eyes with a snort of disgust and sent her bridegirls to bed—that bed being her dirty-clothing hamper, which had to be forced closed by the men who escorted them there, for it be latched shut with the two of them crammed in it on top of her dirty laundry.

Channah and her Court then celebrated together all night long.  The next morning, and for most of the remaining two days and nights of the hazing, Channah put her housegifts through the Seven Indignities.  These began by familiarizing them quite intimately with their Intimates as she gave each girl a paddling.

By the end, she had reduced them to the most pathetic kinds of broken, simpering sissy sisterwives.  And the Star and Yoke of Bethlehem had begun to manifest their power, with intended and side effects alike.  Not the least of which, Channah suspected, was how it had permitted her to really feel, for the first time, the submissive joy of releasing all control.  And which she blamed for gentle Penny’s sudden, shocking, and thoroughly discombobulating outburst from his knees before her, in the final moments of their ceremony, that he loved her.

PART 6 OF STORY RECAP

Literature Section “06-43[X] Grimm Transformations VI:  Sexual Sorcery”—Accompanying Images:  1532-1534.  Abridged 1593 words::Explicit 1917 words—©2025 The Remainderman.  This is a work of fiction, not a book of suggestions.  It’s filled with fantasies, idiots, and criminals. Don’t believe them or imitate them.

1519 06-42 Channah’s Vishkanya in Karnata Vijayanagara kneel to their goddess^
1521 06-42 Channah’s Kunoichi in Sengoku Kyoto kneel to their goddess^
1523 06-42 Channah’s Jawari in Safavid Tabriz kneel to their goddess^
1525 06-42 Channah’s Jawari in Ottoman Cairo kneel to their goddess (edited)^
1527 06-42 Channah’s Hetairai in Ottoman Athens kneel to their goddess (edited)^
1529 06-42 Channah’s Jawari in Tudor Cambridgeshire kneel to their goddess (edited)^

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The hothouse flowers who did not show themselves suitable, by aptitude or preference, for roles as mamluks, became something else.  Those obviously unfit as mamluks, like Chas and Penny, were groomed for something else from the beginning.  Those who had been offered, but failed, their test as mamluks, like Frances, were given the opportunity to accept this alternative station, although few of them could bring themselves to accept such a disgraceful alternative.

For six days and nights after Penny’s eighteenth birthday, years of careful preparation and planning were brought to fruition as Penny and Chas were guilted, punished, trained, seduced, subjugated, intimidated, cajoled, drugged, teased, confused, gaslit, sleep-deprived, tormented, and broken to the ultimate will of the succubae.  If not perfected—every soul on Earth remained a work in progress as long as it lived, such was the meaning of Earth—the girls were reincarnated, or evolved, into the advanced form the succubae desired them to assume. 

In human languages—which were all the succubae had—there were no names for precisely what they were being broken to.  And certainly, the girls’ succubus and human minders had avoided suggesting any.  Had they been biological females, in England, “second-class wives with a bit of indentured servant thrown in” would not have been too far off the mark.  (And some particularly-cynical women might have been heard to respond:  “oh, an ordinary wife, then.”)  But the truth was, if they behaved themselves after their hazing was complete, Penny and Chas had every chance of being treated better than many wives in England; and would certainly continue to enjoy a higher material standard of living.  Indeed, the Countess fully expected and intended to preserve their loyalty without the help of the human secular and religious authorities and traditions that supported husbands and buttressed the institution of marriage against unhappy wives of humans.

In Channah’s most-ancient palace in Cairo, and her primary Western palace in Constantinople, two cities where Channah had spent a plurality of her long life, the hucows had a word for female sex slaves of males that in the time of the Abbasids, correctly described the female operatives in this group:  jawari (in the singular, jariya)—slaves for entertainments and pleasures.  The succubae, being intrinsically female masters, with overwhelmingly male slaves, extended the term to describe all sex-and-pleasure slaves of all masters.  As with the mamluks, her operatives sometimes used local words, especially in cultures outside or resistant to the Muslim world, to label themselves—kunoichi in Japan, vishkanya in India, hetaira, in Greece, with varying degrees of accuracy.

Queen Channah and three of her Ladies of Court—Duchess Miryam (posing in human form as her Lady’s Maid Mary), Duchess Rivqah (her Lady’s Maid Rebecca), and Sultana Mayaam (adopting incubus form as necessary to play the role of Obedience, a model sisterwife to Chas and Penny) took turns and cooperated, with the assistance of all of their retainers at Fensmere Manor, to maintain the unrelenting pressure on Penny and Chas for 144 straight hours.  Because the succubae could reach the girls even in their dreams, their only independence in that time was for those few, minimal hours of dreamless sleep they needed to stay alive.

The succubae had been training and enslaving humans—and Queen Channah had been married to her primary (“Di,” or “Great Royal”) husband, Húanglóng—for millennia.  He had taken countless humans as his secondary (“Shu,” or “Royal”) sisterwives during his limited time on Earth.  Yet in all her time here, more than 250 generations, training tens or even hundreds of thousands of jawari, Channah had taken only 34.  Partly because there were few enough reasons to want them besides pregnancy, which held little enough appeal for her.  Channah had tried unsuccessfully to conceive with two of her wives, borne 9 children by 9 of the others, and gleefully kept the other 23 of her wives in chastity for the rest of their mortal lives while using and teasing them mercilessly.

As the culmination of their 144-hour hazing, she had taken both of these girls as her wives—Chas as her 35th, and Penny moments later as her 36th—in a relationship as thoroughly unequal as its human counterparts, if more explicitly so, and with the biological sexes reversed.  By the wedding rites of the succubae, she had yoked them to her will, spiritually and magically, becoming their Domina (head of household), while making them her sisterwives (housegifts).  She’d actually never had two sisterwives at the same time before; but the term was used, whether they had sisters or not, to reinforce her greater importance and superiority while diminishing them, suggesting they were fungible, and implying they would be expected to cooperate or bond in any manner she preferred, rather than acting as if they had personal agency or were in competition with one another.  Let alone with her husband.

They were married in what had been the Defalaises’ private chapel at Fensmere, now desecrated into a satanikoklus, the hellish analog to a church or temple.  In the satanikoklus, the shroud between Earth and Hell was thin and porous.  From the moment Penny had been brought there, she had seen, heard, smelled, and felt the hot, humid air and burning red sandscape of the Hell of Lust all around her, recognizing it for what it was, and the succubae and incubi and damned there, for exactly what they were.  It was a thing not many living humans could see, her clearer sight a reflection of both her intelligence and her sensitivity.

The succubaean ceremony itself was ancient, its eight elements familiar or at least recognizable to most humans, comprising indenture (betrothal), veiling, invocation, exchange, cursing (blessing), indignity (affirmation), breaking (celebration), and seclusion (honeymoon).  Of course, it was the sisterwife who was veiled, and then tested.  The vows and rings they had exchanged were unequal, befitting their new positions:  Pledging to take her sisterwives in hand and dominate them, Channah had used her deceptively cute fingers and wicked-long fingernails to chastise them with her Svadhishthana Cages, Persian Gate for Chas, Byzantine Mural for Penny.

And as she did so, she had explained, condescendingly and embarrassingly, that as a succubus, she lived primarily off the virility and vitality of men, by drawing it from them and devouring it.  Whereas she had chosen them as ideal consorts precisely because they were not virile or manly to start with, and by chastising them she had rendered them as harmless and impotent as empty bladders.  “As long as you wear my cage, your virtue is safe.”  As she had explained more precisely to their mamluk foster brothers and longtime bullies when they celebrated with her, penetration was the real risk.  If they penetrated any part of a succubus’s body, it sapped the man’s vitality.  The body had a certain resiliency, of course; and could largely recover from limited contact with a succubus, although even a single encounter could result in feelings of lethargy for hours or even days.  But burn the candle any faster than that, and their life would drain away, swiftly and unrecoverably, even as the succubus’s victim thanked his lucky stars for her, one moment of bliss at a time.  “Which is why your Svadhishthana Cages will likely never, ever come off during your lifetimes.”  She mock-pouted at them:  “I have to protect you, my sweet darlings!”

Laughing at how uncomfortable and scared they already looked, she twisted the knife even harder.  She had done this to so many biological males, in so many conservative, judgmental societies, they had no chance to avoid her manipulations.  Their cages, she noted, would also perform one of the succubae’s favorite tricks, showing their partners whatever sex they expected the girls to have—and helping their partners act in a manner that confirmed and reinforced their expectations into convictions.  Giggling at their expressions, now of terror and horror, she explained how important that made it for her to choose pretty, slight, effeminate, and convincing girls like Chas and Penny to train as her jawari in the first place.

“The Mural is a crown of walls, and the Gate is a mountain pass.  This ring,” she lied evilly, “is a clever design of my own that destroys the testes slowly.  And until they’re completely gone, my victim lives in an agony of arousal.”  She chortled, loving their fear and sorrow as her broken males, and let them know in a sing-songy voice ending in a cackle, that that was as much as she was prepared to tell them about the metal devices she had locked around their most-vulnerable and -important boy parts.  They would simply have to wait and see what other effects they might have. 

Poor Penny had already discovered one power her Byzantine Mural had, that Chas’s Persian Gate apparently did not.  It had happened the first time Penny had been used and teased and ignored until she was out of her mind, and every time thereafter she had been brought to that state.  The succubae had been doing everything possible to simultaneously shame and excite her while locked.  At the crucial moment, it had whisked her joy away and transferred it to Channah and her other partners, multiplying their pleasures and leaving Penny in a state of desperation, longing, sorrow, and misery.  As long as the ring was on, her partners—no matter who they were—would enjoy the force of her pleasure on top of their own, while Penny would feel only the bitter disappointment and the eventual ache of losing out on one of the most  pleasant experiences in this world.  She had cried out and wept, bitter-astringent tears, every time the Mural had taken her joy during the ceremony.

PART 5 OF STORY RECAP

Literature Section “06-42 Grimm Transformations VI:  Broken Sissies”—Accompanying Images:  1519, 1521, 1523, 1525, 1527, 1529.  Abridged 1619 words::Explicit 1697 words—©2025 The Remainderman.  This is a work of fiction, not a book of suggestions.  It’s filled with fantasies, idiots, and criminals. Don’t believe them or imitate them.

The Hell of Lust is home to the succubae, the incubi, and their slaves, the human damned (dead) and collaborators (still alive).  The land is hot to the touch, a burning red desert with beds of bone-dry red sand interrupted by outcrops of black igneous rock.  The air is humid, hot, and dark, with patches of steam fog floating listlessly through the still air.  Being sunless, it is lit only by flames from burning naphtha seeps and tar pits, from pools of glowing magma, and to a minimal extent, the luxury of candles, lamps, and wood torches taken from the Earth.

Because it is sunless, rainless, and windless, its denizens live in the open air.  The ruling, predatory demons enjoy walls for privacy, but rarely roofs; and comfortable matresses and pillows to insulate them from the heat and hardness of the ground.  Human slaves rest and make do as best they can, tormented by perpetual hunger and–above all–thirst.  Every slave of the succubae and incubi is permanently chastized, released if and only as long as it entertains their masters.

The damned cannot learn new languages, but are limited to the languages they spoke on Earth.  There are no native demon languages.

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