honeymoon – Page 4 – The Remainderman (Frank Speech)

07-04 The Secret Garden Mouth

2025-07-042025-07-04 admin

PREVIOUSLY: For seven days and nights, Chastity and Penance have been tormented, tested, pushed, and bewitched by Channah, her succubae, her human operatives, and others, with every tool and tactic available, leaving them feeling rootless, lost, malleable, in need of comfort, and desperate for love. Now, finally, Channah gives them what they long for. NOW:

“You girls have done so well! I know, you’ve had a hard, challenging week. But I’m so proud of the way you’ve handled it! Handled yourselves! Now comes the part I’ve been wanting, even hurting for with you, the whole time. It’s been so… cutting and hard, watching you sweeties go through the trials and indignities of the demon wedding ritual. But you’ve made it through them! And now you will experience, even more than before, the intensity and ecstasy of demon marriage. A deep, special pleasure that requires more than affection to nurture and grow.”

“I don’t have a knife with me, or I would cut your bonds right here. I want to show you my paradise without any remnant of the pain from this world, but I don’t want to make you stand here in the dark while I go and fetch one. So I’m going to take you straight to the bath and free you there. Ooh… I don’t even want to interrupt our intimacy, but I want to make it perfect for all of us…. Let me show you our special and wonderful home. I love sharing this with you so much!”

Letting go of them both, and squealing excitedly, barely able to contain herself, she paused and looked back at them, her hands already pressing on the door, her body arched delightfully, a moment burned into all three of their memories. The girls would always remember her there, their bedraggled fairie queen full of incredible potential promise, self-assured and seemingly relishing everything life had to offer no matter how amazing or daunting, glowing like a saint and bringing light and life to the cold black honeycomb, her perfection untouched by her disheveled state. And Channah would always remember the naked, vulnerable, dependent, hungry, blind hope and faith and trust reflected in their shining eyes, and the raw need and desire for her, her comfort, her favor, and her love, emanating from her two most-intimate victims and lovers.

With a shudder, reflecting her own passion for this place, and her eagerness to share it with them, she pushed open the heavy iron door and admitted them to paradise.

Light cracked through the door first as it opened. There was something clear and almost hard about it, a momentary impression immediately overcome by the excitement and hope of a perfect early spring morning.

The air was cool and invigorating, fresh with life and fragrant with the smell of flowers and forest. The sky was sweet and bright and vibrant, energy practically radiating from it. Before them were vital and verdant trees, vines, and bushes, the encouragement of life, embraced by the solidity and nurturing reassurance of the Earth beneath them and, as they found themselves stepping out of a tunnel in the bottom of a cliff, behind them. The perfect black stones of the honeycomb ended abruptly as they stepped through the doorway onto a garden path made of what their tour guide called orange adoquin stone, perfectly fitted to one another with no visible grout between them.

The path divided immediately. It ran a few yards to the right along the bottom hem of the greyish-black volcanic cliff soaring above them, until—contained by a crenellation in the cliff wall, it was forced to bend to the left and disappear behind the trees.

Channah pushed the door closed behind them, sliding two heavy drawbars from holes in the cliff wall across the top and bottom of the iron door to secure it, latching them in place and making it impossible to open with anything less than a battering ram. Then she moved her hands quickly in the air before the door causing a brief glamour to sparkle and fade, suggesting even a battering ram might have trouble getting in.

She shrugged and smiled her beautiful smile. “I don’t require much, actual security. But I do value my privacy. It is more precious to me than you can imagine. And the three of us are the only people here in my mountain paradise. Do you feel the air? How thin it is?” And she enjoyed watching them breathe, eyes unfocused as they concentrated on feeling their breath in their throats and lungs. “If you don’t now, you will when you exert yourselves. And I mean for you both to do so,” she giggled, touching both their bottoms rudely and pulling them into her sides. “A lot. If you’ve never been at altitude before, you’ll feel you’re struggling for breath until your body adjusts. That will take a couple of days. We’re in a mountain valley—more like a pocket, a cauldron lined with cliffs, high in the peaks, with only two entrances, the honeycomb and a natural cave, both warded to alert me to any potential trespassers so I can know we’re alone and no one is going to come running to me with their problems and concerns. It calms me so much,” she sighed. “It’s the only time I’m really off work, in a way.” She shook her head, contemplating how busy she had been, and for how long.

And then she turned them gently to face the left branch of the path, causing them to gasp in wonder. It was a reaction she had obviously anticipated, and equally obviously, enjoyed. This way, the path descended gently and widened for a few yards, cliffs on the left and the dense, heavy forest on the right, until it reached a clear, beautiful pool in the rocks, fed by an irregular fountain of water pouring from a crack in the cliff wall and draining… well, it was complicated. And, just beyond that, a breathtaking vista.

There were actually three fountains and three waterways, a fact they slowly absorbed as she guided them down the path towards it, explaining, her hands protectively holding theirs. “They’re natural springs. The first one is my hot bath.” And indeed, they could see steam rising from the water where it emerged from the rock in a line with the surface of the smallish pool, a bowl about the size of a royal carriage with no obvious egress for the water. The force of the water entering at its margin caused its surface to ripple and bubble constantly. “The second is the mountain stream that waters my gardens.” It appeared to be the largest flow of water by volume, cascading down a spill of rocks to a narrow pool, more like a water trench or a troth, feeding a stream that disappeared into the woods. “And the third is my washing-pool, which all three of us need desperately!

Literature Section “07-04 The Secret Garden Mouth”—more material available at TheRemainderman.com—Part 04 of Chapter Seven, “Channah’s Slavegirls: Pawns of the Court of Lust”—1104 words—Accompanying Images: 2001-2002—Published 2025-07-04—©2025 The Remainderman. This is a work of fiction, not a book of suggestions. It’s filled with fantasies, idiots, and criminals. Don’t believe them or imitate them.

Stories

07-03 Ready for Love

2025-07-042025-07-04 admin

*1999 07-03 Let’s get this party STARTED, bitches!!!*

PREVIOUSLY: For seven days and nights, Chastity and Penance have been tormented, tested, pushed, and bewitched by Channah, her succubae, her human operatives, and others, with every tool and tactic available to the succubae on Earth and in Hell, with the twin goals of perfecting a decade of training and preparation while bringing them mentally to their current state: uprooted, lost, malleable, in need of comfort, and desperate for love. Having taken them—figuratively and literally—through hell, Channah ushers them now to her paradise. NOW:

Channah was still fully dressed, wearing her customary, splendid scarlet court gown and tall black shiny high-heeled riding boots, the same things she had worn since they left Fensmere and Earth this morning, which seemed like a lifetime ago now. Or, at least, she wore the scuffed, dirty, oily, torn, abraded remnants of the clothes she had donned at Fensmere, insofar as they remained after the orgiastic, satanic rituals at Chang’an, the skyride across the Hell of Lust, their impromptu performance at the satanikoklus, and whatever she had got up to while the girls were tethered in the honeycomb at Sademtsaowah.

Her girls were stripped, covered in so much oil and filth and dirt that they had caused the soiling of her own clothing, Kadidia’s and Esmeray’s clothing, and several square yards of the ritual site. Their bare skin was marked with scrapes, minor cuts, ligature marks, and, more heavily, with bruises, some smoldering and purple, some still fresh and angry and red, from their training and discipline over the preceding seven days and nights. To any observers, they appeared to wear only their collars, short leashes, navel rings, and the ropes binding their wrists. Not readily visible, but certainly of equal importance in their experiences, were the four items—in addition to the roots of their navel rings—buried deep inside their bodies: two plugs in their ears depriving them completely of any ability to see, hear, taste, or smell anything outside their own bodies; and the twisters and triggers that rested, churned, or swam by turns, at Channah’s command, inside their guts. But even with all that, what they and she were surely most-conscious of at this moment, was how thoroughly (with the sole exception of their primary sexual organs hanging as obsoletely as appendices from their crotches) their bodies had been transformed from the male bodies they grew up with to their new, ultrafeminine curves.

She held their leashes over her shoulders, her hands in front of her belly, using their chastity cages hooked to and tangled in the leashes like handles for better leverage, casually forcing them to rest their chins on her shoulders and to awkwardly scramble, their shoulders and chests pressed tightly against her back, behind her. She expected them to accommodate her own brisk and confident walk with theirs, and they were certainly in no doubt about that. She was, after all, their superior. She could feel the tension and stress in their bodies as they tried to keep their balance, keep their soft bare feet away from her boots with their sharp heels, and keep up with her using only their sense of touch.

She was snickering, well-pleased with herself and already teetering on the tingly edge of arousal when she led her girls through the honeycomb and up to the iron door separating it from her retreat.

Gently pushing Penny up against the door, she put her hand up tight behind the girl’s soft hair to protect her from the door behind her, knowing she was about to startle the girl. Only then, did she brush her lips across her young wife’s, refusing to let her pull back as her instincts tried to do when they felt an unexpected touch on such a vulnerable and personal part of her body. Resting her lips softly there for a moment, while her girl calmed down, Channah pushed her tongue into Penny’s mouth, feeling her relax and wondering if she could tell it was Channah once it penetrated past her lips. Perhaps she recognized something familiar about the feel or taste or smell of her, or perhaps even her kissing style. Knowing Penny, she suspected she could. Not because she obeyed the unspoken command to admit Channah’s tongue, but because she responded almost immediately, kissing back with a palpable enthusiasm, even of the closest thing to aggression Penny was capable of, making a soft moue of relief and welcome that warmed Channah’s heart despite herself.

Then she laughed, as Penny pushed herself forward and even flicked her tongue against Channah’s. Pulling on Penny’s hair as she laughed at her, she broke their kiss, softly pecking at the corners of Penny’s helpless mouth as if to tell her that was enough. Next, she turned around and relaxed back against Penny, smooshing her between the hard iron behind her and the soft swells of Channah’s buttocks and shoulders, really pushing into her so she knew she was being held in place and not forgotten, giggling and shivering with pleasure as she felt Penny’s lips and tongue begin attending to the sensitive back of her neck and shoulders.

Pulling Chastity in close to her, slowly enough she could tell it was a gesture of intimacy, she repeated the same soft initial brush pass she had used to signal her intentions to Penny. Chas neither pulled back nor immediately reciprocated, but instead hesitated a moment before kissing her back, confidently but less ardently than Penny. Raising her hands to Chastity’s ears, she removed her plugs and pocketed them, hearing Chas’s whimper of relief as she regained her senses.

“Domina!” she gasped, her voice somewhere between a whine and a moan, before pushing forward against the older woman and almost attacking her mouth. She laughed as she returned the kiss, carelessly using Penny as her cushion, hardly thinking of her as she focused her attention on Chastity, running her hands through her oily hair and over her dirty skin with gusto. Earthy and about as far from neurotic as one could be, Channah was not fazed by anything as minor as a sloppy encounter. In fact, she could even relish a bit of the funkiness and imperfection of the world because it was so visceral and real, especially when she knew the chaos and disorder was of her own causation, rather than reflecting any lack of attention or respect for her, coming from her partners.

When they finally came up for breath, she giggled, stroking Chas’s cheek softly and saying: “Penny’s turn. Here, come to me.” She wrapped her right arm around Chas’s head and pulled it in against her breast, forcing Chas to follow as she turned back towards Penny, managing to reach both of Penny’s ears, remove her plugs, and transfer the plug from her right to her left hand without ever releasing, or even loosening, Chas. Pocketing the plugs carefully, she purred with happiness as Penny crushed her lips against Channah’s.

“Oh, oh, oh, mm…” she murmured around their kisses, sensing again how much more desperate and hungry Penny’s kisses were than Chas’s confident and content ones. “It’s so nice to be missed and wanted. I love you girls.”

“We love you Domina!” they both cried, pressing on her with enough force that she backed into the wall beside the door with both girls’ weight squeezing her in a way she found delightfully affectionate. After a couple of moments, she loosened her arm and moved her hand so she was now holding both girls by their hair, allowing Chas’s face up and startling them—again without allowing either girl to even think of resisting—by pushing their chins and noses against hers, flicking her tongue across both of their mouths at the same time, their faces fitting against one another like three pieces of a pie.

Pausing, she scolded them: “Where are your tongues? Don’t be shy. You’re sisterwives now! You don’t have to enjoy kissing one another, but you absolutely, positively can never be hesitant or reserved about kissing me, just because you’re sharing me!” Then she dove back in, her aggression, and the size of her tongue, coaxing her girls into responding. Laughing again, she murmured: “We are going to have the most wonderful week together…. Do you want to see my home? Well… you’re my wives, aren’t you?” she gasped, sounding surprised, as she realized: “That makes it our home, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, Domina!” they agreed, happy and warmed by the idea.

Literature Section “07-03 Ready for Love”—more material available at TheRemainderman.com—Part 03 of Chapter Seven, “Channah’s Slavegirls: Pawns of the Court of Lust”—1330 words—Accompanying Images: 1984-1988—Published 2025-07-04 (early a.m.)—©2025 The Remainderman. This is a work of fiction, not a book of suggestions. It’s filled with fantasies, idiots, and criminals. Don’t believe them or imitate them.

Stories

07-02 Honeycomb Funhouse Mindf***

2025-07-03 admin

*1984 07-02 Into the Labyrinth–We can fly!*

*1987 07-02 The World Turned Upside Down*

*1990 07-02 Good girls get dunce-boxed forever*

*1993 07-02 Here there are worlds and worlds and worlds…*

PREVIOUSLY: Channah had shaken Chastity and Penance to their cores by binding them and then stripping them of their senses one by one—sight, sound, smell, taste, and then—finally, with triggers inserted inside them, even touch and their awareness of their own bodies, leaving them completely isolated from the world, themselves, and reality. Now, only hours later, she has triggered the girls’ PTSD by leaving them kneeling naked, hands tied behind their backs, collars locked to rings at floor level, and alone in the eerie Honeycomb—vulnerable, bound, hitched, and stripped of their senses of sight, smell, hearing, and taste. They remained connected to the world, and to reality, only by their sense of touch and their awareness of their own bodies, and trapped in their fear, uncertainty, and inability to resist anything else she might choose to do to them. NOW:

Channah had, quite willfully and naughtily, allowed herself to become distracted, first by her castellan and other officials, then by her petitioners, and finally by a lover. She spent most of her time on Earth, and even the time she had for hell had to be divided among different castles by the global nature of her responsibilities. Inevitably, on the rare occasions she did return to Sademtsaowah, when she finally did reappear, she was besieged by the attentions of those she had ignored for far too long.

She had tried to assure them she would be returning next weekend, with her new brides, their qahramanah, and even Kadidia—all of those big draws for her curious officers and staff—but they had heard her promise how quickly she would be back so many times, they discounted her assurances to near nothing. This time, they would see she meant it. As much as Fang’s exhaustion concerned her with the possibility something similar could happen to her, she didn’t expect the girls could ever release that much sado-sexual sorcery again. But that wouldn’t stop her from trying to make it happen, she thought happily.

She had told her two girls she would leave them kneeling on the hard stone floor, virtually mummified and immobilized, for about half an hour. In the event, it was between four and five hours later that she finally returned to the honeycomb, casually chatting with the guards posted outside, for a moment before proceeding inside. Entering it, as she finally did, she brought light and noise to what had been a perfectly dark and silent space. But of course, her girls could not be aware of that, with the plugs she had placed in their ears and more-importantly, the triggers she and Kadidia had pushed up inside their bellies. She could strip them of their remaining sense, and indeed their connections to their own bodies, with a thought, anytime she wished; and she was confident they suspected and feared that to be the case. Still, there was no way she was going to give them the satisfaction or certainty of confirming or denying it categorically. Let them feel the creeping uncertainty and loss of confidence in their own awareness of reality, and the limits—if any—of her power that came with such profound uncertainty about something as fundamental as their very connection to the world.

Walking around behind her girls, she stood for a moment and regarded their beautiful backs and hips. They were gorgeous, two of Channah’s best creations, submissive, feminine, eager to please her, kneeling there with their legs spread revealing their little hints of wannabe manhood below their taints—not men. They would never be men. That was never in the cards for her little futas—never had been. Femmebois.

Both girls were showing signs of physical distress, shifting almost constantly, rearranging their legs, even daring to break position for a moment to straighten one leg and then another, pointing and stretching their toes like ballerinas, inadvertently shifting their hips like whores. Penny was shivering slightly, a function of temperature but even more, Channah judged, of anxiety and dread. Chastity moaned and whimpered, little sounds of her own distress, even panic. Chastity seemed to be even more-affected than Penny had been, about the trigger.

Channah felt herself becoming aroused and reflected, not for the first time since she had broken them, how much she enjoyed their sexual ambivalence, and how muc h they made her appreciate her own. It was a combination, she speculated, of their appearance, their submission, the fact she couldn’t drain them without throwing away decades of her own hard work, and the fact she had made them, thought by thought, feeling by feeling, experience by experience, even hip by hip and breast by breast. Oh—and the maddening, fascinating technical “virginity” of her number one whore. And the fact the little bitch’s personality had, so far, made her act and feel almost like a superior little virgin, no matter what Channah subjected her to.

Usually, as much as she enjoyed the transgression of penetrating a boycow, she enjoyed being a woman so much it made her one of the straightest succubae around. And, of course, she reflected smugly, she liked the fact that no one else on Earth or in Hell ever had to compromise less than she did. That was always a fucking turn-on. Something that, she could perhaps admit to herself, had discouraged her from experimenting with her staff side as freely as she might otherwise have done. It almost made her resentful of her girls, for forcing her to abandon—or at least suspend—that conceit, even if it was at her own choice to fulfill her own ambitions. She want to punish them, for making her compromise her own rigid, dominant femininity; and she couldn’t help the feeling they were asking for it, the little two-faced strumpet-prigs. Among a species more sexually-ambivalent than almost any other, being ultra-, exceptionally-, uncompromisingly- feminine was a badge to Channah of her own uniqueness and power.

All of which kind of pissed her off. Well, really pissed her off. At them. Again. The whiny little straitlaced better-than-thou virginal sheltered taffeta-girl wimps!

Regarding their insolent buttocks thrust up at her like challenges—or at the very least, invitations—she felt herself breathing more heavily, her forehead and coccyx twitching with the rising urge to strike and penetrate them both here. She could hardly imagine how badly they would freak out to feel her pushing lube into their sphincters, reminding them of the last time they had thought themselves senseless until she showed them what it really meant…

“Fuck!” She shivered and rolled her eyes, turning away and forcing her thoughts down gentler courses. She should have done these things on the heteraslakos if she were in the mood for it. And she could always do it next weekend. Or the next. Or the one after that….

But she’d already pushed her girls harder than she’d pushed anyone she wanted to be genuinely intimate with before. And she needed them to be intimate with her—needed them to love and trust her and depend on her. She had to rein herself in and give them love they could understand. Love they were more than ready for. Love they did need, and maybe she wanted, just for a little bit—just for fun. Only, she’d made them such perfect demon-bait… too fucking perfect… Only, they drove her so crazy—

Roughly and impulsively, allowing herself to womanhandle them and leave them helpless and lost to sate her own desire to punish and dominate them, she unhooked their collars from the hitching rings. She enjoyed very much how startled and fearful each girl was at the first touch, shocked to feel evidence of anyone else after hours of being lonely and abandoned, even if they had spent those hours pining for her. They were uncertain who was unhitching them and what they would be subjected to next. They had no idea, and no way of finding out.

She yanked the girls to their feet by their shortleashes and, after she was sure they both had enough circulation and feeling in their legs to keep their feet, casually draped the leashes over her shoulders, pulling their chins down right beside her ears and shivering with the feel of their soft skin and softer breath. Pulling and holding the shortleashes tight, she forced the girls to follow her closely while trying not to trip over their Domina or their own feet. She giggled, feeling them struggle and try to move cautiously, fearful that their next step might be on a painful or treacherous or difficult surface, as she led them back into—and through—the honeycomb.

Literature Section “07-02 Honeycomb Funhouse Mindfuck”—more material available at TheRemainderman.com—Part 2 of Chapter Seven, “Channah’s Slavegirls: Pawns of the Court of Lust”—1240 words—Accompanying Images: 1984-1995—Published 2025-07-02—©2025 The Remainderman. This is a work of fiction, not a book of suggestions. It’s filled with fantasies, idiots, and criminals. Don’t believe them or imitate them.

Stories

06-122 Arousing a Succubus (abridged version)

2025-06-212025-06-21 admin

Explicit version containing masturbation, orgasm, cunnilingus, and consensualnonconsent themes at 06-122[X] Arousing a Succubus at Patreon.com/TheRemainderman

PREVIOUSLY: Chastity and Penance, naked, vulnerable, and bound, completely traumatized by their recent, total sensory isolation, have been led by Channah into a place of darkness silence and sterility. They plead with her not to leave them here while she runs a quick errand. NOW:

She whispered, her voice cracking with emotion: “First you want me and love me. Then you frustrate me and try to thwart my plans… and now you show pathetic need and fear? To me?! The Queen of the Succubae?” She asked incredulously, shuddering and closing her eyes, feeling their fear spike to panic. “Ooohhh…” she hissed slowly, pressing her hands between her legs. “You poor girls are terrified… of me, and of losing me. All at once! While I’m still mad at you! Ungh!”

She opened her eyes, staring deeply into theirs. “You girls are perfect! Thank you, you silly cows!” And as she felt their hopes start to rise: “All you had to do was behave like men, just a little bit! Show some courage! Show some independence! But no… you’re just teases! I’m gonna mess you girls up so hard you’re going to learn to lose control from fear and arousal at the same time.” Then she laughed, shaking as their hopes crashed back into confusion about what they had done, and terror of what she might do to them… outweighed only by their desperation for her to stay with them in the Honeycomb and protect them. “You two are quite mad, to tease and enrage a succubus that way. When are you going to learn your lessons?” She shook her head, incredulously. “My lessons, that you waste!”

Pulling something small from her pocket, she approached Chastity, staring down at her, ignoring their blubbering, confused, frightened questions—well, not the emotion of them, that she lapped up. Only the content. Then Channah stepped over the beam on the floor, to which Chastity was tied, one high-heeled boot and then the other, delicately and sluttily at once; before dropping to sit on the bar, her crotch right in Chastity’s face, locked in front of her by the ring fastened to Chas’s collar.

“Bitches! SILENCE!” she commanded, her thunderous voice swatting theirs down to muteness as quickly and effectively as a professional boxer might put an elementary-school thumb-wrestler in his place with a knockout punch. “You’ve only got yourselves to blame for your current predicament, after all. Don’t come whining to me now! I’m dying to start our honeymoon… it’s all I’m thinking of! Can you imagine what it’s like to be a Queen, with so many responsibilities, everybody’s boss, always being expected to have all the answers and make all the right decisions, and take care of all the little weaklings around her, all the time? ALL I’ve been fantasizing about since our wedding is our seclusion, away from the world, away from other people, away from any chance of risk or harm, where I don’t have to teach you and guide you and correct you and monitor you and discipline you, only love you and be loved! I would have thought you’d want that too! Instead of just…” she threw her hands up in frustration: “Prolonging this whole affair by forcing me to interrupt my work—again! And delay our special time of safety and love together—again! Just so that I can punish you… that’s right, you guessed it, AGAIN!” By now she sounded furious, almost on the verge of tears: “You’re so selfish and thoughtless!”

And the second both girls started frantically trying to apologize and plead she raised one insistent hand, instantly cowing them back into scared silence. “Are you girls scared of this place?” She asked, lip rolling in an exaggerated pout. “What’s that?” she asked their silence. “Yes or no. Are my widdle babies scared for mommy to leave them alone in the dark?”

“Yes, Domina!” they admitted reluctantly. “At least,” Penny tried to explain, “I’d like to get used to it, or… have a little more time after the—you know…” While Chas burst out: “Please stay with us!”

“Awww…. So sweet. I can’t even stay mad at you. I have an idea so Mommy can take care of you, while Mommy’s also doing all the work, and taking all the efforts. As usual! I have just the thing to protect you from your fears about this sacred place. Mommy will make it all go away. I brought these just in case you girls might want them.” She placed her hands over Chastity’s ears, and with a final, contemptuous twitch of a smile, pressed the magical earplugs into her girl’s ear canals.

Chastity cried out.

It was the kind of cry actors practiced for years, hoping for their chance to use it in a reputation-making dramatic scene. And Channah howled back like a rabid wolf, throwing her soggy dress over Chas’s head and grabbing her hair, crying and cursing and nearly barking with passion as she did. “You’re the Jezebels!” she whimpered, then shivered as Chastity’s screams fell into wracking sobs and pleas.

Right then. That was it.

Channah managed it again, only a little one, but the kind that’s so intense it’s nearly unbearable because you’ve already come so many times your body is raw and primed for it.

Chastity was still sobbing when Channah finally shook her head to gather her thoughts, stood, and stepped over Chastity, and then Penny, standing over her back facing the cube and drinking in her big-word, long-winded apologies and pleas.

Her high heels brought her ankles up to a height equal with Penny’s temples, and she rose on the toes of her boots to slam her ankles into the girl to get her attention and silence her. “I want to discuss this persistent problem further tomorrow, and during the coming week. I do want to take care of you girls, but I also have many responsibilities as the Queen and I can’t spend all of my time coddling and protecting you! I have to take care of everybody else, too! I was hoping you girls, with your free time and leisured aristocratic lives, could help me! You’re my wives! Don’t you want to be sweet to me the way I want to be to you?!”

“Yes! I promise you we do! We’re most sincere, our beloved Domina! I’m sorry!” Penny wailed ashamedly; almost histrionically. “We didn’t mean to interrupt you, Domina.”

“Hush! What did I just say?!” she spoke, crossly, catching Penny off guard and watching how she flinched as if she had physically hit them, looking hurt but also guilty about upsetting her. And… she smelled it like a drug, another hit of the addictive whisper of fearlovearousal: uncertainty, and worry, about what punishment she might inflict on them if she fancied it; but also, even stronger, about how much she wanted to please Chastity, and how miserable she felt that she was failing in that.

“Put your lips to work. Your sisterwife has already taken care of my orchid, but you can kiss my boots, baby.”

“Thank you, Domina,” she gushed, seizing it as an opportunity to show her apology and regret again, lips and tongue slobbering on the dirty toes of Channah’s boots.

“Such a good girl when she wants to be,” Channah said significantly.

And the last thing Penny heard as the earplugs entered her ear canals, before real and pervasive darkness, the complete, oppressive silence of death, and the utter loss of even the opium smell of her Mistress and the dusty flavor of her boots, settled over her… was the sound of her own weak, scared, desperate pleas.

Literature Section “06-122[X] Arousing a Succubus”—more material available at TheRemainderman.com—Part 122 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—Abridged 1230 words::Explicit 1248 words—Accompanying Images: 1951-1955—Published 2025-06-21—©2025 The Remainderman. This is a work of fiction, not a book of suggestions. It’s filled with fantasies, idiots, and criminals. Don’t believe them or imitate them.

Stories

06-121 Led Astray

2025-06-202025-06-20 admin

*1949 06-121 The Evil Queen Bee seducing Her retinue*

*1950 06-121 Let ME find the path for you, my pretties*

PREVIOUSLY: A traumatized Chastity and Penance, naked and vulnerable, are led by Channah into the honeycomb, a mysterious structure used by the demons for travel, finding it dark and silent and sterile enough to make them feel like they are being cut off from the world all over again. NOW:

With her sixth step, the silent darkness ruptured, practically exploding into light. Despite Channah’s warning, of course, they were startled and surprised. Of course, they jumped involuntarily, causing her to chortle merrily, as images swam into focus around them—organic shapes of flora and fauna, geometric ones of geography and buildings, on each of the six walls of the room, with a seventh billowing from smoke into clarity above them, and even a flickering below them like the floor itself might start to resolve into something—

“No!” Channah gasped as if scandalized, covering their eyes with her hands. “I saw you looking down, Penance Batonnoir! You saw the floor spark, didn’t you? Clever girl—too clever by half for your own good, isn’t that right, Chas?”

“Very much so, Domina,” Chas had to agree, sounding amused and bemused at the same time.

“Don’t you dare look down, Penance girl. Just one stray moment of curiosity—and I know you, you’re curious about everything—and gravity might drag the three of us straight down before I could even teach you about the sheets of the Honeycomb!” She giggled. “And since you have no business leaving my sheet, so to speak, that’s a skill you’ll never need anyway. So… let’s spend this week exploring my sheets only, shall we? In your own sheet, it’s simple: Back and to the left is always home. Always. Back and to the right is where you just came from, unless that happens to be your home, in which case it’s determined like the other four faces,” she kind-of explained, turning them 150 degrees counterclockwise and guiding them—with her hands still over their eyes and counting: “One. It’s already gone.” But she kept her hands on their eyes until she announced: “Two.” Then she brought her hands back down around their necks. “Three. Four. Five. Watch your pretty toes!” And then she finished authoritatively, “Six!” drowning out the girls’ tentative “Seven and a half” (precise Penny) and “eight” (casual Chas). As well-matched as they were physically, there was little chance there was any actual difference to speak of between their respective strides.

“Now. I need you to move just over here…” she guided them to the right, and then forward, maneuvering them around the outside of the glass cube. They immediately noticed there were chains hanging from the upper rail and rings embedded into the lower rail, on this side. “Now kneel down, and stay over here on the side, out of the main path. You don’t want to get in the way of any important people. And since everyone who uses the honeycomb is a succubus or accompanying a succubus, you can presume there will always be at least one person much more important than you, in here. Got it?”

“Yes, Domina,” they chorused unconvincingly, getting what she was saying, but not why she was saying it.

“For the same reason, to make sure you’re in a respectful position if any of your betters come across you, I want you down on your knees.” She was unfastening Chastity from the leash she shared with Penny as she spoke. “Go on, kneel, I know the floor hurts a little but we have a strict rule, animals left in the honeycomb are always hitched.”

“‘Left?!’” Penny asked, scared. “‘Hitched?!’” Chas protested.

“Ohh… come on, Chastity!” she teased her, thereby easily ignoring Penny’s question. “Who’s your cowgirl?”

“You are, Domina,” Chastity answered, embarrassed but also a little excited. “See?” she kissed the back of her head as she pushed the girl down to the floor. “What good little hucattle you two are.” And with that, she locked each girl’s collar to one of the rings in the floor, Penny’s to the ring nearest the iron door, and Chas’s to the ring nearest the honeycomb, spacing them about six feet apart.

“Mistress?” Penny squeaked. “Domina? Please, you aren’t going to leave us, are you?”

“Aww… my little poodle. You’re a grown-up! Don’t tell me you’re still afraid of the dark, darling?” she asked, managing to sound both sympathetic and irritated at once, as she pulled up on Penny’s bound wrists, hard, causing the girl to whine and shuffle her knees forward to ease the pressure on her shoulders, before using one of the chains hanging from the top bar to hold her wrists up and behind her in the strappado position.

“Not the dark per se, Domina,” Penny squeaked, sounding a little whiny and pathetic, even to herself. “But, it’s just—this—today—after the trigger—the honeycomb, Mistress!”

“Aww… does the honeycomb bother you?” she pouted distractedly.

“It’s just… kind of upsetting, Domina…” Chastity chimed in, her voice a little uneven, sounding even to herself like she had doubts about what she was saying.

“Oh, you poor little dears,” she said regretfully, locking Chastity’s arms into the strappado position. “Unfortunately, I have to make an appearance here at Sademtsaowah. Half an hour is about the minimum I need to linger here to be confident I’ve given all—well, almost all—of the damned enough time to wrap their empty skulls around the fact they need to attend to me here. Most of them react faster than that most of the time, but taken as a herd…” she shrugged. “It takes time to keep the number of stragglers down. Now,” she began, stepping over the bar into the cube, heading toward the iron door. “You g—”

“Can’t we please come with you, Domina?” Chastity pleaded frantically.

“Please, Domina, I promise we’ll be good girls!” Penance added.

Sounding firmer, she emphasized: “I have a great deal to do here and want to get as much of it done as possible, in those thirty minutes so I can give you sweet little love muffins mommy’s full attention on our honeymoon!” They heard her turning and stepping toward the door.

“Please can you leave us with the guards Domina, please?!” Chastity pleaded. “We’ll be ever so well-behaved!”

“We—we’ll be a credit to you, Domina!” Penny assured her.

She hesitated, and then turned back towards them, slowly, seeing the hunger in their eyes, not just for her, but for the light she was radiating. A thoughtful, calculating look crept into her eyes, and just the hint of a smirk lifted the corner of her lips. When she saw that both of her girls had caught the look on her face, and that it made them both quail like red-headed stepchildren, she bit her lip and pressed her knees together, sniffing deliberately and sighing with pleasure at their sudden burst of lambchop panic….

Literature Section “06-121 Led Astray”—more material available at TheRemainderman.com—Part 121 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—1101 words—Accompanying Images: 1949-1950—Published 2025-05-20—©2025 The Remainderman. This is a work of fiction, not a book of suggestions. It’s filled with fantasies, idiots, and criminals. Don’t believe them or imitate them.

Stories

06-120 The Queen in the Hive

2025-06-192025-06-19 admin

*1931 06-120 Faerie Light of the Honeycomb*

PREVIOUSLY: Chastity and Penance, under Channah’s literal and metaphorical spells, have been ritually debased, used badly, ridden hard, and victim-shamed. Channah, in high spirits from a gathering more successful than any of the succubae can remember, leads the exhausted and traumatized futa naked, through the halls of Castle Chang’an with their hands bound, by a single leash attached to both of their collars. They have just reached the Honeycomb. NOW:

A perfect, sterile, silent blackness consumed the entire world behind the heavy iron door, swallowing all light, sound, and smell alike. The moment they passed into it, the girls knew, to a moral certainty, that they were in a special place. A sacred place, with the air of the forbidden, set aside from the humdrum world all around it. But since they knew they were in hell, neither girl believed this place was actually sacred. Indeed, reason suggested, if anything… the opposite.

The walls here were a deeper, more-perfect, glassy opaque black, carved with amazing precision into perfect rectangular prisms, matched so precisely no mortar could be discerned between them. Only the faintest rectangular lines, visible as an interruption in the reflective surface, marked the end of one brick and the start of the next, betraying the fact that the walls were constructed of separate bricks rather than immense, continuous slabs. The air was cooler, dryer, and odorless here, with an underlying silence that made the girls aware how much noise they accepted every day as a normal part of everyday life.

Just inside the doorway, within the larger chamber, was a cube—or, rather, the outline of one, 12 equal-length square columns eight inches across, arranged as two squares with four connecting beams joining their corners. To enter, they stepped over one bar and “through” one side of the cube. As they stepped into the cube, their skin began to tingle, as if their entire bodies were waking up after having been asleep.

“What’s happening?!” Penance asked. “My body!” Chastity echoed her.

Channah laughed softly. “Not to worry. It’s a shield.”

“For what?”

“For the honeycomb.”

“Against what?!”

“Against you, you silly girls,” Channah chuckled. “Your filth. Have you taken a look at one another?” She snorted. “Think of it like magical hosiery or clogs. It’s doing it to me, too, to prevent my dress and boots from dripping oil and water everywhere. It’s quite pleasant, actually.”

“And dark…” Penny whispered, sounding haunted, as the door slammed closed behind them. “and silent… and odorless.”

“Aww… pooor sweetie,” Channah sympathized, sounding delighted, swooping the two girls into her arms for a tight hug. “Ooh… darlings, you’re shivering! Is this… reminding you of anything?”

“Yes, Domina,” they whined together, hugging her back fiercely, shivering not with their paresthesia but with the dread of memory of the senseless comatic holes they had been triggered into before exclaiming in reaction to another surprise, and again in unison: “Domina!”

“What is it?” she feigned surprise, knowing they were staring at her, and knowing exactly why.

“You—you’re glowing!”

She snickered, fully aware what she looked like in here, and tickled that they sounded amazed rather than horrified. Dropping her hands down to between their legs, she tested them and laughed even harder. “Oh, girls… we are definitely going to have to explore this together!”

She appeared in the honeycomb in her demonic form, a wild, fey, fiercer-than-average version of her spicy red demon self. All succubae did, in here. There was something so primal about this space, this force, that it brought out the beast in demons, ancient and fierce. Raising her hands to encompass the space all around them, she explained: “The honeycomb absorbs or filters all light, all sound, all energy, all contamination of any kind, respecting only the stuff and energy of life itself. This cube is a spell that protects the honeycomb from all the filth—well, what the honeycomb considers contaminants—accompanying… travelers through it. Otherwise, the honeycomb would bar or absorb everything: dresses, boots, jewelry, underwear… even the oil and dirt on your bodies.”

Something about the way she had said ‘travelers’ troubled Penny, who asked: “And are we—Chas and I—travelers, Domina?”

Channah turned and looked at her slowly, her lips parting in genuine surprise, almost looking… embarrassed? As if Penny had been peeping on her in her dressing chamber. “What? Whatever do you mean?”

Penny frowned, now certain of it and reading in her eyes that she knew it. Suddenly gasping in fear that she was crossing a new line with Channah, but unable to bring herself not to ask: “Are we… travelers, Domina? Or filth?”

Her mouth formed a small ‘O’ even as something between scandal and titillation flashed in her eyes. Of course, it was impossible to tell with her glowing a ruddy hue, but the expression on her face was one that suggested blushing. “Oh Penny…” she whispered. “My beautiful filth.” And she leaned forward, kissing Penny softly on her lips. Pulling both girls’ ears close to her mouth, close enough they shivered with the feel of her warm breath, she whispered even more softly: “The honeycomb is natural—or supernatural, or unnatural, but certainly, not of our fashioning, and infinite. The spell is ours, and every cube and…” she giggled, rubbing her hips against them suggestively “bit of filth we protect takes effort and attention. Besides,” she hissed, her soft voice making them feel like they were part of a conspiracy, and shrugged: “Why would we want to open the honeycomb to…” she laughed throatily. “Any bit of filth that might be capable of finding the honeycomb and wandering into it? It’s why I had to bring you here the long way around, through the Satanikoklus. So I could… welcome you inside us.”

She giggled, releasing them, and twirling prettily: “Ours is the only light not extinguished in the honeycomb. And now you know: you’ll want to stay close to me in the honeycomb, won’t you? I’ll light the way for you, and protect you from the big, scary dark.” A smile played around her lips. “Filth.”

Then she took the girls under her arms, pulling their heads in tight to her own, and kissed each in turn on their ears, whispering “Princess” to Penance and “Fuckpuppet” to Chastity, making both of them blush, before leading them forward into the dark.

She was, indeed, the sole source of light in the honeycomb, a pale, faint, and eerie reddish glow coming off her and making her look ethereal or even spectral. But there was nothing dead or even undead about her; she remained all Channah, all predator, all vibrant and exciting and completely alive—seemingly more alive than anything or anyone around her. She remained the girls’ guidelight and beacon. Always.

She murmured to them, making sure they remembered the next bar, the one forming the bottom of the cube away from the door so they wouldn’t stub their bare toes on the clear glass in the dark; and then she whispered to them “Put your heels back against the bar, girls. That’s it, so you’re standing at the very edge of the cube behind you. Now, the distance will always be the same. So when we start forward, try to take steps that are the normal size for you, whatever that is, and count them off. I’ll do the same, but for my pace. Ready, let’s go.” And she counted her own steps forward, setting the example: “One. Two. Three. Four. Five—” she hesitated, stopping them both for a moment. “It’s about to appear around us… don’t be surprised… Six!”

Literature Section “06-120 The Queen in the Hive”—more material available at TheRemainderman.com—Part 120 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—1200 words—Accompanying Images: 1931, 1947-1948—Published 2025-06-19—©2025 The Remainderman. This is a work of fiction, not a book of suggestions. It’s filled with fantasies, idiots, and criminals. Don’t believe them or imitate them.

Stories

06-119 The Long March of Shame (abridged version)

2025-06-182025-06-18 admin

*1923 06-119 FINALLY, I’ve found London’s vilest asshole!*

06-119 The Long March of Shame (abridged version)

Explicit version containing graphic descriptive themes at 06-119X The Long March of Shame at Patreon.com/TheRemainderman

PREVIOUSLY: Chastity and Penance have been ridden hard. Exhausted, even shell-shocked, they are being led away like dogs on a leash by Channah from the venereal rites in which they were made to take part. Penny’s plea to be allowed to wear clothing is being rejected by Channah in the harshest-possible terms. NOW:

Channah threw her head back and laughed out loud, as Penny wilted.

“Darling, you’re covered with dirt and oil and—oh, yes, your own water, and that of not one, but two different succubae. Your dress was practically ripped off your body and is filthy and torn. NO. ONE. Is going to see you and think anything other than the truth, girl: You are a fallen woman, now, fallen almost as far as I have.” She sniggered, approaching Penny and kissing her, softly, on her quivering lips, playing with her, before whispering: “My fallen angels. I hope you NEVER manage to accept that. It is so. Hot,” she bit Penny’s lip, enjoying the girl’s involuntary shudder. “That my little medlar still feels like a cherry. Never fucking lose that…” and she laughed. “Princess! Pleaser, Puddin’, Princess! You’re the clothes-horse of nicknames. I adore you!” Then she stepped past Penny, leaving her with the beginnings of a renewed excitement the girl was still unable to wrap her reason around. As Channah snaked her arm around Chastity’s neck, the motion and the shortness of the chain she had on her girls forced Penny to press her naked flesh up tightly against the back of Channah’s sodden, disreputable, but fully-intact dress, even as she pulled Chastity in tightly for a kiss. Channah murmured back to Penny: “Kiss the back of my neck softly, bitch, and say ‘thank you for turning me out.’”

Then she kissed Chastity, a long, slow, intimate kiss, pretending to ignore Penny but unable to prevent herself shuddering from the soft feeling of Penny’s lips whining and whispering her pitiful, obedient gratitude into the back of her Queen’s neck.

“Are you ready for me to show you what your new body can do, Chas honey?” she murmured, her lips continuing to move over Chastity’s

“Oh, g—yes, Domina!”

She laughed throatily, murmuring around their kiss: “Try ‘Lillith and Cain’. Go on!”

“Lillith and Cain, yes, Domina!” Chastity moaned softly.

“Mm! Enough for now!” she pronounced bitchily, swatting Chastity’s bottom, well aware that she had both of her girls’ full attention, licking her lips and leading them on a march towards the stairs. “I want you girls all—to—myself. Finally!”

“But don’t we need to pack—bring things for the week—” Penny made a desperate last plea, as she stumbled after Channah.

“Silence! Or I’ll gag you hard, muffin. More Pleaser, less Princess. I have the only baggage you’re going to need all week,” she laughed, extending her hand, with their chastity cages dangling from her fingers, above her head, drawing laughter from those closest to the procession.

And with that, the girls were led—collared, cuffed, leashed, filthy, oily, barefoot, and nude, unable to cover themselves with their hands bound behind their backs—down the stairs, back into Castle Chang’an. They managed to retrace their steps down under the killing ground, back into the castle proper, and then back up to its ground floor, without seeing anyone.

But as soon as they were back in the main halls of the castle, their isolation came to an end. The halls seemed positively crowded compared to when they had arrived, and the passersby seemed supercharged with an air of urgency and anxiety they had definitely not had before. The nervous energy all around them was practically infectious, despite the girls’ already-heightened emotional state, and they glanced at one another nervously, perhaps worrying in the backs of their minds that the events they had witnessed—that they had participated in—might have been related to a larger disturbance in hell itself.

Everyone they passed was moving rapidly and purposefully, in marked contrast to the fatalistic air that had seemed to be the normal atmosphere of the castle. And the passersby reacted with interest, even double-takes to the sight of them. It was not the complete shock or outrage one would have expected almost anywhere on Earth, but it was enough of a reaction to indicate it was at least uncommon, even here in hell, to see beautiful, bedraggled nude futa being led by their leash at the hands of the dirty Queen of Hell.

Channah, herself reacting to the sense of tension with heightened nerves at first, spoke with several passersby in the local language of Chinese, taking the louder- and faster-than-average reports in such stride that she immediately relaxed.

“Is everything all right, Domina?” Penny asked, shocked when she came to an immediate halt and she ran into her Queen. “I’m sorry, Domina,” she curtsied.

Channah turned slowly and gave Penny a narrow, withering look, then looked down at her feet meaningfully. Taking the hint, Penny backed away from her nervously, until her leash was nearly straight instead of folded double and hanging vertically. Delivering one more chiding frown, she warned: “I know what you’re doing. Trying to hide behind your mommy?” She snickered at Penny’s confirming bloom of ruddy pink on her cheeks. Busted. “I’ll give you a choice. You can show off and be seen, or you can hide and…” she caught the eyes of two shoulders roaming appreciatively over Penny’s perfectly-feminine backside, and she crooked her finger at them. It was hard to tell whether they looked more nervous as they hustled straight to her and knelt, or Penny did as she tensed up and looked over her shoulder toward them.

With a harsh laugh, Channah pointed at Penny and spoke to them in Chinese. When they responded hesitantly, she reiterated her point more stridently and they practically fell over themselves to press up against Penny and run their hands over her curves, zeroing in almost immediately on her breasts as Penny squeaked and froze. “Mistress—Domina–!”

“Yes, I am,” she snorted. “As I was saying, if you don’t want to glorify me with your shame, you can hide, and I’ll make you a plaything for my guards instead.”

“I’m sorry, Domina! I’ll keep my distance, Domina, I promise! I apologize Domina, I—ow!” she cried, as one of the soldiers began twisting her nipples, hard and the other started nuzzling Penny’s shoulder.

With a laugh, Channah waved the soldiers off and they disappeared with even more haste than they had originally approached, as Channah set off again on her parade of shame through the castle. “I told them you girls were the stars of today’s performance. Of course, they wanted to touch you. For luck!”

“For luck?!” The girls glanced at one another in confusion.

“It’s why the castle is in such a state. All down to you and Esmeray… and, of course, Kadidia and me, but not one of them would dare to even think of touching me without being ordered to do so. Thralls!” she rolled her eyes. “The way the five of us whipped up the devils with your entertaining little antics? It’s why I’m going to let you come back here any weekend I can. You’re going to be celebrities here! And the longer you can remain my tormented, conflicted Princess, darling—” she patted Penny’s cheek patronizingly— “the better. Your emotional angst is catnip to the damned. Catnip!”

“Yes, Domina!” both girls chorused, looking at one another nervously but too intimidated by her manner and quick punishment of Penny to ask any of the questions that they—well, mainly Penny—fairly burst to ask.

Channah, heedless of their feelings, resumed her promenade, seeming to take her time, moving at a relaxed, regal pace through the halls and courtyards and stairways of the disconcerted castle, chatting in an almost-flirtatious way with some of the groups they passed, until they reached a heavy, iron door flanked by four guards—not idle, not running anywhere, but simply alert, calm, and guarding the door with determination.

The second they set eyes on their Queen, the four of them bowed deeply, one of them managing to pull open the door and still hold onto his weapon even as he did so.

Literature Section “06-119[X] The Long March of Shame”—more material available at TheRemainderman.com—Part 119 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—Abridged 1326 words::Explicit 1333 words—Accompanying Images: 1923-1924, 1930—Published 2025-06-18—©2025 The Remainderman. This is a work of fiction, not a book of suggestions. It’s filled with fantasies, idiots, and criminals. Don’t believe them or imitate them.

Stories

06-118 Ridden Hard and Put Away Wet

2025-06-172025-06-17 admin

PREVIOUSLY: Kadidia has just finished with Penance and Chastity, and is now resting comfortably on top of the two smaller, squished girls, enjoying the intimacy of the afterglow. NOW:

When Kadidia felt Esmeray pulling back and standing up, unwilling to remain a part of the girlpile any longer, Kadidia groaned and rolled over onto her back, chuckling as the girls panted and moued with relief. “Take them—to their Domina, Qahramanah!” she commanded, closing her eyes and lying face-up, soaking up the sensations rippling across the heteraslakos and, in fact, through her own body as well. “Then come back and I can help you plan your lessons for next week.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Esmeray answered, meaning it, before her voice turned hesitant. “But I’m not sure Penance can move unless I separate her wrists from her ankles, Your Grace,” she observed doubtfully, as she helped Chastity struggle from Penance’s back and scramble up to a standing position.

“That’s fine,” the larger woman waved one hand vaguely, otherwise looking for all the world like a woman enjoying the warm rays of the Sun. “These two girls are broken. They won’t be a problem. Ever again,” she added, laughing despite herself. “But go ahead and chain her hands behind her back like Chastity. Just so you develop good jawari-handling habits.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Esmeray promised, nodding, as she turned her attention to Penny, kneeling on her back as she had been taught, before unfastening Penny’s wrists from her ankles and then securing her wrists to one another as the girl sighed, her legs finally able to straighten from the froglike position they had been trapped in. Only after her wrists had been secured, did Esmeray stand and help Penny to her feet, then took the two girls by their arms, and searched the heteraslakos for their Domina.

She spotted Channah, looking as oily and sweaty and bedraggled as Esmeray felt, sitting tiredly on one of the benches near the middle of the tower, her arm supportively resting on Fang’s shoulder. Even from here, she could see Fang was exhausted and pale. Guiding the girls forward, she saw Channah notice them and nod before returning her attention back to Fang. As they drew close, they heard Channah assuring Fang gently: “—as much time as you need. We’ll make a stop at Sademtsaowah to lead my thralls there for the next ritual. Focus on replenishing your herd and I will check on you next weekend.”

Fang, looking haggard, pursed her lips and nodded. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

Channah stood, plucking up the girls’ cages from the surface of the bench, each cage dangling from a one of her long, elegant, manicured fingers, kissed Fang on the forehead, and summoned Hong and her girls. “Take your Domina to her chambers. When you have her settled, you may resume your ritual. I realize your ritual today was quite disrupted., but…”

“Oh, yes,” Hong nodded, anticipating Channah’s point. “Absolutely, Your Majesty. Well worth it. We look forward to cooperating with your qahramanah and jawari next week.”

Hong and her girls curtsied, very low and very solemnly, before turning towards Fang and offering to help her, but knowing her too well to try and force their help on her. Fang, meanwhile, set her jaw, and with a warning look to her vassals, stood by herself and marched determinedly for the stairs back to her quarters. If Esmeray were asked to bet, she would have bet any sum she could raise that Fang made it to her quarters all by herself, and that no one who had not been on the platform would be given any reason to think she was anything more than tired or sore.

Channah turned towards Esmeray and her charges, smirking with satisfaction to see her two girls’ hunched, tentative postures and bowed heads. “Ohhh…” she made a delighted pout face. “Such sweet, submissive, humbled girls,” she cooed, folding them into her arms for a slimy hug and meeting Esmeray’s eyes triumphantly as the girls both pushed tightly against her, burying their heads in her shoulders and clearly revealing how much they craved her affection and approval. “Aww…. My little sweeties. Was Kadidia big and mean to you? I can see you’re both a little tuckered out and traumatized after your long performance, but it was worth it, honey pots. You both look soooo sexy, you’re going to have boys and girls chasing after you, when you get back.” She kissed each girl on the top of her head, then continued: “We have one quick stop at the Court of Lust itself—my castle, Sademtsaowah—so the damned will know to wait for us—well, me–there. Then I’m going to take you straight to our own private paradise, where we’ll cut you loose, wash you up, and put you to bed for a nice, long sleep on mummy’s comfortable bed. How does that sound?”

“Wonderful, Domina!” Both girls exclaimed so eagerly Channah snickered again.

“I just love grateful girls,” she beamed. “I’m going to take such gooooood care of you girls. Here, let me just…” she used one carabiner to fasten the end of a chain to Chastity’s collar, then measured off about three feet worth of chain before using a second carabiner to attach the chain to Penance’s collar, kissed each girl sweetly on the lips, and turned to Esmeray, holding the girls’ leash casually over her shoulder.

Leaning forward, she embraced Esmeray, both of them laughing at their oily, messy clothes. Ignoring the girls and looking her qahramanah in the eye, she said: “I’ll drop the girls off with you next Friday at Sademtsaowah. Their duties on Earth have to take priority, but unless they have commitments there, they will be yours from Friday until Sunday for training and ritual. Hong and her girls will remain your training partners no matter what castle you work from; and at least for the next few weeks, Kadidia will supervise your—and their” (she gestured back over her shoulder at the girls) “training.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Pausing deliberately to get Esmeray’s full attention, she frowned and asked: “Did today help you to identify what you need to focus on this week, to be as ready as possible for next week’s training?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Esmeray nodded earnestly, meaning it and knowing it was important, but also betraying something uncertain and tentative within her.

Nodding with decision, Channah followed up, penetrating to the heart of Esmeray’s unspoken lack of confidence: “And were you also able to understand what you might be able to bring to the ritual with your own girls? What you might be able to offer Hong?”

Esmeray looked like a deer startled by a hunter, as Channah hugged her again, reassuringly, frowning expectantly.

Esmeray opened her mouth, paused as a thoughtful expression crossed her face, and then nodded at Channah in surprise. “Why—yes, Your Majesty.”

“Good. Stay here and watch Hong’s performance. You’ll get the girls back the afternoon before the Sabbat, which gives you and Hong time to coordinate your rituals. Bring too many ideas and trust Hong’s judgment in which are worth pursuing.” And with that, she looked back over her shoulders at her girls and asked teasingly: “Are you sweet girls ready?”

Penny turned red. Again. “No—I mean, I’m sorry, Domina, but don’t you want us to get dressed?”

Channah laughed, spinning on her heel and looking back at the girl like she was sizing her up for pork chops. “Do you know me at all? Try that again.”

Penny struggled for words and finally squeaked, bending forward and crossing her legs as if it might help her be more modest: “Shouldn’t we… put our dresses on, Domina?”

“Why?” she teased, enjoying Penny’s discomfort. Esmeray watched the interaction with a strange intensity.

“Well—we—we want to be a credit to you, Domina! Demure young ladies—”

Channah threw her head back and laughed out loud, as Penny wilted.

Literature Section “06-118 Ridden Hard and Put Away Wet“—more material available at TheRemainderman.com—Part 118 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—1304 words—Accompanying Images: 1920-1922—Published 2025-06-17—©2025 The Remainderman. This is a work of fiction, not a book of suggestions. It’s filled with fantasies, idiots, and criminals. Don’t believe them or imitate them.

Stories

06-117 Slut-Shaming Spectacle (abridged version)

2025-06-162025-06-29 admin

*1914 06-117 The Agony of St. Penance in the Judas Cradle*

*1917 06-117 The Rapturous Martyrdom of St. Chastity*

Explicit version no longer available.

PREVIOUSLY: Penny is kneeling before Esmeray with her head in her lap, busted and broken in by Kadidia, who is now working Chastity over. NOW:

Putting one arm across Chastity’s chest to hold her, she used the other to reach between them, attaching the front of her harness to the corresponding nodes on the back of Chastity’s vest, snap to snap and strap to buckle, until her hands were no longer needed, and Chastity dangled like a joey in a pouch or a forward-facing child in a papoose. Well, she dangled almost like a joey or a child, if its hands were still tied behind its back, and instead of a protective pouch, leather straps binding her in place to Kadidia, but leaving her helpless and her nude body exposed.

“What’s happening?!” Chas wailed, and Penny looked back over her shoulder, eyes widening to see her friend staked like a prisoner of Vlad Dracul, her legs spread out and flailing as if the sheer volume of extra flesh inside her was forcing them outwards. Mouing in panic, she swallowed and buried her head back down on Esmeray’s lap obediently, even frantically, as if she might be able to crawl inside Esmeray completely and thereby protect and conceal her vulnerable, wide-open body instead of waiting compliantly and uncovered for whatever Kadidia was inclined to do to her.

“Didn’t you hear your Domina?” Kadidia asked Chastity. “We’re going to see if you’re actually interested enough in your little friend and whether her acceptance of you, will allow your transformation! But because you’re both operatives and pathetic jawari of the succubae, neither of you will be in the driver’s seat. I will. I will be your puppeteer and you’ll be nothing more than my sock-puppet, your shape and rigidity entirely defined by me.”

Laughing, she knelt back down behind Penny, massaging Chastity’s oily skin, and laughed: “Let’s get this where it needs to go before anything happens to it.” Shoving her hips forward, she drove the impaled young man forward, bringing all three of them into connection. Penny squealed as she felt the activity behind her and Kadidia barked at her: “You can do better than that, little girl. Beg like you’ve been panting for Chastity your entire life! Encourage your friend! If you love her, and want her dream to come true, instead of disappointing the succubae, you’ll whine like you did for your Domina.”

“Oh noo!” Penny squeaked in embarrassed horror, eliciting laughter from Kadidia and even Esmeray before she made a couple of choking, gasping sounds and finally managed an unconvincing: “Have me, Chas! Go on, girlfriend! Have at me, please!”

The succubae laughed uproariously and Kadidia bellowed: “More! Come on, show some spirit, Penny! You’d make granite wilt! Call your lover like a siren! Beg for her!”

“Oh! Chastity, baby!” Penny shrieked, digging deep to try and remember every filthy, explicit, outrageous epithet and cry she had heard over the extreme, intense past three days: “C’mon, baby, take me, damn you, you hot sexy bitch!”

“Penny!” Chastity half-gasped in shock, half-cried in passion. “PENNY! Do you—do you really mean it?”

“Of course,” Penny sobbed. “You silly girl. Don’t you know how badly I’ve wanted to feel close to you, that way, again—ever since the first time? I wanted it so badly—I wanted YOU, your lips, your arms Chastity! For so long I’ve felt like I couldn’t even tell my best friend how much I wanted to be closer with her!” Penny began thrusting her hips like a whore, bucking and rubbing against Chastity as hard and as quickly as she could.

“Oh, Penny!” Chastity wept, her passion accompanied by sharp pain as she was flung violently, forward and back, against the harness holding her, her arms aching from their position, her tight bonds, and the rough physics of being used as a bouncy doll with your arms twisted up behind your back and a ship’s mast filling your nethers. “I’ve wanted you for so long!”

“Then prove it!” Penny screamed the challenge, bawling uncontrollably again, surrendering all for what little she could give her friend. “Prove it! Fill me up! Come on, Chas, like she’s doing to you! If you’re going to send me to hell, Chastity—you better make this the ride of your life—no, of my life! The best fuck any little girl has ever been given! Make me yours, Chas, make me yours!”

Chastity shrieked and kicked as she came, obviously finding Penny more than convincing enough, shouting and weeping and apologizing and finally just moaning and murmuring things no one could make any sense of except that she probably truly did love Penny.

Kadidia gasped, straightening up, pulling Chastity off Penny in the process, putting her hands on Chastity’s nipples and roughly playing with her chest as it turned into a lovely pair of breasts and at the same time, feeling her buttocks and hips expanding and pushing in and back on her pelvis as Chastity morphed into a woman in her arms, between her legs, and before her eyes.

Laughing and roaring like a lion, she growled: “That’s a first… I don’t get too many of those anymore!” Reaching forward with one hand, she seized Penny’s hair and dragged her up and onto her back, enjoying her look of shock and alarm with just a little gasp of passion as she forced her down until her shoulders touched the stone, still kneeling and obviously uncomfortable. “Work me, sissy! Before I wear your little friend out!” And then she moved forward, making Penny’s whole world turn dusky and musky and overwhelming and all-enveloping. Swatting Penny, eliciting a satisfying yelp and a prolonged sob as the girl tried to shield her most-sensitive bits, she amplified: “You heard me—“ and then she sighed, enjoying Penny’s response, until—not long afterwards—her growling noises rose into an even louder roar, as, for the third time that ominous day, the vicious cycle of lust and torment triggered an unholy release of power.

Finally, Kadidia fell forwards, ignoring the cheering and excitement of the other succubae, using the girls as her cushion as she collapsed on top of the two smaller girls, pancaking them under her and enjoying her leisure as they whimpered and gasped for breath under her much-greater weight.

Literature Section “06-117[X] Slut-Shaming Spectacle”—more material available at TheRemainderman.com—Part 117 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—Abridged 1031 words::Explicit 1162 words—Accompanying Images: 1914-1919—Published 2025-06-16—©2025 The Remainderman. This is a work of fiction, not a book of suggestions. It’s filled with fantasies, idiots, and criminals. Don’t believe them or imitate them.

Stories

06-116 Poppet-Popping (abridged version)

2025-06-15 admin

*1913 06-116 Sissymaker Kadidia shows off her new toys*

*1915 06-116 Master makes her girls feel giddy and embarrassed*

Explicit version containing sodomy, analpenetration, prostatestimulation, overpowering, oralsex, and chokingplay themes at 06-116X Bottom-Busting at Patreon.com/TheRemainderman

PREVIOUSLY: Penny is kneeling before Esmeray with her head in her lap while Kadidia presses up against her. Chastity is lying on her back, hip-to-hip with Penny, looking up at Kadidia. NOW:

“No, no!” Penny, not seeming to know she was moaning passionately, tried to shake her sweat-soaked oily head with Kadidia’s enormous hand around her, still kissing and making out with Kadidia, the counterpoint between their sweet, gentle, loving kisses and Kadidia’s invasion of Penny so intense Kadidia felt herself gathering to finish already.

“That’s not what your body is saying, lovergirl,” Kadidia murmured, using her hand—well, a couple of fingers—on Penny to show her, force her to recognize for herself, how completely and undeniably she seemed to be the opposite of hating it.

But of course, being Penny, she still denied it: “That’s not—It can’t—What’s WRONG with me?!?!” Penny’s grunt turned into a hot-blooded shriek as Kadidia went all the way, nipping the girl’s lip and then shoving her tongue down the girl’s throat.

She throttled the girl momentarily with her tongue as she double-filled her, knowing how much the girl had to feel like her entire body had been stuffed, and loving how she was wiggling and shivering, overcome by the intense sensations.

“AWENOAGH!!” Penny managed to squawk again, like an untuned violin played by a cat, breaking down into tears of surrender as her body emphatically yielded, as Kadidia wrapped her arms around the girl and hugged her as tightly as she could, her own roar a deeper sound like the contralto leading Penny’s falsetto.

Kadidia let her weight collapse onto Penny’s back and Chastity’s pelvis for what felt like a long time, but a time that couldn’t possibly be long enough. Until finally, feeling she was ready, she whispered in Penny’s ear: “Thank you, baby. What do you say to your bunny-tamer for showing you what you are again?”

“Thank you, Goddess?” Her whining, strained voice such a mix of torment and confusion Kadidia wanted to remember it just that way.

With a quick kiss to Penny’s ear, she eased out and back, calling to Chas: “She’s ready for you. Now let’s make sure you’re ready. And show some respect, boy!” she concluded, like an afterthought, settling back and enjoying her attentions, trying so hard, as she touched Chastity’s still-masculine(ish) body, the same expert petting that had so stirred her sisterwife, making sure she was ready.

Surprising all three of them by standing up, she took the bottle of olive oil, rolled Chastity up, pulling her feet over her shoulders, and covered her, then threw the bottle aside and began massaging her with increasing intensity. Esmeray stared up in a combination of amazement, fascination, and horror. Chas started looking nervous—this was not what she had expected!—and getting twitchy. Penny just remained where Kadidia had left her, face-down, ignored, left to contemplate her own shameful performance and whatever it implied for any remaining aspirations of maleness she might have had, wrists and ankles still secured to one another, waiting for whatever might come.

“Now that’s a bottom bitch if I’ve ever taken one,” Kadidia opined scornfully, casually resting one boot on Penny’s battered haunches. “If it was up to me, boy,” she continued, carefully checking and adjusting the leather harness over her dress, making it clear she was addressing Chastity, “You girls are so easy and weak, I’d skip the harness. I don’t need it. But unfortunately, you and I are both going to have to pay the price for showing off. I once—once, so long ago—got a little rowdy at a party and just had to make sure everybody knew what a badass I was. Some Greek hoplite, a King or an Archon or something, yelling about how there were no real men in Asia or Africa—something I actually agree with,” she guffawed, taking her foot off Penny and squaring off over Chas. “But like a Greek, he asserted they weren’t men because they wore pants—” she burst out laughing, unable to help herself— “and real men didn’t wear pants. Greeks! Greek men! Standing there in his chiton…!” She shook her head in amusement, as she lined up her body with Chastity’s… and brought her hammer down, enjoying but pretending to ignore Chastity’s turn to start squealing and thrashing around. “The world’s self-appointed judges of manhood, and they wear dresses. It was too funny! And then he added, ‘not like in Europe,’ as he mounted his partner! I mean—really!—how could I—possibly have—held myself back?!” She could hardly breathe at the revelation, although it hardly seemed to phase her. “I had to put him in his place! Obviously! And now, once every couple of centuries, one of my sisters remembers and begs me to reenact the scene to show up—or occasionally, like today, simply put down—some male.”

“Please stop!” Chastity shouted from below her.

“They said you’re experienced! I do enjoy a tight sleeve once in awhile.”

“I am—I mean, maybe I could—but—but you’re—you’re so big!—”

She chuckled. “Why thank you, pumpkin, but I already knew that. Don’t mind me, baby girl, I’m just—” with a push— “fucking with you.” Chastity wailed, as Kadidia bounced on her. “I—call it—poppet-popping! Yeah, you’re… soo nice.”

“Now I admit… this is an important day. An… well,” she shook her head, “An amazing day. The things that have happened here…. I know it’s actually a good use of this trick. Not just a party gag, but something that might—actually—serve the power of the Succubae and the Court of Lust! How could I possibly refuse? And so you… are going to be the first.”

“The—the first?!” Chas asked, panicked, not having expected any of this a few minutes ago; and not really understanding what Kadidia had in mind.

“The first I’m going to saddle like this.”

“’S—s—saddle?!” She asked, not liking the sound of that. “Please, no!”

“It’s going to be awesome. You should thank me for choosing you to be the first!” She was well-aware her victim was starting to panic, and relished it. “Are you still excited?” she demanded.

“I don’t—I don’t—oh! I am! Yes!”

“I thought so. Now… what’s going to happen is…”

Bending over, her body mimicking the shape of his, she nearly put her head to his back, then snaked her arms around the boy-to-be-a-girl, holding her tightly and…

Straightening to a standing position, lifting up Chastity in a single, still-graceful motion, drawing genuinely-impressed applause from the watching succubae.

Literature Section “06-116[X] Poppet-Popping”—more material available at TheRemainderman.com—Part 116 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—Abridged 1135 words::Explicit 1356 words—Accompanying Images: 1913-1916—Published 2025-05-15—©2025 The Remainderman. This is a work of fiction, not a book of suggestions. It’s filled with fantasies, idiots, and criminals. Don’t believe them or imitate them.

Tag: honeymoon

06-119 The Long March of Shame (abridged version)