Tag: hot

1820 06-95 A Bond So Intense You Feel an Outsider
1821 06-95 Channah and her loving babygirl
1822 06-95 Channah with her sweet little adoring jariya girl
1823 06-95 Channah over her weak pussywhipped slave

Explicit version containing CBT, masturbation, chastity, rape-fantasy themes at 06-95X Edgeplay:  Channah Teases Penny Toward a Hot Mess at Patreon.com/TheRemainderman

PREVIOUSLY:  After using Penny, as she continues to tease the helpless girl, she explains how her Manipura Chain will reveal Penny’s true and desired form when Penny gives herself fully and unconditionally to Channah.  NOW:

Humming, Channah swung her hip off Penny so she was kneeling beside the girl, trapping her right thigh between Channah’s right thigh and calf.  With her left hand, effortlessly, she took and held both of Penny’s wrists, giggling at the way doing so made Penny twitch.  Feigning a round “O” of surprise as her eyes bored into Penny’s, with her right hand, she startled Penny by freeing her, making the weaker girl shudder, her breathing turning into a raspy, panting wheeze as she flowered into her full, if modest, bloom.

 “Don’t you want to be everything you can be?”  Channah asked, fascinated by Penny’s expression of longing, desperation, panic, and total vulnerability, watching how her eyes focused on Channah’s hand, settling over Penny’s lower torso, so close—so close—using her fingers to raise goosebumps on Penny’s skin.  “Don’t you want to be the very best girl for me you can?”  Channah asked, nodding suggestively.  And Penny found herself nodding dumbly in response, her entire body twitching up and down with every single beat of her heart.

With a mock gasp of surprise, Channah swung her hip back across Penny, using her right hand to adjust her skirts, her left hand continuing to secure both of Penny’s wrists.  She barely breathed, almost reverently:  “You were built to obey and to please, darling.  Or I think from now on, is it okay if I call you ‘Pleaser’?  Yeah, that’s a good girl.  There…” she hissed.  “I’m sitting a bit further forward so it’s more comfortable for you.”  Penny groaned raggedly, feeling the soft, reassuring touch of Channah’s warm skin on her hips, electrifying every single nerve-ending as the dominant succubus stifled another smile.  “Don’t you dare ruin this incredible moment with any selfishness, do you understand me, Pleaser?”

Penny nodded frantically, not trusting herself to speak.

“Oh dear,” she made an expression of mock-surprise and -concern, tugging on her lip with her fingertip as if thinking.  “I forgot.  You’re totally pathetic bully-fodder, aren’t you, darling?  By chastising and humiliating you, I don’t cool you down, I just push you closer, don’t I, you little freak?”  And when Penny didn’t answer, she rose up again and frowned her best mean face.  “Answer me!  With the truth!”

And Penny knew what that was.  Especially now, in this moment, she could not doubt it or deny it, who and what she was and had always been.  “Yes Domina, yes!” she confessed shamefully, shivering with the intensity and depth of the reaction Channah was able to elicit from her.

Channah shook her head in wonder that was only half an act, and was half a genuine marvel at how perfectly—for succubaean purposes—human biological males were made.  But she was snickering with unconflicted amusement at Penny’s plight and confusion. 

“You know I’m more perfect for you than any human woman on the planet, don’t you?”  Penny nodded frantically, not sure what, or even sure she cared what, she was agreeing to, because her mind was so jumbled and filled with the noise of her own arousal and the fear of Channah teaching her more about who she might be, what depths she might sink to.  And maybe because it didn’t matter:  after all, Channah was right, of course she was always right, and Penny… Penny belonged to her so deeply and utterly, her succubaean will thoroughly overcame and occupied Penny’s human one.  “The nature of a succubus is to be a perfect companion to human men, just like the nature of an incubus is to be a perfect companion to human women.  Because our purpose is to be your seductive predators, and humans are our sole prey. ” Channah confided sincerely, as if that were an obvious reason for humans to hang out with demons.  All the time, she kept swaying as if she were slow-dancing with Penny, not hard enough to finish, but not too soft to keep Penny’s attention, twitching in time with her pulse.  “By becoming your perfect companions, we ensure we are your perfect predators.  But you’re the lucky ones, Penny.  You, and Chas, and all my jawari… perfect as I am for you, I don’t want to prey on you.”  She shook her head, beaming down in sweet assurance at Penny.  “Because you’re my operatives.  My confidantes.  And you and Chas are even more than that… you’re my wives.  Do you know how special that is?” 

Penny nodded frantically.  She, and then Channah in response, moaned at the intimacy of that and Channah swooped down to plumb and loot Penny’s sweet mouth, even the vibrations of the sound made by their shared moans another chain of love and desire connecting them.  By leaning forward, Channah caused her hips to roll forward, pressing against Penny’s belly, a warm, soothing cataplasm.  A whine crept back into Penny’s panting breath at how touching her higher up took Channah’s body away from her further below.  Keeping her legs raised, Penny pathetically tried to reconnect everywhere.  She knew Channah was right when she laughed throatily, raising her hips higher as she smashed her lips down even harder:  “Hunh-unh baby.  Me first.  Me always.  Me only.  You’re out of your own control now, aren’t you, lovergirl?”  Penny nodded, unwilling to break contact with her mouth or miss a second of her possessing, dominating lips and tongue.  “That’s why you need mine.  Don’t you?”  Penny nodded again, sounding like nothing more than a whining dog overcome with a need only her master could satisfy.  “You’re lucky!  No human woman could be even close to what I am because she has so many conflicting responsibilities and priorities—mmm” Channah put her hand back on Penny’s neck with totally possessory intent, practically devouring Penny, Penny so deep under she welcomed every assault Channah was willing to visit upon her, the harder and more-invasive the better.  “Making new lives.”  Penny was in such an ecstatic, frantic, senseless space Channah could have discussed botany or politics and Penny would remain totally enthralled.  “Raising children.”  She was out of her weak little mind, nothing but a sponge for her Master’s more forceful one.  “Gathering food.”  Biting and pulling on Penny’s lower lip.  “Preparing for winter.”  Her right hand slid up Penny’s cheek to seize her hair possessively.  “Weaving and washing.”  And she wrenched Penny’s hair down, shifting her weight to her left hand to emphasize Penny’s meek submission and imprisonment.  “Keeping her home fire burning.”  She used the leverage on Penny’s hair to force her chin up further whilst keeping her lips against Penny’s mouth.  “And only on top of all that, at the end of such a long day, satisfying her man.”  She jerked Penny’s hair to one side, turning her head as she dragged her lips across Penny’s cheek to whisper in and nibble on her ear, her warm, moist breath electrifying Penny straight down into the center of her captive brain.  “I only have one purpose, one need.  To make men serve my every other.”  She snorted and clarified:  “Men and boys and little girls like you, Pleaser.”

“So here’s the point, missy.”  She rose back up, Penny whining with need and loss as she did so, continuing to hold Penny’s wrists in her left hand and Penny’s hair in her right hand so they could both enjoy their natural positions as captor and captive.  She slowly, gently, carefully rolled her hips back again, knowing how close to the edge they were, even without Penny’s many overt signs of desperation.  “I refuse to take you now, Penny.  If that’s what you’re looking for, playing out some little consensual-nonconsent fantasy of yours, we can just stop, because this isn’t about you.”  She stopped moving and even pushing down on Penny for several beats, shrugging to demonstrate how easy it was for her; how unmoved and in control she could be; how much stronger her will was than Penny’s.  “I let you watch me, and worship me, and I’ve even laid my hands on you before.  The next stage—if and when you’re ready for seriously committing to me and opening yourself to me, the way I’m ready to do both for you—is about consummating our marriage.  Real men, and even most jawari, want that intimacy.  You know, the way weak girls want it and enjoy it most, the way that only a succubus like me can give to you.  Not to mention the closeness that only comes with being my wife.”

“For real intimacy, Penny,” she leaned closer, closing her eyes and softly kissing and rubbing her face all over Penny’s, the sweetness and innocence at direct odds with her grip on Penny’s wrists and hair, laughing as Penny began helplessly trying to reach her again. “For real intimacy, we both have to be there, together, wanting it.  Wanting one another.”  She pulled back slightly, her eyes innocent and wide, batting them.  “So tell me, darling girl, what do you want?”

“You, Domina,” she squealed desperately, making Channah laugh with pleasure.  “Only you.  Totally you.”

Literature Section “06-95[X] Edgeplay:  Channah Teases Penny Toward a Hot Mess”—more material available at TheRemainderman.com—Part 95 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—Abridged 1509 words::Explicit 1646 words—Accompanying Images:  1820-1823—Published 2025-05-19—©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.

1627 06-68 Domesticated bunnies don’t recognize predators
1628 06-68 Orphan bunnies deliberately imprinted on mother-predator
1629 06-68 Know your predators:
NOT the Easter Bunny
1630 06-68 Good girls mind their momma on Easter
1631 06-68 Girls pose respectfully with their Qahramanah
1632 06-68 Happy Easter!  Wait, did somebody die?

Literature Section “06-68 Easter Lessons”—Part 68 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—Accompanying Images:  1627-1632—Published 2025-04-17 to -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.

1608 06-67 Hong laps up the girls’ helpless need to please her^
1609 06-67 The Hongettes crawl after their goddess^
1610 06-67 Esmeray Pissing On and Pissing Off Devils^

PREVIOUSLY:  Channah, a Queen of Hell, for reasons of her own, has married two human transgender girls she is taking through the Hell of Lust on a flying chariot ride to reach their honeymoon destination.  At the foreboding Chang’an Castle, Penny and Chas are about to be introduced to their qahramanah, or jawari-trainer.  NOW:

At Fong’s description of how desperately eager her jawari were, the three women laughed together, a slight edge of contempt tinging the sounds.  “Then let’s proceed.  We’ll make introductions, open the gifts, and then celebrate.”

“Yes, Domina.”  And then, snapping down at the jawari on their knees around her:  “Up!  You’re released for now.  Get up!”

Hetaraslakos

The girls scrambled to their feet around her, thanking her formally, her own four jawari assembling behind her while Fang wrangled Chas and Penny back into the awkward half-bent positions she had forced them to assume before, and began striding toward the door on the outside edge of the little courtyard.  Hong watched with an amused, admiring smirk, nodding approvingly as if she had learned something useful.

“It’s your Castle, dear Fang.  Please, lead us on,” Channah suggested.

“Of course, Your Majesty.”  She marched the girls past the Queen, continuing to use her hands to keep them bent at awkward angles for walking, making Chas open the door to the building on the other side of the courtyard.  This revealed another wide hall running straight through to the far side of the building.  But in the middle of this building, the hall widened even further to make room around a broad stone staircase leading down, with four parallel sets of handrails seeming to beckon them further into hell.

Fang led them down, both girls seriously afraid of falling and desperately using the handrails, while the succubae and the qahramanah laughed at their anxiety and desperate efforts.  “That’s definitely something my fawning little playthings are going to learn to practice,” Hong Qahramanah promised.

After descending a story or two into the soil, there was a simple passage, adorned only with occasional torches, close enough so they were never in complete blackness, but far enough that at times, the passage and the people moving through it were silhouettes and broad outlines.  Ahead of them was a stairway back up, constructed exactly like the one they had just descended.  And as they approached it, they became conscious of a low noise, at first something like the wind or the way leaves rustled across pavement in the wind.  But as they reached the bottom of the staircase and proceeded upwards, it got louder, becoming more like whispering that quickly started to rise, clarifying itself into the sound of a thousand agitated voices, shouting and screaming the same meaningless gibberish that was not quite an actual language, as the wretches back at the satanikoklus had barked out. 

“Pay attention on these stairs!”  Fang snapped.  “Remember I’m behind you.  If you can’t stay standing, fall forward into the stairs.   If you make me lose my balance, you’ll be regretting it for centuries.” 

“I suppose I could do without them for a few hundred years so you could exact your revenge,” Channah mused unhelpfully, emphasizing the time scale succubae reasoned in.  “Are you girls feeling humbled and cooperative for meeting your new qahramanah?”

“Yes, Domina!” the girls assured her in voices strained by their efforts to stay focused on the stairs.  Fortunately for them, stumbling up was easier—or at least felt easier and safer—than coming down had been.  For some reason, the throaty, evil sound of Hong Qahramanah’s laugh behind them, a human’s, an almost-stranger’s, and that of a singularly contemptuous bitch, stung even more than the amusement of their dominae.

As constrained as they were, they could hardly see more than three or four stairs in front of them at a time.  But it felt, and was then impossible to deny, that this stairway was significantly longer than the stairway that had taken them down to the gallery.  The voices kept growing louder and more distinct as they rose, finally cresting as they emerged from the top of the stairway, finding themselves on one of the elevated octagonal stone platforms they had seen from the chariot, dominating the killing grounds outside the castle walls.  These were the hetaraslakos, which both girls, having studied Greek, had realized at some point, meant Companion’s Pit.  Or Courtesan’s Pit.  And here, the thunderous sound of the screaming voices left no doubt they were surrounded by a crowd larger than an army.  From their volume, their number might have included every single one of the thousands of milling, restless damned they had seen filling the randomly-walking walls of the crumbling town around the castle during their descent.

“I think your mad qahramanah may have gathered all the damned here already,” Fang observed.

“She’s a self-starter,” Channah agreed, as they paused at the top of the stairs, and even the girls could twist their heads well enough to see who they were talking about.

The Radioactive Witch

At the extreme edge of the platform in front of them, a headful of long, wild, lustrous black hair marked and concealed most of the top half of a woman almost as voluptuous as the succubae themselves, with a prominent ass jutting back at them from under the fringe of her hair, draped in expensive, embroidered, colorful fabric.  The toes of her black boots were literally over the edge of the platform, with her back arched and her hips thrust forward, meaning the dimensions and shape of her buttocks were even more impressive than they appeared at the moment.  She was waving a radically curved Persian shamshir, waggling her hips from side to side, and screaming insults, but whatever exact sounds she was making were drowned out by the absolute furor erupting from the crowd immediately below her, sounding like bleating sheep finding their will to resist at the last minute in the slaughterhouse. 

“What is she—” Penny choked off her question before finishing, remembering who she was being held by.

Channah seemed to think she knew—she was laughing with sheer joy; and perhaps it was the sound of that that caught the woman’s attention, because she looked back over her shoulder, making them all afraid for a second she would lose her balance, before she stepped back, shaking herself and moving her shoulder in a gesture even Penny, blushing, understood. 

While she was facing away, performing that most private of gestures with glaring publicity, Chas and Penny tried to calm their own faces from the shocking sight of hers.  Her hands, cheeks, forehead, even the bridge of her nose were marked with scars from old cuts, and brutal ones.  Something tugged at Penny’s memory, conspiring with the spiked wine to try and surface, but was dragged back underwater before Penny could quite catch sight of it.  The woman was about Hong’s age, maybe a couple of years younger, and for a second…

Literature Section “06-67 Dance of the Qahramanat II”—Part 67 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—1105 words—Accompanying Images:  1608-1610—Published 2025-04-19—©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.