1996 07-03 Get thee before me, Satan
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.