polyamory – Page 5 – The Remainderman (Frank Speech)

06-58 Hella Honeymoon XIV

2025-04-102025-04-07 admin

*1580 06-58 Without Channah colon Sand and Sulfur^*

PREVIOUSLY: Channah, a Queen of Hell, for reasons of her own, has married two human transgender girls. The girls, raised by Channah’s servants as her grateful wards, had just been put through the arduous indignities—hazing and trials—required for a human to be properly bound in left-handed marriage to a demon. Seclusion is the last requirement of the ritual; but to reach their destination quickly, they will have to travel through the honeycomb, which is only accessible in Hell. Now the girls are getting their first taste of it. So far, it tastes like sulfur and sand. NOW:

Instead of trying to answer Penny’s question about the Unforgiven in the midst of the clamor, Channah led them to the right, where a golden chariot waited, hitched to a huge red equine beast somewhere about where the chapel would have ended and the entry hall of Fensmere would have begun.

Penny looked over her shoulder for a final glance at Earth, but the unlighted chapel was just a slightly-less-inky spot between the horizon and the near-perfect onyx blackness overhead that may have shimmered a bit, or may simply have been separated from Penny’s eyes by the little grains of sand that appeared to swirl around them but without touching them, matching the flickering torches that whipped unpredictably to one side or another despite the absence of any wind she could feel. She swallowed, catching Channah’s eye as she turned back toward the Chariot, warming slightly when Channah winked and squeezed her hand reassuringly.

Thanking Fury

A soldier in black and red armor stood beside the great red monster at attention, holding his reins. As Channah approached, he snapped his arm out in parade-ground fashion, formally offering her the reins, eyes fixed forward on the horizon.

She accepted without even glancing at him; letting go of the girls’ arms and stepping up to hug and greet her horse, whatever she was murmuring to him lost in the general din. The second she moved away from the girls, hell got worse. Both girls gagged on the sudden, thick smell of brimstone filling the air so heavily it was like a weight bearing down on their lungs, and reeled from the sudden, immediately-irritating barrage of tiny grains of sand striking their skin, and worst of all their eyes, nonstop.

After at least a minute with the horse, Channah turned, laughing at the sight of the girls choking and rubbing their eyes. Pulling the girls’ ears close to her mouth, and thus bringing her halo of sweet, fragrant peace around them again, she yelled over the din: “Curtsy and thank Fury for agreeing to pull your little cart,” by which she presumably meant the heavy gold chariot. “Then follow my lead, staying a few steps behind me.”

They were looking at one another, unsure whether they should take her instruction literally or what else she might mean or even if she was punking them, until she leaned in again and yelled: “He’s almost as old as I am—far senior to you both! And he won’t even take a saddle unless we’re riding into battle, so it’s a great honor he agreed to pull a little cart to cushion your delicate little bottoms!”

With that, she slapped both girls, hard, on their rumps, eliciting a jerk and a squeal from each, which in turn seemed to excite the nearest devils and demons, causing a stir that started with them and then radiated out like a wave of rumor.

The girls could swear the horse snickered, but red-faced, they both curtsied as politely as they could. “Thank you, Mr. Fury, for agreeing to pull our cart for us! We’re ever so grateful, sir!” This time, they were certain the horse at least snorted at them, and moved its head in something that might have been a nod. Uncertain whether they were finished or not, they each curtsied briefly again, blurting less-formal thanks, and scurried after Channah, who by now was walking around the rim of the satanikoklus, looking down on the screaming crowd with her arms spread wide and an almost-but-not-quite beatific smile on her face, as if she were doing them all a favor by giving them collectively a moment’s notice.

Showstopper

And perhaps she was, the girls reflected: The crowd certainly seemed to get more excited when she came close to them. When they caught up, grateful to be back within her protective field of sweet-smelling, sand-free sanity, she smiled at them mischievously and asked: “Let’s try a practice run, shall we, girls?”

“Practice? Practice what?!” they asked fretfully.

“Watch, learn, and imitate!” she replied, before striking off down a black stone runway extending from the satanikoklus, directly into the center of the square—and therefore, of the mob. It formed a narrow peninsula of Unforgiven territory free of demons—well, the lesser sorts of demons that filled the square, anyway—putting her directly in the midst of a sea of them. Although the creatures could not touch the black stone without being scalded, they could lean in and reach over it, their hands so close to Channah’s boots the girls yelped with fright that one of them might catch her.

One thing was obvious: Channah wasn’t just walking. She was sashaying, swinging her perfect hips so they showed on one side, then the other, making the most of her long formal ladies’ dress with its wildly-inappropriate waist-high slits. She was strutting so her demoness’s thigh-high high-heeled boots gleamed red in the torchlight and drew the eye with every dramatic step. And she was flirting, her smile ramping up from mere moonglow to the sun’s brilliant midday beam in this gloomy desert, waving cheerily and cheekily.

When she reached the end of the runway, she turned fetchingly 90 degrees, looking back over her shoulder at the girls and licking her lips with amused delight to catch a miserable, mortified Penny bent over at the waist, adjusting her suddenly-painful cage. She winked, like driving a nail home though Penny’s heart, and laughed, confidently enjoying the effect she was having on every single one of the thousands of admirers that surrounded her on every side.

And that effect was both massive and disruptive, like an earthquake shaking every admirer until their teeth rattled, their legs felt rubbery, and their erogenous zones clamored for attention. All the devils and demons (the overwhelming majority men, but even the women), and of course Penny and Chas themselves, were among that enormous number. Like the sea under the command of the moon, the crowd closest to her compressed even further, and began to swell upwards, the most-crazed trying to clamber onto the shoulders of the merely-desperate in front of them. To all intents and purposes, they seemed a wave, crashing uselessly into the invisible barrier around Channah as if it were a sea wall, before receding as the weight of those on top flattened those below, driving them ba

Literature Section “06-58 Hella Honeymoon XIV”—Part 58 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—1066 words—Accompanying Images: 1580-1582—Published 2025-04-10—©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

06-57 Hella Honeymoon XIII

2025-04-092025-04-07 admin

*1576 06-57 *3 of 5* Manifesting Ghosts^*

PREVIOUSLY: Channah, a Queen of Hell, for reasons of her own, has married two human transgender girls. The girls, raised by Channah’s servants as her grateful wards, had just been put through the arduous indignities—hazing and trials—required for a human to be properly bound in left-handed marriage to a demon. Seclusion is the last requirement of the ritual; but to reach their destination quickly, they will have to travel through the honeycomb, which is only accessible in Hell. She has just prepared the girls for their journey through her country. NOW:

And as they moved forward, it was true: To Penny, the light rapidly became stronger, much too rapidly for the normal physics of Earth or, as she would learn, of Hell. They were a result, instead, of the unique physics of the place where the two dimensions met and interacted with one another. And it was not just the light: there was heat, there was humidity, there was noise, there were gusts of wind, and there was smell.

Three steps forward from their place near the door, the red figures seemed clearer and more detailed than they could possibly have become in such a short distance. There was a rustling whisper, like foliage in a low wind. The heat rose as if they were in an active kitchen, and almost, Penny imagined she was smelling something sweet baking on the hearth.

Beside them, getting her first glimpse of hell, Chas suddenly gasped: “Bless me, Lord!”

Channah sniggered. “Try to stow that sort of talk while you’re here. Remember, there’s a great deal of rage.”

Six steps from the door, and the no-longer-obscure red figures began to react, turning and bustling as sufficient light fell on the Queen and her sisterwives to make them discernable from the other side. The shapes went from blurs to hazy to looking underwater, the heat became that of an afternoon in late summer, rustles became whispers and then murmurs, and the smell…

“It smells wonderful here,” Penny marveled, and then figured it out, looking at Channah. “It’s you, isn’t it? You said—in hell—you smell… dreamy and… and appetizing.”

She smiled with pleasure and nodded. “Yes, Penny. Stay close.”

“Like I needed another reason to do so,” Penny moaned, then suddenly stiffened and blushed as she realized what she had said. Channah squeezed her arm.

The Sense of Being in Hell

And then, without quite realizing the transition had ended, they were in hell.

The air was like the steam in a Venetian bathhouse—Penny had never seen one in England, but she supposed they could have them here. Penny had never been in a desert before, but her mind insisted the air in a desert should be dry, like a kitchen fireplace, not a bathhouse. She was going to sweat under her brand-new dress; but she told herself what mattered was how she looked, not how she felt. Or smelled.

And around Channah, it smelled, well, heavenly, she thought, her mind rebelling at the conflicting and confusing thoughts and sensory impressions here. She could drown in Channah’s smell, her flesh, and be happier than she had ever been in her life.

The air was cloying, heavy, without any cooling breeze; but still she felt something she eventually realized were tiny grains of sand, whipped against her by a wind she could not feel or did not exist.

Everything was wrong here. Everything was unnatural and contradictory.

Most of the landscape consisted of hot red sand, relatively flat and thin here, but with dunes visible in the distance. More imposing were the black volcanic rock structures that erupted from the sand sea, the bulk of them conic, but bristling on the surface of the cones—and even, in places, erupting from the sand—black rock in twisting, reaching shapes like beasts that had become trapped in tar, captured in their last and most desperate moments.

The sky was faintly red, matching the sand, at the horizon; but became solid, perfect black not too far above it, and remained so all the way across the sky to nearly the opposite horizon, interrupted only by a few stray swirls of what looked to be the red sand hanging listlessly in the air like smoke that had reached its maximum height.

Most jarring of all, there were jets of flame scattered across the sand and rocks, like the fire of a forge flaring when the bellows were vigorously applied to it. Seeps, she realized. Naptha, or even tar, seeping out of the ground and shooting straight and constant or, in some cases, flickering, swirled by the insensible wind.

The only constructions visible anywhere, from horizon to horizon, were walls, some intact, some crumbling, clustered close around the satanikoklus on this side of the border, made of blocks of the black volcanic stone; and a single flat road, just wide enough for two carriages to pass, extending in a perfectly, geometrically-straight line to the horizon.

But incredibly the environment of Hell—the reality of being in a whole ‘nother world—was pushed into the backs of their minds by the very real and urgent threat posed by the hoard of demons and devils swarming towards them, seemingly concentrating here as quickly as they could from every corner of the vast firelit desert around them. Whether they were running toward them, or warily loitering a couple of steps away waiting for courage, they were waving their arms in ways that felt and looked more crazy than purposeful. And although their mouths moved and shaped, and different sounds came out—not simple animal cries, but modulated voices that could have been speech—it was not speech. It was gobbledygook, more alarming in its own way than coherent, reasoned threats would have been.

They were not men—or, a few of them, women—but they were so close to being so it was hard to imagine they didn’t have the capacity for speech. The fact they were jabbering anyway, maybe aware they weren’t speaking, maybe not, was profoundly unsettling.

As Domina and her two sisterwives finished the transition to hell, the noise broke over them like a wave: screaming, shouting, incoherent jabbering from a thousand inhuman throats, and the drumming of two thousand feet on the stone square that extended from the ruined satanikoklus they stood in, to the low roofless walls of a few low stone structures, a kind of town, around it.

Penny instinctively reared backward when hit with the noise, prevented from falling backwards into Earth only by Channah’s arm suddenly tightening to hold her. The larger woman stood and held them there, making them feel safe, until they realized the wild demons and devils were not entering the satanikoklus or its cursed grounds.

When she felt them relax, she loosened her grip again on their arms, shouting over the pandemonium: “This is a desecrated place. Only the Unforgiven, and those they allow to accompany them, may come here.”

“The ‘Unforgiven,’ Domina?” Penny yelled.

“Later, Aristotle,” she snickered, gesturing at the madness all around them, which was plenty reason enough.

Literature Section “06-57 Hella Honeymoon XIII”—Part 57 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—1092 words—Accompanying Images: 1576-1579—Published 2025-04-09—©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

06-56 Hella Honeymoon XII

2025-04-082025-04-07 admin

*1572 06-56 Penny and Chas overwhelmed by the attention^*

PREVIOUSLY: Channah, a Queen of Hell, for reasons of her own, has married two human transgender girls. The girls, raised by Channah’s servants as her grateful wards, had just been put through the arduous indignities—hazing and trials—required for a human to be properly bound in left-handed marriage to a demon. Seclusion is the last requirement of the ritual; but to reach their destination quickly, they will have to travel through the honeycomb, which is only accessible in Hell. She has just prepared the girls for their journey through her country. NOW:

The Little Princesses

“Now you have to make it to the chapel in your high heels. Can you do that, girls?”

They looked at one another, each hoping in vain the other would respond, before Penny finally nodded, and quite unconvincingly.

“Well, you have to. I like to dress little girls up and I love the way you look for our honeymoon, but there’s also a reason we took such care, and why you are wearing my crest.”

“Your crest?” Chas asked while Penny scrutinized the medlar forms on her sleeve carefully.

“Come come,” she insisted, leading them out through the Privy Chamber and through the Great Chamber. “Yes. The Medlar. Or… if you look closer…”

“A broken heart,” Penny knew the answer already. “That worries me, Domina.”

“Why?”

“Are you—are you a heartbreaker?”

She tried not to smile, or at least not quite so wickedly as it manifested on her face. “What if I am?”

“Please don’t break my heart, Domina,” Penny begged her sincerely.

“Oh! Sweetie!” She paused, held Penny’s cheeks, and pecked her on the lips before continuing along. “Some might have expected I already would have, by cuckolding you,” she flirted, squeezing Penny’s armored little package and eliciting a surprised squeak. She laughed. “But maybe you enjoy that a little, sweet Penny?”

“No, Domina,” she gasped, shocked but feeling her face heat with embarrassment for some reason. Channah saw it, and rumbled a laugh deep down in her throat. “Penny’s a pervert,” she teased in a singsong voice as Penny protested uselessly, looking even more embarrassed.

She was laughing with delight as they approached the door to the family’s private stairway, which momentarily brought them in view of the public room at the top of the Grand Staircase. Three maids had interrupted whatever they were doing when they heard the ladies coming; and as they came into sight, the maids gasped and curtsied, looking awestruck.

“Tell me that wasn’t gratifying,” Channah dared them, as she unlocked the stairway door and ushered them through it. Their pace was still slow, and they were still holding onto, or at least touching for reassurance, each solid surface as they passed it. But if they weren’t quite looking graceful yet, she wasn’t afraid they were going to pitch over down to the ground at any moment. It had been pretty touch-and-go, especially when they first started moving through the Privy Chamber.

“It was gratifying, Domina,” Chas murmured, and she laughed with pleasure at the admission, pulling the stairway door closed behind them and locking it.

“Wait for me girls, I want to be in front of you on the stairway in case you stumble or trip on the staircase.”

“That’s exactly what Rivqah said when she brought me to—to—”

“To be cuckolded?” She blew a mocking kiss and winked. “You were in heels for that?”

“No, Domina, I was blindfolded.”

“Mm,” she made it sound salacious with her inflection, before leading them down the staircase. “The special reason you need to look your very best, is because you’re about to meet my subjects. Or, more to the point: they’re about to meet you. You have quite a reputation to overcome,” she laughed throatily.

“What do you mean?” Chas asked, confused.

Penny squeaked: “They saw—they saw us at the wedding, Chas,” Penny blurted.

“Not all of them,” Channah clarified. “But a number of the most important. They expect you to be mortified at the wedding, obviously. It’s important they see their Queen is completely in charge and on top of her little sisterwives. But now that they’ve seen you broken and humiliated at my hand, I want them to see you uplifted, enriched… beautified. So they know what I’m capable of, and they know that serving me faithfully is the key to their own success and happiness.”

She stopped on the second stair, looking over her shoulder at them to make sure she had their full attention. Her face was as serious as the mysterious sweating sickness that had plagued England since Bosworth. “When I’m not making an example out of you to show them my power, you’re my representatives. My ambassadors. I expect perfect, ladylike behavior from you both. You’ve been trained for this for years, whether you realized what the training was for or not. Every one of my jawari has been: how to conduct yourself in public, including at formal ceremonies. I know the heels are higher than anything you’re used to, but heel height is an important symbol of rank in hell so you must wear them. Other than that, you have all the training and experience you need to behave flawlessly, and that’s what I insist upon. I chose you carefully because you have demonstrated that you have the necessary character, the necessary intellect, and the necessary desire. Do you little ladies understand?”

There would only have been one answer to that, even if they disagreed with her: “Yes, Domina.”

“Good. Make me proud, girls. Assume from the moment this door opens, until we close the door of my retreat, that you are being watched, follow my lead, mind your manners, and be the princesses Sindonie has raised you to be.”

“Yes, Domina!” they answered, with greater confidence, and she nodded her head sharply in approval, opening the door.

Showtime

The chapel was not quite back to its original condition, but it was getting there, the high open windows slowly but surely doing their work of airing it out. The. moment the door opened, Penny also saw the light, the burning reddish-orange glow of the fires of hell, softly muted here like the heat from a fire-warmed stone tucked under insulating blankets in the winter beds of those fortunate enough to have servants.

Their Domina stepped down the double-height stair and steadied each girl’s arm as she followed suit. There were hazy red figures milling about in the orange glow that filled the center of the room, but they seemed distant and fluid, like mirages on the horizon that you could never quite reach.

Sensing her girls’ nervousness, Channah stood between them, tucking an arm through each girl’s elbow and gripping them reassuringly before leading them forward. She whispered, primarily to Penny: “This time it will be different. You won’t just perceive Hell from Earth. I will carry you to Hell with me. You will experience more intensely and fully than at our wedding, because then you remained entirely on Earth, despite your acute senses. This time, with every step forward, Hell will become more real and Earth, less so.”

Both girls nodded, too nervous to think to respond.

Literature Section “06-55 Hella Honeymoon XII”—Part 55 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—1105 words—Accompanying Images: 1572-1575—Published 2025-04-08—©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

06-54 Hella Honeymoon XI

2025-04-072025-04-02 admin

*1569 06-54 Cute girls trying on shoes^*

Once she was satisfied with every garter, she nodded. “Now stand like ladies, backs straight, take your other stocking, and sit on the couch.”

She watched as they scurried over to the sofa and sat there, looking at her expectantly. She didn’t disappoint: “Now, leave one foot on the floor again and pull the other one up on the edge of the sofa, heel on the cushion, toes hanging off the edge. I don’t know what you’re blushing for. You both have panties on already. Imagine if you didn’t!” She stepped closer to them, stroking their hair, loving the way Penny gasped and turned her chin to help Channah run her fingers down her cheek. “Roll up the other stocking, without moving your legs. Try to keep your backs straight and your shoulders back. And when you’re ready, you’re going to slip the stocking over your toes. As soon as you have the ball of your foot in the stocking, you’re going to straighten that leg—”

“What?!”

“You heard me, missy, straighten it and point your toe as high as you can manage while you roll the stocking on.” The girls giggled, not finding this nearly as easy as the standing position, and Channah laughed at their efforts.

“Even after all the training you’ve had, you’re not very limber, girls. We are going to work on that, I promise you. But,” she allowed reluctantly as she stepped back from them, “not too terribly bad, all things considered. Next gift!”

Finishing Touches

The next boxes held tall, sleek pumps of fine white leather, with three almost gladiatorial parallel ankle straps accented with golden brass studs and buckles.

“They’re beautiful,” Penny marveled. “But I’m afraid I’m going to fall on my face! They’re so tall!”

Channah laughed. “Practice makes perfect, girls, and I will expect you to practice. As you’ll see…”

Chas, absent-mindedly touched her collar and blushed. “They match!” Her observation surprised Penny, who imitated her automatically, both girls making “O” faces like little dolls, while Channah smirked.

“They certainly do.” Picking up the discarded boxes, she set them behind her, making the girls curious what they had missed. “As you’ll see in a moment. Now, I want you to practice putting your shoes on the same way you did your stockings. First, sitting on the sofa with your leg raised delicately, go on… not too bad… Chas, try smoothing your stocking with one hand while holding the shoe in place with the other, before buckling it up. Penny, no cheating! All three buckles with your foot in the air! Oh, that’s not graceful!” she tried very hard to look disapproving, and failed, snorting at Penny’s efforts.

“Um… Domina,” Chas looked discomfited again. “The top strap…”

“Indeed,” she agreed. The first two straps had buckles no different from those of a tiny little belt. The topmost, however, had only a “U”-shaped wicket on the mouth and a series of slits on the tongue, with no way to fasten them together. “You girls need to get better about checking the boxes thoroughly. These shoes really do match your collars.” She held up a small gold padlock and key.

“Domina,” Chas managed hoarsely as she smiled archly. “Here, lift your foot onto my lap. Point your toes and twist your leg so your toes point towards your midline, it’s much more graceful,” she assured the girls, snapping the lock shut, and then repeating the process with Penny, her hands feeling warm and intimate on their legs.

“They’re like little collars around our ankles,” Penny agreed, looking ambivalently at her leg where it rested on Channah.

“They are! You girls are so cute. Let’s see how you do standing, with one foot on the table, as before…”

“Only now we can hardly balance, Domina!”

“That’s not my problem,” she feigned innocence. “Come on, show me what refined young ladies you are. Don’t fall! Penny honey, hold Chas first while she finishes, then she can hold you. Don’t hold her like she’s a chamber pot! Face her, stand against her, and hold her hips to give her some stability!” Channah ‘helped’ by positioning Penny with her crotch tight against Chas’s hip, making both girls blush, the way she was struggling to smother a smile belying the idea it was an innocent exercise. “Don’t be shy. Much better! Now Chas will feel safe! Feeling safe is a good foundation for feeling sexy.”

Channah let the third tiny gold lock dangle from her fingers, offering it to Chas, who snapped it in place with his head bowed, not meeting her eyes; and then it was time for them to reverse roles. “Only now, Chas is even less stable than before. Which makes it more important than ever that you stand tightly together for stability.”

When they were done, she could see they were hesitant to move and laughed merrily at their worried expressions. “If you can make it to the sofa, you can sit there and I will even bring you your last two gifts.”

“Oh, Domina…” the girls breathed reverently, their suspicions of what the last box would hold at once confirmed and exceeded. Each box held a gorgeous white brocade dress, with the same gold pattern of medlars and the same cut as Channah’s scarlet dress. “We match!” with great hesitance and difficulty showing how moved they were, they rose to their feet and hugged her, kissing her on each cheek, each girl depending on Channah’s stability for their own even as they were trying to thank her.

And the three of them did match, beautifully. Once the girls were dressed they stood together, flanking their Domina, admiring themselves in the mirror. Even with their cripplingly high heels, the girls were still half a head shorter than Channah; the vibrance of her scarlet and black drawing the eye away from the girls. Their Queen was the peacock to their peahens, as was only fitting. But there was no doubt, all three of them looked amazing, and either of the girls on her own quite regal. All three dresses were beautiful and special temples, celebrating their wearers.

“Fortunately for you,” Channah began, “I had my servants stock up the palace already. I can see you won’t be able to do much carrying in those shoes!”

“And we certainly cannot kick them off, Domina,” Penny blushed.

“These dresses are made to go with the shoes, so don’t you dare take them off while wearing them or the hems will drag on the floor.”

“Yes, Domina.”

“Now, gather your shifts and half-shifts in one box apiece, that’s all you’ll need for the week. Or,” she proposed mischievously, “If you prefer, you can leave them behind.”

“No, Domina!” they wailed with mock seriousness.

Literature Section “06-54 Hella Honeymoon XI”—Part 54 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—1125 words—Accompanying Images: 1569-1571—Published 2025-04-07—©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

06-53 Hella Honeymoon X

2025-04-062025-04-02 admin

*1566 06-53 Legs straight, toes pointed–Training her girls right*

“Concentrate on making sure Penny’s laces are even, perfectly matched from top to bottom, tight enough so there’s a bit of tension on every length of lace, but not so tight that you squeeze Penny. Remember, she’s going to help you next, so you don’t want to do a bad job for her!”

“Of course not!” Chas assured her. “Penny, I’m trying my best.”

“I know you are,” she responded confidently.

“Aww….” Channah teased them. “Such sweet girls.” She spun Penny back and forth again, making minor adjustments and appraising the laces in front and back critically, then circled her once before nodding in approval. “That’s very good! Now let’s do Chas.”

What Mama Likes

When she was satisfied with both corsets, she clapped her hands delightedly and announced: “Next gift!”

These contained not just one, but a stack of simple, and semi-sheer, linen shifts. The girls gasped modestly. “They’re better than the half-shifts, but they’re hardly even all there!” Modest Penny protested.

“Count yourself lucky I’m offering you anything at all, young lady! Once we arrive at my palace, you won’t need to wear anything.” They squeaked in surprise at the idea. “Not a stitch of clothing all week. And,” she laughed, “I’d prefer if you didn’t. But if you must, knowing what shy young near-virgins you are, I will allow you wear these.”

“Thank you, Domina,” they chorused.

“That didn’t sound very enthusiastic, Penny,” she chided.

“I apologize, Domina. I—” and when she saw Channah was watching with one eyebrow cocked for her to finish the thought, she did, miserably, shoulders slumping and murmuring in embarrassment, knowing she was repeating herself: “I think I’ll feel more naked with one of these on than off.”

Channah whooped and clapped. “Then my evil plan is working! Go on, put them on. And remember, while we’re at the palace, you girls are to wear these and only these. I don’t want you to don so much as a hairpin otherwise, until we leave.” They exchanged a glance and shivered, glad to pull the shifts over them and tugging them down as far as they would go. Which was not very far, especially over the stays.

Watching them with amusement, she snorted. “Nice and short, so I can see your pretty legs. that’s how I like my girls to be nearly-dressed.”

“Yes, Domina,” Chas pressed her lips together and raised her eyebrows at Penny, who looked away, embarrassed but also excited.

“Now the next one. Are your nails trimmed?”

“Yes, Domina,” they chorused, turning red as they found frilly white satin panties and hose.

Work It, Girl

“Starting with these items, I want you to practice being sensual and sexy for me whenever you get dressed or undressed in front of me.”

“Domina!” They blushed. “What do you mean?” Penny sounded more embarrassed; Chas, more intrigued.

“I want you to move and stretch and dress with the grace and beauty of a ballerina performing on stage. Start with the panties. Turn away from me.” She chuckled at their soft noises of surprise and ineffective protest. “Now use your fingers and thumbs gracefully to open them wide. Now, lean forward.”

They squealed in protest and she insisted: “Bend. Over. Girls. Hold your panties close to the ground and step into them gracefully—toes pointed like ballerinas. And don’t lose your balance like dorks.” They giggled again, a combination of embarrassment and amusement, as they followed her commands, beginning to warm to the game. “Now the other foot. Now, keeping your legs straight, draw the panties up to your waists, wiggling your hips a little as you pull the panties over them.”

“Oh, no…” Penny moaned, not entirely mortified, but doing it, as Channah laughed at them and they laughed at the whole exercise.

“Very fetching, girls. Now, we’re going to show you two different ways to put your stockings on. First, take one stocking…”

“These are too long! They won’t stay up!” Chas protested.

“You’re obviously not paying attention,” Channah shook her head. “Take your stocking and stand in front of the low table. Put one foot on the table and keep the other on the ground. Now lean forward as far and as low as you can, and roll the stockings up and pull them on.”

“We don’t need to bend over like this, just to roll them up,” Penny laughed, shaking her head.

“I think that’s the point, silly!” Chas told him.

“Very good, Chas. Because it’s not necessary, I know you’re doing it for me, putting on a show, for me. Trying to turn me on.”

The girls gaped at one another in surprise. “Is it working?” Chas asked.

“Cheeky girl!” Channah smirked, watching her turn red, looking pleased with herself. And admitted: “Maybe just a little bit. I’m going to watch you practice this all week so you get better. You can push your hips out and curve your back while you do it, too—curve your back the other way, ninny!” She chortled at Penny. “Why do you think you’re wearing stays?! Arch your back to emphasize your hips and chest. You’re not trying to look like an old woman!”

“Domina! This is most—well—impractical!” Penny complained indignantly, but even she had a faint smile on her face, getting into the spirit of the proceedings.

“Be glad I had these stays made short in front. True, I had reasons of my own, but imagine how impractical it would feel if the stays were cutting into your thighs now. Good girls,” she complimented them. “And if I were you, Penny, I’d be practical by thinking about the fact bare-handed spankings are very much on the menu on a honeymoon!”

“Yes, Domina,” she blushed.

“Much better, now pull the rolled stocking on over the ball of your foot, and as soon as you’ve done so, set the ball of your foot back on the table. Keep it there, toes touching the table, heel arched prettily off it, bent over as far as you can manage while rolling the stocking up your leg. If you’re still bending over with your back arched when you get it to the top, you’re ready for the dancehall!” They both laughed and shook their heads, trying to pretend they were more shocked than they were feeling at this point. When they were finished, they both stayed bent over, looking back at her upside-down, waiting for permission to move. “Veeerry good, girls,” she beamed, clapping her hands. “Now, find the three garters on that side of your stays and attach them to the tops of your stockings. Here, let me help.”

Literature Section “06-53 Hella Honeymoon X”—Part 53 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—Continued from 06-52—1087 words—Accompanying Images: 1566-1568—Published 2025-04-06—©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

06-52 Hella Honeymoon IX

2025-04-052025-04-01 admin

*1562 06-52 Chas helps Penny tighten her corset^*

Reassurance

They sat together in silence for some time, deep in their own thoughts, and comfortable with the quiet holding them together for a while.

After a long, long time she sighed: “Now you know the worst of me.” She laughed ruefully. “Not a very romantic beginning to a honeymoon.”

Penny looked up at her. “But real. And intimate.”

With a concerned frown, she leaned down and softly pressed her lips to Penny’s, their eyes both closed, focusing on the connection between them. Suddenly Channah changed the game, using her tongue to press open Penny’s lips, which she allowed, yielding as her Queen claimed her with a low moan. Channah was very much the aggressor, and she laughed softly when something—a tightening, a low squeak, something—by Penny let her know how much she was reacting, and how badly she was suddenly being pinched.

“Come here,” she growled, pulling Chas to her and giving her the same treatment, and getting the same result, while feeling Penny nuzzle and softly kiss the side of her neck.

Becoming Decent

Pleased when they were both moaning, she pulled away and rubbed their elbows. “Stand up, girls, I have presents for you! Up! Up!” And as they stood, their moans turning to groans, she slapped each girl sharply on the buttocks, eliciting surprised yelps. “Stand up straight.”

“It hurts…” Penny whimpered.

“I know.” She licked her lips, pointing archly with her hands to two piles of gifts. “Penny’s, and Chas’s. Open the top one first.”

Curious, they did so, gasping as each girl pulled gleaming white stays from her first box. They looked at one another in wonder.

“You’re adults now, girls. Technically,” she snickered. “If you weren’t such little bitches you’d be called ‘women.’ But I can assure you, you two immature little ladies will continue to be guided by me and to obey me.” She liked that the knowledge of that, and the certainty it was true, embarrassed them. “Decent grown women wear stays. And I want you to be decent—beyond reproach—when you aren’t slutting out in private for me. There should also be five sexy little half-shifts in the same box.”

“Yes, Domina,” they admitted, finding them, looking delightfully awkward and embarrassed. “Go on, put one on, to protect your stays.” Each half-shift was a tube of fabric extending from under her arms to just below her waist, with bands of fabric over each shoulder to keep them in place. “I feel more naked with this on than I did before,” Penny complained, confirming it by covering her crotch with her hands.

“Good, that’s an added bonus then, isn’t it, my panting little crêpe?”

“What?” Penny looked at her, eyes wide, mouth opened in an ‘O’, so shocked it wasn’t until a moment later she turned red and looked away. “I’m sorry, Domina, I didn’t mean to sass you.”

“I hope not. Now you’re going to have to help one another with the stays because they’re pairs-of-bodies, laced in front and back. If you try to put one on by yourself there’s a good chance it will twist every which way. Let’s do Penny first. Chas, set yours down and take hold of the back of the stays while Penny holds the front, and slide it over her.” She watched with amusement as the girls struggled with the unfamiliar garment. “Oh, here,” she lent a hand until the garment was situated on Penny. “Now, Chas, stand behind Penny. Before you start lacing, make sure the modesty panels are smooth and flat against the skin. Both for beauty, and for comfort since we’re putting these so close to your skin and the panels are much stiffer and thicker than your half-shifts. Once those are flat, you’re going to pull the back laces tighter while Penny does the front. You see the bow is at the bottom, so you’re going to start at the top, but—NO, Chas,” she swatted Chas on the bottom causing her to blush and smile with embarrassment.

“This isn’t a strength contest. The first time especially, you have to coordinate the lacing in front and back. If you compare the panels in front and back—” she showed Chas, spinning Penny around like she was a mannequin mounted on a swivel, while both girls giggled, causing her to giggle too. “Silly girls. You see it’s wider in the back. The stays have to be at least tight enough so no skin shows between the panel and the body. But the goal isn’t to squish Penny, it’s to give her a nice cylindrical shape.”

“What are these?!” Penny asked, examining the padded strip that ran along the top inner edge of her stays.

Channah laughed merrily. “What do you think? Stays are intended to flatten and raise a lady’s breasts, making her upper body more cylindrical. But not too much so—women don’t want to look like men! So the pad gives you a little help. It’s one of the two reasons we’re putting them on under your dresses.”

“What’s the other?”

“It will be easier to show you when you help Chas. Chas? Here.” She waved a strap of reinforced fabric with a clip extending from the bottom of the stays. There were six in total, two in front and one in back of each body of the stays. “It’s a garter. A Succubaean invention. I’ll explain it more when Penny can see one.”

“Garters were invented by succubae?” Chas asked in surprise. Channah was beginning to learn that although Chas deferred to Penny in many areas, either because she wasn’t interested or she wasn’t confident of her knowledge in them, their roles reversed when it came to such things as fashion, style, and manners expected of the gentry.

“Not garters, silly. Attaching them to stays instead of wrapping them around the legs.”

“Why?”

“Wait for your next surprise,” she softly tapped the tip of her index finger on Chas’s nose. “You’re worse than Penny when it comes to fashions!”

Literature Section “06-52 Hella Honeymoon IX”—Part 52 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—Continued from 06-51—1002 words—Accompanying Images: 1562-1563; for 06-50, 1564-1565—Published 2025-04-05—©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.

Literature Section “06-52 Hella Honeymoon IX”—Part
52 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête
Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—Continued from 06-51—1002 words—Accompanying Images:
1562-1563; for 06-50, 1564-1565—Published
2025-04-05—©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.

TAGS:
adventuresofradicalprovocateurs, tudor, england, femdom, humiliation,
teaseanddenial, succubus, transgender, sissy, sisterwife, honeymoon, polyamory,
corset, slip,

Stories

06-51 Hella Honeymoon VIII

2025-04-042025-04-01 admin

1558 06-51 Raise the red flag! NO QUARTER!!!^

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stories

06-50 Hella Honeymoon VII

2025-04-032025-04-01 admin

*1555 06-50 A pain that still sears after 6,000 years^*

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

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

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

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

Channah’s Confession

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stories

06-46 Hella Honeymoon III (abridged version)

2025-03-302025-04-02 admin

*1542 06-46 A nagging unease in the conscious mind…^*

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

continued from 06-45

Bathing

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

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

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

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

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

“You certainly did.”

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

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

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

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

“What’s ‘Hippocras’?”

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

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

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

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

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

Skin Care

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

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

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

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

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

“Mistress Sindonie!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stories

06-45 Hella Honeymoon II

2025-03-292025-03-27 admin

1539 06-45 Lady in London/Jariya in Constantinople

continued from 06-44

“Why is qahwah a secret?” Penny asked, beginning to eat with Chas.

“First, because it’s an advantage. We always prefer to keep our advantages over our enemies, for as long as possible,” Sindonie explained. “Second, we always want to avoid unexplained contacts with other parts of the world that the humans don’t have. Everywhere we go, we try to blend in and be like the hucows as much as we can.”

“Hucows?!” the girls laughed. “Is that like…”

Sindonie pinkened. “Human cattle.”

“But we’re—”

Christendom, dar al-Islam, and Beyond

“Let’s stay on track, shall we? Speaking Arabic as fluently as you both do, you can range from Spain to India and the Balkans to the ports of the Indian Ocean without raising an eyebrow. In Christendom, you can be what you are, gentle English. Your class was at one advantage the Countess intended you to have by selecting you.

“But because you’re both so fair and pale, and you would have trouble blending seamlessly, in dar al-Islam—the Muslim world—your story will be that you are Saqaliba—from the Balkans. The other option would be Circassians, but since saqaliba live amongst Christians, you’re less likely to be caught posing as a Saqlabi. Either way, it’s a near-perfect cover for a mamluk or jariya because as Christians and pagans, respectively, Saqaliba and Circassians, like blacks, are preferred as slaves in the Western part of dar al-Islam. Many if not most mamalik and jawari are Saqaliba or Circassian. To serve the Queen outside Christian and Muslim territories, you would have to learn other languages.”

“Does she have operatives in Cathay?” Penny asked, wide-eyed. “The West Indes?”

“And beyond. She has operatives everywhere there are people. I’m told those include parts of the world no one in Europe has ever even heard of. Now try your qahwah, girls,” she insisted. And when they hesitated to touch their cups to their lips, she said: “I know it smells harsh. Try it. With sweetening, you’ll come to enjoy it.”

And they did. “I do love sugar, Mistress,” Penny admitted.

“I know you do, dear. Now eat up. Not rudely, but efficiently. The human servants were beginning to prepare baths for you when I took your food.”

Honeymoon Advice

“Is there anything we need to know about our seclusion to be prepared, Mistress?” Penny asked between bites.

“According to rumor, you girls have already learned most of what you need to know for the honeymoon,” she teased them again, watching them squirm a moment, a distant look coming into her eye as she doubled down. “I remember when I first met each of you. You did look girlish to me, as many children do. But the way you evolved and grew… you’re both quite lovely and feminine.”

“Thank you, Mistress,” they chorused, turning redder.

“The Queen has a remarkable eye for transgender jawari. I’ve met dozens of them and like you, most of them don’t even need makeup. Your Svadhishthana Cages will help you look like beautiful young women by preventing the further growth of hair. But to preserve your beauty, it will be important for you to keep eating carefully, avoiding male animal flesh, and using the herbs and spices as you’ve been trained, even when you are out on your own.”

“Yes, Mistress,” they answered. “We understand,” Penny amplified.

After considering carefully for a moment, Sindonie continued: “To answer your question, I know you’ve had a very hard week, and that you are struggling with anger and confusion about the changes. Especially the cages, collars, and twisters, and… what she expects of you to serve her cause.” Their eyes blazed with the truth of that, and their hurt. “Oh, dear girls, I’m so sorry,” she reached forward, placing a gentle hand on each girl’s shoulder and neck to connect and empathize with them. “Even I, who was not adopted as a child but came into the Queen’s service as an adult, have had to face—challenges.” She bit her lip, shaking her head slightly but firmly as if rejecting something. “Serving our Queen is not easy. But the same can be said for any human King. Their concerns are not ours.”

“Your honeymoon is a time for you to heal your connection with Her, to feel the joy of your union with Her, while learning your new relationship with Her. Try to find other outlets for your anger, like working hard to serve her. And sublimate the feelings you can’t work out, into your natural submissiveness. In this respect, you are more fortunate than the mamluks. We’ve given you all the tools we can to prepare you to be content, even joyous, in your service and obedience to her. The mamluks have rigid honor where you have bent desires, but honor keeps them even more emotionally separate, from Her and from other humans, even as it protects their loyalty and fidelity. You have… this. There is no ‘honeymoon’ for the mamluks beyond what they enjoyed of your trials. They are pushed out into the world, not sheltered at home from it.”

“Also, now that you are proven and sworn to Her, She can start to share Her amazing knowledge and experience with you. You cannot even imagine the worlds she moves through. If you can relax, and follow her lead, try the new things—like qahwah—that she tries to show you, you will be a richer and better person for it. And, I am told, you will know dark delights that she only shares with her jawari.”

The boys shivered with both the warmth and the chilly thrill of anticipation, looking at one another, and then back at her, anxiously, seeking and receiving reassurance from one another and her eyes. “Thank you, Mistress Sindonie,” they chorused.

Valide to Valide

“Good. Here, stand up,” she urged them, walking to one side of the table and embracing both girls for a long, tight hug. “With your initiation,” she began, her voice cracking as all three of them began to sob together, “With it, I will no longer be your valide. For most jawari, that role would belong to the most-senior jariya; but for the two of you, your valide will be your Domina. I promise, though, I will always be your governess, and I will always be here for you.” With a final, intense squeeze, she implored them: “Trust and obey your Queen and Domina and—” she could hardly say it “valide in all things. Trust and obey her. Promise me!”

“We promise!” they bawled, delaying their separation.

But finally, she shook her head and backed away, wiping her eyes and waving vaguely toward the stairs. “Come! We’ve taken too long already. Penny—no, you’ll want to keep your blanket around you—girls, please work together to bring the tray with you and set it in the Great Chamber.”

CHAPTER SIX PART 45: “LE SACCAGE DE LA SALE BÊTE ROUGE (RAMPAGE OF THE DIRTY RED BEAST)”

2025-03-29 Literature Section “06-45 Hella Honeymoon II”—Accompanying Images: 1539-1541. 1142 words—©2025 The Remainderman. This is a work of fiction, not a book of suggestions. It’s filled with fantasies, idiots, and criminals. Don’t believe them or imitate them.

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Tag: polyamory

Thanking Fury

Showstopper

The Sense of Being in Hell

The Little Princesses

Showtime

Finishing Touches

What Mama Likes

Work It, Girl

Reassurance

Becoming Decent

Channah’s Confession

Bathing

Skin Care

Christendom, dar al-Islam, and Beyond

Honeymoon Advice

Valide to Valide