Tag: power


1923 06-119 FINALLY, I’ve found London’s vilest asshole!
1924 06-119 I mean to ride and whip you harder than any horse.  Who’s still interested?
1930 06-119 Final warning—I’ll make even the MOST desperate and depraved of ye’ll rue meeting me

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, g—yes, Domina!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1844 06-101 Channah claims Penny as she has never done before
1845 06-101 Penny is Channah’s plaything now
1846 06-101 Pray all you like, Penny dear… it’s adorable
1847 06-101 MINE.  Questions?

Explicit version containing sodomy, analpenetration, orgasm, and prostateorgasm themes at 06-101X Consummated and Consumed (unabridged version) at Patreon.com/TheRemainderman

INCLUDE PART IN PREVIEW FOR CONTEXT:  Channah is on top of Penny.  She couldn’t tell what Penny was babbling on about, and she didn’t care—doubting he knew, either.  She was doing what she needed to do, for her.  NOW:

Nor did anything that came out of Penny’s mouth thereafter, help to clarify anything except her surprise:  Penny’s speech was rapidly degenerating and sputtering into an incoherent, pathetic, inarticulate, jumbled mess of words and half-words and sounds that cycled between bafflement and submission and made no sense beyond that, conveying only one message, again and again and again:  how lost and confused she was in submission to Channah as Channah scrambled forward, asserting herself, her attentions to the weaker girl given a cyclical rhythm by Channah’s not-so-gentle efforts to protect Penny from chafing, repeating the sequence, Penny’s speech degenerating further and further, her wail rising to a higher and higher pitch, the unexpected intensity of exactly what Channah was doing, the very special place she had found and focused on preventing Penny from any traditional enjoyment, until—at the very second Channah reached her goal—

Penny made a screaming howl of mixed joy, surprise, and plaintive frustration, even as the privacy shield around them dissolved, immersing them back into hell.  The sights and smells were intense; the sound, overwhelming.  Of course, Penny did not know, but their solitude had begun to end when Channah started pouring oil on her, Channah’s coven bringing them swimming back into the visibility of everyone on the platform.  And even more importantly for the succubae’s purposes, at that same moment, the passion, intimacy, and degradation coming off them in waves like heat from asphalt in summer had begun forcing itself into the perception of the damned below.  By the time Channah had taken the next step, the chaos below had exploded into a maelstrom of sound and movement such as none of the ancient succubae on the platform could remember, staggering and shaking all of them to the core.

And in the moment Penny and Channah were done, together:

Pandemonium extremis maximus.

A madness like nothing any of them, human or demon, could have ever imagined.  Like nothing any of the succubae had even dared hope for.  The howls of the damned below topped out, interrupted by jagged screams of wildly oscillating pitch abruptly ending in popping and tearing noises, like popcorn popping and flesh being ripped away by raptors’ teeth, all at once. 

At first, Penny—and almost, almost Channah, as experienced and powerful as she was—were oblivious, lost in the moment and the intensity between them, their eyes locked, Channah’s burning with the power, hunger, and savage joy of the taker; Penny’s wide with the wonder and acceptance and dizzy peace of the giver.  Their shared sensations, and the pandemonium wave, were both so uniquely intense their bodies and minds had nothing to compare them to, and so at first they blended into a single sensation, changing in flavor but not intensity as it flooded them both.

Channah began to come back into some kind of focus first, whispering incredulous curses so vile and dark they could not be expressed in any human language, and therefore could not be spoken at all—only roared in a savage animal sound older and rawer than words, more dragon than human, as her hips slowed and her eyes closed, overwhelmed with the combination of afterglow and power refraction.  The waves tearing through her had the strength of a black hole’s gravity to spaghettify any sun or lesser celestial body within their reach.  A moment later Penny’s mind was able to begin its own return from its own bliss into something less pure and much more violent, savagely and intensely joyous, flowing through Channah and then Penny, a total connection that neither of them had experienced ever before, or could imagine experiencing ever again.

“The… Power!…” Channah gasped, stunned, sagging forward as Channah became something close to dead weight and Penny something close to unresistant and rubbery, the two of them so overwhelmed and full of pure light, water, fire, earth, and air rushing into them like all the energy and mass of the universe collapsing into a single black hole, they could do nothing—not act, not feel, not think, not even be aware.  Only by giving every ounce of themselves to it, they could just barely hold on and ride it out, surviving it with all the agency of an unconscious person carried racing through whitewater rapids.

Channah began returning to something like conscious, some kind of reasonable awareness, staring down on her girl’s closed eyes and open mouth, her heart pining in a way Channah was not familiar with; and she felt… lonely and devastated, human feelings she neither liked nor wanted.  She could tell her girl was still twenty thousand, forty thousand, and more leagues beneath the sea away from her.  Channah wanted to be with her now.  She ached for the connection they had shared when they went under the waves together, something she had never experienced before and wished she never had experienced, if the knowledge of what she was missing was going to make her this unhappy now.  Her heart, or whatever organ or part of her was capable of such neediness, insisted on—demanded to—have it back. She had to bring Penny back to her, surrounding her, enveloping and connecting with her and making her more than she could ever hope to be on her own.

With a cry, almost subconsciously, a pure reflex by her body insistent to reconnect rather than a conscious thought, Channah resumed her assault, wanting—needing—to be back where she had been a few moments before.  Her sense of incompleteness was total.

And she saw, instantly, the path for a succubus to achieve the connection she required.

Literature Section “06-101[X] Consummated and Consumed”—more material available at TheRemainderman.com—Part 101 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—Abridged 936 words::Explicit 1026 words—Accompanying Images:  1844-1847—Published 2025-05-27—©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.