Tag: PTSD

1949 06-121 The Evil Queen Bee seducing Her retinue
1950 06-121 Let ME find the path for you, my pretties

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


1840 06-100 Hong’s empathy, Esmeray’s truth
1841 06-100 Edging Esmeray

1842 06-100 What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger
1843 06-100 1,2,3! Point to the biggest bitch on this balcony!

PREVIOUSLY:  At Channah’s command, Hong has shackled Esmeray by the ankles overlooking the sea of devils and demons.  Now she stands close behind her, challenging Esmeray to take her hand, wanting something from Esmeray.  NOW:

Esmeray slowly put her hand into Hong’s, felt the dry warmth of her hand, and then, as a test, rolled her fingers around Hong’s fingertips, her palm wrapping around Hong’s knuckles.

Neither woman moved, not their hand, not their eyes, Hong encouragingly, Esmeray suspiciously, until Hong nodded reassuringly again, showing Esmeray her right hand and then shifting behind Esmeray until the younger woman could look over her other shoulder and see it.  Steeling herself to patience, she took hold of it, the same as the other.  A stupid test.

Perhaps sensing that anything that could be construed as smartassery by Esmeray, would be construed that way, Hong was very careful, simply making a soothing, approving noise, before explaining:  “I’m going to step closer behind you if that’s all right.”

“Why?  What do you want from me?”  Esmeray demanded sharply, and Hong stopped, considering her answer.

“Two things.  My Domina has commanded me to train you for something that I would have thought you were totally unsuited for.”

Esmeray snorted, shaking her head wryly and even managing a hint of amusement.  “Oh, you noticed, did you?”

“I thrive by serving my Domina successfully.  To do that, I have to understand you better—your feelings, your motives, your limits, and, yes, your clear but strange potential.  Then…” she considered “I felt it too, as strongly as you, the reaction when we met.  Very fierce and competitive.  On the surface, we have been given the same job, even the same title.  Obviously it is a test.  Obviously it is a competition.  And if it is a competition, I mean to win, as surely as you do.  But…” Hong shrugged.  “Competing with me, at least on my terms, in the way I understand… I think this is impossible for you.”

“You noticed,” Esmeray repeated, unable to keep the insecurity out of her voice entirely.

“Here my thoughts follow two paths.  The first is that if we cannot compete directly with one another, we could become allies.  Not friends.  But allies.  Every member of the Coven has, or will have, a qahramanah.  So we each have at least 12 rivals, and very little chance to get to know any of the 11 others.  You are obviously a lone wolf, and if you will forgive me,” she tittered carefully, “A crazy one.”

Yes, Esmeray conceded, thinking how mad her situation was, and that she felt quite sane by comparison.  She was only mad by the standards of people who were privileged to live sane lives.  But she responded:  “Who’s crazier, the madwoman or her tormentor?”  Almost, she let loose of Hong’s hands—almost, she threw them away.

Seeming to sense it, Hong squeezed back very gently and compellingly.  “I don’t want to be your tormentor.  It doesn’t benefit me at all, or give me any pleasure, because you don’t know how to enjoy being tormented by others.”

“No one enjoys being tormented.”

“You are wrong.  Some people live in torment.  Even if not of their own making, then they accept them, or simply cannot escape them.  Some—maybe you, maybe your memories—even torment themselves.  All my little boys-who-are-girls live in that dark palace.  All jawari—even yours—are chosen for this potential, and raised to fulfill it.  If you can understand this, you can master them better, faster, and more effectively.  The fact you do not know this yet is more proof, if you are willing to see it, that I have a lot to teach you.  But the job I have been given—we both have been given, me to teach, you to learn—Do you at least understand this is your job, to learn from me, whether you want to or not?”

“Yes,” Esmeray spat.

Hong huffed, whether from concern, arousal, frustration, or success, Esmeray wasn’t quite sure.  Hong chose her words with even more care than usual, balancing loyalty to her Dominas with candor to her putative future ally.  “This job I have been given—at first, it almost feels the job I was given is intended to provoke you.”

Esmeray relaxed slightly, ever so slightly, but it was there, and Hong sensed it, nodding with satisfaction behind her back.  “You speak truly.  I think we are enemies, but—”

“Unfair!”  Hong protested, smiling at the long, lustrous, wild hair in front of her.  It was beautiful hair.  “You think everyone is an enemy.”

“Everyone is!”

“You, too, speak truly.”  And, Hong thought, you seem to enjoy this sparring as much as I do, in your own tormented way.

“But I also understand the advantages of alliances.  The necessity for them.  In a world of enemies, allies are valuable.  And your second path?”

“I ask myself:  What is our real job?”

“To entertain our masters by clashing with one another, like harem gladiators?”  Esmeray guessed dryly.

Hong laughed merrily.  “Ooh la la, so cynical.  I adore it.  Again, you are probably right.  And I think we can give them a good show.  Don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“But… there is more.  And I think, if I’m right, we are meant to teach one another.  Our Masters’ minds work that way, layers hidden under layers, wheels working within wheels.  But for me to explain it, you need to understand what this place is for, and what a qahramanah’s real job is.”

Hong bent her head, a slight sign of deference, and asked again, thrilling Esmeray with the unaccustomed sound of her own name:  “Please, Esmeray.  I ask again, can you bear to have me step closer to you?”

And after a beat, Esmeray nodded sharply, steeling herself and trying not to be obvious about it.

She felt Hong’s proximity before Hong actually touched her back.  It was an electricity, a low buzz from her buttocks up through the arch of her back to her shoulders, sensing Hong’s field of energy before, with a gentle, accepting sigh, the perfectly-formed woman made contact with Esmeray’s scarred back.  The deepest pressure was of her breasts against Esmeray’s shoulders; followed by her pelvis against Esmeray’s haunches.  Esmeray kept reminding herself that, although deep, the touch was and had been soft, slow, and consensual.  And although she couldn’t see Hong, she still held the woman’s hands, perhaps simply to prove to one or both of them that she could; or perhaps to reassure herself the hands were accounted for and therefore, not up to any mischief.  Of course, Hong could bite her, her crazy brain reminded her unhelpfully—but she refused to think about that now, shaking her head to herself to dismiss the idea so she could learn whatever it was Hong was up to. 

As if to prove she had no such intention, Hong asked softly:  “Is this tolerable?”

“Yes,” Esmeray answered, almost but not quite entirely able to keep the edge of irritation out of her voice.  So she forced herself to repeat herself, not wanting to actually feel Hong’s flesh—she couldn’t think about it, so she focused on trying to learn what Hong meant to teach her, telling herself this would be worthwhile, and that simply earning Hong’s trust would be worthwhile, ignoring all her contrary urges and feelings—the ravenous, dark ones—as best she could. 

Then Hong pushed it by whispering:  “Can you abide… more?”

Literature Section “06-100 Edging Esmeray”—more material available at TheRemainderman.com—Part 100 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—1212 words—Accompanying Images:  1840-1843—Published 2025-05-25—©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.

1833 06-98 Toe to Toe, Challenger to Champion
1834 06-98 Western fire and Eastern water begin to dance
1835 06-98 Wanna look like me, Madame Pompadour?

PREVIOUSLY:  Hong, with minor assistance from her jawari, has wrestled Esmeray into submission and chained her by her ankles to the rail facing out over the desert.  NOW:

Esmeray eyed the mass of devils and demons defiantly, as if she was considering taking them all on.  And perhaps she was.  Slowly, she brought her breathing and her emotions back under control, regretting the loss of it.  She hated herself for being—whatever she was.  Emotional.  Instinctive.  Crazy—call it what you like, she hated it.  She hated at herself.

She had known today was going to be difficult and that Channah would try to make her lose it.  Channah always did that; a part of Esmeray hated her.  But that was getting her nowhere—stop, stop Stop STOP!

She told herself—ordered herself—to breathe, to stay focused on her work, and to ignore the potential threats around her.  Either Channah was going to put her in harm’s way, or she was going to protect her; and there was little enough Esmeray could do either way to improve or worsen her lot.

Like everyone in Channah’s orbit, she was the Succubus Queen’s tool and plaything.  She had been for a decade—ever since Channah had rescued her from worse—and she loathed herself for it.  Not that Esmeray was… entirely ungrateful.  She reminded herself, as she frequently did, that she was fortunate; and that Channah had treated her better than anyone ever did before.  It was as much as—more than!—a person could ask.  She knew she should be more grateful, or at the very least, more philosophical, about it.

And yet, it still rankled.  Esmeray longed to be free, free of all obligations and duties to her master.  Free of all masters.  Free of the world’s bondage!  At times, she thought back longingly to her days on the streets of Constantinople, the earliest times she could remember.

Didn’t she?  Of course, she did.  There were lengths of darkness she could not account for, but there was no sense in thinking on them because there was nothing to learn about them.  She had tried.

It was always the good times that beckoned to her anyway.  Today, and on other days when she was forced by circumstances to the unhappy task of reflecting. 

She hissed and spat at the devils, pleased they could not reach her, twice as pleased to get a rise out of them.  She always could!  They were predictable—fuck!  Like her.  No.  No!  She was not predictable.  Everybody told her so!

It was just the demons.  They were predictable that way, goading them a reliable gambit to break the cycle of her unwanted thoughts, trying not to think of—her position.  The chains—

Back then, she told herself, she slept where she liked, ate what she liked, and kept herself to herself.  Mostly.  Always, she slept anywhere she could find, ate anything she could scavenge, and avoided the city watch as assiduously as she tried to avoid the other monsters the city watch was meant to guard people against.  But not always with success.  She shuddered, remembering there had been some bad times—days, nights, when they caught her and things had been beyond her control awhile, things happening of which she would be no part, and her only objective had been to escape and recover, restore order, restore equilibrium. 

Like now.

Street children had only their wits to keep them a step ahead of horror; and like most street children, she had tripped and fallen into the clutches of evil men—always men—once or twice. 

But it was the freedom she had usually enjoyed, that she missed now.  She had been a brilliant child-thief.  And when she started to come into her powers… well, unfortunately, a child struggling to comprehend their power attracted attention long before it started paying dividends. 

Back then, perhaps… sometimes… maybe she had just been young and stupid.  But there had been such a hope that things would get better someday, somehow.  A wish that had at once been fulfilled when Channah took her in, and been slowly dashed to pieces ever since, as Esmeray, growing older and wiser, realized there was no way out for her from where she was right now, under Channah’s thumb.  Nowhere for her to go to get away.  But maybe, back then, before she met Channah—well, before she was caught by—

MAYBE BACK THEN, she thought forcefully to herself, she could have found somewhere, a place, if she’d had the chance.

As it was, she did not, and she would not.  Not ever.

She was Channah’s, body and soul.  Channah was a powerful matron and matriarch—which was generally to the good.  She worked for the strongest person she had ever encountered, someone whose reach was global, whose time was infinite.  It was a good thing to work for the Queen.  Something filled with perks.  The best she could hope for—

“Esmeray!  Madwoman!”  The voice tried again, more insistently.  She straightened, shook her head to clear it, and looked back over her left shoulder to see Hong regarding her urgently.  “Are you yourself again?”

She blinked, then nodded.  “I’m fine.”

Something—disbelief, scorn, a decision of some kind that Esmeray’s assertion was incorrect—crossed her face momentarily.  But after an initial sting, Esmeray’s more rational mind sensed whatever Hong was experiencing wasn’t meant for her.  Hong was as focused on herself, as she was formidable.  Not unlike Channah:  Neither of them wasted time thinking about others, except for how she could manipulate them, and what they might be able to do for her.  Despite her desire to dislike the snotty bitch, Esmeray instead felt something between relief to be dealing with a predictable, and therefore potentially helpful, person with no particular desire to mess up Esmeray’s life; and a desire to interact with Hong precisely because she couldn’t stand interacting with most people. 

And Esmeray thought she saw something like a grudging respect from Hong as well.  “When I heard about you, I couldn’t understand why my Queen would have anything to do with one as… brittle as you.  But I see now.  Do you?”

“What?”  Esmeray asked, startled by the frank and sincere question.

“Do you know why she brought you here, to this place, the heteraslakos?”

“To remind me she can do whatever she likes to me,” Esmeray answered, shrugging matter-of-factly.

Something played around Hong’s lips before settling on amusement, and she snorted.  “Very probably.  But beyond that.”

“She said I’m damaged enough that I have the capacity to do real damage,” Esmeray answered slowly, watching Hong’s expression intently for anything insincere or petty.  All she found was a flash of understanding.

Hong stepped up behind Esmeray, returning her curious gaze:  “Can you abide the touch—a gentle touch—of a woman?”

Esmeray stiffened, wanting to snap that she could survive anything but quelling the urge to do so, as Hong raised her hands slowly.  Sensing she had still been too fast, Hong pulled them back a moment, shushing her gently, before resting one, and then the other, on Esmeray’s sleeve, not looking away from her for a second.  And then she paused, doing nothing, saying nothing, as Esmeray held her body tight as a drum, before starting to understand.  With a testy but determined hiss of breath, she began forcing herself to relax.  Even with the other qahramanah touching her. 

“Can you touch others?” Esmeray nodded questioningly, and Hong explained, removing her hands from Esmeray’s sleeve and holding out her left hand, a few inches from Esmeray’s.  “Then touch me.”

Esmeray hesitated, considering her irritation, her instant desire not to do what somebody else wanted her to do, and the tension that had arisen in her the moment Hong called her name.  Deliberately, rationally, she chose to play along anyway.  The queen bee obviously wanted something from her; and Esmeray wanted to know why Channah had dragged her here, what kind of show she was supposed to be putting on, exactly.  Everyone wanted to be powerful and valuable—or at the very least, to understand their value to others, not merely to capitalize upon it, but to be wary of the threat the other person’s desire might pose.

Literature Section “06-98 Esmeray on Edge”—more material available at TheRemainderman.com—Part 98 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—1350 words—Accompanying Images:  1833-1835—Published 2025-05-23—©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.


1732 06-86 Esmeray’s Torment
1733 06-86 Heathcliff?!
1734 06-86 Hong analyzes Esmeray like a bug trapped in a jar
1735 06-86 Hong’s Mercy

PREVIOUSLY:  Channah extended her arm straight out towards the tangled knot of clothed qahramanat and naked jawari, snapping her fingers decisively in command.  “Don’t you dare let the truth-speaker go.  Keep her here, in the hetaraslakos.  Do not break the ritual.  Bind her if you can, but I want her conscious and don’t you dare let her interrupt us again!  Then mount them both on the rails!”  “You biiiiiiitch!” Esmeray screeched, and “Yes, Domina,” Hong solemnly swore, and “Yes, My Liege!” the four naked girls imitated Fang.  NOW:

Hong commanded one of her girls in Mandarin, who ran to the other side of the platform while Hong and her other three Hongettes struggled to wrestle the howling, flailing, fuming Esmeray over onto her belly so they could get her under control. 

“Get your filthy paws off me you gorillas!”  Hong’s eyes narrowed at the insult, taking it at first as racist, taking advantage of an opportunity to seize Esmeray’s arm in the first step of a wushu hold.  “Don’t touch me with your naked filth!  I promise god I will destroy the—the filth—AAUGH!” the last sound was more one of frustration at her inability to find words damning enough to express what she was feeling, than any reaction to the physical stresses being placed upon her.

Hong executed her arm-lock, twisting Esmeray’s arm upwards behind her back and eliciting a sharp scream of pain. 

“BIIIITTCHH!”  Esmeray screamed, which Hong understood, and then baffled her:  “Keep your naked monkeys off me!”

Hong was taken aback.  She was straddling the crazy gwáinòuh’s hips now, with her left knee on one side and her right boot on the other, rolling Esmeray’s bent arm away from its natural position and placing extreme stress on it, while her submissives—theoretically trained in the martial arts, but obviously not as seriously as Hong—were wrestling as ineffectively as Hong was fighting.  Honghua and Hongjiao were using every ounce of their arm strength to fight Esmeray’s powerful leg muscles, while Hongan was at imminent risk of learning how much stronger jaw muscles were than fingers, if she kept trying to hold Esmeray’s head still by gripping her chin.

Was Esmeray stupid?  Hong wondered.  Jawari were one thing.  Jawari could be little air-headed ninnies (and Hong often thought her girls were) as long as they were attractive enough and sporting enough.  And apparently, according to the screaming devils below, it was quite possible for qahramanat to arouse them while being completely out of their minds.  But a qahramanah could not be stupid—and she had not seemed stupid to Hong, at first.

Then, as Hongzhi hurried back into view, carrying her irons, which Hong had commanded her to fetch, it all clicked into place:  This woman, who hardly paid attention to a submission hold, and kept talking about naked monkey parts, shuddered and stilled the moment she set eyes on the irons.  Her language wasn’t about race.

“Please no.  Please, no!”  voice plunging from a scream to a frightened moan, resistance evaporating, practically limp in their arms, moving only her head to shake it, Esmeray pleaded.  “I’ll be good.  I’ll be good.  I promise, I’ll be good.  See?  See?  You can hurt me it’s okay but please don’t please don’t use—use those.  PLEASE!”

And as Hong put the pieces together, she shuddered, as if she had taken a sudden chill.  Hong was not shy, or delicate, or squeamish, or easily intimidated, or scared, or timid, or submissive—she had been a best-in-class alpha as long as she could remember.  Even her parents’ stories of her childhood portrayed her that way.  She had faced, and faced down, monsters and threats aplenty in her own life.  But the things she had seen, the women who hadn’t been as strong as her—like her own sister….  In an instant, Hong knew the essence of Esmeray’s story, and without surrendering her hold or her control, she eased back on the stress to end the deliberate pain.

She shook her head at Hongzhi to pause, considering.  Esmeray was acting as if she had finally figured out what Hong and her girls had known since the moment they’d first engaged:  clearly, Hong was the only decently-trained fighter among them; a match for Esmeray’s size and heavier than her jawari, who were deliberately chosen for being petite, among other stereotypically-female features the succubae considered predictive of success in the tasks they would be assigned.  But…

“I’m sorry.  My Domina’s orders were clear.”  She nodded at Hongzhi to come closer:  “To restrain you.”

“She said if—if!”  Esmeray wailed.  Hong was surprised she had had the presence of mind to register Channah’s words so accurately.  “She said she wanted me conscious and you daren’t let me interrupt her again, I know!  But she said to bind me if!”

“If I can,” Hong finished the sentence, adding reasonably:  “And I can.”

“No!  That’s not true!”

“You doubt my ability to restrain you?” she inquired, momentarily applying more pressure.

“No, no I don’t, I—oh, please don’t!”  And when Hongzhi reached toward her neck with the collar, she began thrashing and resisting again.  “Nonononononononono…..” the protest trailing off into a howl like a wolf, and then into crying.

Hong sighed.  She couldn’t take pleasure in forcing herself on a genuinely unwilling and terrified victim.  She wasn’t a soldier.  And if the woman kept making noise, she’d have to gag her.

“Hongzhi, stop.”  And when Esmeray quieted down, Hong offered:  “I suppose if you’re quiet and still, it is less likely to ‘interrupt’ my Domina than if you’re thrashing and wailing.  Therefore it may be difficult to bind you without interrupting Her more than necessary.”

“Oh, yes,” Esmeray agreed, sighing with relief.  “Yes, please.”

Hong stared at her shoulder blades for a moment and decided, reluctantly:  “Very well.  If you cooperate completely, I will keep my hold on you, not bind you.  But one single spot of resistance—”

“I understand.  I’ll be good Ms. Hong, I promise, I’ll be good.”  She liked that all right, smiling despite herself.

“Good.  Let’s see if you can get to your feet without your left hand.”  Hong stayed still a moment longer, emphasizing her control over the woman, then warned her girls:  “Keep a close eye on her—be ready to shackle her if we need to.”

“Yes, Qahramanah,” her girls nodded, as Hong stood, carefully, maintaining her hold as Esmeray struggled to her feet.

“Jongzhi, rest your shackles across my shoulders in case I need them.  I will walk her over to the display rails.  Please bring her jariya.”

As they started up the stairs, Hong asked:  “Are you afraid of heights?”

“No… not particularly.  Why?”

“Because some people become upset near the edge.  If that happens to you, I will have to chain you in completely, and gag you.”  As they approached it, Esmeray’s angle of view became steeper and steeper; and she was able to see devils who were closer and closer.  As soon as one of them spotted her, the volume of the devils rose again with excitement, and they surged forward like red cattle, packing tighter together than before, even as their agitation increased. 

Esmeray started breathing faster as the reality of where they were headed sank in more strongly.  But to her credit, she did not slow or even flinch.  She allowed herself to be walked to the very edge, where a series of rectangles, like half-height gates with a hinge on the left side of each connecting it to a support post, and a latch on the right side allowing it to be secured to the next post over, served as a low guard rail.

“Continue right up to the rail.  She ordered you to be displayed,” Hong explained pointedly, but not unkindly.  “I have to bind you to the rail.”

“No—”

“Look at it!”  Hong explained.  “It’s for your own safety.  But I can do your ankles only and give you the key so you’ll know you can get out.”  And then softly:  “That’s the best I can do.”

Esmeray hesitated, then nodded, a tiny nod of reluctant assent, as she stepped onto the bottom rail, pressing the tops of her thighs against the upper rail, her face set in stone as Hong knelt and secured her ankles.

Literature Section “06-86 Esmeray’s Torment; Hong’s Mercy”—more material available at TheRemainderman.com—Part 86 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—1300 words—Accompanying Images:  1732-1735—Published 2025-05-08—©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.

1633 06-71 The shock of memory
1634 06-71 The thin veil between reality and imagination
1635 06-71 Aging Divas still know how to entertain
1636 06-71 A kind of accompaniment for the Concertmaster

PREVIOUSLY:  Channah, a Queen of Hell, for reasons of her own, has married two human transgender girls she is taking through the Hell of Lust to reach their honeymoon destination.  At the foreboding Chang’an Castle, Penny and Chas have been told to open Duchess Fang’s wedding gifts to their Domina, Queen Channah, while the succubae and qahramanat watch.  NOW:

Operant Conditioning

“Oh—I apologize, Domina,” Hong bowed from her position kneeling on her saddle’s back.  “I didn’t—”

“No, it’s fine” Esmeray interrupted hastily, reaching out, almost as if she were fighting her own arm to get it to move.  “I’m sorry,” she murmured quietly, while Hong and the two succubae exchanged significant looks, and the girls scrambled to catch up.  “I—recognize them.  These are for… prisoners.”

“Or in this case, lovers,” Channah clarified gently.  “Not you—ever.  Only the girls.”

Esmeray met her eyes.  “The girls?”

“Only them.  Ever.  I promise.  Using them on the girls might even… help you.”

“Help me?” she frowned.  “To use it on them?”

“Yes.  You may find it… empowering.  But if you never want to use them, it’s fine.  We’ll definitely bring them with us on the honeymoon.  Fang and Hong, they are lovely.  A more fitting gift than you might even have thought.  But it is the very significance and importance of the gift that makes it more serious.”

“What—what are they, Domina?”  Penny asked.

“I know now,” Chas whispered.  “They’re not—exactly what I’ve—seen.”

Channah looked at Chas closely, stood up, approached him, and squatted down beside both girls, surprising them by feeling them.  “But you’re not bothered,” she pronounced.  “At least, not in the same way as Esmeray.  Good.”  She turned to Penny, smiling archly, still holding them both.  “They’re to restrain you girls so you’re helpless for me and I can have my way with you.”  And she gasped when Penny did.  “Good,” she nodded, causing Fang and Hong to exchange an amused glance.  She stood and returned to her seat as Esmeray slowly reached into the box again, pulling out bright red pieces.

“Eyes,” she nodded, considering one of the pieces.  “This one is for the eyes.”  She drew out another.  “And… the mouth?”

“Yes,” Hong confirmed.

Channah was peeking into the package she had opened, and met Fang’s gaze, smiling, before closing it again.  “I’m going to save that one.  Thank you, Fang.  Thank you, Hong.  Thank your benefactors, girls.”

“Thank you, Domina,” the girls chorused.  “Thank you, Hong Qahramanah.”

“You’re very welcome, girls,” Fang and her own wife touched hands.

Trying Out the Wedding Gifts

“I want to be the first to cover their eyes,” Esmeray declared.  Penny and Chas exchanged a nervous look.

“Oh, look at the girls,” Channah smiled.  “Actually…” she considered for a moment, then laughed wickedly.  “I like that idea.  It will let you, Esmeray, have your first chance to observe the girls, and I think it will set the right… mood for the honeymoon.  Let’s release Hong’s girls back to her so she can begin.”  Channah stood again, as the other women imitated her.

“Hong, the Hongettes are yours again.”

“Yes, thank you, Domina,” she curtsied, deciding not to mention or inquire about the nickname.   Instead, she purred:  “Stand and stretch yourselves, bitches.  You need to be ready for hard service again in a minute.”  The four girls, all looking even more excited than before, stretched and rose, loosening up after their service as saddles.

“Esmeray, attend closely today.  First to me, of course.  But you’ll also have plenty of opportunities to observe what to expect when we return next week, and how Hong handles her jawari.  So watch and learn.  And if we’re going to blindfold the girls…” she laughed wickedly.  “They won’t have any idea what’s required of them.  So Esmeray, you’ll have to watch this week extra carefully to learn.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Esmeray agreed.

“First lesson, Esmeray, when you’re managing the girls…” Channah commented, moving so that Chas and Penny were between them both.  “You should always be considering control.  Do you have it, how to keep it, and whether you’re in any danger of losing it.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“With two tops, or dommes, and two bottoms, or subs, in an open area like this one, with no walls or other obstacles to help you corral your subs, I often like to trap the subs between us, the way we are doing right now.”

The girls glanced around in surprise at the first thought of their position, while Esmeray asked:  “What about the edges of the hetaraslakos?  Couldn’t that be a barrier?”

“Very good,” Fang nodded approvingly.   “It’s good to think about how you can use your environment in each moment.

“I agree,” Channah nodded, “but the reason I didn’t want rely on it is because simply backing your girls against a cliff is an active threat which itself is out of your control.  Unlike a wall, which you can usually count on to stay in place and limit not only your sub’s actions, but also to limit the number of environmental factors out of your control.”

“Out of my control?” she asked.

“When we’re ready for edgeplay, literal edgeplay, we might back the girls against the edge of the platforms.”

“Please, no, Dom—” Chas began, hushing when Channah placed her finger on the girl’s lips, otherwise ignoring her.

“Hush. No one is speaking to either of you girls.  It’s adult time now.”  And looking back at Esmeray, she continued with her thought:  “But what if there’s a sudden gust of wind?  Or your girl loses her balance or panics?  Or one of the damned throws an object, either to get your attention or out of frustration?  The damned are usually pretty focused on trying to reach you, but they’re not always the best-reasoned, or therefore predictable, of creatures.  The point is, once you’re sure you have control, you can take your girls to the edge.  But you get total control of your girls first, to limit the number of variables you have to worry about at one time.”

“Yes, Mistress.  Thank you.  That is helpful.”

Behind Esmeray, Hong switched back to Chinese with her girls and they began moving with purpose to form a line before her, listening to her.

Behind Channah, Fang strolled to the band of aging jawari as they finished their piece of music, and spoke with them in rapid-fire Mandarin as they nodded and bowed to her.  Chas looked a bit sad as she watched their interactions.

“What’s the matter, honey bar?” Channah asked curiously, touching Chas’s chin. 

Her eyes flickered to Channah’s, then away again, embarrassed, and she whispered:  “I was wondering… if there was a time Fang looked upon her jawari musicians with the same tenderness she shows now… for…”. Chas forced herself to look back at her and almost linched at the expression of pity in Channah’s eyes. 

“Time is a far crueler mistress than me,” Channah acknowledged.  “I’m sorry, hucow.  But if it’s any consolation, Fang values her old jawari, too.”  She sniggered.  “Dirty old jawari have their uses.  Their desperation to please… is delicious.” 

Satisfied with the orders she had issued, Fang sat on one of the benches, as calmly and precisely as she did everything, mainly focused on Hong, but briefly meeting Chas’s eye, startling her, making her wonder if she had heard the exchange.  Fang winked so that Chas looked back at Channah, then blushed harder and looked down.  Both succubae laughed as the drummers began a new piece, pounding out a much heavier percussive beat than they had before.  Soon, they were joined by a sly and suggestive melody and harmony, and finally, two of the women—one a soprano, the other a tenor—began singing to one another and the world. 

One of the last things Penny noticed before she was blindfolded, was the way the devils and demons below changed their movements and sounds when the music changed.  They were neither singing nor dancing; indeed, they could hardly be described as rhythmic.  And yet, there was something about their movements that was affected by the music from the band; some quality about their voices and expressions that complemented what the orchestra was doing.

Literature Section “06-71 Dance of the Qahramanat VI”—Part 71 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—1317 words—Accompanying Images:  1633-1636—Published 2025-04-23—©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.

1623 06-70 RAPUNZEL was less-sheltered than you girls!
1624 06-70 Those aren’t “palaces.”  Are they?
1625 06-70 I don’t think she can get pregnant that way
1626 06-70 So cute!  I wonder what they’re for?

PREVIOUSLY:  Channah, a Queen of Hell, for reasons of her own, has married two human transgender girls she is taking through the Hell of Lust to reach their honeymoon destination.  At the foreboding Chang’an Castle, Penny and Chas have been told to open Duchess Fang’s wedding gifts to their Domina, Queen Channah, while the succubae and qahramanat watch.  NOW:

About Men, Girls, and Dogs

Chas and Penny knelt near the center of the hetaraslakos, surrounded by their four counterparts kneeling in saddle position supporting the girls’ four superiors, and began carefully removing the red paper wrappings from the packages without damaging them.

Esmeray laughed harshly.  “You are girls now,” she decided, amused and slightly contemptuous.  “A man, like a dog, would just rip the paper off to see what was inside.”  And then she laughed again.  “And so would I!”

“You’re admitting you’re a dog?” Hong asked demurely, but not kindly.

Minutes after spoiling to initiate a fight, Esmeray casually waved a hand, unphased in the slightest by an insult that in some cultures was considered quite severe.  “Like a dog.  Even being like a man is better than… this,” she added, as the girls blushed three different shades of red.

“I would do the same,” Channah admitted, causing Hong to redden in turn, as Fang glared at her.  “And I am in no way like a dog.”

“Certainly not, Domina!” Hong agreed insistently, in a strangled voice, and even Esmeray had the presence of mind to murmur her agreement, without taking her eyes off the packages.

Turning her corrective gaze on Esmeray, Channah continued:  “But you are both right, we have worked very hard to support Chas’s and Penny’s development into the demure and proper young ladies they were meant to be.  Girls, I selected Esmeray for you for many reasons, but none of those reasons were to unwind your ladylike decorum and deportment.  You are my wives and I wanted you because of who you are, including the sweet and feminine young ladies you have become.”

“Yes, thank you, Domina,” they agreed, still pink.

“I know you’ve endured worse from your… stepbrothers, who have never understood your path.  Worse, because they meant it hurtfully.  And while I understand their contempt, and Esmeray’s amusement, and even share them to some extent, I never want you to change.  Promise me you will always be my sweet young girls.”

“We promise, Domina,” they murmured, staring fixedly at the contents of their packages but making no move to remove them, their ears burning.

Finally turning her gaze on the girls, she continued:  “Esmeray has not had the opportunities and training Hong has enjoyed all her life.  And I find her inappropriate candor delightfully refreshing, at least among us ladies and girls.  Never in the Show, where all my operatives have important parts to play.”  Her face softening slightly, she glanced back at Esmeray.  “To the extent they can.  But her views on your young womanhood are not among the reasons I chose her for you.  You will of course accept her insults, because she is your Qahramanah.  Try even to enjoy them as part of your training.”

And when she paused, the girls, thus prompted, managed to choke out:  “Yes, Domina.”

“But let her be the man.  I think part of her soul is one, as much as yours are female.  Her male part is necessary for your proper training, but being men—or even boys—is not for you.”  Esmeray, managing to look slightly discomfited herself, nodded as if trying to memorize something important.  Then Channah grinned, becoming jocular again:  “So get on with it, you big girls!”  As Esmeray clapped delightedly.

The Arts of the Spring

“Classic of the White Madam, and Other Spring Palace Illustrations,” Penny read the title of the elegantly-bound book in front of her, in confusion.  “Arts of the Bedchamber,” Chas read hers, her squeaky speech suggesting considerably less confusion.

As soon as they read the titles, Channah burst out laughing as Fang and Hong tittered politely.  “You had them translated into Latin, of all languages?!”

“I understand Latin is becoming a liturgical language in the West.  It seemed more amusing—and marginally less barbaric—than English,” Fang explained.  “Also, knowing barbarians lack subtlety, I asked my corrupted Jesuit missionary to render the words so vulgar and explicit even your girls would be able to understand them.”

“You’re bad,” Channah snickered.  “Look at their faces!” she broke into peals of laughter as the girls, reaching the cover illustration inside, looked like they would crawl into the little packages and wrap themselves up in the used red paper if they could.  “I love how sweet and polite they are!  Esmeray, surely even you can see how charming they are.”

“Perhaps—in moments like these,” she conceded, also enjoying herself.  “They’re so embarrassed!”

“You’d think they were more innocent than they are!  A week ago, yes.  But in the past week…”

“These are translated from the older texts, pre-Confucian in origin.  I’m confident they haven’t tried a twentieth of what is discussed in them,” Fang replied.

“I’m sure you’re right!  Oh, these are perfect wedding gifts, Fang.  Close them up, girls.”

“For such modest girls, they’re very attentive, Domina,” Hong observed.

“They certainly are!  Good students, I should think.”  She clapped her hands sharply.  “Close them!  I don’t want you seeing anything quite yet.  We shall explore these thoroughly all week!”

Channah, Fang, Hong, and even the four Hongettes from their crouched positions, laughed at the idea, while the girls reluctantly obeyed their Domina and set the packages back in the boxes.

“We have a book like this,” Esmeray admitted.  “I have never seen it, but I have heard it mentioned.”

“One Thousand and One Nights!”  Channah nodded thoughtfully.  “Yes, I should look into getting them a copy of that, which they should be able to read in the original.  And perhaps the Indian and ancient Egyptian texts on the subject.”

“Now, girls,” Hong continued, “Rise, set the books by your Domina, and each of you take one of the remaining gifts.”  When they had, Hong, with barely a pause, said:  “Chas, kneel before your Domina with the package.  As close as you can get without crowding her.”  Hong paused, looking questioningly at Fang, who asked:

“With permission, majesty, although the last gift is for your benefit, we had it in mind parts of it might be used, and all of them at least shared, by your girls’ qahramanah.  Would you prefer to open it…?”

“Not at all!  By all means, Penny, kneel before Esmeray as Chas is kneeling before me.” 

“But—this is the largest gift of all!” Esmeray protested as Penny maneuvered it in front of her.  And then, weighing it with one hand without taking it from Penny:  “And the heaviest by far, I would guess.”

“You go first then, child, while I watch,” Channah decided.

“Then hold tight, girlie!” Esmeray cautioned, before ripping the paper with a single swipe of her fingernails, then using her hands to tear open one side of the package instead of opening the top, while the other women laughed at her raw enthusiasm and earnestness.

“Her genuineness does have a… refreshing quality, Domina,” Hong conceded politely.

She started pulling gorgeous, gold-studded, tooled purple leather straps covered with gold buckles and rings, from the box which she and the girls at first stared at in confusion, before Esmeray suddenly tightened like a watchspring, gasped in recognition, and threw them violently back in the box, looking horrified.

Literature Section “06-70 Dance of the Qahramanat V”—Part 70 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—1197 words—Accompanying Images:  1623-1626—Published 2025-04-22—©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.