Tag: qahramanat

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.

1619 06-69 In the black Entari, The Challenger: Hanim Qahramanah!
1620 06-69 “Esmeray, save us!” squealed her sissies.  “You’re our only hope!”
1621 06-69 In the gold cheongsam, The Champion: Hong Qahramanah!

1622 06-69 Show respect, bitches!  More groveling!

06-69 Dance of the Qahramanat IV

PREVIOUSLY:  Channah, a Queen of Hell, for reasons of her own, has married two human transgender girls she is taking through the Hell of Lust on a flying chariot ride to reach their honeymoon destination.  At the foreboding Chang’an Castle, Penny and Chas have just had their first sight of their qahramanah, Hanim Esmeray, who in turn has just met Fang’s wife Hong and immediately clashed with her.  When Hong turns her back on Esmeray, Fang cries out in warning  NOW:

Hong pivoted with surprising speed on her impractical fighting boots as Esmeray laughed, taking her hand off the hilt of her scimitar.

“Esmeray,” Channah snapped, “Did you know your slaves’ legs went to jelly the moment—the very instant—they set eyes on Hong?”

And Hong chose that moment to emphasize the point by snapping:  “Show respect, bitches!”

“No, Your Majesty,” Esmeray muttered, trying not to sound jealous, watching reluctantly but attentively as the four girls fell adoringly to grovel at Hong’s feet.

“Hong, in fifteen years on the hetaraslakos, have you or anyone you’ve known suspected you could get such a reaction out of the damned by urinating on them?”

“No, Your Majesty,” Hong murmured, trying not to look embarrassed.

“Let me make this clear, abīd:  Both of you, as tiresome as you may be, are useful and valuable chattel of the Crown.  And both of you have things to learn.  If you want to ruin your rival, show her up and enjoy it when I punish her.  In fact, Fang and I will make this more interesting:  every full moon, Fang and I will decide which of you has done better, and give the winner an opportunity to humiliate the loser.”  Both women stood straighter at that, looking daggers into one another’s eyes.  “But if either of you damages the other—my property—Lilith help me, I will make you train your own replacement and then have you tortured for the rest of your human life.”

“Yes, Domina.”  “Yes, Your Majesty,” they murmured, heads bowed.

Putting Girls in Their Places

When Esmeray bowed her head, her eyes fell upon the two girls still frozen at her feet with their lips on her boots.  As if the shutter on a bull’s-eye lantern had suddenly been flipped, she gushed unexpectedly, startling no one half as much as Penny:  “Penance!” she leaned down and pulled her up.  “Get up, you two!”

And the moment they were standing, she threw her arms around Penny and cried, squeezing her:  “My little savior!”  Pulling back, she seized Penny’s cheeks and kissed her on the lips enthusiastically, heedless of the way her scars and her faerie-touched eyes and her sudden mood shift had overwhelmed the younger woman.

Releasing her, she turned to Chas.  “And you must be her whorish little friend who’s brought her back to me as a girl!”  She kissed her as fiercely and genuinely fondly as she had kissed Penny, leaving each girl as baffled and anxious as the other. 

Finally on their feet without hands on their necks holding them down, the girls were able to look around them for the first time.  In addition to the dramatic, even terrifying landscape of hell and its slavering crimson inhabitants, they saw the surface of the hetaraslakos was about 12 to 15 feet higher than the killing ground around it, and that four of the eight edges were specialized:  One facet had an enormous futon strewn with differently-shaped pillows, with a fence around it, almost like a cage or… or a crib.  A second was actually a glass platform, each block of glass resting on an iron grill and framed with iron where the grout would have been between blocks of stone, allowing the audience to see everything going on above them through the floor.  A third was an artificial pond with glass walls built from the same basic structure as the glass platform, using bronze in place of iron, and filled with water at almost unimaginable cost and effort in this place.  And the fourth was an iron framework, as complex as a cathedral, rising another 15 or 20 feet above the platform, with arms and stairs and loops everywhere.  Nearer the middle of the platform were racks containing a variety of toys and instruments, some of which the girls recognized as floggers, whips, and canes; and others with purposes the girls could not guess.  Nearer the stairwell rising at the center of the platform, and surrounding it on three sides, were a cluster of benches seating 20 musicians with different instruments.  The musicians stared carefully and doggedly directly ahead of themselves, studiously ignoring Channah, Fang, and their group.  The musicians all appeared to be older jawari, struggling twice as hard, and with half as much success, as other women to maintain their beauty.

“Now that that’s all forgotten,” Channah beamed, spreading her arms innocently, as Fang snickered at the satirical segue.  “Fang has honored us with wedding presents.”

“Square saddles!” Hong snapped her fingers, and her four submissives scrambled in front of her, startling Esmeray, shuffling to the four corners of a square with their arms out at right angles, touching one another’s fingertips to space themselves properly, before dropping to their bellies and moving their knees up to their sides.

“Girls,” Channah stepped forward, pointing to the girl at her feet.  “This is saddle position.  See how she is on her shoulders and knees, with her knees spread wide apart?”

“Yes, Domina,” they murmured, embarrassed.

“Every position a saddle girl can take is uncomfortable.”  She couldn’t prevent herself from smiling at the arousing thought.  “Especially on stone.  Even when they’re not trying to hold presents off the ground.  Because of the festivities we have planned, and because frankly the position is more pleasant for us as a footstool than an actual saddle, we won’t make them hold these positions for long.  But it’s better than sitting on the stone, and Esmeray, the effects can be… debilitating to your pets, depending on how long you make them maintain position. The point here is that in this position, their knees take enough of their weight they still breathe, while their shoulders and pelvises take enough weight to keep their knees from breaking.”

And with that, Channah—followed in quick succession by Fang and Hong, knelt with their knees outside the girls’ and their bottoms on their backs.  “Come on, Esmeray, sit,” Channah gestured, and Esmeray hesitantly did so, smiling a bit despite herself.  “Fang, is there any particular order you recommend they open the gifts?”

“Hong?” Fang asked in turn, and Hong instructed her bitches: 

“Honghua, Hongjiao, present gifts.”

Two of the girls managed to raise their presents off the ground, even from their current, uncomfortable positions, as Hong explained with a curtsy to Channah:  “Domina Channah, Domina Fang recommends your two sisterwives open these two gifts at first, simultaneously; then the remaining two.”

“Then by all means, proceed.  Girls?”  She gestured to Penny and Chas, standing awkwardly on the platform and wondering what, if anything, they should be doing.  “Kneel between us and open your gifts simultaneously.”

Literature Section “06-69 Dance of the Qahramanat IV”—Part 69 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—1097 words—Accompanying Images:  1619-1622—Published 2025-04-21—©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.

1615 06-68 Esmeray and the Devils: In her element
1616 06-68 Come closer all ye thirsty for degradation!
1617 06-68 Men draw, sissies kneel.  Choose.  NOW!
1618 06-68 A craven but fitting choice for two such sissies!

PREVIOUSLY:  Channah, a Queen of Hell, for reasons of her own, has married two human transgender girls she is taking through the Hell of Lust on a flying chariot ride to reach their honeymoon destination.  At the foreboding Chang’an Castle, Penny and Chas have just had their first sight of their qahramanah, or jawari-trainer: a woman with wild hair and a cut face, flirting with death by pissing on demons while precariously balanced on a ledge above them.  NOW:

As the wild thing turned around again, once they were able to force their eyes away from the terrible scars across her flesh and take in other details of her, they could see the robe she wore was an entari—a long Turkish robe with a high collar, buttoned from her sternum to her crotch but open above and below.  Between the entari and her skin, she—obviously, scandalously, and in defiance of all public modesty—was wearing only a sheer white chemise, cut unusually tightly, that did nothing to conceal the inner curves of her breasts or of her thighs, or of the scars marking both of them.  The sleeves of the entari went to her wrists, slit and flaring below the elbows.  Her cavalier boots rose to the middle of her so-conspicuous pale thighs.  A wide studded black leather belt circled her waist with a scabbard hanging from it, matching the thick studded black collar around her neck.

The collar around her neck reminded Penny that Hong had also worn a slim but definite cherry red choker.  As an indentured slave of the succubae herself, Penny knew what the collars meant.  But she had little enough time to dwell on it now, with the number and caliber of quick-witted, active women in positions of command all around them.

Even as the woman turned, she was letting her sheer chemise drop back into place, reaching to just above her knees, meaning—Penny still having the capability to be shocked at the novelty of the thought—her underwear was outside the tops of her boots.  Without her arms holding the entari open, it fell to cover her crotch, a minimal level of decency, if in no way a signal of modesty.  And each girl found herself wondering if the same scarring covered the tenderest and most private parts of her body, the ones they hadn’t seen…

“They’re mad for being peed on!”  She marveled, her eyes alight with a strange, unsettling combination of delight and disgust, as she strode towards the arrivals, sheathing her blade.

“They’re the mad ones.” Fang shook her head slightly.

“I love it,” Channah, who seemed to love all things chaotic and defiant, responded convincingly. 

“I think they love it and they hate it,” Esmeray opined, with a disarming sincerity.  Her rapidly-evolving emotions of discovery, amazement, disgust, and sick fascination flitted across her face in rapid succession right in front of their eyes.  Coming near them, the woman bowed like a man before the succubae.  “Your Majesty.  Your Grace,” she addressed them in turn.

Even Hell Can’t Hold Both of Them

And then she caught sight of Hong Qahramanah.  She came up short, subconsciously facing off against the Queen Bee with back straight, legs spread shoulder’s width apart, knees bent, and hands on her hips, a moment away from readiness to fight.  Hong, consciously or unconsciously, mimicked her as the two women ran their eyes judgmentally up and down one another’s bodies from crown to toe, assessing.  The air between them practically sparked with lightning.  They were so different from one another; it was inconceivable there could be any single prize for which both of them would be competitive.  So not a rivalry per se, for anything that could be identified.  But there was a definite clash, perhaps of alchemical discordance, or simply between two personalities too large and dominant to share normal space with one another.

“This must be the smug whore-taira,” the woman willfully mispronounced the Greek hetaira, which meant companion or courtesan.  And then punctuated her disdain with a deliberately overdone, gong-sounding:  “Fong.”

“And this must be the feral madwoman,” Hong gave back as good—or bad, to be sure—as she had gotten.  “Esma-crazy.”

“Esma-crazy”—presumably Hanim, Penny realized—looked at Channah and demanded:  “I’m supposed to learn from her?” while in the very same instant, Hong looked at Fang and burst out:  “I’m supposed to teach her?!”

“Now, ladies,” Channah began, as Penny—followed immediately by Chas—chose this moment to drop to her knees and press her lips to the toes of Hanim’s cavalier boots, immediately asking herself whether she was actually tasting drops of urine, or only imagining it. 

“Hanim Qahramanah,” they chorused.  “We are honored to meet you.”  But although obviously aware of them, their new Qahramanah wasn’t paying any attention to them.  Yet.

She was listening—for a moment—to Channah:  “Esmeray, believe me, Hong has things to teach you even I might not know.  Things you will find useful in this assignment and the future. And—”

Esmeray made a barking sound of disbelief:  “Ha!  These girls are obviously already completely pussy-whipped.  I don’t need any skills to train them, certainly not those of a porne—”

“Esmeray!”  Channah’s voice cracked like a whip strike shutting Esmeray’s mouth for her, before Hong could react other than to take a step back from the gravity of Esmeray’s insult, while Hong saved face by laughing musically and affecting .  “Don’t underestimate your task.  I can make anyone obey.  Remember?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” she swallowed, some distant memory flashing across her eyes.

“What I need from these jawari is much more nuanced.  And none of my succubae, who know fifty times as much as you, can do it.  Don’t underestimate the challenge I have set you.”

“Yes, Your M—”

“Domina,” Fong interrupted her rival smoothly, actually turning to put her back to Esmeray and interpose herself between the qahramanah and the Queen.  Speaking with a respectful tone, she began:  “She is right, with apologies, I know you had good reasons for selecting these sad flowers, but to a woman like me, with the goals you have assigned us, your wives are very boring and easy marks.  As little as the prospect of training foul-smelling barbarian novitiates interests me, it should take much less time than teaching a stinky crazy woman like her how to do so.  Why not let me add them to my stable for a few weeks or months?  There is an unused barn where we can stable them without bothering anyone, except for me, of course, separately from my Han thoroughbreds—”

“Hong!” Fang hissed.

“I’m sorry, Domina, but—”

“Don’t turn your back on her, haughty girl!”

Literature Section “06-68 Dance of the Qahramanat III”—Part 68 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—1036 words —Accompanying Images:  1615-1618—Published 2025-04-20—©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.

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

Literature Section “06-68 Easter Lessons”—Part 68 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—Accompanying Images:  1627-1632—Published 2025-04-17 to -20—©2025 The Remainderman.  This is a work of fiction, not a book of suggestions.  It’s filled with fantasies, idiots, and criminals. Don’t believe them or imitate them.

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

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

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

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

Hetaraslakos

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Radioactive Witch

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

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

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

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

Literature Section “06-67 Dance of the Qahramanat II”—Part 67 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—1105 words—Accompanying Images:  1608-1610—Published 2025-04-19—©2025 The Remainderman.  This is a work of fiction, not a book of suggestions.  It’s filled with fantasies, idiots, and criminals. Don’t believe them or imitate them.

1605 06-66 Hong ❤️ Fang colon A real and mannered love^
1606 06-66 Penny and Chas anxious to please superior woman^
1607 06-66 Lesser girls instinctively know they belong at the Uberfrau’s feet^

PREVIOUSLY:  Channah, a Queen of Hell, for reasons of her own, has married two human transgender girls she is taking through the Hell of Lust on a flying chariot ride to reach their honeymoon destination.  At the foreboding Chang’an Castle, their Dominae confront Penny and Chas with four young women whose beauty challenges their own… and then with every girl’s worst nightmare:  the mean girl who has it all, over them all.  NOW:

One Alpha Bitch to Rule Them All

The young lady standing with utter confidence in the courtyard, looking idly around it as if bored and waiting for something interesting to happen, was achingly beautiful. 

So striking, so self-assured, so symmetrical, and so gorgeous, she made the four beauties who had preceded her look like plain wallflowers, and made Penny and Chas feel the same way.  She positively glowed with health, and apparently she felt dominant enough to pause a beat before even acknowledging the two succubae.

Like every other woman in the courtyard and harem—every other human woman—Penny and Chas knew. 

Instantly, deeply, before their conscious minds had had time to process it, their subconscious and their bodies knew. 

That she was The One.

The Queen Bee.

The alpha female.

And, of course, she knew it, too.  How could she not?

Her poise was absolute.

Even the ruthlessly-drilled, relentlessly-trained guards couldn’t keep their eyes front.  Inevitably, their gaze were drawn to her, and they could only hope their ruler and their liege lady didn’t notice.

But obviously, they did.  They noticed all the affected humans around them, and chortled deep in their throats, too entertained by what they were watching to have any interest in bringing it to a premature end.

“I can hardly wait,” Channah murmured mysteriously in anticipation.

“Your girls went to water the moment she appeared,” Fang reported gleefully, knowing she was embarrassing them, and enjoying it.  Fang momentarily dropped her hands to the girls’ buttocks, gripping them and pressing her middle fingers hard to emphasize her dominance before returning them to their position of control on the girls’ necks and hair.

As the überbitch tossed her hair, turned toward, and approached them, Channah agreed proudly:  “They’re most responsive,” before admitting seriously:  “You are amazing, Fang.  It’s another reason I want them to spend time with you.  So she can spend time with you.  Teach her.”

Fang turned her head to meet Channah’s eyes and opined seriously:  “That girl is not simply a ‘wild’ horse.  She is a crazy horse.  She cannot be trained.  Only used, and taught what she wants to learn.  But of course, Your Majesty, I will do what I can.”

“She does respond well to… challenges.”

Fang smiled.  “Which brings us back to… I can hardly wait.”

The young woman curtsied, deeply and precisely, as her four attendants dropped to their knees behind her and lowered their heads to the stone, holding their gifts out before them without allowing them to touch the ground.   Her attendants were about the same age as Chas and Penny; their superior—clearly, in every way—perhaps five or ten years older.

“Dominae,” the young woman greeted them, startling the girls, who had only been taught to use the greeting as Channah’s wives to her, and those she appointed in her stead.

As if to clarify things, Fang bent forward slightly, murmuring “My hearth,” as the woman stepped forward and kissed her on the lips, the two lingering to touch tongues.

Stepping back and sparing a first glance for Penny and Chas, the same look you would give a pair of ants interfering with a picnic by crawling across your blanket, the girl shook her head slightly in disbelief.  “I don’t have to train these two, do I, Domina?”

Fang laughed appreciatively.  “No, dear one.  We’re going to introduce them to their qahramanah.  The one you are to coach.  She is waiting for us in one of the heteraslakos.”  Pulling the girls’ heads in tight to her shoulders to alert them she was speaking to them, Fang clarified:  “But like all jawari, you girls are to address all qahramanat properly and respectfully on the rare occasions you are allowed to meet them, by dropping to your knees and kissing their boots, holding the position until they instruct you how they want you to behave.  It is an element of your training.  You will find it makes you more respectful toward all of your superiors.”  And with that, she let go of them. 

After a second’s hesitant uncertainty, with the glance they shared so often before acting, both girls dropped to their knees and planted their lips on the toes of each of her perfect boots.  With their world reduced to her boots and the stone she was standing on, they noticed a gold anklet around her left boot with four pendants hanging from it, each one a delicate crystal hexagonal prism set in gold.  “You are always to greet her as Hong Qahrahmanah, and your own qahramanah as Hanim Qahramanah.  In front of others, you may never use abbreviations, never skip the honorific.  Your relationship with your qahramanah is all about protocol, protocol, protocol.  Do you understand, girls?”

“Yes, Domina,” they murmured, trying to speak without lifting their lips from the perfectly-polished, highly-reflective surfaces of the cherry red boots.  And then:  “We are pleased to meet you, Hong Qahramanah.”

Hong ignored them, speaking to Fang instead:  “I myself have never had the honor of meeting another qahrahmanah before.”  She didn’t sound like she considered the prospect an honor.  She sounded like she considered the idea as boring as the idea of training Penny and Chas.

“This one is special,” Channah interrupted.  “Unlike you and the other four, training girls is not her… natural inclination.”

Fang snorted, apparently finding something about that amusing.

“But she has special skills necessary to train my little housegifts.” Changing the pitch of her voice, she addressed the girls:  “You girls are honored to be among the first generation of jawari to be favored with the benefit of a qahramanah to train you.  Yours is only the sixth to be appointed.  Hong was the first.  And her little jawari—what are they called?”

“I made them take new names to remind them, and everyone they know, that they are mine now,” Hong reported, as casually as one might mention finding a misplaced spoon.  Although the girls could not see anything other than her boots, vague movements reflected in them, and the black stone floor, they could sense as she twisted a bit, gesturing back over her shoulder:  “Honghua, Hongjiao, Hongzhi, and Hongan.  Show respect, bitches.”

And immediately the four girls swarmed forward and began pressing their lips to her boots, so she was now surrounded by a ring of six subservient jawari.  The excitement and enthusiasm of her four girls were palpable and intense.  Either they were eagerly looking forward to something special, or they were simply the highest, happiest people in hell.

Channah and Fang congratulated her on their responsiveness.  Laughingly, Channah asked:  “You made them add ‘Hong’ to their names?”

“No, their old names were stupid and didn’t go with mine so I just gave them new ones.”

“Eminently practical,” Channah complemented her, and snickered.  “Are they ready?”

“Of course, Domina!  They are predictably—pathetically—eager.  Desperate, as men are.”

Literature Section “06-66 Dance of the Qahramanat I”—Part 66 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—1143 words—Accompanying Images:  1605-1607—Published 2025-04-18—©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.