1931 06-120 Faerie Light of the Honeycomb
PREVIOUSLY: Chastity and Penance, under Channah’s literal and metaphorical spells, have been ritually debased, used badly, ridden hard, and victim-shamed. Channah, in high spirits from a gathering more successful than any of the succubae can remember, leads the exhausted and traumatized futa naked, through the halls of Castle Chang’an with their hands bound, by a single leash attached to both of their collars. They have just reached the Honeycomb. NOW:
A perfect, sterile, silent blackness consumed the entire world behind the heavy iron door, swallowing all light, sound, and smell alike. The moment they passed into it, the girls knew, to a moral certainty, that they were in a special place. A sacred place, with the air of the forbidden, set aside from the humdrum world all around it. But since they knew they were in hell, neither girl believed this place was actually sacred. Indeed, reason suggested, if anything… the opposite.
The walls here were a deeper, more-perfect, glassy opaque black, carved with amazing precision into perfect rectangular prisms, matched so precisely no mortar could be discerned between them. Only the faintest rectangular lines, visible as an interruption in the reflective surface, marked the end of one brick and the start of the next, betraying the fact that the walls were constructed of separate bricks rather than immense, continuous slabs. The air was cooler, dryer, and odorless here, with an underlying silence that made the girls aware how much noise they accepted every day as a normal part of everyday life.
Just inside the doorway, within the larger chamber, was a cube—or, rather, the outline of one, 12 equal-length square columns eight inches across, arranged as two squares with four connecting beams joining their corners. To enter, they stepped over one bar and “through” one side of the cube. As they stepped into the cube, their skin began to tingle, as if their entire bodies were waking up after having been asleep.
“What’s happening?!” Penance asked. “My body!” Chastity echoed her.
Channah laughed softly. “Not to worry. It’s a shield.”
“For what?”
“For the honeycomb.”
“Against what?!”
“Against you, you silly girls,” Channah chuckled. “Your filth. Have you taken a look at one another?” She snorted. “Think of it like magical hosiery or clogs. It’s doing it to me, too, to prevent my dress and boots from dripping oil and water everywhere. It’s quite pleasant, actually.”
“And dark…” Penny whispered, sounding haunted, as the door slammed closed behind them. “and silent… and odorless.”
“Aww… pooor sweetie,” Channah sympathized, sounding delighted, swooping the two girls into her arms for a tight hug. “Ooh… darlings, you’re shivering! Is this… reminding you of anything?”
“Yes, Domina,” they whined together, hugging her back fiercely, shivering not with their paresthesia but with the dread of memory of the senseless comatic holes they had been triggered into before exclaiming in reaction to another surprise, and again in unison: “Domina!”
“What is it?” she feigned surprise, knowing they were staring at her, and knowing exactly why.
“You—you’re glowing!”
She snickered, fully aware what she looked like in here, and tickled that they sounded amazed rather than horrified. Dropping her hands down to between their legs, she tested them and laughed even harder. “Oh, girls… we are definitely going to have to explore this together!”
She appeared in the honeycomb in her demonic form, a wild, fey, fiercer-than-average version of her spicy red demon self. All succubae did, in here. There was something so primal about this space, this force, that it brought out the beast in demons, ancient and fierce. Raising her hands to encompass the space all around them, she explained: “The honeycomb absorbs or filters all light, all sound, all energy, all contamination of any kind, respecting only the stuff and energy of life itself. This cube is a spell that protects the honeycomb from all the filth—well, what the honeycomb considers contaminants—accompanying… travelers through it. Otherwise, the honeycomb would bar or absorb everything: dresses, boots, jewelry, underwear… even the oil and dirt on your bodies.”
Something about the way she had said ‘travelers’ troubled Penny, who asked: “And are we—Chas and I—travelers, Domina?”
Channah turned and looked at her slowly, her lips parting in genuine surprise, almost looking… embarrassed? As if Penny had been peeping on her in her dressing chamber. “What? Whatever do you mean?”
Penny frowned, now certain of it and reading in her eyes that she knew it. Suddenly gasping in fear that she was crossing a new line with Channah, but unable to bring herself not to ask: “Are we… travelers, Domina? Or filth?”
Her mouth formed a small ‘O’ even as something between scandal and titillation flashed in her eyes. Of course, it was impossible to tell with her glowing a ruddy hue, but the expression on her face was one that suggested blushing. “Oh Penny…” she whispered. “My beautiful filth.” And she leaned forward, kissing Penny softly on her lips. Pulling both girls’ ears close to her mouth, close enough they shivered with the feel of her warm breath, she whispered even more softly: “The honeycomb is natural—or supernatural, or unnatural, but certainly, not of our fashioning, and infinite. The spell is ours, and every cube and…” she giggled, rubbing her hips against them suggestively “bit of filth we protect takes effort and attention. Besides,” she hissed, her soft voice making them feel like they were part of a conspiracy, and shrugged: “Why would we want to open the honeycomb to…” she laughed throatily. “Any bit of filth that might be capable of finding the honeycomb and wandering into it? It’s why I had to bring you here the long way around, through the Satanikoklus. So I could… welcome you inside us.”
She giggled, releasing them, and twirling prettily: “Ours is the only light not extinguished in the honeycomb. And now you know: you’ll want to stay close to me in the honeycomb, won’t you? I’ll light the way for you, and protect you from the big, scary dark.” A smile played around her lips. “Filth.”
Then she took the girls under her arms, pulling their heads in tight to her own, and kissed each in turn on their ears, whispering “Princess” to Penance and “Fuckpuppet” to Chastity, making both of them blush, before leading them forward into the dark.
She was, indeed, the sole source of light in the honeycomb, a pale, faint, and eerie reddish glow coming off her and making her look ethereal or even spectral. But there was nothing dead or even undead about her; she remained all Channah, all predator, all vibrant and exciting and completely alive—seemingly more alive than anything or anyone around her. She remained the girls’ guidelight and beacon. Always.
She murmured to them, making sure they remembered the next bar, the one forming the bottom of the cube away from the door so they wouldn’t stub their bare toes on the clear glass in the dark; and then she whispered to them “Put your heels back against the bar, girls. That’s it, so you’re standing at the very edge of the cube behind you. Now, the distance will always be the same. So when we start forward, try to take steps that are the normal size for you, whatever that is, and count them off. I’ll do the same, but for my pace. Ready, let’s go.” And she counted her own steps forward, setting the example: “One. Two. Three. Four. Five—” she hesitated, stopping them both for a moment. “It’s about to appear around us… don’t be surprised… Six!”
Literature Section “06-120 The Queen in the Hive”—more material available at TheRemainderman.com—Part 120 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—1200 words—Accompanying Images: 1931, 1947-1948—Published 2025-06-19—©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.
