Tag: queenbee

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.

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.

1602 06-65 Fang effortlessly bitch-walking the girls^
1603 06-65 Four Beauties to rival Chas and Penny^
1604 06-65 The Queen Bee Alpha Female Überfrau^

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 trapped, held by their Domina Channah while the mysterious and powerful Duchess Fang tests their compliance with her thumbs in the girls’ mouths, her long nails tickling the backs of their throats.  NOW:

“Mmm… your big pink dolphins make nice and compliant pond fish.  Your eager surprise visitor will be very pleased with their gentle dispositions.”  Fang spoke carefully, almost going out of her way to concentrate on Penny’s conflicted eyes as the faintest expression of satisfied pleasure, almost hidden successfully, flashed across her face.

Channah, who always seemed to know everything, gratifyingly stiffened a bit in surprise behind the girls.  “Visitor?  Who?”

As soon as the glint of amusement was gone from her face, Fang looked up at Channah, keeping her hands where they were.   “Your other wild horse.  I mean beside that one.”  She nodded her head toward Fury, who gave a snort of satisfaction.  “Not domesticated and neutered like these two.”  Her mouth twisted in a cruel smile, enjoying humiliating them in passing.  “Apparently, she was eager to observe their first dance.”

Channah, back to her usual self, snorted with satisfaction.  “Then I’m glad she missed it.  These two are so fun to play with, I couldn’t wait until we reached our paradise.  I gave the girls a little taste of what’s expected of them at your satanikoklus.”

“And how did they handle it, Your Majesty?”

“Like they were practically born to it.  Of course, Penny’s the shy one, but they were both most enthusiastic.”  The girls blushed at this description.

Fang smiled down at them, not entirely nicely, pulling her thumbs outward in their mouths, her sharp nails like fishhooks pulling up and out, distending their cheeks, as she laughed deep in her throat, eventually popping her thumbs out and lightly slapping each girl’s cheek.

“And do they know what pleases you, Your Majesty?  Although I gather from Penny’s sharp intake of breath, that she has some idea?”

“She knows exactly what I want,” Channah replied, both of them pleased at the way Penny squirmed.

“Then I suppose the only question is whether she loves you enough to give it to you,” Fang mused, looking contemplatively, almost judgmentally, at Penny’s burning, blushing face.

“That is about the size of it,” Channah sniggered.

Without letting go of Penny’s chin, or allowing her to break eye contact, Fang lowered her other hand to rest on Chas’s crotch, and then squeeze it.  Chas shuddered and cried out with surprise, but not resistance.

“It doesn’t feel like you’re asking very much.”

“I’m really not,” Channah chortled, seeming to have a lot more fun with this exchange than the reserved Fang.  “Might we impose on you, Fang dear, by continuing this conversation at your hetaraslakos?”

“Of course.  Your company there is always welcome.  Also, if I may, I had wedding gifts prepared for your girls.  Perhaps it would please you if I shared them now?”

“Really?”  A saucy glint immediately appeared in Channah’s eye, and she spoke for all three of them when she said:  “By all means, my curiosity is not the only thing you’re arousing.  We would like to see!”

Fang looked at the girls, as serene as always, deadpanning:  “I’d pull you by your little leads, but you’re far too short.  I’d have to walk with my knees bent.”  So she took each girl by her hair and the scruff of her neck, making them bend forward a little bit, and bitch-walked them towards the nearest door.  “As you know, Your Majesty, we actually have three hetaraslakos, one on each side.  But today, I would guess the best to try would be one of those you flew nearest, because they may have attracted a larger share of the damned.”

The girls remained carefully silent but shared what they would have liked to have been a furtive glance between themselves.

“You didn’t know?” Fang asked for the second time since they had met.  “You didn’t recognize any friends or relatives?”

“Fang… you’re naughty,” Channah teased.  “It’s no fun when you give everything away.  Yes, girls, the red devils and demons are the damned.  Or,” she reflected thoughtfully, “What we call the damned.  Since I suppose, technically, you could say everyone here, other than the quite rare sill-living visitors such as yourself, is damned.  But we use the term to mean them, the most-miserable and least-capable residents of hell.” 

Penny opened her mouth to ask about it, then visibly craned her neck toward the Countess, as much as her hand would allow, and fell silent.

Fang nodded.  “A wise girl does not keep buying before she learns the price.”

As the women walked, they switched to another language neither girl understood, or indeed had ever heard before.  They were busy enough without listening:  At the uncomfortable angle Fang was holding them, it took all their effort and attention just to crane their necks enough, and raise their eyes enough, so they could see where they were going well enough to avoid falling flat on their faces.  Although the inflections and tones of the language the women spoke were strange, neither one felt like their conversation was directed at the girls.  Instead, Penny’s best guess was, Channah was asking questions about Chang’an, or perhaps all of Hell in her absence, and Fang was answering them.

In the middle of the large and elegant building nearest the central triangle where they had landed, there was a small, parallelogram-shaped courtyard.  What appeared to be fashion workshops were visible through the windows on the right, facing a large, ornate, heavily-barred door to their left flanked by two impassive soldiers who came to rigid attention with eyes front the instant they detected Fang’s group approaching.  Immediately above the doorway were two balconies on the second and third floors, with a handful of beautiful women chatting and looking out from them over what seemed like a perfectly dismal little courtyard to Penny.  Putting herself in their place, and considering by comparison how much she missed the cool breezes and rich green-and-brown colors of Earth, she could only imagine how sterile and unpleasant life must be here to make standing on one of those porches, in this place, attractive.  It’s not like there were cool breezes on the balcony, after all; only the ever-spraying sand.

The beautiful girls immediately summoned an older woman, who nodded and bowed repeatedly as Fang spoke with her, before disappearing from sight.  The two guards, hearing the exchange, used a heavy key to unlock the gates and swing them open, confirming what had been obvious when they were still closed:  namely, that a pair of heavy wooden doors painted yellow, were immediately behind the gate.

Channah and Fang continued to wait, speaking animatedly, the Duchess continuing to use the girls as armrests, until the yellow doors were pulled open by four girls so absolutely beautiful, they immediately made Chas and Penny feel self-conscious.  Each girl carried a box wrapped in delicate red paper.  Rather than emerging, they stayed with the doors, two of them holding each one of them open, and all of them curtsying as they faced one another. 

After a momentary, but nonetheless dramatic, pause, a fifth girl strolled out of what seemed to be a harem.

And she reset the bar.

Literature Section “06-65 Hella Honeymoon XXI”—Part 65 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—1077 words—Accompanying Images:  1602-1604—Published 2025-04-17—©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.

1611 06-64 Thank you good night we love you all!!!(per Ozzy)
1612 06-64 100 Watchers! (Take Two)–Mirror Maze
1613 06-64 100!  As many times as necessary!
1614 06-64 Throwing hundreds, hundreds

Celebrating 100 Watchers milestone (again) on DeviantArt

06-64 100 Watchers! (Take Two)—Accompanying Images:  1611-1614—Published 2025-04-16—©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.