Tag: restraint

2200 07-38 Chthonic Tarot–Pharaoh of Diamonds–Mexico (Poker-sized–variant A)
2200 07-38 Chthonic Tarot–Pharaoh of Diamonds–Mexico (Tarot-sized–variant A)
2201 07-38 Chthonic Tarot–Pharaoh of Diamonds–Mexico (Poker-sized–variant B)
2201 07-38 Chthonic Tarot–Pharaoh of Diamonds–Mexico (Tarot-sized–variant B)
2239 07-38C supply-your-own caption
2240 07-38C Penny Finds Hong too Mesmerizing to Mind
2237 07-38C THANK YOU 200 Watchers! …again (broken heart queen)
2238 07-38C THANK YOU 200 Watchers! …again (death card queen)

WARNING:  CONTAINS SEXUALLY EXPLICIT CONTENT.

GAME RULES AVAILABLE HERE. [INSERT LINK]

RM: https://theremainderman.com/stories/07-38a-mans-ruin-succubaean-rules-for-playing-perdition/

DA:  https://www.deviantart.com/theremainderman-com/art/07-38A-Man-s-Ruin-Succubaean-Perdition-Rules-1239280264

PREVIOUSLY:  Channah and Húanglóng have agreed to resolve a disagreement between them by betting on a game of Perdition:  Demonic Tarot.  When Penny is upset to find her services anted up into the pot, Channah dares her to raise the stakes and fight for herself.  The game is beginning with the serious business of betting enhanced by shameless teasing and cheating on the side.  NOW:

Stake 1—Betting Their Asses

“As the hostess, it falls to me to call for the stakes.  With the House whole,” Channah began, batting her eyelashes at her husband:  “Sweetie dear, since you are offering a condition…”

Húanglóng responded, rolling his eyes:  “Yes, dear.  Channah, as stakes for this game, I offer the services of myself and two of my best vassals—their selection being subject to your veto—to spend exactly one week at Sademtsaowah using every ounce of our persuasive powers in good faith training every jariya you deliver to us there during the week we are committed to staying.  And as a condition for inducing you to make a counter-stake, I renounce any claim that under our marriage contract, marrying chattel would change their status or their treatment.”

“Thank you, my love,” Channah smiled and reciprocated:  “Húanglóng, as stakes for this game, I offer the services of my servants George, Jacob, Esmeray, Chastity, and Penance, with Fang’s consent Huifen—”

Fang quietly but audibly intoned “Consent.”

“and with Kadidia’s consent Boubacar—”

Kadidia likewise murmured “Consent.”

“In their present condition less any losses they incur during this esteemed game, for a period of exactly one week, with title and no restrictions of any kind except that you must return them in at least as good as the condition you received them, subject to normal wear and tear.  I will deliver them to you without anything else, not so much as a stitch of clothing or a sip of water, if you can win more tricks than me before the House is unsealed.”

“Your counter is acceptable, and my offer is firm.”

“I accept it.”

“DONE!” they both cried, slamming their fists on the table.

“Well-met and well-bet!” came several approving cries from around the table.

Stake 2—Staked and Baked

Practically before the cheers were finished, Judas impatiently barked:

“As stakes for every trick of this game, I offer on behalf of the Lodge that every member of the team losing the highest-ranked card, take a deep draught.  And as a condition for inducing the members of each team to agree, I propose every member of the Lodge finish a tankard or a bong before each deal and certify their compliance by pronouncing themselves ‘Staked and Baked’!”

“Seconded!” Húanglóng, Rivqah, and Kadidia all roared at once.  “Vote!”

“Aye!” every demon at the table announced, and then immediately stared at Penny, whose jaw had dropped at the proposal and had to close her mouth before she gulped.

“Excuse me, Mistresses and Masters.”  Turning to her teammates she asked “What do you think?”

While behind her came a chorus of loud boos and razz noises.  Penny glanced back, looking indignant, and burst:  “What?!  Mistresses.”

“This isn’t a democracy!” 

“Who do you think you’re playing with?!”

“I was told the rules—” more catcalls immediately drowned out Penny’s ability to speak, and almost, she capitulated, but noticing several players were laughing, Jacob looked pissed, Tiferet looked curious, and the human lovers looked resigned (and ignoring George’s confused expression), Penny frowned thoughtfully, turning back towards her teammates.

Before she could even articulate her question, Chas, with a gesture for her to hurry, said: “Yes!  Yes!  Of course!”

“Fine,” Esmeray agreed, unphased.

“Ah—Aye?” Penny said back to the table

“DONE!” Judas led a chorus comprised of everyone at the table except Penny, likewise leading the Lodge by slamming his fist down into the table.

“PRINCESS!”  Channah bellowed.

“Done,” Startled, she rapped the table unconvincingly, earning another round of complaints.

Stake 3—Packed and Jacked

“Is this one as soft as she seems?”  Judas demanded.

“She is!”  Kadidia, Rivqah, and Miriam all chorused with various degrees of disparagement while Penny’s shoulders stiffened and Channah choked with laughter on the bong she was inhaling from.

Judas shook his head while Húanglóng barked, “I think I see where this is going!  Doing—as you have asked—by applying my ingenuity to their training, I think we need to play by dragon rules.  I propose we add the Dragon King rule for the duration of the game!”  From their reactions, Channah and her handmaidens knew this rule, and would be likely to approve.

“I am not familiar with that,” Judas admitted, while several other players shook their heads to indicate the same.

“Point of order—” Penny raised her hand, being completely ignored by Húanglóng, who bellowed over her:

“I propose, starting immediately, that the starter of each deal be able to unilaterally change and add rules at the beginning of each deal!”

“I love it!”  “Second!”  “Vote!” various demons cried.

Penny seized a momentary silence to blurt out at high speed:  “point-of-order-you-can’t-add-rules-the-first-round!”  And then when the demons came up short, staring at her, she swallowed again.  “Can you?”

Kadidia and Fang exchanged an amused, but intent look over Penny’s head that the girls would soon understand meant they were communicating through their minds.  With a decisive nod, they both surprised Penny by sliding right up against her from either side, hooking their near arms under hers to push them behind their shoulders where they would be useless and locking them in place with their own arms, their near hands each reaching around Penny’s head to play with her hair and ears and giggling at her reaction.

“Hey!”  Penny protested ineffectually.  “Wha—you can’t—can you?!”

“Actually, we can, chattel,” Fang assured her.  “As long as we don’t interfere with your game play—and since we haven’t even chosen the starter or the dealer yet, there’s no game to play—we can do—” she leaned in, brushing her lips over Kadidia’s hand and Penny’s ear to whisper:  “whatever we want.”

“And make you do whatever we want,” Kadidia added, reminding her:  “You’re still property of our Queen, and thus chattel to all the succubae.  Chattel.”  And then, seeing how Penny gasped, she reached her far hand around, nodding at Fang who followed her lead.  Both of them placed their hands on Penny’s knees, and when she tried instinctively to snap them together, both succubae laughed, slipping their hands partway up Penny’s thighs and seizing them by their insides, pulling them insistently.  “Are you… resisting, chattel?”  her soft, pseudo-intimate suggestion hinting at closeness while being pitched loudly enough for the whole table to hear, provoking a round of expressions of surprise and mock-concern.

“No, Mistress,” Penny whined, deflating and yielding as the two succubae prised her knees apart and then gasping again in shock, amusing the other teams, as they deftly lifted them over their own knees.

Before their hands snuck back towards Penny’s crotch, almost making the poor girl hyperventilate.

“Don’t move them back unless we tell you to,” Fang whispered.

“No, Mistress!”

“Do you know what your Domina gave us?”

“No, Mistress?”  Penny sounded uncertain and nervous.

“Access… privileges…” Fang hissed sensually, as her hand closed on Penny’s cage, squeezing it to command it to open and pulling it from her body, eliciting a deep, shocked breath that turned into a querulous squeal.

“She sounds scared!” Judas laughed.  “Certainly not the reaction you’d expect from a girl lucky enough to have kept her cock.  So far.”

“Oh, she doesn’t have a cock—look at it,” Fang simpered, leaning back so by leaning forward Judas could see it.

With a surprised sound, he laughed:  “Point taken!”

“But her clitty is very.  Hard,” Fang purred.

“And it is cute,” Kadidia teased.

“I’d warn you she hasn’t been allowed any cummies in some time and she’s close to popping but…” Channah shrugged.

“Oh, it’s obvious,” Kadidia laughed.

 “Open your mouth,” Fang commanded her quietly; and then:  “Wider.”  And when Penny obeyed, she pushed the cage, and the hem of Penny’s dress, between her teeth, commanding her to “Hold those fast!” This, and the way they were holding her arms behind them and her legs on top of theirs, had two salutary effects:  The first, of putting Penny completely on display for the very salacious attentions of her admirers, and the second, of shutting Penny up. 

Fang held up a single finger, her index finger, so close to Penny’s face her eyes crossed, and then slowly and dramatically, dropped it between Penny’s legs, tickle-stroking her clit from one end to the other, eliciting a forceful, helpless squeak and a helpless shudder that caused the entire crowd to erupt in delight.  Her face turned red and she writhed and shuddered helplessly under the intensity of Fang’s one, delicate, carefully-applied fingertip, entertaining the Lodge even as it embarrassed her.  Most of all, it embarrassed her she couldn’t help her body’s (and if she could admit it to herself, her soul’s) responses to the things that were done to her, no matter how much she tried.  It made her feel like a scandalous, sinful little hussy, and she was afraid it revealed her to be exactly that.

“What do you think… shouldn’t your team vote to play Dragon King Perdition?  Hmm baby?”

“You know we’d think up ever such sensual and obscene pleasures a scandalous, sinful little hussy like you would adore!”

Penny made a sharp, screeching sound of protest as the room erupted in cruel laughter, mortified and dismayed to have her own thoughts—thoughts she wished she could stop herself hearing, or better yet even having—broadcast to the roomful of people around her. 

“And I think we could add rules in the first round,” Kadidia managed to make it sound like something she’d just decided this moment, as her finger began brushing over Penny’s taint, slipping insidiously between the rising globes of her buttocks to explore and tease where they had not been invited.  But Penny’s face and labored breath and glowing skin made it obvious to everyone in the room that she was incapable of offering resistance to any violation, however outrageous, if only her expert handlers were the ones to demand it of her.  Her hips were starting to shift and roll, and the sounds she made when she breathed were becoming higher-pitched and harder.  “Don’t you, ‘zuckerbär’?”

“Maybe—” Penny almost seemed to have forgotten her mouth was supposed to be holding her cage and hem; the dress didn’t fall far, but her cage would have fallen to the floor and rolled under the table if Fang hadn’t caught it and tossed it on the table before setting her hand back to work.  “Domina Esmeray please—”

“Nooo,” her qahramanah promptly said, firmly and lyrically, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world but she was trying to explain it to a child.  Pushing her knuckles into Penny’s back, she urged her:  “Say ‘no’ or say nothing!” 

“Yes Mistress—I mean, no! OHOWOWOWW!” her voice jumped an octave and several decibels as Kadidia’s teasing finger curled with her other fingers into a vise she clamped around Penny’s purse, twisting and pinching it brutally enough that Penny instinctively started bringing her legs together and trying to struggle out of their arms.  But they just laughed, Kadidia wrenching all the harder and Fang turning her own gentle fingertip into a raking claw.

“Legs spread!” they both commanded at once, and with a whimper, and then sobbing, Penny made herself yield, her knees shaking with the effort to fight her own instincts while Kadidia continued to hurt her, confused further as Fang kissed her sweetly… and then Kadidia, aggressively.

Around them, the assault on Penny was bad news for everyone else of lower status.  The wisdom of Tifaret’s proactive attentions to her Queen became more obvious—by anticipating her liege’s pleasure, she at least had some measure of agency over how she served it. Whether Channah was kinder to her than her handmaidens had been to the cambions because of her demonic purity, or because of her cleverness, was not entirely clear.  But their particular cruelty to Jacob seemed confirmed by how Rivqah, almost idly, was turning and twisting the nipple clamps she had just affixed to him.  Oliver’s fate, meanwhile, was somewhere in the middle:  Standing rigidly, facing away from the table, to form a seat-back for Miriam.

Húanglóng, sitting on the other side of Fang, snarled, making a mildly disgusted gesture towards Penny, its mildness expressing more about his laid-back personality than his opinion of people:  “You’re rewarding her!  She’s clearly a nervous Nellie, a sour-faced Puritan, and even worse—a pedantic pseudo-intellectual!  All at once!”

“Pseudo-intellectual,” Channah crowed.  “Ouch!  I’ll have you know I’ve invested in years of education for these three!”

“They’re shitting cattle!  Swine before whom you’ve cast your pearls.  ‘Pseudo’ at best, I’d say.  And I can assure you, little Ms. Twit—” Húanglóng shook his finger at Penny accusingly “—if you so much as open your entitled little mouth while you’re reporting to me, I’ll fill it immediately with something that needs servicing!  Speaking of which….”

Everyone who was a full-blooded demon was laughing, as Húanglóng leaned behind Fang to grab Huifen around her waist and Hong by her arm, pulling them both over to him and sitting them on opposite knees as they squealed and purred perfectly for him.  “Seeing as how you’re not using these…”

Fang’s face revealed little or nothing, but it can be said she didn’t look enthusiastic, or necessarily even pleased, by the King’s—not even her King’s—helping himself to her property.

Húanglóng would not have noticed if she had been more expressive; he was already locking lips with Hong, who was giggling and moving her hand between his legs, while Huifen followed her Mistress’s lead, leaning over to kiss his neck and running her hand over his chest.

On the other side of Esmeray, Judas, complaining:  “I’m not going to be the only one left out!  You two!” he snapped his finger at Chastity and Boubacar.  “Come get on my knees!”

Chastity felt her heart flutter; she just couldn’t tell why.  She felt fear, primarily of the unknown, but she also felt excitement, from that, and the way Judas looked; which was normal enough—not like the Dragon King with his nearly divine charisma and size—but fit and well-maintained.  And not the tiniest part of her was glad someone had at least picked her!  A minute later, despite her embarrassment at being ordered around and used as a prostitute, and by a male no less, she also felt herself hardening , provoking a pleased chuckle from Judas when he felt it.  It was a vile, nasty, dirty, delicious, daring excitement she’d become trained to without ever intending to; a shameful, wicked, thrilling feeling just on the cusp between craving and nausea, that she hadn’t felt with such force since her fagmaster had graduated a year ahead of her.  It was a kind of a sick, conditioned thrill serving the succubae hadn’t juiced her with.  Chastity didn’t know why, exactly; only that her reaction to being dominated by Judas was stronger and more confusing than serving Mayaan, or Channah and her Duchesses. 

She blushed a brilliant tomato red.  And she kinda liked it.

Obviously, she was not alone in her helpless and conflicted reactions to her treatment.  Fang was whispering, with mock-disgust:  “She’s leaking!” just as—miraculously from Penny’s point of view—Kadidia released her brutal hold on Penny, moving her hand to yank Penny forward by her leg until her bottom was hanging off the edge of the divan and only her legs and arms were holding her aloft.  Fang giggled, blowing on Penny’s ear.  “I’m not sure if I did this by exciting her, or you made her pee in fear!  A little bit of both, I think.”

“Either way, it will have to do,” Kadidia rumbled, collecting it on her fingertip and immediately pushing her long, powerful middle finger against, and then inside, Penny’s bottom as she cooed helplessly.  Her cry degenerated rapidly into a strange, delighted, strangled, gurgling sigh of a kind.  She concluded, with a satisfied smirk:  “How’s it feel to be packed and jacked, sweetie?”  The question was taken as rhetorical by the other demons, who laughed and applauded.

“Don’t sway!” Esmeray—the only one of the humans and cambions not being actively used by demons—took advantage of her situation to protect her team’s interests.  Alarmed, she growled, tapping Penny’s shoulder insistently from behind, seizing Penny’s neck with her other hand and pulling back on it so she could bite the back of her neck sharply to keep her attention focused.  “Demand they sustain your point of order!”

“I—er…” Penny croaked, her legs straightening and her toes pointing over her captors’ laps as she shuddered slightly:  “Sustained—me—please…”

Channah, laughing with the rest of them but quite serious, slammed her palms on the table and commanded, with a resigned tone:  “Stop!  She is not to cum!”

And as Fang and Kadidia abruptly withdrew, laughing in a conspiracy of glances, they revealed the wreck that was left of Penny, her eyes rolled up inside the lids of her eyes, her mouth hanging wide open and gasping, her head rolling from side to side, lying with her hands curled around Kadidia’s and Fang’s shoulders holding tight for dear life, her legs straight out and toes curling back in a hyperextended split, her whole body shuddering on her captors as her sensitive little clit throbbed with as much yang as it could muster between her legs.

Kadidia casually dipped and waggled her finger in Penny’s wine cup and fed it to her, quietly ordering her to clean it, repeating the action until she was satisfied her hand was pristine, as the conversation continued around them.

Stake 4—Orgasm Control

The whole table stared with fascinated suspense as Judas cried “A Hate she still comes!”

“I’ll cover that action,” Rivqah answered.  “Idiot.”

“How little he thinks of succubae!” Miriam agreed.

“Bring it in-house!” Tifaret demanded, requesting that he not merely lay a side bet but add stakes to the game, as Penny’s shaking slowed.

“Hear hear!” several others chorused.

“Whoever makes her cum first—” Judas started, distracted for good reason.

“No!  Boo!” came shouts immediately from most of the succubae around them, laughing and shaking their heads.

“What?”

“You are not going to reward anyone for making her cum!”  Channah complained.

“Whyever not?”

“Males!” howled the succubae from every direction, and even Judas laughed guiltily.

“Really, as with any steer, it wouldn’t be much of a bet, would it?” Rivqah observed.  “I mean…” she gestured towards the still-struggling, gasping Penny.

Tifaret snorted, almost spitting out a mouthful of wine.  “The only question would be whether we’d accidentally tear her little clit off as we fought to touch it first!”

“A touch is all it would take!” Fang agreed, smirking down at Penny’s bobbing member.  “Still!  She’s a horny little bitch.”

“And more to the point,” Húanglóng yelled, “No cheapening of the stakes!”

“I would never!” Judas thundered.  “You impugn me, sir!”  And then immediately undermined his own indignation by murmuring:  “What did I do?” revealing he clearly had no idea what Húanglóng was talking about.

“This steer is already a stake between Channah and I,” the dragon explained, “Any jariya, but especially a steer, is worth more quick than slack!”

“Well, I mean… a bull is worth more quick, surely?”  Rivqah frowned.

“Not to me,” Judas scoffed.  “I don’t need them hard.  Not that it’s ever a problem….”

The original steer in question finally started to calm, breathing more regularly, her muscles slowly relaxing from bow-taut to slumped, with a forlorn expression that amused those who saw it.

“Oh, all right,” Judas conceded.  “But if you want a prudish bet it will be better-formed by one of my viraginous sisters.”

“Damned right you are!” Kadidia agreed.

As it happened, it it was Esmeray who startled them all by making a not-very-modest proposal:  “As stakes for the game, I offer on behalf of the Lodge that if any other team makes Penny cum, they have to clean it up with their tongues.”

The table erupted immediately with exaggerated objections before she was even finished:  “No!”  “Outrageous!”  “She’s just a slave!”  “She should reward us for that!”

So Esmeray had to raise her voice to finish her wager:  “And if Penny or Chastity makes her cum, I’m going to fist them with the biggest item in their toybox and leave it inside the offender.”

The protests immediately trailed off as everyone at the table, while laughing or somehow managing not to, agreed that was fair.  Well, everyone except Penny and Chas, who despite their respective distractions, were startled enough to stare at her in shock.

“I think that should protect your interests dear, and my plans,” Channah admitted.  “Assuming, that is, Penny understands what we’re talking about?”  Everyone immediately looked at Penny, whose expression was all the answer they needed.  “I’d say she’s worked it out.”

Penny, afraid of being blamed for a demon’s work, could only manage:  “Maybe it would be best if you—put my cage back on, Domina?”

As the players dissolved in laughter, Channah shook her head.  “Certainly not!  Esmeray, if you could learn to enjoy the interests of succubae you’d have a bright future at this game.  That was an excellent wager.  Now I feel torn between my plans for Penny and the bright spectacle of someone having to deliver!  Exactly what this game is about!”

“Second!” called Kadidia, clarifying “the newly-proposed game stakes.”

Húanglóng, Rivqah, and Miriam all roared at once.  “Vote!”

“Done!” shouted everyone at the table, except Penny again (if she could even be said to be “at the table” anymore), whose jaw had dropped at the proposal and who didn’t even turn to her teammates before instinctively beginning:  “No!—” But Esmeray was ready for her, bringing her hand up from Penny’s neck to her mouth, covering it firmly and pulling the smaller woman back against her shoulder as Esmeray declared “Done,” in her usual businesslike way.  Penny instinctively reached up to seize Esmeray’s hands, but then hesitated, and instead of fighting, she obediently held onto Esmeray’s arm, looking indignant but uncertain.

Chas thought about trying to stand up for her friend, expecting (or perhaps, more accurately, hoping) it was pointless, and feeling guilty for her silence.

Kadidia, however, did act—offering a fresh bong to Esmeray and suggesting:  “This will fill her as well as a cock and better than your hand.”  And when she saw Esmeray wasn’t following:  “Use it for a pacifier on your zuckerbär.” 

“She’ll choke on it,” Esmeray assured her.  “And then probably throw up.  On us, Mistress.”

“From what I’ve seen of the girl, she’s likely right,” Fang conceded.  “Perhaps she should stick with the spiked wine.”

Kadidia considered for a minute, then looked thoughtfully at Channah, her lips curved upwards in amusement:  “You want to keep your wives and your bed sweet, don’t you?”

 “Perhaps 3 nights out of 4,” Channah allowed.  “And rough the other one.”  The demons roared with laughter.  “But…” Channah’s eyes narrowed.  “I expect they’ll need to be sweet with their clients more often than that.  But never dull,” she emphasized.  “Never dull in my bed or with their clients.  I have whorehouses full of those.”

“The Germans have been experimenting with all manner of tinctures.”

“Alchemists?”

“Some of them, yes; others, physicians.  A Swiss one, Theophrastus von Hohenheim,” she laughed “with a choleric temperament that continually gets him into trouble has invented a number of laughably toxic and other dangerous concoctions, including one called laudanum.  But his ‘laudanum’ does contain one ancient and proven medicine, a most agreeable tincture of the poppy, which I like to blend with the tincture of Má.”  She set a small bottle on the table filled with a dirty dark-brown liquid.  “It can be diluted in wine or simply mixed with honey or blackstrap molasses.  Although Boubacar’s training is so far advanced, he will eat the tincture by itself!” Kadidia laughed, not quite pleasantly.  “Make her suck on this until it’s empty.  You’ll see.”

And when Esmeray nodded, Kadidia rolled it into Penny’s mouth, as Esmeray raised her hand, lowering it back down and then jiggling it in Penny’s mouth as she looked down at her, drinking up her affront and submission like a drug. “You heard grandmother.  Suck on it for mommy.  I said—” and then, seeing Penny comply, she looked back up at the table, well pleased with herself.

Stake 5—Conspiracy of Silence

“Yes,” Miriam agreed, “It is good to silence a slave.  To that end, for the benefit of and on behalf of the Lodge, I propose as stakes for the game that anyone who raises a point of order that a majority of the Lodge overrules has to spend the rest of the game as a—”

“Except dealing!” Channah interjected.

“The rest of the game except dealing, as naked furniture of choice for the starter team.”

It was seconded and done as quickly as it was proposed, Esmeray both agreeing and ensuring with a glance that Chas remained quiet and with her hand that Penance did.  Although her eyes blazed with the injustice and unreasonableness of what was happening, Penny just clung to Esmeray’s arm, tears stinging her eyes.

Stake 6—Opposing Forces

Judas grinned evilly.

“Simply to keep the game interesting…”

“Oh, we must keep it interesting,” Channah agreed.

“On behalf of the Lodge, I propose as stakes for the trick that any team, including, ah—let’s see—Aristotle and Ms. Glower over there!” And he snapped his finger with his arm pointing toward Penny and Esmeray.

“Meoto,” Rivqah prompted, proposing one of Penny’s nicknames—chatterbox, which in Japanese also implied effeminacy.

“Yes! Meoto’s team!  Any team with a member moving their flesh against Meoto’s clitoris and  purse before the first card is played in each trick, may switch turn-order with anyone else for that trick.”

This proposal actually prompted a second of silence before people started responding.  There were two “seconds,” but Miriam began hesitantly:  “That… sounds like….”  Then she shook her head.  “Never mind.” 

“It’s not a rule modification!”  Judas insisted, knowing what she had been considering asking. 
“Each party to the transaction is just agreeing they will switch their own place if they lose the bet, and since it’s a proposed rule for the lodge, everyone will have made the same agreement!”

“Plausible….”  “I like it!” “Oh, come now, how can we resist?”  The demons offered a variety of thoughts that fell somewhere between excuses and true agreements.

“Second, but only with the clarification that your flesh must be moving against hers at all times you’re touching,” Fang suggested, resting her hand familiarly—almost possessively—on Penny’s still bare lower belly, demonstrating by pushing and stroking her skin in a teasing game of proximity to Penny’s sex as she glanced at her victim and winked, before turning her attention back to the table, her hand lazily circling Penny’s belly and thighs and hips, as Penny froze like a deer in a bulls’-eye lantern, hardly breathing.  “I don’t want any teams camping out on her flesh without taking a risk…”

Channah looked torn, but finally shrugged with the grudging suggestion of a smile.  “Fine.  It’s clever, Miss Fang.  A delightful opposition of forces.”

Fang looked down at her victim and observed:  “It may not be that much of a risk…. Your girl doesn’t seem to be much of an exhibitionist.”

“We’re working on her,” Rivqah offered spiritedly.

“Then your amendment—or ‘clarification’—is accepted and the stakes, so modified, offered again,” Judas announced, having it seconded and approved as quickly as in the previous round.  “That’s what they call a ‘cum bet’ in Hazard.”

“And I supposed,” Fang drawled, “we’d call this little twig here a ‘cum bar’?”

“Precisely!”

Penny, in the arms of two different women, and yet in a counterpoise of her own, managed to look miserable and defiant all at once.

“Any other stakes?” Channah asked.

“Next round, certainly!”

“Then let’s play!”

RULES OF THE CARD GAME THE CHARACTERS ARE PLAYING AVAILABLE HERE. [INSERT LINK]

RM: https://theremainderman.com/stories/07-38a-mans-ruin-succubaean-rules-for-playing-perdition/

DA:  https://www.deviantart.com/theremainderman-com/art/07-38A-Man-s-Ruin-Succubaean-Perdition-Rules-1239280264

Literature Section “07-38C Just Some Bad Dirty Fun:  Packing and Jacking”—more material available at TheRemainderman.com—Part 38 of Chapter Seven, “Channah’s Slavegirls:  Pawns of the Court of Lust”—4417 words—Accompanying Images:  2200-2201, 2237-2240—Published 2025-09-18—©2025 The Remainderman.  This is a work of fiction, not a book of suggestions.  It’s filled with fantasies, stupid choices, evil, harm, danger, death, mythical creatures, idiots, and criminals. Don’t try, believe, or imitate them or any of it.

2123 07-26 Oh, sweetie, you’re a mess
2124 07-26 BAD girl, letting it spill everywhere!
2125 07-26 What a good girl, taking your medicine

CAUTION:  Contains themes of heavy bondage and degradation some readers may find disturbing (even the abridged version).

Explicit version containing oralsex, fellatio, deepthroat, swallowing, orgasm, bullying, overpowering, and consensualnonconsent themes at 07-26X Teaching Her How to Swallow at Patreon.com/TheRemainderman

PREVIOUSLY:  Channah, Chastity, and Penance are honeymooning at Channah’s secret tropical paradise.  After becoming concerned Chastity was playing her (and afraid she was being gullible), Channah has been angrily and rigorously testing Penny by pushing her limits; now she has chained her down with her wrists and ankles locked above her head.  NOW:

“You’re in quite a pickle, aren’t you, little Princess?”  Channah teased her.

“I am!  Yes, Mistress!”  She protested.  “Please, Domi—”

“Let me see…” she cut her girl off.  “I seem to remember you’re… ticklish!” she roared, pouncing on the soft, vulnerable soles of Penny’s feet, tickling them while Penny jumped and jerked and squealed and hyperventilated and kicked.  “Was that a rhetorical question, do you think, Penny?” she snarked.

“No Domina, I—I am ticklish, Domina!  I’m ticklish!”

And she continued tickling and tormenting her for another minute or two, reveling in the girl’s extreme reaction.  “Oh, Pleaser,” she mumbled, “I don’t know why, but the results of the tickle test are as conclusive as those of the batting test:  I have a best-in-class—by which I mean, wimpiest, most-pathetic, weakest, and most-sensitive—sissy ever on my hands!  Darling, you are going to be helpless before me!”

“I know!  I already am!  I always have been, Domina!” she cried, an ineffectual protest directed at no one.  “Of COURSE I am!  But I don’t know why I was made this way!”

Moving around to the side of the lounge and watching Penny’s face as she calmed down and recovered her breath, she felt another stab of intense pleasure between her legs when Penny finally opened her shy eyes and blushed prettily for her Domina.  “I love you so much, Domina,” she pledged, her eyes so big and honest Channah just melted.

“Oh, Princess, I love you!  Don’t you see it, silly?  You were made for me:  body and soul, my perfect plaything!”  She felt the familiar changes in her lower body while an even-more-embarrassed Penny looked down at it and whispered:

“Oh, my!  Made for just you…. Only you?” she mused, sounding kind of distracted and bemused.  “Gawd, maybe I was…”  and then she whispered, very quietly, looking up at Channah in wonder with the biggest most-innocent eyes Channah could remember seeing as Channah climbed onto the stone lounge over her:  “Is it really possible, Domina?” 

“Oh yes, slut.  Oh yes it is!”  And standing with her feet just against the outsides of Penny’s hips, she leaned forward, resting her knees on the elevated section of the lounge and wordlessly presenting herself to Penny.  Licking her lips and taking in a deep breath, Penny opened wide.  Resting her elbows on Penny’s lower arms and sighing with pleasure, she used the stability of her elbows and knees to remain just at the line between what her girl could and could not handle.   “Oh, that’s it, you dirty bitch!  Oh… someday soon, I’m going to teach you to love all of me!”  The noises coming out of her slave’s mouth went up in pitch and almost sounded like her vocal cords were involved in trying to articulate actual words.  Channah nodded and laughed:  “I mean it, you will learn!  And honey… as long as you wear my collar, we have –literally—all the time in the world to train you.  We’ll get there.  Oh!  I’m looking forward to that!  I’ll ask my metalsmith if she can’t tweak one of your final chakra guards to help with that….” 

Rotating and bouncing her hips, gently and carefully, as she panted and bit her lip, she sank into a hazy state of bliss.  Suddenly, she laughed again—more softly, with delight instead of power—and giggled:  “I just realized:  with my elbows on your forearms, if I cross my arms…” and Penny, squealing in protest, felt what Channah was about to say, even as she said it:  “I can tickle your feet!”  And, hooting, she proceeded to do just that, snorting and bucking on top of Penny, crying out deliriously:  “The way you’re moving!  Oh shit!  Oh shit!  I’m goooonnnnnaaaah!”

Her poor girl was wiggling, struggling to breathe, helpless with Channah driving her to distraction even before the final complication Channah imposed on her.   “Oh fuck!  Oh fuck!  Oh fuh-huh-huh-huh-huck!” Channah snarled, losing herself completely.

Shaking her head to clear it and using one hand to brush her hair back out of her eyes, Channah finally collected herself enough to look down at the noisy, thrashing mess below her and gasped:  “Oh, shit!” as the girl gasped for breath.  “Oh, you’re glad I love you, darling… I kind of lost myself there, didn’t I, sweetheart?  Oh, there, there, baby…. Breathe, honeygirl, It’s okay…” she calmed and soothed her babygirl, feeling everything at the same time:  deep love, genuine concern for her well-being, and a secret pride at how thoroughly she had topped the little bitch.  “That was so satisfying,” she admitted, continuing dreamily:  “It’s going to be even better after I’ve finished training you….”  Slipping off the lounge, she grabbed her bag, then returned to the lounge, sitting down right in front of Penny’s hips, using a clean rag to settle her while Channah made soothing, loving noises, her eyes dancing with impish pleasure at her girl’s teary eyes and exhausted face.  And then, managing to sound surprised, as if she’d just come across this helpless, befuddled girl tied up in a forest, the effect only slightly spoiled by her sniggering:  “Sweetie, you’re a complete mess!”  Whining sympathetically, she leaned in, almost like she was going to kiss her, and then shook her head as if scandalized.  “Oh, darling!  Here, drink, drink, drink it all down,” she sang, holding her canteen to Penny’s lips and pouring water in her mouth.  Then she unwrapped a small, translucent ellipsoid, carefully tipping the canteen until a small squirt of water cascaded down over the ellipsoid, and began applying it to Penny’s face, nodding encouragingly when Penny instinctively pulled her head back from the smell.  “It’s mint.  Don’t you like it?”

“Yes, Domina,” Penny spoke softly, subdued.  Subdued… just the idea of it made Channah tingle.

Literature Section “07-26[X] Teaching Her How to Swallow”—more material available at TheRemainderman.com—Part 26 of Chapter Seven, “Channah’s Slavegirls:  Pawns of the Court of Lust”—Abridged 967 words::Explicit 1232 words—Accompanying Images:  2123-2125, 2123X, 2126X—Published 2025-07-26—©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.

2037 07-12 Venus Mantrap
2038 07-12 Nocturnal Predator
2039 07-12 The Serpent in the Garden
2040 07-12 Down the Garden Path
2041 07-12 Led Astray
2042 07-12 Don’t Look Up

PREVIOUSLY:  After a week of hazing by the succubae, and a looooong day and night’s sleep, the first full day of Chastity’s and Penance’s honeymoon with Channah is finally beginning.  NOW:

They had tumbled into Channah’s bed around midday.  Like humans, succubae experienced sleep cycles; but the most-active phases of their sleep, in particular, differed markedly.  Channah, in her sleep, had visited her current stable of dream-lovers.  She liked to keep 36 of them.  She wasn’t rigid about it, but it was a good target number, one that kept her fed and fueled her active and assertive life as a Queen of Hell.  Every succubus had her own preferred hunting grounds.  Because of the sheer scale of her appetites, and the power level required to dominate the rest of her species, she haunted sailing ships and army camps.  She kept seducing those she found awake by whispering into and touching their subconscious minds, to keep them focused on her and make them weaker.  And she had ridden those she found most-vulnerable and asleep, as hard as she could.  By the earliest hours of the morning, she was refreshed and filled to bursting with energy.

Even as she opened her eyes, she sensed Chastity, to her left, was awake; while Penance, to her right, remained asleep.  Turning her head slowly she met Chastity’s eyes, watching her so intently it took the motion of her head to alert her Channah was awake.  “Are you restless, my love?” she whispered.

“I wouldn’t say that, exactly…. I slept quite a long time.”

“Have you been awake long?”

“Perhaps an hour, or a bit more?” Chas guessed.

“Staring at me?” She smiled slyly.  “Or staring at us both?”

She didn’t need to see color clearly to know when Chas was blushing.  “A little bit.  Well, yes.”

“And?  How did it make you feel?”

“Amazed,” Chas admitted.  “You’re the most beautiful things in the world.  And so blessed…” then she caught herself, blushing.  “Or… I mean… fortunate.”

“I love it,” she smirked.  “And I love you for thinking that.”  She rolled toward Chas and kissed her softly, once, before deciding that wasn’t enough and kissing her again.  They wrapped their arms around one another, moving slowly so as not to wake Penny, and held one another tightly for the longest, sweetest kissing session either of them could remember for a long time.

It was only when Chas shifted slightly that Channah growled a throaty laugh, reaching her hand down to find the source of the problem.  Pulling back an inch and licking her lips, she giggled:  “Ohhh… baby… are those nasty Persian Gates starting to pinch again?”

“Yes, Domina,” Chas confessed. 

“Mm… well, let’s do something about that.”

“Oh… yes, please Mistress,” Chastity agreed, desperate to release the pressure she was feeling.

“Let’s get your leathers,” she whispered.  “This is my day, remember?”

“Yes, Domina,” Chas swallowed.  “What about Penny?”

She looked back over her shoulder, fondly, then grinned.  “Sleeping the sleep of the innocent at heart.  I’ve got more than enough energy for both of you.  Let’s let him rest up while I wear you out and then maybe you’ll be able to sleep a bit more.”  And she laughed, pushing Chas off the bed before her, and then taking her by the hand to lead her down the stairs from her bedroom.  At the bottom of the stairs she physically turned Chas so she was facing the garden and informed him laughingly:  “Keep your eyes front, missy, while I look through your toybox.  Well…. My Toybox, of toys for playing with Chastity,” she clarified.

“Um…. To tell you the truth, Domina, it’s so dark I don’t think I could see what you were doing even if I were right beside you,” Chas admitted.  “But of course I won’t peek, Domina.”

“Better yet, why don’t you get some cushions from the salon—in front of you—and bring them along?”  Channah could see as well in darkness as in daylight; even better, in some ways, in some wavelengths.  Placing most of the items she had selected in a bag, she took Chas’s arm (since her hands were now full holding three large cushions), kissed her, and set off along the garden path toward the baths.

“Are we going to take another bath?”  Chas asked breathlessly.

“You’ll see,” she promised, laughing girlishly and hiding whatever she had behind her, leading Chas all the way to the second spring, the one that fed the main garden stream.  There, she turned right, leading Chas along its rocky bank, under the canopy of the trees until they reached another open spot, mixed garden and grass, overlooking the great valley.  Within it, at the edge overlooking the valley, was a simple stone gazebo.

“It’s all so beautiful—I feel like it’s a magical world… it’s—” and suddenly she interrupted herself with a sharp intake of breath.  Channah laughed, guessing what she had seen:  the heavy hook, hanging from the roof of the gazebo, just a bit above head level.

“Set the cushions on the stone platform,” she commanded, tugging Chas forward, not allowing her to stop for more than a second beside the platform, and positioned her directly beneath the hook.  Dropping whatever she had brought with a rustle and clatter, she brought both her hands to Chas’s cheeks and neck, pulling her in for a long, slow, hot kiss, and then running her hands over Chastity’s shoulders and tummy and breasts while continuing to kiss her.

Breaking their kiss and humming happily, she squatted down to retrieve her bag and handed it to Chastity to hold while she rummaged through it until she found what she was looking for.  While she kissed Chastity’s cheeks and lips softly, Chastity felt Channah take her right hand and then her left, massaging each arm and fastening the cuffs in their familiar places around her wrists.  Next, laughing as she kissed Chastity deeply, she pulled two more cuffs out of the bag.  Then she and smouched her way down Chastity’s neck, breasts, and stomach to tease her caged flesh and kiss, kiss, kiss under her belly button and in the crevices where her legs met her torso and even the front of her thighs, totally distracting Chastity—not that she needed to—as she locked Chastity’s ankles. 

Working her way back up Chas’s body, she pulled a short length of chain from the bag, drawing the cold metal teasingly up Chas’s skin, catching both her arms, and pulling her hands in front of her.  In the night, in the shadow of the gazebo, Chastity saw only the corner of Channah’s wicked smile clearly, but she knew she was looking straight into her eyes, as she used carabiners to attach the two ends of the chain to her wrist cuffs.  Chastity let out a shuddering breath as Channah lifted her hands over her head and slid the chain over the hook.

“Have you figured it out yet, sweetie?”

Chas knew she meant, what Channah had in mind, because she had not locked or tied Chas’s hands to the hook and Chas could slip them off the hook anytime if she wanted.  “No…” she admitted, both excited and scared at once. 

With a deep-throated laugh, Channah drew another short chain from the bag as she kissed her way back down her girl’s body and chained her ankles together.

“I—I don’t understand—” Chas whined, as she began moving back up again.

“I think you do, baby.”

“I mean—I mean, you can’t—can you?”

Literature Section “07-12 The Garden Path at Night”—more material available at TheRemainderman.com—Part 12 of Chapter Seven, “Channah’s Slavegirls:  Pawns of the Court of Lust”—1230 words—Accompanying Images:  2037-2042—Published 2025-07-12—©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.


2001 07-04 Welcome to Paradise
2002 07-04 This is MY garden

PREVIOUSLY:  For seven days and nights, Chastity and Penance have been tormented, tested, pushed, and bewitched by Channah, her succubae, her human operatives, and others, with every tool and tactic available, leaving them feeling rootless, lost, malleable, in need of comfort, and desperate for love.  Now, finally, Channah gives them what they long for.  NOW:

“You girls have done so well!  I know, you’ve had a hard, challenging week.  But I’m so proud of the way you’ve handled it!  Handled yourselves!  Now comes the part I’ve been wanting, even hurting for with you, the whole time.  It’s been so… cutting and hard, watching you sweeties go through the trials and indignities of the demon wedding ritual.  But you’ve made it through them!  And now you will experience, even more than before, the intensity and ecstasy of demon marriage.  A deep, special pleasure that requires more than affection to nurture and grow.”

“I don’t have a knife with me, or I would cut your bonds right here.  I want to show you my paradise without any remnant of the pain from this world, but I don’t want to make you stand here in the dark while I go and fetch one.  So I’m going to take you straight to the bath and free you there.  Ooh… I don’t even want to interrupt our intimacy, but I want to make it perfect for all of us…. Let me show you our special and wonderful home.  I love sharing this with you so much!”

Letting go of them both, and squealing excitedly, barely able to contain herself, she paused and looked back at them, her hands already pressing on the door, her body arched delightfully, a moment burned into all three of their memories.  The girls would always remember her there, their bedraggled fairie queen full of incredible potential promise, self-assured and seemingly relishing everything life had to offer no matter how amazing or daunting, glowing like a saint and bringing light and life to the cold black honeycomb, her perfection untouched by her disheveled state.  And Channah would always remember the naked, vulnerable, dependent, hungry, blind hope and faith and trust reflected in their shining eyes, and the raw need and desire for her, her comfort, her favor, and her love, emanating from her two most-intimate victims and lovers.

With a shudder, reflecting her own passion for this place, and her eagerness to share it with them, she pushed open the heavy iron door and admitted them to paradise.

Light cracked through the door first as it opened.  There was something clear and almost hard about it, a momentary impression immediately overcome by the excitement and hope of a perfect early spring morning.

The air was cool and invigorating, fresh with life and fragrant with the smell of flowers and forest.  The sky was sweet and bright and vibrant, energy practically radiating from it.  Before them were vital and verdant trees, vines, and bushes, the encouragement of life, embraced by the solidity and nurturing reassurance of the Earth beneath them and, as they found themselves stepping out of a tunnel in the bottom of a cliff, behind them.  The perfect black stones of the honeycomb ended abruptly as they stepped through the doorway onto a garden path made of what their tour guide called orange adoquin stone, perfectly fitted to one another with no visible grout between them.

The path divided immediately.  It ran a few yards to the right along the bottom hem of the greyish-black volcanic cliff soaring above them, until—contained by a crenellation in the cliff wall, it was forced to bend to the left and disappear behind the trees.

Channah pushed the door closed behind them, sliding two heavy drawbars from holes in the cliff wall across the top and bottom of the iron door to secure it, latching them in place and making it impossible to open with anything less than a battering ram.  Then she moved her hands quickly in the air before the door causing a brief glamour to sparkle and fade, suggesting even a battering ram might have trouble getting in.

She shrugged and smiled her beautiful smile.  “I don’t require much, actual security.  But I do value my privacy.  It is more precious to me than you can imagine.  And the three of us are the only people here in my mountain paradise.  Do you feel the air?  How thin it is?”  And she enjoyed watching them breathe, eyes unfocused as they concentrated on feeling their breath in their throats and lungs.  “If you don’t now, you will when you exert yourselves.  And I mean for you both to do so,” she giggled, touching both their bottoms rudely and pulling them into her sides.  “A lot.  If you’ve never been at altitude before, you’ll feel you’re struggling for breath until your body adjusts.  That will take a couple of days.  We’re in a mountain valley—more like a pocket, a cauldron lined with cliffs, high in the peaks, with only two entrances, the honeycomb and a natural cave, both warded to alert me to any potential trespassers so I can know we’re alone and no one is going to come running to me with their problems and concerns.  It calms me so much,” she sighed.  “It’s the only time I’m really off work, in a way.”  She shook her head, contemplating how busy she had been, and for how long.

And then she turned them gently to face the left branch of the path, causing them to gasp in wonder.  It was a reaction she had obviously anticipated, and equally obviously, enjoyed.  This way, the path descended gently and widened for a few yards, cliffs on the left and the dense, heavy forest on the right, until it reached a clear, beautiful pool in the rocks, fed by an irregular fountain of water pouring from a crack in the cliff wall and draining… well, it was complicated.  And, just beyond that, a breathtaking vista.

There were actually three fountains and three waterways, a fact they slowly absorbed as she guided them down the path towards it, explaining, her hands protectively holding theirs.  “They’re natural springs.  The first one is my hot bath.”  And indeed, they could see steam rising from the water where it emerged from the rock in a line with the surface of the smallish pool, a bowl about the size of a royal carriage with no obvious egress for the water.  The force of the water entering at its margin caused its surface to ripple and bubble constantly. “The second is the mountain stream that waters my gardens.”  It appeared to be the largest flow of water by volume, cascading down a spill of rocks to a narrow pool, more like a water trench or a troth, feeding a stream that disappeared into the woods.  “And the third is my washing-pool, which all three of us need desperately! 

Literature Section “07-04 The Secret Garden Mouth”—more material available at TheRemainderman.com—Part 04 of Chapter Seven, “Channah’s Slavegirls:  Pawns of the Court of Lust”—1104 words—Accompanying Images:  2001-2002—Published 2025-07-04—©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.


1996 07-03 Get thee before me, Satan
1997 07-03 Lambs trusting the Dragon
1998 07-02 Channah’s evil thoughts
1999 07-03 Let’s get this party STARTED, bitches!!!
2000 07-03 Barefoot and ensorcelled–just how Channah likes them

PREVIOUSLY:  For seven days and nights, Chastity and Penance have been tormented, tested, pushed, and bewitched by Channah, her succubae, her human operatives, and others, with every tool and tactic available to the succubae on Earth and in Hell, with the twin goals of perfecting a decade of training and preparation while bringing them mentally to their current state:  uprooted, lost, malleable, in need of comfort, and desperate for love.  Having taken them—figuratively and literally—through hell, Channah ushers them now to her paradise.  NOW:

Channah was still fully dressed, wearing her customary, splendid scarlet court gown and tall black shiny high-heeled riding boots, the same things she had worn since they left Fensmere and Earth this morning, which seemed like a lifetime ago now.  Or, at least, she wore the scuffed, dirty, oily, torn, abraded remnants of the clothes she had donned at Fensmere, insofar as they remained after the orgiastic, satanic rituals at Chang’an, the skyride across the Hell of Lust, their impromptu performance at the satanikoklus, and whatever she had got up to while the girls were tethered in the honeycomb at Sademtsaowah. 

Her girls were stripped, covered in so much oil and filth and dirt that they had caused the soiling of her own clothing, Kadidia’s and Esmeray’s clothing, and several square yards of the ritual site.  Their bare skin was marked with scrapes, minor cuts, ligature marks, and, more heavily, with bruises, some smoldering and purple, some still fresh and angry and red, from their training and discipline over the preceding seven days and nights.  To any observers, they appeared to wear only their collars, short leashes, navel rings, and the ropes binding their wrists.  Not readily visible, but certainly of equal importance in their experiences, were the four items—in addition to the roots of their navel rings—buried deep inside their bodies:  two plugs in their ears depriving them completely of any ability to see, hear, taste, or smell anything outside their own bodies; and the twisters and triggers that rested, churned, or swam by turns, at Channah’s command, inside their guts.  But even with all that, what they and she were surely most-conscious of at this moment, was how thoroughly (with the sole exception of their primary sexual organs hanging as obsoletely as appendices from their crotches) their bodies had been transformed from the male bodies they grew up with to their new, ultrafeminine curves.

She held their leashes over her shoulders, her hands in front of her belly, using their chastity cages hooked to and tangled in the leashes like handles for better leverage, casually forcing them to rest their chins on her shoulders and to awkwardly scramble, their shoulders and chests pressed tightly against her back, behind her.  She expected them to accommodate her own brisk and confident walk with theirs, and they were certainly in no doubt about that.  She was, after all, their superior.  She could feel the tension and stress in their bodies as they tried to keep their balance, keep their soft bare feet away from her boots with their sharp heels, and keep up with her using only their sense of touch.

She was snickering, well-pleased with herself and already teetering on the tingly edge of arousal when she led her girls through the honeycomb and up to the iron door separating it from her retreat. 

Gently pushing Penny up against the door, she put her hand up tight behind the girl’s soft hair to protect her from the door behind her, knowing she was about to startle the girl.  Only then, did she brush her lips across her young wife’s, refusing to let her pull back as her instincts tried to do when they felt an unexpected touch on such a vulnerable and personal part of her body.  Resting her lips softly there for a moment, while her girl calmed down, Channah pushed her tongue into Penny’s mouth, feeling her relax and wondering if she could tell it was Channah once it penetrated past her lips.  Perhaps she recognized something familiar about the feel or taste or smell of her, or perhaps even her kissing style.  Knowing Penny, she suspected she could.  Not because she obeyed the unspoken command to admit Channah’s tongue, but because she responded almost immediately, kissing back with a palpable enthusiasm, even of the closest thing to aggression Penny was capable of, making a soft moue of relief and welcome that warmed Channah’s heart despite herself.

Then she laughed, as Penny pushed herself forward and even flicked her tongue against Channah’s.  Pulling on Penny’s hair as she laughed at her, she broke their kiss, softly pecking at the corners of Penny’s helpless mouth as if to tell her that was enough.  Next, she turned around and relaxed back against Penny, smooshing her between the hard iron behind her and the soft swells of Channah’s buttocks and shoulders, really pushing into her so she knew she was being held in place and not forgotten, giggling and shivering with pleasure as she felt Penny’s lips and tongue begin attending to the sensitive back of her neck and shoulders.

Pulling Chastity in close to her, slowly enough she could tell it was a gesture of intimacy, she repeated the same soft initial brush pass she had used to signal her intentions to Penny.  Chas neither pulled back nor immediately reciprocated, but instead hesitated a moment before kissing her back, confidently but less ardently than Penny.  Raising her hands to Chastity’s ears, she removed her plugs and pocketed them, hearing Chas’s whimper of relief as she regained her senses. 

“Domina!” she gasped, her voice somewhere between a whine and a moan, before pushing forward against the older woman and almost attacking her mouth.  She laughed as she returned the kiss, carelessly using Penny as her cushion, hardly thinking of her as she focused her attention on Chastity, running her hands through her oily hair and over her dirty skin with gusto.  Earthy and about as far from neurotic as one could be, Channah was not fazed by anything as minor as a sloppy encounter.  In fact, she could even relish a bit of the funkiness and imperfection of the world because it was so visceral and real, especially when she knew the chaos and disorder was of her own causation, rather than reflecting any lack of attention or respect for her, coming from her partners. 

When they finally came up for breath, she giggled, stroking Chas’s cheek softly and saying:  “Penny’s turn.  Here, come to me.”  She wrapped her right arm around Chas’s head and pulled it in against her breast, forcing Chas to follow as she turned back towards Penny, managing to reach both of Penny’s ears, remove her plugs, and transfer the plug from her right to her left hand without ever releasing, or even loosening, Chas.  Pocketing the plugs carefully, she purred with happiness as Penny crushed her lips against Channah’s.

“Oh, oh, oh, mm…” she murmured around their kisses, sensing again how much more desperate and hungry Penny’s kisses were than Chas’s confident and content ones.  “It’s so nice to be missed and wanted.  I love you girls.”

“We love you Domina!” they both cried, pressing on her with enough force that she backed into the wall beside the door with both girls’ weight squeezing her in a way she found delightfully affectionate.  After a couple of moments, she loosened her arm and moved her hand so she was now holding both girls by their hair, allowing Chas’s face up and startling them—again without allowing either girl to even think of resisting—by pushing their chins and noses against hers, flicking her tongue across both of their mouths at the same time, their faces fitting against one another like three pieces of a pie.

Pausing, she scolded them:  “Where are your tongues?  Don’t be shy.  You’re sisterwives now!  You don’t have to enjoy kissing one another, but you absolutely, positively can never be hesitant or reserved about kissing me, just because you’re sharing me!”  Then she dove back in, her aggression, and the size of her tongue, coaxing her girls into responding.  Laughing again, she murmured:  “We are going to have the most wonderful week together….  Do you want to see my home?  Well… you’re my wives, aren’t you?” she gasped, sounding surprised, as she realized:  “That makes it our home, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, Domina!” they agreed, happy and warmed by the idea.

Literature Section “07-03 Ready for Love”—more material available at TheRemainderman.com—Part 03 of Chapter Seven, “Channah’s Slavegirls:  Pawns of the Court of Lust”—1330 words—Accompanying Images:  1984-1988—Published 2025-07-04 (early a.m.)—©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.


1984 07-02 Into the Labyrinth–We can fly!
1985 07-02 You’ll be fine when you solve the maze
1986 07-02 What’s happening to us?!?!
1987 07-02 The World Turned Upside Down
1988 07-02 Fairies may or may not be real
1989 07-02 Make your choices, and live with them!
1990 07-02 Good girls get dunce-boxed forever
1991 07-02 Bad girls go anywhere they want!
1992 07-02 Oh no!  We could’ve been us!  Or them?
1993 07-02 Here there are worlds and worlds and worlds…
1994 07-02 Domina… You’re getting bigger!  No, you’re getting smaller
1995 07-02 In here, all truths are revealed

PREVIOUSLY:  Channah had shaken Chastity and Penance to their cores by binding them and then stripping them of their senses one by one—sight, sound, smell, taste, and then—finally, with triggers inserted inside them, even touch and their awareness of their own bodies, leaving them completely isolated from the world, themselves, and reality.  Now, only hours later, she has triggered the girls’ PTSD by leaving them kneeling naked, hands tied behind their backs, collars locked to rings at floor level, and alone in the eerie Honeycomb—vulnerable, bound, hitched, and stripped of their senses of sight, smell, hearing, and taste.  They remained connected to the world, and to reality, only by their sense of touch and their awareness of their own bodies, and trapped in their fear, uncertainty, and inability to resist anything else she might choose to do to them.  NOW:

Channah had, quite willfully and naughtily, allowed herself to become distracted, first by her castellan and other officials, then by her petitioners, and finally by a lover.  She spent most of her time on Earth, and even the time she had for hell had to be divided among different castles by the global nature of her responsibilities.  Inevitably, on the rare occasions she did return to Sademtsaowah, when she finally did reappear, she was besieged by the attentions of those she had ignored for far too long.

She had tried to assure them she would be returning next weekend, with her new brides, their qahramanah, and even Kadidia—all of those big draws for her curious officers and staff—but they had heard her promise how quickly she would be back so many times, they discounted her assurances to near nothing.  This time, they would see she meant it.  As much as Fang’s exhaustion concerned her with the possibility something similar could happen to her, she didn’t expect the girls could ever release that much sado-sexual sorcery again. But that wouldn’t stop her from trying to make it happen, she thought happily.

She had told her two girls she would leave them kneeling on the hard stone floor, virtually mummified and immobilized, for about half an hour.  In the event, it was between four and five hours later that she finally returned to the honeycomb, casually chatting with the guards posted outside, for a moment before proceeding inside.  Entering it, as she finally did, she brought light and noise to what had been a perfectly dark and silent space.  But of course, her girls could not be aware of that, with the plugs she had placed in their ears and more-importantly, the triggers she and Kadidia had pushed up inside their bellies.  She could strip them of their remaining sense, and indeed their connections to their own bodies, with a thought, anytime she wished; and she was confident they suspected and feared that to be the case.  Still, there was no way she was going to give them the satisfaction or certainty of confirming or denying it categorically.  Let them feel the creeping uncertainty and loss of confidence in their own awareness of reality, and the limits—if any—of her power that came with such profound uncertainty about something as fundamental as their very connection to the world.

Walking around behind her girls, she stood for a moment and regarded their beautiful backs and hips.  They were gorgeous, two of Channah’s best creations, submissive, feminine, eager to please her, kneeling there with their legs spread revealing their little hints of wannabe manhood below their taints—not men.  They would never be men.  That was never in the cards for her little futas—never had been.  Femmebois.

Both girls were showing signs of physical distress, shifting almost constantly, rearranging their legs, even daring to break position for a moment to straighten one leg and then another, pointing and stretching their toes like ballerinas, inadvertently shifting their hips like whores.  Penny was shivering slightly, a function of temperature but even more, Channah judged, of anxiety and dread.  Chastity moaned and whimpered, little sounds of her own distress, even panic.  Chastity seemed to be even more-affected than Penny had been, about the trigger.

Channah felt herself becoming aroused and reflected, not for the first time since she had broken them, how much she enjoyed their sexual ambivalence, and how muc                                                          h they made her appreciate her own.  It was a combination, she speculated, of their appearance, their submission, the fact she couldn’t drain them without throwing away decades of her own hard work, and the fact she had made them, thought by thought, feeling by feeling, experience by experience, even hip by hip and breast by breast.  Oh—and the maddening, fascinating technical “virginity” of her number one whore.  And the fact the little bitch’s personality had, so far, made her act and feel almost like a superior little virgin, no matter what Channah subjected her to. 

Usually, as much as she enjoyed the transgression of penetrating a boycow, she enjoyed being a woman so much it made her one of the straightest succubae around.  And, of course, she reflected smugly, she liked the fact that no one else on Earth or in Hell ever had to compromise less than she did.  That was always a fucking turn-on.  Something that, she could perhaps admit to herself, had discouraged her from experimenting with her staff side as freely as she might otherwise have done.  It almost made her resentful of her girls, for forcing her to abandon—or at least suspend—that conceit, even if it was at her own choice to fulfill her own ambitions.  She want to punish them, for making her compromise her own rigid, dominant femininity; and she couldn’t help the feeling they were asking for it, the little two-faced strumpet-prigs.  Among a species more sexually-ambivalent than almost any other, being ultra-, exceptionally-, uncompromisingly- feminine was a badge to Channah of her own uniqueness and power.

All of which kind of pissed her off.   Well, really pissed her off.  At them.  Again.  The whiny little straitlaced better-than-thou virginal sheltered taffeta-girl wimps!

Regarding their insolent buttocks thrust up at her like challenges—or at the very least, invitations—she felt herself breathing more heavily, her forehead and coccyx twitching with the rising urge to strike and penetrate them both here.  She could hardly imagine how badly they would freak out to feel her pushing lube into their sphincters, reminding them of the last time they had thought themselves senseless until she showed them what it really meant…

“Fuck!”  She shivered and rolled her eyes, turning away and forcing her thoughts down gentler courses.  She should have done these things on the heteraslakos if she were in the mood for it.  And she could always do it next weekend.  Or the next.  Or the one after that….

But she’d already pushed her girls harder than she’d pushed anyone she wanted to be genuinely intimate with before.  And she needed them to be intimate with her—needed them to love and trust her and depend on her.  She had to rein herself in and give them love they could understand.  Love they were more than ready for.  Love they did need, and maybe she wanted, just for a little bit—just for fun.  Only, she’d made them such perfect demon-bait… too fucking perfect… Only, they drove her so crazy—

Roughly and impulsively, allowing herself to womanhandle them and leave them helpless and lost to sate her own desire to punish and dominate them, she unhooked their collars from the hitching rings.  She enjoyed very much how startled and fearful each girl was at the first touch, shocked to feel evidence of anyone else after hours of being lonely and abandoned, even if they had spent those hours pining for her.  They were uncertain who was unhitching them and what they would be subjected to next.  They had no idea, and no way of finding out. 

She yanked the girls to their feet by their shortleashes and, after she was sure they both had enough circulation and feeling in their legs to keep their feet, casually draped the leashes over her shoulders, pulling their chins down right beside her ears and shivering with the feel of their soft skin and softer breath.  Pulling and holding the shortleashes tight, she forced the girls to follow her closely while trying not to trip over their Domina or their own feet.  She giggled, feeling them struggle and try to move cautiously, fearful that their next step might be on a painful or treacherous or difficult surface, as she led them back into—and through—the honeycomb.

Literature Section “07-02 Honeycomb Funhouse Mindfuck”—more material available at TheRemainderman.com—Part 2 of Chapter Seven, “Channah’s Slavegirls:  Pawns of the Court of Lust”—1240 words—Accompanying Images:  1984-1995—Published 2025-07-02—©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.


1951 06-122 Lead us into temptation
1952 06-122 Deliver us unto evil
1953 06-122 Thy will be done
1954 06-122 Thy Kingdom Come
1955 06-122 On Earth as it is in Hell

Explicit version containing masturbation, orgasm, cunnilingus, and consensualnonconsent themes at 06-122[X] Arousing a Succubus at Patreon.com/TheRemainderman

PREVIOUSLY:  Chastity and Penance, naked, vulnerable, and bound, completely traumatized by their recent, total sensory isolation, have been led by Channah into a place of darkness silence and sterility.  They plead with her not to leave them here while she runs a quick errand.  NOW:

She whispered, her voice cracking with emotion:  “First you want me and love me.  Then you frustrate me and try to thwart my plans… and now you show pathetic need and fear?  To me?!  The Queen of the Succubae?”  She asked incredulously, shuddering and closing her eyes, feeling their fear spike to panic.  “Ooohhh…” she hissed slowly, pressing her hands between her legs.  “You poor girls are terrified… of me, and of losing me.  All at once!  While I’m still mad at you!  Ungh!”

She opened her eyes, staring deeply into theirs.  “You girls are perfect!  Thank you, you silly cows!”  And as she felt their hopes start to rise:  “All you had to do was behave like men, just a little bit!  Show some courage!  Show some independence!  But no… you’re just teases!  I’m gonna mess you girls up so hard you’re going to learn to lose control from fear and arousal at the same time.”  Then she laughed, shaking as their hopes crashed back into confusion about what they had done, and terror of what she might do to them… outweighed only by their desperation for her to stay with them in the Honeycomb and protect them.  “You two are quite mad, to tease and enrage a succubus that way.  When are you going to learn your lessons?”  She shook her head, incredulously.  “My lessons, that you waste!”

Pulling something small from her pocket, she approached Chastity, staring down at her, ignoring their blubbering, confused, frightened questions—well, not the emotion of them, that she lapped up.  Only the content.  Then Channah stepped over the beam on the floor, to which Chastity was tied, one high-heeled boot and then the other, delicately and sluttily at once; before dropping to sit on the bar, her crotch right in Chastity’s face, locked in front of her by the ring fastened to Chas’s collar.

“Bitches!  SILENCE!” she commanded, her thunderous voice swatting theirs down to muteness as quickly and effectively as a professional boxer might put an elementary-school thumb-wrestler in his place with a knockout punch.  “You’ve only got yourselves to blame for your current predicament, after all.  Don’t come whining to me now!  I’m dying to start our honeymoon… it’s all I’m thinking of!  Can you imagine what it’s like to be a Queen, with so many responsibilities, everybody’s boss, always being expected to have all the answers and make all the right decisions, and take care of all the little weaklings around her, all the time?  ALL I’ve been fantasizing about since our wedding is our seclusion, away from the world, away from other people, away from any chance of risk or harm, where I don’t have to teach you and guide you and correct you and monitor you and discipline you, only love you and be loved!  I would have thought you’d want that too!  Instead of just…” she threw her hands up in frustration:  “Prolonging this whole affair by forcing me to interrupt my work—again!  And delay our special time of safety and love together—again!  Just so that I can punish you… that’s right, you guessed it, AGAIN!”  By now she sounded furious, almost on the verge of tears:  “You’re so selfish and thoughtless!”

And the second both girls started frantically trying to apologize and plead she raised one insistent hand, instantly cowing them back into scared silence.  “Are you girls scared of this place?”  She asked, lip rolling in an exaggerated pout.  “What’s that?” she asked their silence.  “Yes or no.  Are my widdle babies scared for mommy to leave them alone in the dark?”

“Yes, Domina!” they admitted reluctantly.  “At least,” Penny tried to explain, “I’d like to get used to it, or… have a little more time after the—you know…”  While Chas burst out: “Please stay with us!”

“Awww…. So sweet.  I can’t even stay mad at you.  I have an idea so Mommy can take care of you, while Mommy’s also doing all the work, and taking all the efforts.  As usual!  I have just the thing to protect you from your fears about this sacred place.  Mommy will make it all go away.  I brought these just in case you girls might want them.”  She placed her hands over Chastity’s ears, and with a final, contemptuous twitch of a smile, pressed the magical earplugs into her girl’s ear canals.

Chastity cried out.

It was the kind of cry actors practiced for years, hoping for their chance to use it in a reputation-making dramatic scene.  And Channah howled back like a rabid wolf, throwing her soggy dress over Chas’s head and grabbing her hair, crying and cursing and nearly barking with passion as she did.  “You’re the Jezebels!” she whimpered, then shivered as Chastity’s screams fell into wracking sobs and pleas.

Right then.  That was it.

Channah managed it again, only a little one, but the kind that’s so intense it’s nearly unbearable because you’ve already come so many times your body is raw and primed for it. 

Chastity was still sobbing when Channah finally shook her head to gather her thoughts, stood, and stepped over Chastity, and then Penny, standing over her back facing the cube and drinking in her big-word, long-winded apologies and pleas.

Her high heels brought her ankles up to a height equal with Penny’s temples, and she rose on the toes of her boots to slam her ankles into the girl to get her attention and silence her. “I want to discuss this persistent problem further tomorrow, and during the coming week.  I do want to take care of you girls, but I also have many responsibilities as the Queen and I can’t spend all of my time coddling and protecting you!  I have to take care of everybody else, too!  I was hoping you girls, with your free time and leisured aristocratic lives, could help me!  You’re my wives!  Don’t you want to be sweet to me the way I want to be to you?!”

“Yes!  I promise you we do!  We’re most sincere, our beloved Domina!  I’m sorry!”  Penny wailed ashamedly; almost histrionically.  “We didn’t mean to interrupt you, Domina.”

“Hush!  What did I just say?!” she spoke, crossly, catching Penny off guard and watching how she flinched as if she had physically hit them, looking hurt but also guilty about upsetting her.  And… she smelled it like a drug, another hit of the addictive whisper of fearlovearousal:  uncertainty, and worry, about what punishment she might inflict on them if she fancied it; but also, even stronger, about how much she wanted to please Chastity, and how miserable she felt that she was failing in that.

“Put your lips to work.  Your sisterwife has already taken care of my orchid, but you can kiss my boots, baby.”

“Thank you, Domina,” she gushed, seizing it as an opportunity to show her apology and regret again, lips and tongue slobbering on the dirty toes of Channah’s boots.

“Such a good girl when she wants to be,” Channah said significantly.

And the last thing Penny heard as the earplugs entered her ear canals, before real and pervasive darkness, the complete, oppressive silence of death, and the utter loss of even the opium smell of her Mistress and the dusty flavor of her boots, settled over her… was the sound of her own weak, scared, desperate pleas.

Literature Section “06-122[X] Arousing a Succubus”—more material available at TheRemainderman.com—Part 122 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—Abridged 1230 words::Explicit 1248 words—Accompanying Images:  1951-1955—Published 2025-06-21—©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.

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.


1931 06-120 Faerie Light of the Honeycomb
1947 06-120 Blacklight in the Wilderness
1948 06-120 Begging her to show them the way

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.


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, g—yes, Domina!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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