Tag: showgirl

1596 06-63 The powerful, mysterious Duchess Fang^
1597 06-63 Duchess Fang catches Penny^
1598 06-63 Handsome Incubus Prince saves sweet sissy^

PREVIOUSLY:  Channah, a Queen of Hell, for reasons of her own, has married two human transgender girls she is taking through the Hell of Lust on a flying chariot ride to reach their honeymoon destination.  Now comes the hard part—landing.  NOW:

Their minds realized, through the screaming senses of their bodies, that this chariot was going to touch back down on the ground, whether under Channah’s control, or that of merciless gravity.  The faint hope and desperate prayer of survival suddenly reminded the girls they needed to prepare for that absolutely certain impact.  They frantically stuffed their corks back in their bottles, set them in their slots at the front of the chariot, then braced themselves as tightly and desperately as they could, arms deep through the leather straps bolted to the chariot, bodies pressed tight against the outer edges and back of it, their free arms crossing one another’s at the wrists to clench onto the back edge of the chariot with knuckles whiter than their dresses. 

From their vantage point, the horse and chariot seemed to be coming in too low over a final, monumental two-story arch separating the road from the open ground, as if the horse’s hooves would hit the top of it and he would tumble through the air, crippled, throwing their chariot forward over him.  Gaining a final impression of a formation of guards waiting to their left on the sand, the girls’ faces tightened into closed-eyed, rictus-grinned masks of clenched muscle.  And at least one of them might have screamed, only the speed with which events were progressing preventing their bodies from attempting something instinctive and crazy like jumping over the sides of the chariot before it hit, knowing:

There was absolutely nothing they could do except pray—

And with a breathless panic their bodies felt weightlessness for a second as Fury stopped and dropped, their momentum exactly matching Fury’s deceleration and therefore shrieking up their nerves that they were in free-fall just like their bodies had feared all along.  We told you so, assholes!  Before the bone-jarring reconnection with the ground at once caused an instant terror this was it, followed by the realization they were still alive and on the ground.  Then just as they started to hope, they were panicked by a final jolt—the wheels running off the end of the road into the sand, they opened their eyes in alarm to see the black stone wall on the opposite side of the triangle rushing at them with too much speed.

They gasped and breathed in relief as Fury decelerated, squeezing one another’s hands again, almost in disbelief that Fury and Channah had had everything well in hand after all, and nothing bad was going to happen to them for defying the gods by attempting flight. 

Domina Fang

“Oh my.  Oh my.”  The girls squealed and hugged tightly and happily, before a cold, unfriendly woman’s voice with a heavy accent they didn’t recognize, interrupted them, speaking Arabic:

“Come out of the chariot now.  Fury is ready to be done with it.”

They turned, seeing soldiers on both sides already releasing Fury’s harness and simultaneously detaching the twin tongues of the chariot from the harness, careless of the fact that as a two-wheeled vehicle, the chariot would pitch forward and unceremoniously eject them the second it was loose.  Penny didn’t begrudge the horse at all, he had just performed a miracle for the girls’ benefit.  But it was oddly deflating and disappointing for yet another denizen of hell to confirm that here, Channah’s horse was of significantly more importance and regard than the two girls. And after surviving such a flight!  Penny thought unreasonably.  As if mundane death or injury was less likely after a miraculous and unexpected survival.

All thoughts of honoring their Queen with their ladylike dignity were pushed aside by the imperative to get out of the chariot.  Penny was about to jump off the side of it, telling herself it couldn’t possibly be scary after what they’d just been through, only to notice another soldier already folded up in footstool position below her.

With a slight lack of decorum induced by haste, Penny half-scrambled, half-fell out of her side of the Chariot while Chas did the same on the other side, wincing and flinching “Sorry!” as her shoes landed on the soldier’s back with more force than she would have intended, and too much momentum to completely avoid her heels digging a bit into the poor man before she staggered down to the sand, barely stumbling to a halt as someone caught her arm, stopping her inches before bumping into them.

Raising her eyes up the detailed red leather boots and tooled red leather armor, Penny immediately registered from her shape this was a woman, and from her clothing she was wealthy and well-appointed.  As her eyes continued up, she knew the woman would have been a head taller than her even if they were both barefoot.  And finally, looking up into her face, she gasped in surprise to find a woman with lovely, glowing pale amber skin, exquisitely curved horns carved in bas relief, and eyes that for a split-second she registered with fright as demonic, perhaps because of what Penny sensed behind them.  Those eyes looked back at Penny like a cat’s, trying to decide whether it wanted to waste its time toying with an ant, or simply ignore it.  Penny shrank back involuntarily, sensing the woman’s satisfaction, before something about the woman’s face, or perhaps the patterns tooled into her leather armor, jarred an even stronger impression:

“Are you from Cathay?!”  Immediately aghast, even as the woman’s brows knit further in displeasure, Penny stumbled on, curtsying as best she could, feeling particularly pathetic in the awkward semi-curtsy she was forced to make with one arm still held rigidly by the woman’s strong hand:  “I’m sorry, Mistress, I’ve never met anyone from Cathay before.”  Penny was a stranger in hell, but even without the benefit of having read Dante’s Inferno, she would have had no doubt at all the woman outranked her.  Everything about her, from her clothing to her appearance to her attitude to her speech to her position here greeting her Queen, screamed she was of high rank.  And eventually Penny got around to saying the right thing:  “You’re so beautiful and exotic, Mistress.  More than I could have imagined from woodcuts.”

“Human ignorance never ceases to amaze me,” she concluded, her eyes softening just a little bit at the compliment.

Literature Section “06-63 Hella Honeymoon XIX”—Part 63 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—1048 words—Accompanying Images:  1596-1598—Published 2025-04-15—©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.

1583 06-59 Learning to Sashay, sashay, sashay^
1584 06-59 Flamethrower: Ignition^
1585 06-59 Awkward first (stage) kiss^

PREVIOUSLY:  Channah, a Queen of Hell, for reasons of her own, has married two human transgender girls.  The girls, raised by Channah’s servants as her grateful wards, had just been put through the arduous indignities—hazing and trials—required for a human to be properly bound in left-handed marriage to a demon.  Seclusion is the last requirement of the ritual; but to reach their destination quickly, they will have to travel through the honeycomb, which is only accessible in Hell.  Now the girls are learning consorts of the Queen of Lust are expected to help her whip her subjects into a frenzy.  NOW:

Debutantes’ Dance

Channah gave her girls a devilish smile and extended both arms towards them, beckoning them forward with a leering grin that made it clear she expected them to imitate her flirtatious manner when they followed.  She bent over at the waist, slapping her hands against her knees (and possibly-inadvertently jutting her butt backwards at the frantic crowd behind her), laughing at the girls’ panicked, terrified reaction, practically hugging one another for support.  Behind her, her antics seemed to arouse some of her admirers enough that scuffles started breaking out.  Here and there, demons further back determined to get closer at the expense of closer demons, who refused to make way for them and tried to push them back.

When the girls hesitated to immediately follow Channah’s lead, she shook her head and wagged her finger, chiding them, and then narrowed her eyes, communicating that her good humor had a hard, and very close, limit, coercing them into action. 

Turning so red and warm-faced they feared they would start to glow like hot coals, they swallowed and tried strutting, imitating her long straight-legged stride, and quickly figuring out that they could swing their hips wider by turning their feet as soon as they touched the ground, but before they took their entire weight. 

They could not make out her voice, but her lips whooped joyously and she clapped her hands again approvingly, laughing both at them and with them, managing to tease and encourage at the same time.  Still bending forward with her booty thrust out behind her to the crowd, she took turns bending and straightening her legs so her hips swayed from side to side, nodding encouragingly when the girls awkwardly turned their feet more, exaggerating the sway of their hips further. 

It felt completely unnatural and… and even whorish, the two girls having been raised as modest young ladies.  But as they realized they were having their own effect on the crowd—not as insane as that provoked by Channah, but real and palpable—it helped them with their confidence, and little smiles of satisfaction crept across their faces despite their attempts to stifle them.  Both girls noticed, and were both amazed and not-quite-disappointed, when a couple of spats erupted among demons who were fighting to get closer to them.  Penny even caught Channah’s eye, pointing to the fight with a wondering look, and blushed with pleasure when Channah smiled wolfishly and nodded.

Of course, the girls’ efforts and mixed feelings about the results they obtained, just made Channah smirk more widely and knowingly, as if she were burrowing into their brains, which made both girls tingle with the vulnerable embarrassment she managed to evoke in them in all things sexual.

Kiss and Show

By the time they reached her, they practically darted into her welcoming arms, warmed and rewarded by her embraces and sweet kisses.

Turning around between them to face the crowd with them, she said:  “Penny, watch and be ready to imitate!”  Then she let go of Penny, turning her head and body towards Chas, took her cheeks in her hands, and kissed her boldly, making sure to pull back so hundreds of observers could clearly see Chas’s loose, slack, stunned mouth and Channah’s long snakelike tongue, before she returned to making out. 

A couple of moments later it was Penny’s turn, and when Penny accepted her passively rather than more actively as Chas had done, she used her giant tongue to deep-throat Penny, long enough to press her uvula up against the back of her throat and make her gag, even when she pulled back far enough to regard Penny, that their lips were separated by two inches of air and the entire crowd could see Channah’s big red uncircumcised tongue fucking Penny’s throat, driving the crowd absolutely insane with the sense of Channah’s aggression, especially when Penny’s knees buckled and she struggled to stay upright under Channah’s sexy, aggressive assault.

Laughing joyously, Channah let go of the girls, raising her arms in triumph for a moment, before signaling the girls to turn around.  Now the three of them were in a sort of huddle, with Channah in the middle, facing away from the centerline of the square; and Penny and Chas at thirty-degree angles to her, facing the middle of the huddle, with their bottoms pointed towards the two separate sides of the square behind them.

Putting her arms over their shoulders, she commanded:  “Feet together—very ladylike, like this!”  She indicated herself, nodding as they imitated her, then narrated her own actions:  “Now bend your knees slightly so you have some control… good… and wiggle your booties!  Come on, ladies, thrust them back at that crowd and let them know how hot you are!” When she was dissatisfied with their efforts she pulled her arms from their shoulders and slapped both girls as hard as she could on their bottoms while she continued to vamp, encouraging them:  “Be kind girls!  You can see how many more males there are here, than females!  They can’t actually go anywhere!  So give them something!”

And they each did what they could manage, Chas loosening up considerably more than Penny, but even Penny wiggling her hips, if more tightly and narrowly than the other two women, stirring up the crowd even further than before, the girls thrilled and overwhelmed and shocked by how rapidly the fighting was spreading, the mindless and aggressive energy searching in vain for anywhere to go.

“Now, with legs spread!” Channah opened her legs to about shoulder width and a quarter.  “Put the toes of your shoes right up against my boots so they’re touching and imitate how I’m standing!”  With a mixture of laughter and nervousness, they did so.  “You can bend your knees with your legs spread, but that’s usually something for much later, the last stage, with a man—or woman—who’s already completely lost in you.  It sends all the ‘go’ signals, and will look vulgar to anyone who isn’t under your spell yet.  So for now, keep your legs straight when your legs are spread, and roll your hips side to side.  Like this!”  She demonstrated, and giggling, they hesitantly began to imitate her. 

“That’s the way, girls!” she shouted encouragingly, grinning with them and exaggerating her hip movements further, running her hands over their shoulders and backs when they followed suit.  “Chas, you have a future as a professional dancer!  And Penny, maybe not pro, but a hot amateur!  Way to make me proud, girls!”

Finally, she said:  “Time to wrap up this little rehearsal show!  Be good sports and kiss the boys all the way back up the runway.  Like this!”  And with that, she headed back up the runway toward the satanikoklus, strutting as before, but this time offering them pretend kisses:  bending forward at the waist and pursing her lips in one direction, then throwing her shoulders back with a radiant smile and blowing kisses in another direction, preening and wiggling and thrusting her hips and breasts suggestively, whipping the crowd into a higher and higher frenzy.  Fights were breaking out everywhere now, which she ignored as completely as she had her admirers’ related efforts to reach her, continuing to flounce and prance her way back off the runway.

Literature Section “06-59 Hella Honeymoon XV”—Part 59 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—1218 words—Accompanying Images:  1583-1585—Published 2025-04-11—©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.

1580 06-58 Without Channah colon Sand and Sulfur^
1581 06-58 Thank my horse for putting up with your silliness, girls^
1582 06-58 I know you want this more than your own existence, cretins!^

PREVIOUSLY:  Channah, a Queen of Hell, for reasons of her own, has married two human transgender girls.  The girls, raised by Channah’s servants as her grateful wards, had just been put through the arduous indignities—hazing and trials—required for a human to be properly bound in left-handed marriage to a demon.  Seclusion is the last requirement of the ritual; but to reach their destination quickly, they will have to travel through the honeycomb, which is only accessible in Hell.  Now the girls are getting their first taste of it.  So far, it tastes like sulfur and sand.  NOW:

Instead of trying to answer Penny’s question about the Unforgiven in the midst of the clamor, Channah led them to the right, where a golden chariot waited, hitched to a huge red equine beast somewhere about where the chapel would have ended and the entry hall of Fensmere would have begun.

Penny looked over her shoulder for a final glance at Earth, but the unlighted chapel was just a slightly-less-inky spot between the horizon and the near-perfect onyx blackness overhead that may have shimmered a bit, or may simply have been separated from Penny’s eyes by the little grains of sand that appeared to swirl around them but without touching them, matching the flickering torches that whipped unpredictably to one side or another despite the absence of any wind she could feel.  She swallowed, catching Channah’s eye as she turned back toward the Chariot, warming slightly when Channah winked and squeezed her hand reassuringly.

Thanking Fury

A soldier in black and red armor stood beside the great red monster at attention, holding his reins.  As Channah approached, he snapped his arm out in parade-ground fashion, formally offering her the reins, eyes fixed forward on the horizon. 

She accepted without even glancing at him; letting go of the girls’ arms and stepping up to hug and greet her horse, whatever she was murmuring to him lost in the general din.  The second she moved away from the girls, hell got worse.  Both girls gagged on the sudden, thick smell of brimstone filling the air so heavily it was like a weight bearing down on their lungs, and reeled from the sudden, immediately-irritating barrage of tiny grains of sand striking their skin, and worst of all their eyes, nonstop.

After at least a minute with the horse, Channah turned, laughing at the sight of the girls choking and rubbing their eyes.  Pulling the girls’ ears close to her mouth, and thus bringing her halo of sweet, fragrant peace around them again, she yelled over the din:  “Curtsy and thank Fury for agreeing to pull your little cart,” by which she presumably meant the heavy gold chariot.  “Then follow my lead, staying a few steps behind me.”

They were looking at one another, unsure whether they should take her instruction literally or what else she might mean or even if she was punking them, until she leaned in again and yelled:  “He’s almost as old as I am—far senior to you both!  And he won’t even take a saddle unless we’re riding into battle, so it’s a great honor he agreed to pull a little cart to cushion your delicate little bottoms!”

With that, she slapped both girls, hard, on their rumps, eliciting a jerk and a squeal from each, which in turn seemed to excite the nearest devils and demons, causing a stir that started with them and then radiated out like a wave of rumor.

The girls could swear the horse snickered, but red-faced, they both curtsied as politely as they could.  “Thank you, Mr. Fury, for agreeing to pull our cart for us!  We’re ever so grateful, sir!”  This time, they were certain the horse at least snorted at them, and moved its head in something that might have been a nod.  Uncertain whether they were finished or not, they each curtsied briefly again, blurting less-formal thanks, and scurried after Channah, who by now was walking around the rim of the satanikoklus, looking down on the screaming crowd with her arms spread wide and an almost-but-not-quite beatific smile on her face, as if she were doing them all a favor by giving them collectively a moment’s notice. 

Showstopper

And perhaps she was, the girls reflected:  The crowd certainly seemed to get more excited when she came close to them.  When they caught up, grateful to be back within her protective field of sweet-smelling, sand-free sanity, she smiled at them mischievously and asked:  “Let’s try a practice run, shall we, girls?”

“Practice?  Practice what?!” they asked fretfully.

“Watch, learn, and imitate!” she replied, before striking off down a black stone runway extending from the satanikoklus, directly into the center of the square—and therefore, of the mob.  It formed a narrow peninsula of Unforgiven territory free of demons—well, the lesser sorts of demons that filled the square, anyway—putting her directly in the midst of a sea of them.  Although the creatures could not touch the black stone without being scalded, they could lean in and reach over it, their hands so close to Channah’s boots the girls yelped with fright that one of them might catch her.

One thing was obvious:  Channah wasn’t just walking.  She was sashaying, swinging her perfect hips so they showed on one side, then the other, making the most of her long formal ladies’ dress with its wildly-inappropriate waist-high slits.  She was strutting so her demoness’s thigh-high high-heeled boots gleamed red in the torchlight and drew the eye with every dramatic step.  And she was flirting, her smile ramping up from mere moonglow to the sun’s brilliant midday beam in this gloomy desert, waving cheerily and cheekily.

When she reached the end of the runway, she turned fetchingly 90 degrees, looking back over her shoulder at the girls and licking her lips with amused delight to catch a miserable, mortified Penny bent over at the waist, adjusting her suddenly-painful cage.  She winked, like driving a nail home though Penny’s heart, and laughed, confidently enjoying the effect she was having on every single one of the thousands of admirers that surrounded her on every side.

And that effect was both massive and disruptive, like an earthquake shaking every admirer until their teeth rattled, their legs felt rubbery, and their erogenous zones clamored for attention.  All the devils and demons (the overwhelming majority men, but even the women), and of course Penny and Chas themselves, were among that enormous number.  Like the sea under the command of the moon, the crowd closest to her compressed even further, and began to swell upwards, the most-crazed trying to clamber onto the shoulders of the merely-desperate in front of them.  To all intents and purposes, they seemed a wave, crashing uselessly into the invisible barrier around Channah as if it were a sea wall, before receding as the weight of those on top flattened those below, driving them ba

Literature Section “06-58 Hella Honeymoon XIV”—Part 58 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—1066 words—Accompanying Images:  1580-1582—Published 2025-04-10—©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.