transgender – Page 11 – The Remainderman (Frank Speech)

06-59 Hella Honeymoon XV

2025-04-112025-04-07 admin

*1583 06-59 Learning to Sashay, sashay, sashay^*

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.

Stories

06-58 Hella Honeymoon XIV

2025-04-102025-04-07 admin

*1580 06-58 Without Channah colon Sand and Sulfur^*

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.

Stories

06-57 Hella Honeymoon XIII

2025-04-092025-04-07 admin

*1576 06-57 *3 of 5* Manifesting Ghosts^*

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. She has just prepared the girls for their journey through her country. NOW:

And as they moved forward, it was true: To Penny, the light rapidly became stronger, much too rapidly for the normal physics of Earth or, as she would learn, of Hell. They were a result, instead, of the unique physics of the place where the two dimensions met and interacted with one another. And it was not just the light: there was heat, there was humidity, there was noise, there were gusts of wind, and there was smell.

Three steps forward from their place near the door, the red figures seemed clearer and more detailed than they could possibly have become in such a short distance. There was a rustling whisper, like foliage in a low wind. The heat rose as if they were in an active kitchen, and almost, Penny imagined she was smelling something sweet baking on the hearth.

Beside them, getting her first glimpse of hell, Chas suddenly gasped: “Bless me, Lord!”

Channah sniggered. “Try to stow that sort of talk while you’re here. Remember, there’s a great deal of rage.”

Six steps from the door, and the no-longer-obscure red figures began to react, turning and bustling as sufficient light fell on the Queen and her sisterwives to make them discernable from the other side. The shapes went from blurs to hazy to looking underwater, the heat became that of an afternoon in late summer, rustles became whispers and then murmurs, and the smell…

“It smells wonderful here,” Penny marveled, and then figured it out, looking at Channah. “It’s you, isn’t it? You said—in hell—you smell… dreamy and… and appetizing.”

She smiled with pleasure and nodded. “Yes, Penny. Stay close.”

“Like I needed another reason to do so,” Penny moaned, then suddenly stiffened and blushed as she realized what she had said. Channah squeezed her arm.

The Sense of Being in Hell

And then, without quite realizing the transition had ended, they were in hell.

The air was like the steam in a Venetian bathhouse—Penny had never seen one in England, but she supposed they could have them here. Penny had never been in a desert before, but her mind insisted the air in a desert should be dry, like a kitchen fireplace, not a bathhouse. She was going to sweat under her brand-new dress; but she told herself what mattered was how she looked, not how she felt. Or smelled.

And around Channah, it smelled, well, heavenly, she thought, her mind rebelling at the conflicting and confusing thoughts and sensory impressions here. She could drown in Channah’s smell, her flesh, and be happier than she had ever been in her life.

The air was cloying, heavy, without any cooling breeze; but still she felt something she eventually realized were tiny grains of sand, whipped against her by a wind she could not feel or did not exist.

Everything was wrong here. Everything was unnatural and contradictory.

Most of the landscape consisted of hot red sand, relatively flat and thin here, but with dunes visible in the distance. More imposing were the black volcanic rock structures that erupted from the sand sea, the bulk of them conic, but bristling on the surface of the cones—and even, in places, erupting from the sand—black rock in twisting, reaching shapes like beasts that had become trapped in tar, captured in their last and most desperate moments.

The sky was faintly red, matching the sand, at the horizon; but became solid, perfect black not too far above it, and remained so all the way across the sky to nearly the opposite horizon, interrupted only by a few stray swirls of what looked to be the red sand hanging listlessly in the air like smoke that had reached its maximum height.

Most jarring of all, there were jets of flame scattered across the sand and rocks, like the fire of a forge flaring when the bellows were vigorously applied to it. Seeps, she realized. Naptha, or even tar, seeping out of the ground and shooting straight and constant or, in some cases, flickering, swirled by the insensible wind.

The only constructions visible anywhere, from horizon to horizon, were walls, some intact, some crumbling, clustered close around the satanikoklus on this side of the border, made of blocks of the black volcanic stone; and a single flat road, just wide enough for two carriages to pass, extending in a perfectly, geometrically-straight line to the horizon.

But incredibly the environment of Hell—the reality of being in a whole ‘nother world—was pushed into the backs of their minds by the very real and urgent threat posed by the hoard of demons and devils swarming towards them, seemingly concentrating here as quickly as they could from every corner of the vast firelit desert around them. Whether they were running toward them, or warily loitering a couple of steps away waiting for courage, they were waving their arms in ways that felt and looked more crazy than purposeful. And although their mouths moved and shaped, and different sounds came out—not simple animal cries, but modulated voices that could have been speech—it was not speech. It was gobbledygook, more alarming in its own way than coherent, reasoned threats would have been.

They were not men—or, a few of them, women—but they were so close to being so it was hard to imagine they didn’t have the capacity for speech. The fact they were jabbering anyway, maybe aware they weren’t speaking, maybe not, was profoundly unsettling.

As Domina and her two sisterwives finished the transition to hell, the noise broke over them like a wave: screaming, shouting, incoherent jabbering from a thousand inhuman throats, and the drumming of two thousand feet on the stone square that extended from the ruined satanikoklus they stood in, to the low roofless walls of a few low stone structures, a kind of town, around it.

Penny instinctively reared backward when hit with the noise, prevented from falling backwards into Earth only by Channah’s arm suddenly tightening to hold her. The larger woman stood and held them there, making them feel safe, until they realized the wild demons and devils were not entering the satanikoklus or its cursed grounds.

When she felt them relax, she loosened her grip again on their arms, shouting over the pandemonium: “This is a desecrated place. Only the Unforgiven, and those they allow to accompany them, may come here.”

“The ‘Unforgiven,’ Domina?” Penny yelled.

“Later, Aristotle,” she snickered, gesturing at the madness all around them, which was plenty reason enough.

Literature Section “06-57 Hella Honeymoon XIII”—Part 57 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—1092 words—Accompanying Images: 1576-1579—Published 2025-04-09—©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.

Stories

06-56 Hella Honeymoon XII

2025-04-082025-04-07 admin

*1572 06-56 Penny and Chas overwhelmed by the attention^*

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. She has just prepared the girls for their journey through her country. NOW:

The Little Princesses

“Now you have to make it to the chapel in your high heels. Can you do that, girls?”

They looked at one another, each hoping in vain the other would respond, before Penny finally nodded, and quite unconvincingly.

“Well, you have to. I like to dress little girls up and I love the way you look for our honeymoon, but there’s also a reason we took such care, and why you are wearing my crest.”

“Your crest?” Chas asked while Penny scrutinized the medlar forms on her sleeve carefully.

“Come come,” she insisted, leading them out through the Privy Chamber and through the Great Chamber. “Yes. The Medlar. Or… if you look closer…”

“A broken heart,” Penny knew the answer already. “That worries me, Domina.”

“Why?”

“Are you—are you a heartbreaker?”

She tried not to smile, or at least not quite so wickedly as it manifested on her face. “What if I am?”

“Please don’t break my heart, Domina,” Penny begged her sincerely.

“Oh! Sweetie!” She paused, held Penny’s cheeks, and pecked her on the lips before continuing along. “Some might have expected I already would have, by cuckolding you,” she flirted, squeezing Penny’s armored little package and eliciting a surprised squeak. She laughed. “But maybe you enjoy that a little, sweet Penny?”

“No, Domina,” she gasped, shocked but feeling her face heat with embarrassment for some reason. Channah saw it, and rumbled a laugh deep down in her throat. “Penny’s a pervert,” she teased in a singsong voice as Penny protested uselessly, looking even more embarrassed.

She was laughing with delight as they approached the door to the family’s private stairway, which momentarily brought them in view of the public room at the top of the Grand Staircase. Three maids had interrupted whatever they were doing when they heard the ladies coming; and as they came into sight, the maids gasped and curtsied, looking awestruck.

“Tell me that wasn’t gratifying,” Channah dared them, as she unlocked the stairway door and ushered them through it. Their pace was still slow, and they were still holding onto, or at least touching for reassurance, each solid surface as they passed it. But if they weren’t quite looking graceful yet, she wasn’t afraid they were going to pitch over down to the ground at any moment. It had been pretty touch-and-go, especially when they first started moving through the Privy Chamber.

“It was gratifying, Domina,” Chas murmured, and she laughed with pleasure at the admission, pulling the stairway door closed behind them and locking it.

“Wait for me girls, I want to be in front of you on the stairway in case you stumble or trip on the staircase.”

“That’s exactly what Rivqah said when she brought me to—to—”

“To be cuckolded?” She blew a mocking kiss and winked. “You were in heels for that?”

“No, Domina, I was blindfolded.”

“Mm,” she made it sound salacious with her inflection, before leading them down the staircase. “The special reason you need to look your very best, is because you’re about to meet my subjects. Or, more to the point: they’re about to meet you. You have quite a reputation to overcome,” she laughed throatily.

“What do you mean?” Chas asked, confused.

Penny squeaked: “They saw—they saw us at the wedding, Chas,” Penny blurted.

“Not all of them,” Channah clarified. “But a number of the most important. They expect you to be mortified at the wedding, obviously. It’s important they see their Queen is completely in charge and on top of her little sisterwives. But now that they’ve seen you broken and humiliated at my hand, I want them to see you uplifted, enriched… beautified. So they know what I’m capable of, and they know that serving me faithfully is the key to their own success and happiness.”

She stopped on the second stair, looking over her shoulder at them to make sure she had their full attention. Her face was as serious as the mysterious sweating sickness that had plagued England since Bosworth. “When I’m not making an example out of you to show them my power, you’re my representatives. My ambassadors. I expect perfect, ladylike behavior from you both. You’ve been trained for this for years, whether you realized what the training was for or not. Every one of my jawari has been: how to conduct yourself in public, including at formal ceremonies. I know the heels are higher than anything you’re used to, but heel height is an important symbol of rank in hell so you must wear them. Other than that, you have all the training and experience you need to behave flawlessly, and that’s what I insist upon. I chose you carefully because you have demonstrated that you have the necessary character, the necessary intellect, and the necessary desire. Do you little ladies understand?”

There would only have been one answer to that, even if they disagreed with her: “Yes, Domina.”

“Good. Make me proud, girls. Assume from the moment this door opens, until we close the door of my retreat, that you are being watched, follow my lead, mind your manners, and be the princesses Sindonie has raised you to be.”

“Yes, Domina!” they answered, with greater confidence, and she nodded her head sharply in approval, opening the door.

Showtime

The chapel was not quite back to its original condition, but it was getting there, the high open windows slowly but surely doing their work of airing it out. The. moment the door opened, Penny also saw the light, the burning reddish-orange glow of the fires of hell, softly muted here like the heat from a fire-warmed stone tucked under insulating blankets in the winter beds of those fortunate enough to have servants.

Their Domina stepped down the double-height stair and steadied each girl’s arm as she followed suit. There were hazy red figures milling about in the orange glow that filled the center of the room, but they seemed distant and fluid, like mirages on the horizon that you could never quite reach.

Sensing her girls’ nervousness, Channah stood between them, tucking an arm through each girl’s elbow and gripping them reassuringly before leading them forward. She whispered, primarily to Penny: “This time it will be different. You won’t just perceive Hell from Earth. I will carry you to Hell with me. You will experience more intensely and fully than at our wedding, because then you remained entirely on Earth, despite your acute senses. This time, with every step forward, Hell will become more real and Earth, less so.”

Both girls nodded, too nervous to think to respond.

Literature Section “06-55 Hella Honeymoon XII”—Part 55 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—1105 words—Accompanying Images: 1572-1575—Published 2025-04-08—©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.

Stories

06-54 Hella Honeymoon XI

2025-04-072025-04-02 admin

*1569 06-54 Cute girls trying on shoes^*

Once she was satisfied with every garter, she nodded. “Now stand like ladies, backs straight, take your other stocking, and sit on the couch.”

She watched as they scurried over to the sofa and sat there, looking at her expectantly. She didn’t disappoint: “Now, leave one foot on the floor again and pull the other one up on the edge of the sofa, heel on the cushion, toes hanging off the edge. I don’t know what you’re blushing for. You both have panties on already. Imagine if you didn’t!” She stepped closer to them, stroking their hair, loving the way Penny gasped and turned her chin to help Channah run her fingers down her cheek. “Roll up the other stocking, without moving your legs. Try to keep your backs straight and your shoulders back. And when you’re ready, you’re going to slip the stocking over your toes. As soon as you have the ball of your foot in the stocking, you’re going to straighten that leg—”

“What?!”

“You heard me, missy, straighten it and point your toe as high as you can manage while you roll the stocking on.” The girls giggled, not finding this nearly as easy as the standing position, and Channah laughed at their efforts.

“Even after all the training you’ve had, you’re not very limber, girls. We are going to work on that, I promise you. But,” she allowed reluctantly as she stepped back from them, “not too terribly bad, all things considered. Next gift!”

Finishing Touches

The next boxes held tall, sleek pumps of fine white leather, with three almost gladiatorial parallel ankle straps accented with golden brass studs and buckles.

“They’re beautiful,” Penny marveled. “But I’m afraid I’m going to fall on my face! They’re so tall!”

Channah laughed. “Practice makes perfect, girls, and I will expect you to practice. As you’ll see…”

Chas, absent-mindedly touched her collar and blushed. “They match!” Her observation surprised Penny, who imitated her automatically, both girls making “O” faces like little dolls, while Channah smirked.

“They certainly do.” Picking up the discarded boxes, she set them behind her, making the girls curious what they had missed. “As you’ll see in a moment. Now, I want you to practice putting your shoes on the same way you did your stockings. First, sitting on the sofa with your leg raised delicately, go on… not too bad… Chas, try smoothing your stocking with one hand while holding the shoe in place with the other, before buckling it up. Penny, no cheating! All three buckles with your foot in the air! Oh, that’s not graceful!” she tried very hard to look disapproving, and failed, snorting at Penny’s efforts.

“Um… Domina,” Chas looked discomfited again. “The top strap…”

“Indeed,” she agreed. The first two straps had buckles no different from those of a tiny little belt. The topmost, however, had only a “U”-shaped wicket on the mouth and a series of slits on the tongue, with no way to fasten them together. “You girls need to get better about checking the boxes thoroughly. These shoes really do match your collars.” She held up a small gold padlock and key.

“Domina,” Chas managed hoarsely as she smiled archly. “Here, lift your foot onto my lap. Point your toes and twist your leg so your toes point towards your midline, it’s much more graceful,” she assured the girls, snapping the lock shut, and then repeating the process with Penny, her hands feeling warm and intimate on their legs.

“They’re like little collars around our ankles,” Penny agreed, looking ambivalently at her leg where it rested on Channah.

“They are! You girls are so cute. Let’s see how you do standing, with one foot on the table, as before…”

“Only now we can hardly balance, Domina!”

“That’s not my problem,” she feigned innocence. “Come on, show me what refined young ladies you are. Don’t fall! Penny honey, hold Chas first while she finishes, then she can hold you. Don’t hold her like she’s a chamber pot! Face her, stand against her, and hold her hips to give her some stability!” Channah ‘helped’ by positioning Penny with her crotch tight against Chas’s hip, making both girls blush, the way she was struggling to smother a smile belying the idea it was an innocent exercise. “Don’t be shy. Much better! Now Chas will feel safe! Feeling safe is a good foundation for feeling sexy.”

Channah let the third tiny gold lock dangle from her fingers, offering it to Chas, who snapped it in place with his head bowed, not meeting her eyes; and then it was time for them to reverse roles. “Only now, Chas is even less stable than before. Which makes it more important than ever that you stand tightly together for stability.”

When they were done, she could see they were hesitant to move and laughed merrily at their worried expressions. “If you can make it to the sofa, you can sit there and I will even bring you your last two gifts.”

“Oh, Domina…” the girls breathed reverently, their suspicions of what the last box would hold at once confirmed and exceeded. Each box held a gorgeous white brocade dress, with the same gold pattern of medlars and the same cut as Channah’s scarlet dress. “We match!” with great hesitance and difficulty showing how moved they were, they rose to their feet and hugged her, kissing her on each cheek, each girl depending on Channah’s stability for their own even as they were trying to thank her.

And the three of them did match, beautifully. Once the girls were dressed they stood together, flanking their Domina, admiring themselves in the mirror. Even with their cripplingly high heels, the girls were still half a head shorter than Channah; the vibrance of her scarlet and black drawing the eye away from the girls. Their Queen was the peacock to their peahens, as was only fitting. But there was no doubt, all three of them looked amazing, and either of the girls on her own quite regal. All three dresses were beautiful and special temples, celebrating their wearers.

“Fortunately for you,” Channah began, “I had my servants stock up the palace already. I can see you won’t be able to do much carrying in those shoes!”

“And we certainly cannot kick them off, Domina,” Penny blushed.

“These dresses are made to go with the shoes, so don’t you dare take them off while wearing them or the hems will drag on the floor.”

“Yes, Domina.”

“Now, gather your shifts and half-shifts in one box apiece, that’s all you’ll need for the week. Or,” she proposed mischievously, “If you prefer, you can leave them behind.”

“No, Domina!” they wailed with mock seriousness.

Literature Section “06-54 Hella Honeymoon XI”—Part 54 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—1125 words—Accompanying Images: 1569-1571—Published 2025-04-07—©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.

Stories

06-53 Hella Honeymoon X

2025-04-062025-04-02 admin

*1566 06-53 Legs straight, toes pointed–Training her girls right*

“Concentrate on making sure Penny’s laces are even, perfectly matched from top to bottom, tight enough so there’s a bit of tension on every length of lace, but not so tight that you squeeze Penny. Remember, she’s going to help you next, so you don’t want to do a bad job for her!”

“Of course not!” Chas assured her. “Penny, I’m trying my best.”

“I know you are,” she responded confidently.

“Aww….” Channah teased them. “Such sweet girls.” She spun Penny back and forth again, making minor adjustments and appraising the laces in front and back critically, then circled her once before nodding in approval. “That’s very good! Now let’s do Chas.”

What Mama Likes

When she was satisfied with both corsets, she clapped her hands delightedly and announced: “Next gift!”

These contained not just one, but a stack of simple, and semi-sheer, linen shifts. The girls gasped modestly. “They’re better than the half-shifts, but they’re hardly even all there!” Modest Penny protested.

“Count yourself lucky I’m offering you anything at all, young lady! Once we arrive at my palace, you won’t need to wear anything.” They squeaked in surprise at the idea. “Not a stitch of clothing all week. And,” she laughed, “I’d prefer if you didn’t. But if you must, knowing what shy young near-virgins you are, I will allow you wear these.”

“Thank you, Domina,” they chorused.

“That didn’t sound very enthusiastic, Penny,” she chided.

“I apologize, Domina. I—” and when she saw Channah was watching with one eyebrow cocked for her to finish the thought, she did, miserably, shoulders slumping and murmuring in embarrassment, knowing she was repeating herself: “I think I’ll feel more naked with one of these on than off.”

Channah whooped and clapped. “Then my evil plan is working! Go on, put them on. And remember, while we’re at the palace, you girls are to wear these and only these. I don’t want you to don so much as a hairpin otherwise, until we leave.” They exchanged a glance and shivered, glad to pull the shifts over them and tugging them down as far as they would go. Which was not very far, especially over the stays.

Watching them with amusement, she snorted. “Nice and short, so I can see your pretty legs. that’s how I like my girls to be nearly-dressed.”

“Yes, Domina,” Chas pressed her lips together and raised her eyebrows at Penny, who looked away, embarrassed but also excited.

“Now the next one. Are your nails trimmed?”

“Yes, Domina,” they chorused, turning red as they found frilly white satin panties and hose.

Work It, Girl

“Starting with these items, I want you to practice being sensual and sexy for me whenever you get dressed or undressed in front of me.”

“Domina!” They blushed. “What do you mean?” Penny sounded more embarrassed; Chas, more intrigued.

“I want you to move and stretch and dress with the grace and beauty of a ballerina performing on stage. Start with the panties. Turn away from me.” She chuckled at their soft noises of surprise and ineffective protest. “Now use your fingers and thumbs gracefully to open them wide. Now, lean forward.”

They squealed in protest and she insisted: “Bend. Over. Girls. Hold your panties close to the ground and step into them gracefully—toes pointed like ballerinas. And don’t lose your balance like dorks.” They giggled again, a combination of embarrassment and amusement, as they followed her commands, beginning to warm to the game. “Now the other foot. Now, keeping your legs straight, draw the panties up to your waists, wiggling your hips a little as you pull the panties over them.”

“Oh, no…” Penny moaned, not entirely mortified, but doing it, as Channah laughed at them and they laughed at the whole exercise.

“Very fetching, girls. Now, we’re going to show you two different ways to put your stockings on. First, take one stocking…”

“These are too long! They won’t stay up!” Chas protested.

“You’re obviously not paying attention,” Channah shook her head. “Take your stocking and stand in front of the low table. Put one foot on the table and keep the other on the ground. Now lean forward as far and as low as you can, and roll the stockings up and pull them on.”

“We don’t need to bend over like this, just to roll them up,” Penny laughed, shaking her head.

“I think that’s the point, silly!” Chas told him.

“Very good, Chas. Because it’s not necessary, I know you’re doing it for me, putting on a show, for me. Trying to turn me on.”

The girls gaped at one another in surprise. “Is it working?” Chas asked.

“Cheeky girl!” Channah smirked, watching her turn red, looking pleased with herself. And admitted: “Maybe just a little bit. I’m going to watch you practice this all week so you get better. You can push your hips out and curve your back while you do it, too—curve your back the other way, ninny!” She chortled at Penny. “Why do you think you’re wearing stays?! Arch your back to emphasize your hips and chest. You’re not trying to look like an old woman!”

“Domina! This is most—well—impractical!” Penny complained indignantly, but even she had a faint smile on her face, getting into the spirit of the proceedings.

“Be glad I had these stays made short in front. True, I had reasons of my own, but imagine how impractical it would feel if the stays were cutting into your thighs now. Good girls,” she complimented them. “And if I were you, Penny, I’d be practical by thinking about the fact bare-handed spankings are very much on the menu on a honeymoon!”

“Yes, Domina,” she blushed.

“Much better, now pull the rolled stocking on over the ball of your foot, and as soon as you’ve done so, set the ball of your foot back on the table. Keep it there, toes touching the table, heel arched prettily off it, bent over as far as you can manage while rolling the stocking up your leg. If you’re still bending over with your back arched when you get it to the top, you’re ready for the dancehall!” They both laughed and shook their heads, trying to pretend they were more shocked than they were feeling at this point. When they were finished, they both stayed bent over, looking back at her upside-down, waiting for permission to move. “Veeerry good, girls,” she beamed, clapping her hands. “Now, find the three garters on that side of your stays and attach them to the tops of your stockings. Here, let me help.”

Literature Section “06-53 Hella Honeymoon X”—Part 53 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—Continued from 06-52—1087 words—Accompanying Images: 1566-1568—Published 2025-04-06—©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.

Stories

06-52 Hella Honeymoon IX

2025-04-052025-04-01 admin

*1562 06-52 Chas helps Penny tighten her corset^*

Reassurance

They sat together in silence for some time, deep in their own thoughts, and comfortable with the quiet holding them together for a while.

After a long, long time she sighed: “Now you know the worst of me.” She laughed ruefully. “Not a very romantic beginning to a honeymoon.”

Penny looked up at her. “But real. And intimate.”

With a concerned frown, she leaned down and softly pressed her lips to Penny’s, their eyes both closed, focusing on the connection between them. Suddenly Channah changed the game, using her tongue to press open Penny’s lips, which she allowed, yielding as her Queen claimed her with a low moan. Channah was very much the aggressor, and she laughed softly when something—a tightening, a low squeak, something—by Penny let her know how much she was reacting, and how badly she was suddenly being pinched.

“Come here,” she growled, pulling Chas to her and giving her the same treatment, and getting the same result, while feeling Penny nuzzle and softly kiss the side of her neck.

Becoming Decent

Pleased when they were both moaning, she pulled away and rubbed their elbows. “Stand up, girls, I have presents for you! Up! Up!” And as they stood, their moans turning to groans, she slapped each girl sharply on the buttocks, eliciting surprised yelps. “Stand up straight.”

“It hurts…” Penny whimpered.

“I know.” She licked her lips, pointing archly with her hands to two piles of gifts. “Penny’s, and Chas’s. Open the top one first.”

Curious, they did so, gasping as each girl pulled gleaming white stays from her first box. They looked at one another in wonder.

“You’re adults now, girls. Technically,” she snickered. “If you weren’t such little bitches you’d be called ‘women.’ But I can assure you, you two immature little ladies will continue to be guided by me and to obey me.” She liked that the knowledge of that, and the certainty it was true, embarrassed them. “Decent grown women wear stays. And I want you to be decent—beyond reproach—when you aren’t slutting out in private for me. There should also be five sexy little half-shifts in the same box.”

“Yes, Domina,” they admitted, finding them, looking delightfully awkward and embarrassed. “Go on, put one on, to protect your stays.” Each half-shift was a tube of fabric extending from under her arms to just below her waist, with bands of fabric over each shoulder to keep them in place. “I feel more naked with this on than I did before,” Penny complained, confirming it by covering her crotch with her hands.

“Good, that’s an added bonus then, isn’t it, my panting little crêpe?”

“What?” Penny looked at her, eyes wide, mouth opened in an ‘O’, so shocked it wasn’t until a moment later she turned red and looked away. “I’m sorry, Domina, I didn’t mean to sass you.”

“I hope not. Now you’re going to have to help one another with the stays because they’re pairs-of-bodies, laced in front and back. If you try to put one on by yourself there’s a good chance it will twist every which way. Let’s do Penny first. Chas, set yours down and take hold of the back of the stays while Penny holds the front, and slide it over her.” She watched with amusement as the girls struggled with the unfamiliar garment. “Oh, here,” she lent a hand until the garment was situated on Penny. “Now, Chas, stand behind Penny. Before you start lacing, make sure the modesty panels are smooth and flat against the skin. Both for beauty, and for comfort since we’re putting these so close to your skin and the panels are much stiffer and thicker than your half-shifts. Once those are flat, you’re going to pull the back laces tighter while Penny does the front. You see the bow is at the bottom, so you’re going to start at the top, but—NO, Chas,” she swatted Chas on the bottom causing her to blush and smile with embarrassment.

“This isn’t a strength contest. The first time especially, you have to coordinate the lacing in front and back. If you compare the panels in front and back—” she showed Chas, spinning Penny around like she was a mannequin mounted on a swivel, while both girls giggled, causing her to giggle too. “Silly girls. You see it’s wider in the back. The stays have to be at least tight enough so no skin shows between the panel and the body. But the goal isn’t to squish Penny, it’s to give her a nice cylindrical shape.”

“What are these?!” Penny asked, examining the padded strip that ran along the top inner edge of her stays.

Channah laughed merrily. “What do you think? Stays are intended to flatten and raise a lady’s breasts, making her upper body more cylindrical. But not too much so—women don’t want to look like men! So the pad gives you a little help. It’s one of the two reasons we’re putting them on under your dresses.”

“What’s the other?”

“It will be easier to show you when you help Chas. Chas? Here.” She waved a strap of reinforced fabric with a clip extending from the bottom of the stays. There were six in total, two in front and one in back of each body of the stays. “It’s a garter. A Succubaean invention. I’ll explain it more when Penny can see one.”

“Garters were invented by succubae?” Chas asked in surprise. Channah was beginning to learn that although Chas deferred to Penny in many areas, either because she wasn’t interested or she wasn’t confident of her knowledge in them, their roles reversed when it came to such things as fashion, style, and manners expected of the gentry.

“Not garters, silly. Attaching them to stays instead of wrapping them around the legs.”

“Why?”

“Wait for your next surprise,” she softly tapped the tip of her index finger on Chas’s nose. “You’re worse than Penny when it comes to fashions!”

Literature Section “06-52 Hella Honeymoon IX”—Part 52 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—Continued from 06-51—1002 words—Accompanying Images: 1562-1563; for 06-50, 1564-1565—Published 2025-04-05—©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.

Literature Section “06-52 Hella Honeymoon IX”—Part
52 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête
Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—Continued from 06-51—1002 words—Accompanying Images:
1562-1563; for 06-50, 1564-1565—Published
2025-04-05—©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.

TAGS:
adventuresofradicalprovocateurs, tudor, england, femdom, humiliation,
teaseanddenial, succubus, transgender, sissy, sisterwife, honeymoon, polyamory,
corset, slip,

Stories

06-51 Hella Honeymoon VIII

2025-04-042025-04-01 admin

1558 06-51 Raise the red flag! NO QUARTER!!!^

She shook her head, horrified and awed by her own evil. “I did that.” And then, again: “I did that.” There was a long silence, Channah lost in her thoughts, the girls too shocked and appalled and even sympathetic to who she had become now, all at once, to say anything.

Finally, she resumed, still out wherever her thoughts were: “I’ve done terrible things.” Then, surprisingly, she laughed fondly, and explained: “Húanglóng. It was Húanglóng. We were allies, considering the more permanent connection between our two Courts that eventually manifested in our marriage, and already nearly as close to one another as I am to my Duchesses and Dukes. He asked me what it accomplished, and whether it wouldn’t be better to try and teach them better, rather than dispatching them to… wherever they go. Went.”

They knew these were words she had not spoken to many humans in her entire long life, if any. And they waited silently, almost breathlessly, so she could continue. “When I was cut off from Heaven… I think I remember a time I had more…” she frowned, searching for the word. “Compassion. Or maybe, kindness… Or…”

“Love?” Penny whispered, and she looked down at him, gratefully and with surprise.

“Yesss…” she hissed, unconsciously imitating his whisper, before she went back to wherever she had been. “Love,” she nodded wonderingly, mulling it over in her own mind. “I think I still feel love… some… I love myself. I love my sisters and brothers.” She looked down at them. “And I’m starting to fall in love with you. I’m sure of it. There are a few humans I can love, and you… feel that way to me. It’s one of the reasons I married you. But there’s definitely something—” she pinched her lips together, hard, sounding hoarse: “Something I’ve lost. Something that made me… less vindictive. Less proud. Less… abandoned. I didn’t act this way. Oh, I acted rashly, and even—even with malice.” She swallowed.

“Being the Queen… everyone looks to me. At first, I thought: Obviously I should be the Queen. I’m the best! The most-powerful, the most-beautiful, the most-caring—at least in hell—the most-natural leader; and of course I want to be the Queen. I should be put first! I deserve to be put first! But the others can’t imagine, and I daren’t show them, the burdens. Any weakness at all. Either for my own sake, lest they sense vulnerability and try to take advantage of me… or for their sake, lest they panic that their leader has the same doubts they do.”

“Of course, Heaven is a cypher to me. As is the Lord. That… soul, that warm connection to knowledge of what is right and good, is gone. But I can still think, and feel, and breathe. On Earth, are Queens and Kings not chosen by the Lord? And is it any different in hell? Some demons have speculated, even argued before the Conclave, that we were banished to Hell because Heaven lacked the power to destroy us completely. But most of us who felt—the force, the sheer power,” she gasped at the ancient memory, shaking her head sadly, “of what was done to us that day… have no doubt we could have been extinguished as easily as crushing an ant underfoot.”

Tears came to her eyes again. “Was it mercy? Was it supposed to be mercy, or an even-worse punishment than death, to be banished here?!” She came back to them, to their eyes. “If I’m right, and we were deliberately spared… then why should I, like a Queen or King among humans, be divinely selected? If the Lord sought fit to preserve Hell, is it not His? Along with its hierarchy?”

The she pursed her lips, and continued more quietly: “To love humans… is so rare for me. It feels almost… dirty. That, most of all, if it happens… you can never tell anyone that I love you. You cannot tell anyone I’m even thinking I could love you, or talking about it. Do you understand?”

They nodded breathlessly, responding to her urgency. “Because we hate humans. Some of us think that was the reason for our fall—our jealousy at humans, and the love they enjoyed—still enjoy! You can’t imagine the fury we feel—to see humans are still loved, despite their vile evil! They’re—you’re—worse than us, you know? Because you’re capable of better. You have full access to Heaven—perhaps, to love—if you only want it enough. Every soul that ends in hell deserves to be there a thousandfold. Because they had a choice!”

“Didn’t you?” Penny asked, looking as shocked as Chas at the words that had come out of her mouth.

“You’re impossible!” She managed to look incensed, amused, and rueful all at once, before sinking back into something closer to sad acceptance. She whispered: “Maybe.” She shook her head. “Once. I just… can’t… quite remember. If you can be my apostle and awaken me, by all means—do so, little priest.”

“I’m not a priest,” she blushed. “I’m ordained.” Her face fell. “Was ordained. But I’m still a student. I’ve never held an appointment.”

“You’re still ordained, darling,” Channah assured her. “You think a succubus can’t feel that? Practically see it?” She focused in intently on Penny, as if urgently trying to reach him. “Darling Penny, to return to your earlier question, I’ll never ask you to battle the Catholic Church if your conscience moves you to remain a part of it. I promise. I do need educated servants, and I have many of them. But if I wanted you two,” she admitted Chas back into the discussion with her eyes, “and your sisters, to fight the Church, we would have made sure you understood why you were going to school all of those years. We let you go to grammar school and you, Penny, to University, because we wanted to let you choose your own path. Because you can’t serve your purpose to Us if you can’t think and feel for yourself. You two girls are delicate instruments, useless to us if we try to force you to point, or measure, or report what we want to hear.”

“Why would the Lord allow me—” Penny began.

“You ask me about His purposes?” She laughed caustically. “What it means, why you remain sacred and set apart—is a discussion for another day. Probably with another person. Maybe with your confessor, if he can really be trusted. But not with me—” her voice almost broke again “—because I don’t know the why of it. Only the fact of it. You have not lost your grace, Penny. I don’t know why. But I think it must be because, as I told you—as long as you live, you are free to make your own choices. There are always choices, and they always have consequences. But on Earth, it is never too late to change your mind. And I’m sure—that is, I think—it’s you’re your mind and heart that matter to Heaven, that Heaven judges; not that of Popes or Bishops. Not in relation to you, anyway. Yes, there is a church in this Earthly world, with priests, with some influence, maybe even power, if you want to call it that. But Heaven, not Earth nor anything or anyone in it, gives and withdraws grace. The human rituals and ceremonies are, at best, an assent, or perhaps a way of communicating with the Lord what His human servants think is in service to Him.” She shrugged, and finished in a small voice: “I think. I just don’t know.”

Literature Section “06-51 Hella Honeymoon VIII”—Part 51 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—Continued from 06-49—1283 words—Accompanying Images: 1558-1561—Published 2025-04-04—©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.

Stories

06-50 Hella Honeymoon VII

2025-04-032025-04-01 admin

*1555 06-50 A pain that still sears after 6,000 years^*

“On the other hand, the war among the demons is fought in Hell, and on Earth, and it is a war of genocide. The Lord may abide abominations like the Devils and Zombies to exist, but I will not. Any more than they would willingly suffer the Succubae to exist. We seek to exterminate the Devils and Zombies, as surely as they would exterminate the Succubae and the Vampires—and our allies, the Dragons—if they could.”

“This is a war of survival and preservation! Dear Chas, dear Penny, we must win our war against the Devils and Zombies, or they will wipe us out. They would eradicate all my sisters and brothers—and all our human operatives, including you both—in a heartbeat. They would save me for last, and torture me at their leisure until they were ready to dispose of me. It’s terribly unfair, but the Abominables—the Devils and Zombies—have made it clear in the past that they will attack and kill the youngest, the most-innocent, the most-vulnerable of my children just to spite me if they can! Can you imagine?! Children who will never be operatives, orphans, the unwanted, and the hunted—people I rescue! Just out of loathing and hate. They’re… they’re not even animals! MY children!” She shook her head, leaving no doubt in the girls’ minds that she was genuinely horrified and enraged by their conduct. “But it’s even broader than us individually. We fight for beauty… passion, and love! Art! The pleasures and lovely things in this world, and even those few we may find in hell. The vampires, for the vibrancy of life itself! And the dragons… well, honestly, they’re a little lazy. But generally mild-mannered, if you leave them alone; and they really do tend to leave others alone, as long as they can get what they need to survive.” She laughed, shaking her head. “My husband—First-Husband to you—Húanglóng, King of the Dragons, the indolent sod, doesn’t have a spiteful bone in his body.”

“Compared to our real war, our unholy war, the contest against Heaven is a distant second front: we need souls to fill our ranks, and to deprive our enemies. But it’s less a war, more like… the Border Reivers: English raiding into Scotland, Scots raiding into England, sometimes Reivers raiding without even bothering to cross the line. But it’s all about pillaging the border lands—in our case, Earth. Hell couldn’t breach Heaven if it tried. And Heaven created the border itself, because it doesn’t want hell. Or any of its denizens. I’ve already asked you to puzzle on that. I cannot possibly give you the answer, because I don’t understand Heaven. My soul has been banished from it, and all knowledge and feelings of and from it. When we were cut off—” she shook her head, her voice dropping to a whisper and breaking: “When we separated…” She pressed her lips together, actual tears springing into her eyes, unable to continue for a moment, her face tight and passionate.

“Oh, Domina!” her girls cried in unison and squeezed her tightly and warmly, holding her tightly as her lip quivered and, with a shake of her head, she gave up and allowed herself to cry, holding them right back, hearing them sob sympathetically for her.

Channah’s Confession

“I think you’re ready. I think I’m ready.” Her face became seriously thoughtful, and she squeezed them both, pulling their heads together on her breasts, each girl straddling one of her legs so she could see both of them easily, her eyes flicking back and forth without straying from them, so they both remained intimately enraptured by her gaze and her words, feeling an intimacy they may never have felt in their lives, and certainly not since their mothers’ presence. In a second of shared semi-comedy, all the more intimate because it intervened in the midst of such intimacy, both girls winced and tugged up on their little cages so they rested on her thighs instead of pinching and pressing between them all. Even with that adjustment, the girls were not quite comfortable—they were almost Channah’s size and the position they were put in was not only intimate with her, but cramped and awkward. And somehow, that was right; a way for them to demonstrate their devotion and subservience, their lesserness and the slightly pathetic quality of the uneven yet affectionate relationship between them, even in her most-intimate moments and embrace.

“I want to tell you—I want to admit to you—who I am. Something I have not even shared with all my wives.” She snorted. “Certainly not with Húanglóng, or any other creature of Hell. It is—a vulnerability. A weakness, I dare not show to anyone in hell, or almost anyone on Earth, only those completely loyal and devoted to me. But it is so hard to carry alone, always alone… can I trust you with this?”

“Yes, Domina,” they gasped, confirming and therefore pledging their loyalty and devotion, lips as wide and relaxed as their eyes, practically hypnotized although she used no magic on them—no magic other than sincerity. It was too important a matter for any illusion or artifice.

“I would die before I would tell anyone else,” Penny promised, looking emotional.

“Oh, sweetie,” she kissed her forehead sweetly, then Chas’s as she assured her the same.

She pinkened slightly, and they saw something in her face they had never seen before; something embarrassed. Something even ashamed. She started in the faintest whisper, hardly willing to make the thoughts real by speaking them. “It is essential for the trust between us to blossom and secure us to one another, for you to know the worst truths. I have done terrible things.”

“I—I can be an evil bitch,” she admitted. “I just feel such rage at things I know should not be, such desperation to protect my sisters and brothers—I’m a very passionate woman,” she concluded, looking down into both of their eyes in turn, searchingly, intensely, seeming to find the shred of understanding she was hoping for in their wide, open eyes. “In the heat of the moment, especially under pressure—I try to act calm and stay in control—but I just see red. It’s so hard.” She bit her lip, shaking her head slowly and slightly as she stared into space, as far from the girls as they were rooted and locked to her in that moment, completely moved and honored by the vulnerability and mistakes she, who was so much more prominent and older than they, should share with them. “And sometimes the blackness of fear. And they left me without limits. I reacted to challenges with…” She considered, before settling on “extreme prejudice, towards all enemies, all challengers, even all obstacles. I acted, then, as a youngling, the same way the devils act now.” She waved a hand dismissively. “The zombies are without limits, without restraint, but they aren’t intentional enough for comparison. It’s almost like they just do, without thought. Which doesn’t absolve them of anything, only makes them more despicable. But the devils and their allies, like us, act with intentionality and awareness. And there were times, long ago,” her voice becoming hushed, as if she could prevent heaven itself from overhearing her dark thoughts, “when I acted as they did. I did kill—” she bit her lip. “I did kill humans simply for being in the possession of my enemies.”

The girls shuddered, and she felt it and softly wailed, squeezing them even harder, her face vulnerable and scared. “Please—I’m sorry—I did it—Just for a human being in their consideration, because I viewed them as property. I did it for the same reason you burn your enemy’s house down, not because you care about the house, or even think about the house, but because you want to take from its owner.” She made an indignant sound. “I don’t know! Maybe it was more! Because they were worse than property—something hateful, something hated. Even if they were too young or too defiant to have chosen them.”

Literature Section “06-50 Hella Honeymoon VII”—Part 50 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—Continued from 06-49—1362 words—Accompanying Images: 1555-1557. Published 2025-04-03—©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.

Stories

06-47 Hella Honeymoon IV (abridged version)

2025-03-312025-04-02 admin

*1545 06-47 Pretty hair for pretty girls^*

EXPLICIT VERSION AVAILABLE AT https://patreon.com/TheRemainderman

“Penny Batonnoir!” Sindonie chided her.

“I’m sorry Mistress!”

“Calm down and blame yourself, as I expect you to do with any feelings you have about how you’ve been treated the past week. What do you think, will you be neglectful when you’re with the Queen? Or will you girls help one another to make sure every inch of you is soft and appealing for Her Majesty when you bathe, before upsetting her?”

Unenthusiastically but sincerely, they promised not to be neglectful, turning away to rub the oil everywhere on themselves they could reach while frantically trying to stay covered.

“Good. And in back.”

“In back?” they asked, genuinely confused.

“Don’t even try to do it yourselves.” And when they tensed up in shock again, she reminded them: “Every part of you is in bounds for your Domina. You belong to her body and soul, outside and… inside. Such are the vows and magical bonds you have made with her. Prepare yourselves accordingly to honor her.” And then, as they reluctantly obeyed her, she continued: “No skimping. If I’m not satisfied with your work, I’ll do it myself, and believe me, the thought holds as little appeal for me as it does for you.” she shook her head and shrugged. “I have to tell you, the talk has been that you girls already should have learned this lesson. Did I hear wrong?”

They didn’t answer her in words, only by blushing, and on this occasion, she didn’t make them.

Hair and Makeup

“Good girls,” she finally allowed. “Back on the bench.” She hummed, as she usually did, while she brushed and pinned up their hair. “One last wedding gift for you. I want you to look pretty. When you’re with your Queen, help one another with hair and makeup. At least to check one another’s appearance before presenting yourself to her. Do you understand me, darlings?”

“Yes, Mistress Sindonie.”

“I hope so. If you present yourselves to the Queen with dry patches or loose hair or smeared makeup—” she shook her head, unable to even complete the thought, but communicating its gravity effectively as she lightly applied gloss to their lips—their fair complexions did not require anything bolder—and the faintest hint of color to their cheeks, before applying charcoal around their eyes. The amount she used was significantly heavier than the fashion, but it was the look the Queen preferred in her girls, matching her own appearance. Sindonie understood she had grown to prefer heavy black eyes during her centuries in Egypt, and had not been moved by more recent fashions to change her views.

Finally, judging her work done, she let out a relaxed breath, smiling at her girls in their mirrors. “You girls look lovely.” They blushed happily and thanked her as she ran a reassuring hand over their hair. “You’re ready. So here’s what’s going to happen.” She smiled mysteriously. “I’m going to walk out that door, and you girls are going to wait exactly one full minute. Then you’re going to leave your towels here,” she nodded and repeated herself before they could protest, “Yes, I know you like to be modest…”

“I want to be…” Penny interrupted imploringly, struggling to even complete the thought, as if she still didn’t understand.

“A girl!” Chas completed her thought for her, imploringly.

“I know sweeties. But this is a special occasion. Try to remember you are her girls, and she knows that—practically insists upon it—regardless of whether you’re dressed or not. You have nothing to be ashamed of. Your little cages are hardly bigger than a plump girl’s. Believe me, you’re going to like what’s coming, so be in your very best mood. The Queen has a very special and loving surprise for you, but she wants you to join her as you are. Do you understand? Will you obey?”

Put that way, of course they would.

Family

They emerged cautiously from the bathroom, with their hands held awkwardly in front of them, to find a pile of boxes wrapped in tissue paper on the table before Queen Channah, who was sitting on her lounge, so beautiful and perfectly-put-together the girls gasped involuntarily, their reactions clearly pleasing her as she gestured them to approach her.

“Domina!” Penny gushed. “You look so beautiful!” And she did. She wore a perfectly-tailored scarlet brocade dress decorated with gold medlars and brilliantly shined black boots higher than her knees, as revealed by the slits in her dress extending as high as her hips. It had short sleeves and a fabric collar looser, but generally shaped like, the leather collars of the girls. Her hair was swept up in a single ponytail high on her head which was held not by a ring, but an exquisitely-detailed gold tube tastefully accented with rubies. And her long fingernails were painted black. In short, she was stunning, beyond exotic, and tempting as a siren. Her black eye-liner and -shadow matched the girls’, although her lips were redder than theirs. Her eyes danced with merriment and mischief and those red lips were twisted in her favorite expression, a sexy superior smirk.

“You do,” Chas echoed, her sincerity as obvious as Penny’s.

“Oh, you girls are so sweet,” she complimented them, then sniggered. “And so modest. After the games we’ve played,” enjoying watching both boys turn as red as cherries. “Oh, come here, girls,” she invited them, raising and holding out her arms toward them without moving, watching their nude forms, decorated only by the ensorcelled cages and collars she had locked them in, as they scurried over, neither one of them relaxing their modest posture even as they half-sat, half-flopped, on either side of her on the couch. They smiled shyly and wiggled themselves more tightly against her sides as she wrapped her arms around them, pulling them into herself. And finally, as she nudged them onto their sides pressed against her, their knees rising and crossing one another over her, they felt safe bringing out the hands they had been using for modesty. “Put those hands on my chest, right between my breasts. Go on, I want to see you holding hands for me.” And when they hesitated one more second: “Hands. Together. Now.”

Literature Section “06-47 Hella Honeymoon IV”—Part 47 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—Continued from 06-46[X]—Abridged 1042 words::Explicit 1052 words—Accompanying Images: 1545-1548. Published 2025-03-31—©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.

Tag: transgender

Debutantes’ Dance

Kiss and Show

Thanking Fury

Showstopper

The Sense of Being in Hell

The Little Princesses

Showtime

Finishing Touches

What Mama Likes

Work It, Girl

Reassurance

Becoming Decent

Channah’s Confession

Hair and Makeup

Family