Tag: vomit

3423 07-42 SSIII The Devil–Infernal Tarot (England–Major Arcana)
3424 07-42 SSIII The Devil–Infernal Tarot (England–composite image)
3425 07-42 SSIII The Devil–Infernal Tarot (England–Major Arcana)

3426 07-42 SSIII The Devil–Infernal Tarot (England–composite image)
3427 07-42 SSIII The Devil–Infernal Tarot (England–Major Arcana)
3428 07-42 SSIII The Devil–Infernal Tarot (England–earlier version of composite image)
3429 07-42 SSIII The Devil–Infernal Tarot (England–composite image)
3430 07-42 SSIII The Devil–Infernal Tarot (England–composite image)
3431 07-42 Artemesia I at Salamis
3432 07-42 Artemesia II & Mausoleus
3461 07-42 The Ocular of Sodom

CAUTION:  Contains themes of heavy degradation, filth, and tentacle hentai some readers may find disturbing.

ALTAR CLOTH REFERENCED BY CHANNAH IS IMAGE 2500, AVAILABLE HERE.

THE OCULAR OF SODOM IS IMAGE 3461, PUBLISHED CONCURRENTLY

HIGH PRIESTESS IMAGE REFERENCED BY CHANNAH IS IMAGE 2510, AVAILABLE HERE.

ADDITIONAL CARDS MENTIONED IN THE TEXT WILL BE PLACED IN THE “PERDITION TAROT” GALLERY AS THEY ARE PUBLISHED

PREVIOUSLY:  Playing the demonic card game, Perdition Tarot, Channah is losing a wager of Penny, Chas, Esmeray, and her other servants she made against Húanglóng.  Under the excuse of cleansing the girls to reenact a legendary party trick against them, she removes all the physical magic she has surrounded them with to prevent Húanglóng or any of his vassals in Lytos from suspecting how important the girls are.  To ensure they are on-side with her and will protect their shared secrets, she is explaining just enough for them to understand the extreme danger they will be placed in if they do not keep Channah’s secrets, and other demons came to suspect their potential significance to Channah’s plans.  NOW:

Inordinately pleased with forcing the girls to prostrate themselves and attend her in a pool of their own filth (and even more, discovering a new vulnerability to exploit in Penny by seeing how strongly she overreacted), Channah hummed slightly as she sat on the other side of the narrow stream, pulling a folded piece of cloth from her robe and opening it, spreading it carefully out upon a flat bit of rock before her between her perfect sandaled feet. 

“Chas, did you ever wonder why the rules of Perdition Tarot require a human dealer?”

She shrugged, looking nervous.  “I don’t know, Domina.  Why did you ask me?”

“Because I don’t need to ask Penny.  Of course, she wondered.  And doubtless tried to guess.  It was funny to watch her bursting with the desire to ask her questions!”  She snickered as she pulled a fine piece of black silk brocaded with a silver pentacle and a constellation of astrological symbols from her dress, unfolding it and arranging it so one of the five tips was pointing directly back at her—and, discomfortingly, so that its two horns pointed at the girls.  “Because when demons deal cards, it isn’t a random deal.  The card order is prophetic.  Any cards, any demon.”  She shrugged:  “With regular cards—human cards—or regular demons, the effect is weak.  Enough to bias the game.”  She laughed.  “Enough to provoke a duel when you’re gambling with hotheads experienced enough to notice the patterns in the cards.  And among demons—we can influence them as well.  We do influence them, every single deal, on purpose or unintentionally or both; it comes with the prophetic power.  And if we’re playing cards, of course we’re going to influence them to win.  No demon would be stupid enough to let another demon deal.  Occasionally, for fun, we’ll allow one another to take turns cutting.  But it’s not a best practice for an honest game.”

“This,” she pointed to the fabric in front of her, “is an altar cloth, inscribed with the pentacle over our natal chart.” 

“‘Our,’ Domina?” Penny asked, her voice distorted by her efforts to breathe through her mouth without risking ingesting anything before her.

“Demons.  Well, Elder Demons.  The originals.  We were all created at the same time, so we all have the same natal chart.”  Very delicately and precisely, she held her arm out over the mat, pointed her index finger down, and set it in the middle of the mat.  “I have a gorgeous altar stone, permanently inscribed and inlaid with gold and semiprecious and precious stones, positioned precisely in the center of my satanikoklus, my castle, and my hell, where I perform the most-important readings.”

Next, she removed a heavy, foreboding, elaborately-sculpted pewter box a bit larger than the Succubaean Tarot deck, from the other side of her robe.  The images on the box were all witches and devils, evocative of hellfire damnation and apocalypse, decorated with her familiar themes of rot and hate, medlars and coins, and broken hearts.  Just the sight of it made Penny and Chas shudder with an uncomfortable feeling of dread and fear.  “And this is the Oracular of Sodom.  The source of the Infernal Tarot.  With this, even Chava could predict the future,” Channah snorted, then flicked her eyes up to meet theirs.  “My very worst succubus, in every way that defines us, the poor dear,” she sneered.  “But useful in her own way.  And by contrast, as you know,” she announced with perfect aplomb and hubris, “I am no ordinary demon. Not even an ordinary Elder Demon.  I could draw pips and numbers on toilet paper and still divine with them.  When I use the Oracular, on the Evil Altar of Sodom, we become one of the seven most-powerful instruments of prognostication in Hell or Earth.”  Very precisely she opened the Oracular, revealing a deck of cards with her medlar-and-hate backing, nestled perfectly in black velvet lining. 

She paused, her eyes burning into theirs and speaking quietly:  “And do you know how useful this great power is for making the most-important predictions of all?  About my future?  About our great project?   Not at all.  Well, that’s not quite true.  The point is, it doesn’t help me at all any more.  It hasn’t done so for years.  All it does is tell me what I already know.  The exact-same prophecy, over and over and over again.  The only thing that changes at all—occasionally—are the directions of my cards.  Today’s game suggests the effect is now so powerful, demons and even humans around me are affected, as if by the field of attraction of some invisible planet close to hand.  But,” she shrugged, “I am old-school.  And disciplined.  So, to release my control, and let the fates use my power to show me the answers to my questions, I will use the altar mat, and the Oracular, and compose myself before my abject worshipers.  By whom I mean you two, kneeling in shit at my command.  You’re pretty pathetically abject for me, aren’t you, pumpkins?”  And she raised her eyebrows, indicating she expected an answer.

“Yes, Domina,” they agreed.  Shee-it.  What else were they going to do?  Deny it?

“Prostrate yourselves,” she suddenly commanded.  “Legs straight back, arms straight front, faces down.”  And when they balked, she hissed:  “Brown-nose for me, girls.  Faces right down in that vile mess.  Remember:  It can always get worse.  If you make me force you, it will be with your mouths open and your tongues hanging out.”  She laughed merrily at their revulsion and horror as they forced themselves to obey her, fighting every natural instinct in the bodies to do so.  “Now, that’s abject, sweeties.  What weak, sweet little simping worms you are.  When I draw a card, without having any chance to see it, I will predict what it is.  That will be your cue to look up, confirm my guess, and watch me position the card.  Then, without delay, you will put your faces back down, touching your nose and chin to the wretched rock until I announce the next card.  Understood, you dirty bitches?”

“Yes, Domina,” they choked, Penny jumpy as a cat, tight as a wire, radiating an intense loathing and even an unreasoning panic at her situation that washed over Channah like a gentle ocean wave. 

“Yessss….” She hissed.  “Our Unholy Rite has commenced in its full, abominable vileness.”

Pentacle Reading—Channah’s Great Purpose

Relaxing herself, closing her eyes, and making herself still, she took six deep, calm breaths before tapping the top of the deck ten times.  Then, quite calmly, in a voice cadenced with ritual and practice, she spoke:

“Dread abyss,

of sorrow and pain,

Serpent hiss,

the words of my shame.

Hear my cries,

I will attend,

With ears eyes,

Nose mouth and skin.

Make me echo

All your madness,

Force me to sow

Seething chaos.

By revealing what we Succubae most need to know to achieve our great purpose!”

And then, calmly, she leaned forward to draw a card.

“Pharaoh of Diamonds, reversed,” she announced.  When the girls dared to look up, they found their Mistress staring at them, her eyebrow cocked inquiring for their confirmation, holding a card delicately between her thumb and forefinger facing them, such that she could not possibly have seen what card it was, even if she were focused on it instead of intimidating the girls.

And she smiled, a bitter, knowing, ironic smile when she saw the truth of it in their astonished eyes, even before they confirmed her guess verbally:  “Yes, Domina,” they murmured.

Never taking her eyes off theirs, she set the card down at the tip of the pentagram pointing to her where it met the circle circumscribing the pentagram:  “First position, foreshadowing the ninth, is the Significator.  It speaks to the overall character or nature of the prayer.”  And after she set it down, she looked at them expectantly until they forced their faces back down.

“The Chariot.  Upright.”  And when they confirmed it, miserable in their uncleanliness, she continued, placing it on the tip pointing to Chas:  “Second position, foreshadowing the seventh, is called the Manifest:  What you already know, your starting point.”

And so it went, as she moved through the rest of the rite:

“Huángdì of Wands… reversed?” which she placed on the tip to her left.  Despite her uncertainty, she was correct.  Again.  “Third position, called the Present, foreshadowing the tenth.  The now.”

“Sice of Swords, reversed.”  The tip to her right.  “Fourth position, called the Past, foreshadowing the eighth.  The proximate cause.”

“Pharaoh of Wands.  This is the hardest to predict… upside down?”  (It was.). She set it down on the tip pointing toward Penny.  “Fifth position, called the Future, foreshadowing the sixth.  What’s next.”

Although her voice remained calm and lyrical, the voice of a priest giving a sermon, or perhaps a witch canting a spell, the next one could hardly avoid causing the girls to feel a cold shiver running down their spines:

“Death.  Almost as variable as the Pharaoh of Wands, but the stronger bet is reversed.”  (It was.). This and all the cards to follow, she placed on the inner corners of the pentagram, where different arms of the pentagram met together with one another, and with a corner of the inner pentagon formed by the middle segments of the five lines comprising the star.  This first one went to her left.  Her discussion of its position was the opposite of reassuring, really putting the ‘omen’ into ‘ominous.’  “Sixth position, recalling the fifth, called the Outcome.  The ultimate result.”

“Trey of Spades.  Upright.”  She placed it at the vertex of the pentagram opposite where she was sitting.  “Seventh position, recalling the second, called the Occult.  What is hidden.”

“The Devil.  Upright.”  It went to the vertex to her right side.  “Eighth position, recalling the fourth.  Called the Foundation:  the root of the issue.”

“Pharaoh of Hearts.  Upright.”  This one, she placed on the vertex by her right hip.  “Ninth position, recalling the first, called the Challenge.  The obstacle or antithesis.”

“The High Priestess, usually reversed.”  Of course, she was correct again.  In fact, at this point, the girls would have been astonished were it otherwise.  It went on the vertex by her left hip.  “Tenth position, recalling the third.  Called the Counsel.  The voice of good advice.”

She paused, breathed very deeply, and nodded to herself almost as if she were talking herself into something.  “And this prophecy is mine, the divination of our, but especially my, great project.”

Had she given Penny a second’s thought, she would have expected her to ask what the ‘great project’ was.  But she did not.

Path Reading—How the Girls May Serve

“Now.  One more reading before our ritual ends.  Before I let you up.  And this one requires your utmost sincerity, devotion, and abnegation.  Before you pass out of my hands on your journey with Húanglóng, I must read your course and what we need to know.  I also want to get a baseline, before you go to Lytos, in case you pick up any bad habits or ideas I need to correct.”  Something that might sound innocuous enough on the surface; but was anything but, coming from the mouth of a Queen of Hell and well-known sadist.  “I have read your fortunes before, of course, but for the truest reading it must be done for you, and therefore in front of you and with your attention and awareness.”

And with that, she lay another, smaller black silken mat down across the arm of the pentagram pointing directly toward her, a rectangular strip of cloth that stretched from left to right but was narrow enough it didn’t overlap any of the ten positions of the Pentacle cloth.  “This one will be quite fast.  Three cards, and I’ll go as quickly as possible and release you immediately to hop in the pool.”

“Thank you, Mistress!” they both cried, sounding desperately hopeful and afraid at the same time.

“But only IF you are very good girls and cooperate completely.  You can—and you’ll definitely want to—keep your mouths shut, with your lips pressed tightly together.  I don’t need you to look up or speak during this one; in fact, I want you as deeply-immersed in your most-intense emotions as possible.  Now genuinely, sincerely, kiss that shit.  Push your faces down into it.  If you don’t come up filthy from cheek to cheek I will use you as my own toilet when you return, so degrade yourselves now or I will destroy you later!  That’s the way, wallow in that muck!” she growled with a contemptuous, gleeful satisfaction tinged with hate.  “Now, stay and be good girls so I can concentrate.”

After taking a few moments to re-center herself again, she tapped three times on the top of the deck and intoned:

“Dread abyss,

I still attend.

Teach us this,

Help us offend.

Join me now

Your slaves most girlish

Teach them how

To be most churlish.

Make them worse

By disclosing

Th’evil course

Worst disposing.

Reveal to us their involutions,

Provocations, and solutions.”

She drew three cards in turn, which she laid in order from her left to her right on the second mat: 

“The Non of Spades, upright,” she read woodenly, as if reserving all thought and feeling. 

“Huangdì of Clubs.”  She snorted.  “Of course!” she added, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.  “But these images…. Er, upright.”

“Sultanah of Diamonds upright,” she sounded surprised, vexed, and intrigued all at once.  “What—”

And then she hissed sharply, unable to mask her true feelings, speaking more stridently than calmly:  “Under the Huangdì of Clubs—the Ot of Spades!  How—I—”  And then, belatedly, almost having forgotten to speak it:  “Upright.  How can this be?  After so many centuries.  This—simply—does not—happen—”

“Mistress please!” Penny whined and moaned and squealed all at once, managing to produce an extraordinarily plaintive and desperate sound strident enough to catch Channah’s attention and even break, if only for a moment, the intense mood that had seized her.

Barking a rough laugh, she snapped her fingers.  “Go!  Into the pool you disgustingly vile and nasty little girls!  I can hardly stand to be within sight or smell of you!”  But they were in the water before she could even finish, Penny especially moving with an uncharacteristic speed that jollied her despite the shock she was still processing.  Their desperate, and entirely over-the-top, antics in the pool, especially Penny’s near-calisthenics, managed to distract and amuse her for several seconds as she plunged below water, shook her body and head violently, shoving herself right under the plunging torrent of water from above, scrubbing her hair and face as if she were trying to peel her own skin off, and finally moving out of the deluge just enough to gasp desperately for breath before throwing herself back under it.  All before she even reached for the soap!

But even this over-the-top display could not distract her for long from the sobering and daunting reading before her.

By the time she looked up again, Chas was already clean—and, reason itself insisted, Penny must be clean, despite the fact she was applying and excessively scrubbing in yet another round of soap and, Channah eventually realized, making some kind of droning whining sound of horror like she just couldn’t get past what she had just experience—what, apparently, she was still experiencing in some way.  Even Chas looked mildly surprised.

“Abram!”  she burst out laughing.  “Fool!  What’s gotten into you?”  and then, with a mild twitch of annoyance:  “Stop this!  Get over here!” 

Chas, either to protect Penny from Channah’s wrath or to cop a cheap feel, moved forward and began helping to scrub Penny’s hair, telling him quietly:  “Let me help you get the soap out.  Come now, Penny, you’re clean.  You’re perfectly clean!  Don’t drown yourself.”  And when Penny reached for the soap again, Chas intercepted her arm and kissed her hand, physically interposing herself between Penny and her fixation to get her attention and pleading:  “Penny!  Please!” 

Penny froze and blinked for a moment, as if stuck and uncertain whether to heed her friend or try to plow past her, accepting Chas’s embrace reluctantly and unenthusiastically, which seemed to make Chas want to hug her even more forcefully to get through to her.

“Don’t crush the girl,” Channah suggested.  “That’s quite enough, Penny, listen to Chas.  Come over here, sweetie.”  And when Penny still seemed uncertain, she pronounced, clearly and emphatically, with a mildness of tone that was all the more arresting:  “Princess.  Do you really think I would invite you to me if there were the slightest mess left upon you?”

Penny, surprised, shyly met her eyes, blinking in the spray of the falling water as she focused on Channah’s voice before she finally moved forward murmuring:  “Yes, Mistress.  I mean, no, Mistress.”

“That’s my girl,” Channah soothed her.  “You two stay away from the cards.  Circle around opposite sides of the spread to keep them dry, and settle in on either side of me here.”  She extended her arms in invitation, watching as they carefully picked their ways around the cards before settling in beside her, causing her to shiver.  “Brr!  You’re so cold!  You’re lucky mummy loves you so much.  Come on, nestle into me and warm up so you can read the cards with me. Are you back with us, P—” she began, unnecessarily as it happened.

Penny gasped.  “We’re—”

“Yes.”  She agreed simply, knowing exactly what she was saying.

“We’re—Chas and I—on almost all the cards!”

“Yes, you are.  Unless there’s another pair of gingerbread and lemoncake girls I haven’t met yet, up in every aspect of my life.  This is the first time you’ve been on so many.  And the most-important card in this respect?”

“The Sice of Swords,” Penny answered wonderingly and immediately.  Of the fourteen cards on display, it was the only one without a paired redhead and blonde.  Gray and cold and nearly emotionless, it leapt out visually from the other cards in almost every way. 

“Swords are the suit of the Devils.  Our enemies.  They are as far from us as they can be.  Of course, the images on the cards are never literal.  The first Triumphs were fashioned to flatter the princely families of Italy who commissioned them or were gifted them.  But when the Infernal Tarot dresses up an allegory in familiar characters and places…” she took each girl’s hair, turned her head, and met her eyes briefly in turn to punctuate her point, “It does not mean they’re to be interpreted literally.  Or even that they necessarily relate at all to the real figures they portray.  Beware familiar people and scenes on the Infernal Tarot.  Assume they’re a trap.  But…” she hesitated a moment, weighing how to say it. Almost reluctantly, she admitted:  “They can be suggestive… at a minimum, they remind us how our own prejudices shape our perceptions, how we can become the victims of our own expectations…. And they tell us something about how we view the world.  When the resemblance is faint, or suggestive—the color of hair alone, whether the style of the art is Ottoman or Persian or Indian, whether the themes are suggestive of legends of a particular culture or religion, whatever aspect it may be—the fact you make an association between the specific in the real world, and the archetype of the card, may tell you something very different than you assume.  Or nothing at all that you are able to tell.  For instance, it could alert you that your subconscious is aware or suspicious of something, and you should examine the actual situation or person more closely.  All of which is to say, the specific personal appearance of people on the Sice of Swords is almost irrelevant to their interpretation, or where and to whom they might apply.”

She shrugged.  “But this—gingerbread and lemon-cake don’t exactly look like you two, but… in addition to the hair, they’re effeminate, hermaphroditic, and always submissive.  Even their chastity cages resemble yours.  And the same two figures appear on so many cards…. It’s very hard to ignore or dismiss the resemblance completely.  And so we should not.”

“What does it mean, Domina?”  Penny asked, reaching her arms further around Channah and hugging her more tightly, nuzzling her sweetly.

“Never assume it is obvious.  It never is.  But… the fact the two of you appear to be so prominent in this reading suggests to me that you two are important to the events occurring right now and in the immediate future, that are most-relevant to my future.  So, for example,” she tapped the card in the Counsel, or tenth, position of the Pentacle, “even if you girls aren’t relevant to the specific lesson the High Priestess is trying to tell me—despite the presence of you two, well…” she snickered.  “very dirty girls!  You—or more precisely, what is happening to you—is apparently very relevant to my mission at this moment in time.”

Penny and Chas both leaned in closer, squinting to make out the details of the card that Channah had singled out as dirty.  And gasped, in embarrassed surprise, complaining simultaneously as they saw exactly what was happening to their little avatars:  “DOMINA!”

“Don’t look at me, silly girls!” she threw up her hands.  “I’ve been reading the Tarot for millenia.  I know what I’m doing and the chance of my having influenced the cards more than by neutrally channeling the fates, or altered the order and content of the cards,  is quite.  Small.  Despite my experience, to enhance it, I took all the precautions I could, using the alter-mat, the rituals of desecration, forcing you to attend me as my worshippers, and entering my receptive state.  I am very confident this reading is overwhelmingly attuned to the cosmic energies as a whole, not any unintentional moods or thoughts of mine that could have contaminated them.  Blame the Fates if you dare to pick a fight with them, girls, but don’t think it’s me or my intention.”

“Yes, Domina,” they intoned, because it felt as if they ought. 

“I hope that’s not going to—” Penny began, Chas cutting her off before she could even finish:  “That looks dangerous!”

Channah snickered.  “It’s more than dangerous.  True impalement, by sharpened stakes, even the Judas Cradle, is irrecoverably harmful.”  Penny shivered.  “What, dear?”

“You talk about it so matter-of-factly,” she whispered shyly.  “You’re so ruthless and cruel, Domina.”

“You love it,” she opined.  “Don’t you?” And when she didn’t get a response, she took Penny’s hair again and forced her to meet her eyes, raising her eyebrows inquisitively.  ‘Don’t you?”  Turning bright red, Penny swallowed and whispered:  “Sometimes, Mistress,” turning even redder when she saw how much pleasure Channah took from the admission.  “But this…”

“I’ll bet that your admission, and my essential bitchiness, not the Judas Cradle, made your tiny little rosebud harden against its diminutive cage, didn’t it?”

“Mistress!”  Penny wriggled uncomfortably as her Mistress laughed.

“That’s a yes.  You’re still well behind Chas on your learning- and craving- curve, but we’re starting to get you there.”

“‘Craving?’” Penny asked in a tiny voice.

“You know what I mean,” she dropped her other hand to Penny’s caged penis, confirming her suspicions and stroking the girl until she shivered.  Gripping her purse viciously, she demanded:  “Don’t you?”

“Yes Mistress,” Penny wriggled some more, looking miserable and mortified, dropping her eyes the moment Channah allowed her to by releasing her hair.

“Good.  I hope we made it small enough to pinch a clit as tiny as yours.”  And again, sensing a new level of submission in Penny, she pushed harder than she had in the past:  “Did we?”

“Yes, Domina.”  Penny sounded like she wanted to melt into the rocks around them.

“That helps my mood,” she smirked.  “But to complete my thought, no, impaling is something we do to our enemies, not to our own jawari.  Whatever the High Priestess means to us, or to the Fates, it’s not showing you any ritual of mine.  It’s suggesting something analogous that is going to happen to all of us, or involve all of us.  Perhaps it suggests some sacrifice on your parts, not even physical, but it could be committing to something you are avoiding, or doing something you’re reluctant to do.”  Her voice changed, becoming suddenly serious:  “Study these two readings carefully, girls.  My fortune is well-known to me.  The same cards, in the same order, have made it clear I am either in a narrow strait, or at an important juncture.  And for some reason, in some way, it relates to the two of you.  Perhaps you can even help me understand your part in this, if I teach you more about the cards.”

“But what I have not seen before, what is completely new to me, and what you do need to fathom as quickly as you can, for the sake of our project and possibly your own comfort and security, is your fortune.”  She drew her finger along her second reading.  “What should have been three cards, but by destiny or extremely rare chance, is four.  And I do not like it.  It is a fortune of caution….  Just look at it!  The Non of Spades is a cruel card.  The card of insomnia.  Of a child waking up alone in the middle of the night in an empty house and monsters under the bed.  Or, for succubae, a priest waking up alone in the middle of the night in an abandoned monastery finding he’s spent himself after being ridden by one of us.”  A short, harsh laugh.  “Only it’s no good, because in the Perdition Tarot, we are not the monsters.  Certainly not those loyal to the Court of Lust, and to me.  We’re the sleepers.”  She shuddered.  “Upright, there is a strong suggestion the card may not be warning me I should be scared, but that I should not.  It may be asking me if I am overly worried, and being held back from the right course of action, or doubting what is obvious, because of my own fears.  Which to be fair…” she nodded “could fit me, and my situation, perfectly.  In which case, this fortune is no disaster, just the opposite; it’s urging me to embrace this and assuring me the only risk is if I hold back from it.”

“The Huangdì of Clubs is my—and your!—first husband, a fact that no doubt” she rolled her eyes “will seem terribly ironic to you as you learn more about the cards.  By the rules of Succubaean Tarot, which is to say my rules, the Pharaoh is highest-ranked in gameplay, just as in Draconian Tarot the Huangdì is highest.  But the game ranks are always irrelevant to the divinatory significance, which remains the same regardless of the game played.  The ironies and complications—and the profound themes—of the Infernal Tarot, to human eyes…. Well, your world is but a distorted mirror of ours.  Still, its appearance here is at once obvious and admonitory.  Your visit to our husband is, indeed, the present likelihood and the cause of the concern that led me to test your fortune now.  It is what my fear relates to.  And it is a card of action.  Some humans might say, the card of action.  Your visit with Húanglóng is… could be… momentous.  By itself, I think that’s fine.  Maybe even fortuitous.  I hope it means we will finally unlock Penny, freeing you both from what is holding her back.”  The girls exchanged a quick, uneasy peek beneath Channah’s breasts.

“But the fact the Ot of Spades was, quite literally, hiding behind it…” she shivered.  “Highlights the stakes and the risks of such an important event.  Possibly its warning refers to the visit to Lytos itself; but I tend to think more than that, to the beginning of our great project.  Our project which is in fact fraught with peril.  A project which has brought calamity to other Houses of Hell attempting it.  Every other House of Hell which has made its move, has failed disastrously.”   She tapped her finger on the card.  “Hiding behind… in conjunction with the Non of Spades, it almost screams treachery.  Someone betraying me….”

“Húanglóng.  Or…” she growled, “one of you, would be the most-obvious candidates, since you’re the ones actually shown on the faces of the cards.  But the source of treachery is rarely obvious, even in the cards.”  She made a frustrated sound.  “And for all I know, it could be telling me I am the traitor, betraying my own cause through over-caution!”

“And finally.  What, in a way, is the most-perplexing card of all.”  She snorted, a sound at once frustrated and amused; perplexed, and delighted.  “The Sultanah of Diamonds.”  Grabbing the girls’ hair, she pulled their heads back and looked into their eyes again, then turned their heads back towards the cards and shoved them forward.  Shaking their heads briefly, she demanded:  “Who is this pig-bitch?”  Wrenching their heads back to her, so both of them had to roll over to avoid hyperextending their necks, she laughed with exasperation:  “And more to the point:  Why are you grovelsimping for her?!”

There was no way the Whore of Babylon herself, who slept with more men every time she dreamed than most mortal women sleep with in a lifetime, and who quite literally demanded her jawari wives prove their loyalty and devotion to her by whoring themselves out for her, could be jealous; and yet, it almost sounded as if she were.  The girls had barely enough experience in life to begin to suspect that what she felt had nothing to do with sex, per se, or even romantic attachment; but a more feudal expectation of loyalty.

“We don’t know, Domina!”  Her girls protested, looking terrified and surprised. 

“We’ve never seen her before!”  Chas promised sincerely.

“We’ve never even seen one of—what is that?!”  Penny threw up her hands, her credibility almost assured by her obvious, omnivorous and rabid, curiosity about all things unfamiliar.  “She’s not a succubus, is she?!”

“Certainly not!” Channah harumphed.  “She’s a filthy Rakshasi.”  Her voice managed to put a diatribe’s worth of loathing and contempt into the single word.  “Lowest and most-disgusting of the demons.  They wallow in filth like the pigs they are, and revel in the things we—proper demons, even humans—revile!  The worst punishments and degradations I impose on you—like that!” Still holding their heads in her hands, and pulling them in closer to her sides, she turned them suggestively towards the other side of the pool where they had evacuated their entire GI tracts of every molecule of their contents.  “Such loathesome, repellent pestilences are practically considered delicacies by those depraved, repulsive swine!”

The girls were taken aback by the strength of her reaction to the rakshasi—the reaction of a demoness who, a few minutes earlier, had been discussing the pros and cons of the most vile tortures with a casual, almost lighthearted, at best scientific, lack of any concern or empathy whatsoever.

The girls’ faces reflected the worry and horror they were feeling as they contemplated a demon who could make such a sadistic murderess and torturess as Channah feel such distaste.

“I hope we never even meet one of them!”  Penny assured her.

Chas opened her mouth to pledge her loyalty but realized before she spoke, that she didn’t even know how she might do that.  Their Domina planned to pimp them out to serve her, and had already ordered them to gratify the whims of half her own court.  How did one demonstrate the loyalty Chas and Penny both felt, under such circumstances?

“To guide you and protect us, take a few minutes to memorize these fourteen cards, their images, and their positions.  Do not comment on them, or draw attention to them, with others.  But be alert for them in the actions of others, and in the workings of fate around you.”

Literature Section “07-42 Secrets of the Elder Demons”

The featured damned being tormented by demons in images 3423, 3425, and 3427 were inspired by Deviant Zel!  Please check out her further adventures and perils at https://www.deviantart.com/kristine301/gallery/88191813/zellys-endless-sessions-in-extreme-therapies

More material available at TheRemainderman.com—Part 42 of Chapter Seven, “Channah’s Slavegirls:  Pawns of the Court of Lust”—5389 words—Accompanying Images:  SET A—3423-3432, 3461; SET B [published separately]—3462-3478; SET C [published separately]—2443-2458—Published 2025-11-24—©2025 The Remainderman.  This is a work of fiction, not a book of suggestions.  It’s filled with fantasies, stupid choices, evil, harm, danger, death, mythical creatures, idiots, and criminals. Don’t try, believe, or imitate them or any of it.  Also, horse tack is only for use with horses by trained equestrians.


2510 07-41 Infernal Tarot–II High Priestess (Channah the Impaler)
2511 07-41 High Priestess (Channah the Impaler) (composite image)
2512 07-41 Infernal Tarot–II High Priestess (Channah the Defiler)
2513 07-41 High Priestess (Channah the Defiler) (composite image)
2514 07-41 Infernal Tarot–II High Priestess (Channah the Violator)
2515 07-41 High Priestess (Channah the Violator) (composite image)
2516 07-41 image for High Priestess (Alternate 1)
2517 07-41 image for High Priestess (Alternate 2)
2518 07-41 image for High Priestess (Alternate 3)
2519 07-41 image for High Priestess (Alternate 4)
2520 07-41 Paculla Annia Corrupting Her Blood and Rites (Campania)
2521 07-41 The Crucifixion of the Spartaci (Campania)
3459 07-41 Lanka Thanks You–300 Watchers
3460 07-41 Lanka Thanks You–300 Watchers

CAUTION:  Contains themes of heavy degradation and filth some readers may find disturbing.

RULES OF THE CARD GAME THE CHARACTERS ARE PLAYING AVAILABLE HERE.

PREVIOUSLY:  Playing the demonic card game, Perdition Tarot, Channah has wagered Penny, Chas, Esmeray, and her other servants against Húanglóng; and everyone has wagered some combination of money, dares, and sacrifices on every trick and deal.  The doors have been sealed, the atmosphere is rowdy, the stakes are high, and everyone in the Lodge is intoxicated.  Queen Channah is descending into a dark mood for reasons other than, but somehow bound up with, the game.  After the other bets have been settled, Channah inserts marbles into Penny and Chas that she mysteriously promises—or threatens—will make them cleaner than they have ever been.  Now she leads them away from the rest of the gamers to prepare them for the frightening events to come.  NOW:

“Clothes off!”  Channah paused at the stairway, waiting while the girls stripped.  Taking their dresses, she almost led Penny and Chas further upstairs, but then shook her head, setting their dresses down on the upward flight and murmuring “better safe than sorry” as she led them downstairs instead, down the garden path, past the hot springs, where she commanded them to pick up soap and towels, and through a thick grove of ancient forest to a narrow defile, half-hidden behind an old āhuēhuētl tree, that cut down through the rocks to a small ledge five or ten feet below the cliff face where water from one or all of the springs spilled over the cliffs, forming a small and shallow pool in a bowl perhaps carved from the rocks by the water itself, before brimming over the lip of the small ledge to plunge down the face of the high cliff.

From the floor of the valley, perhaps the water revealed itself as a gorgeous and dramatic waterfall.  But from the dizzying height of the narrow ledge, it seemed to disappear down an infinite chasm, likely dissolving into spray and mist long before it reached the bottom.  If it ever did.  Chas gasped for breath, pressing herself back against the face of the cliff, the second the side of the defile slipped away to reveal the terrifying fall.

Channah laughed harshly.  “Not even the birds build nests here.  Only two reasons to come here,” she opined.  “To contemplate death, or do what you’re about to do.”

“What is that, Domina?”  Chas asked.

She just laughed in reply, enjoying keeping them wondering as long as possible, pushing Penny so she was pressed up against the cliff face with Chas, commanded them “Sit!” and then squatted before them, unfastening their cages, washing them in the water beside her before setting them on the rock to dry as she began to speak, her eyes flicking up to meet theirs firmly between concentrating on what she was doing:

“As you have no doubt already gathered, I’m off my game today.”

“I’m sorry, Domina,” Penny quavered, nervously but honestly.  “I can see you are upset.  Is everything all right?”

“No, I’m not,” she answered, surprising them with her candor.  “And I’m not sure.  I’m obviously going to lose every bet I place today.  Including, most importantly, my ill-advised—or possibly fated—bet with Húanglóng.  I do regret the consequences of placing it, although Penny, if you were more open to the pleasure that awaits you from surrendering, it would not have been necessary.”

“I’m sorry, Domina.”

“Hush.  You’re not.  Some, I know, but not sorry enough, anyway, despite my best efforts to make you so without spoiling your sweet disposition.  So many years’ training, and now I’m backed into a corner.  It was a reckless bet, but I’m not sure what else I could have done.  And again, I feel the hand of the fates at work here.  Revealed…” she hesitated.

“In your cards,” Penny whispered.

Nodding, she agreed:  “Especially so.  But not just in my divination hand—the entire deck.  You have to be ready in less than a month to serve a man eagerly, no matter what he looks or smells like.”

“Domina!”  Penny sounded as shocked as she was horrified.

“Try not to sound so surprised, sweetie,” Channah giggled despite herself.  “It’s charming, but it does make you seem a bit stupid at this point.  I mean…” she looked straight into Penny’s eyes, bursting out laughing when she looked away, reddening with shame.  “Really!  You’ve known I bought and bred you to be my whore for at least a week… and as clever as you are, perhaps a part of you has seen and feared it for years.”

“No.  No—”  Penny shook her head.

“Oh, dear,” she laughed, looking piercingly into Penny’s eyes and delighting with the shame she saw blossoming in her girl’s countenance.  “Your denial was just a little too emphatic, sugar bear.  An unmistakable tell.  That’s a direct hit, isn’t it, Princess?  Your cheeks, so red.  And you can’t even hold my gaze!” she thrilled.  “I love it so much I want to lick and eat you up.  That delicious shame…. I think it’s your very-most attractive quality, Pleaser.  It makes me hot and wet like a volcano every time.”

“Domina!”  Penny gasped, shocked by the intensity of her reaction and how much it revealed about the deep, intimate connection between them. 

“You know it’s true.  I see that,” she sniggered gleefully.  “Suspected so long, and still stayed with us and tried so hard to please us….”  She reached forward, taking Penny’s chin in her hand, to force the girl to look at her.  “Oh, you must despise yourself!  Don’t you, darling?  Fuck yesss….” She used her other hand to stroke herself.  “I can’t believe I’m about to lose you two for a week!  You better hope you don’t fall into my hands in the final deal of the game.  I want you two filthy-innocent sluts so badly….”  And then, in a sing-songy teasing voice, she chanted:  “Penny loves the Queen of Hell enough to be her eager whore….”

“Domina!”  Penny squealed in protest, squirming.

Channah threw her head back and laughed.  “Oh I wish there were a bit more time right now.  But I fear there’s not.”  Shaking her head and becoming businesslike once again, her tone became instructive:  “That’s your problem, darling.  Denial.  And your charm:  The innocence persisting and longing for a past so long-gone, it won’t accept the reality of corruption.  Perhaps the next week will help cure you of that.  After you’ve lusted so desperately for things you never imagined you could, it’s much harder to pretend it wasn’t you.”  She shrugged.  “Húanglóng has that effect.  All dragons do, Húanglóng more than any of them, of course.  And you’ll enjoy it, I promise.  If I had considered it acceptable for even a second to risk trusting you to the custody of another court I would have sent you to him years ago.”  And then, almost deliberately to cut off the question she could see forming on Penny’s lips, she preempted:  “How do you feel?”

“A little queasy, Mistress,” she conceded.  Then whispered under her breath, almost too quietly to be heard:  “From the disgusting conversation….”

Channah whooped with laughter.  “Oh, you wouldn’t dare sass me if you didn’t know I was in a rush, would you?  Let’s get you ready but don’t think you’ve gotten away with anything.  Now, dear, breathe deeply, this is both going to feel strange and it’s going to hurt, but I don’t have time to put you under this morning.”

“Put me—”

“BREATHE DEEPLY!” she reminded her girl, carefully positioning her right hand around Penny’s belly button and grasping her piercing firmly in her left hand as she closed her eyes, calming and composing herself and whispering something in a language neither girl understood as she pressed forward, a warm feeling emanating from her right hand seeming to loosen and relax Penny’s muscles so much she almost doubled over with the intensity and weirdness of the sudden loss of muscle control and sensation over a part of her body.

And then Channah ripped it out.

Really:  ripped.

It felt like a bandage being torn off a wound to which it had stuck, taking scab and healthy flesh alike with it; and sounded the same, not unlike tearing cloth.

Penny squealed, provoking Channah to smirk and shake her head, interrupting her chant.  “Please.  It’s not that bad.  Not a tenth as dramatic as putting it in in the first place, you big baby.  You won’t even have a scar to remember your piercing by.  If you let me get on with my spell.”  Then Penny’s squeal turned to a shout of shock and surprise—and Channah’s smirk to laughter as she tried to resume her chant—as Chas suddenly yelled, too.  As she pulled on the piercing, it came out…

And came out…

And came out.

Several feet of copper wire with small charms affixed to it at intervals, like a very long charm bracelet, but with the shapes molded into the same piece of copper as the wire itself rather than hanging free from it.  The charms were too small and bloody for the girls to tell what they were, but each one had a different, irregular, and quite deliberate-seeming form making it clear they were neither identical nor accidental.

“THAT was inside me, Mistress?!”  Penny screeched.

“Yes, dear, and you didn’t even know it, did you?  You never would have known it if this card game hadn’t gone so badly.  Or… if it was not necessary…” she mused as the last of it finally came out and she set it on the rocks in a shallow part of the pool beside her.  Channah kept her hand on Penny another good minute and a half, whispering, until she was satisfied; and with a quick nod, shifted to face Chas.  “I hadn’t planned this game.  But the sudden desire to play it was… overwhelming.  And I wasn’t expecting it, so… it’s even harder to avoid being manipulated when you don’t realize it’s happening.”

“Manipulated, Domina?  By… the fates?”  Penny breathed.

“Yes.  Destiny.  Prophecy.  Necessity, perhaps.  Call it what you like.”

“The cards,” Penny repeated her previous guess, nodding with conviction now.  And guessed:  “Death and The Devil!”

“Very good, smartypants,” she nodded.  “Or should I say, ‘smartyskirts’.  But not the only ones.  What made you notice those two?”  She asked, as she relaxed a second time, her right hand on Chas’s belly now, her left hand on Chas’s piercing.  Then she began whispering as Chas made a startled sound.

“I’m not exactly certain, Domina,” Penny admitted, shuddering sympathetically as she watched Chastity, stunned to see what was coming out of her body despite the fact she obviously had known what to expect.  “Instinct?  There were a series of cards in your first hand that you played strangely, almost like you were performing a ritual instead of playing a card game.  And…. Oh!  The Huángdì of Wands!  You played it around the same time in the first hand.  Then in the second hand, you played the Pharaoh of Wands first—even when you shouldn’t have.  Death and the Devil—they—they’re very memorable cards so I remember seeing them when you played them.”

“Me too,” Chas agreed, although it was unclear if she simply meant she remembered the cards, or if she remembered anything about how they had been played. 

Penny resumed:  “In both cases, you were terribly… intense.  Almost obsessed.  But… why are you removing—our chakra ornaments?”

After she had set Chas’s piercing in the same shallow puddle and finished chanting, she opened her eyes again and answered:  “Did you notice anything about the cards I played?  What was on them?”  And then she clarified:  “Who was on them?”

“We were!”  Penny exclaimed in shock.  “Or—or at least, a blonde and a redhead.”  And then she whispered, either from amazement or shyness:  “Serving a powerful Succubus.  I—I thought I was… fantasizing it.”  Channah laughed, a sharp laugh of surprised, genuine pleasure as Penny turned bright red, realizing what she had said.  “Imagining,” Penny clarified.  “You know what I mean.”

“Perhaps better than you, Pleaser.  ‘Fantasizing.’  Not ‘imagining.’  I have your number fully now, what a horny little slut you are,” laughing even harder as Penny covered her eyes with her hands.  “And I love it that you’re still shy about it.  After the things we’ve done,” she shook her head, feigning shock.  As she rinsed the two piercings in the water, she continued, answering Penny’s most-recent question:  “Because you’re starting to figure some of this out, I’m going to tell you a bit more.  Not because I want you to know it, but because I want you to know how important it is to your own interests not to share a whisper of your speculations with anyone other than me.  Listen carefully, and take this seriously.  And keep it to yourself.  Do you understand?”

“Yes, Domina,” they answered, swallowing and looking at one another, impressed with how serious she was.

“I’m going to tell you just enough, so you can be on your guard, before you say anything in front of others.  So you can protect yourselves and me.”

“From what?” Chas asked.  The fact Penny had not asked the same question should have suggested to Chas that Penny already knew the answer; but even if this had occurred to Chas, she would not have put together that Penny and Channah had previously had a previous discussion about this subject.  She would have assumed clever Penny had figured it out on her own.

“Am I dangerous?” Channah asked unexpectedly.

“Oh, yes, Domina!” They both answered unhesitatingly, without anything other than total sincerity.

“So if I have enemies—and I do—that I have been battling for centuries without vanquishing, they must be dangerous as well, mustn’t they?”

“Yes, Domina.”

“And if any of them realized how important the two of you were to my ambitions… what do you think?  Would you be safer?  Or…”

“In terrible danger,” Chas answered, nodding slowly to herself.

“Yes.  That’s why we’re having this conversation away from even my most-trusted lieutenants; because even they lack the powerful incentives to keep quiet about this that only the two of you share with me.  If my rivals come to even suspect two humans as weak and insignificant as you may have an important role to play in my fate… they would see you as my most vulnerable point, and exploit that.  Perhaps by killing you; perhaps by trying to turn you with magic or torture or blackmail; perhaps….”  She shrugged, unable or feeling it unnecessary to offer further alternatives.  “Do you understand?”  She hardly need have paused for their response; they were both, immediately, nodding earnestly. 

“Good.  Then listen well.  The two autumn leaves—I called them that because they appeared for the first time on the Death card, on All Hallows’ Eve, in 1517.  Just—long before—I met you.”  The girls exchanged an uneasy look.  That didn’t sound good.

“The cards are slippery.  Their destiny is to reveal the future, but they seem to fight that destiny as vigorously as I tried to fight mine today.  Or, perhaps, they are simply serving their own purpose in causing the events they are to tell by making us their pawns.  They do all they can to conceal what they reveal, and leave us all in confusion, looking the wrong way, so they can laugh at us afterwards and tell us ‘we told you so, fool (allusion to the Tarot fully intended, even required), and you should have listened!’  Only in hindsight are their messages clear.  There’s always a chance you two are…” she shrugged again, emphasizing her uncertainty and the powerlessness of every soul, “Nothing.  Nothing at all.  Or perhaps, originally, you were nothing—until, suspecting I might have recognized you in the cards, I plucked you up and made you a part of my story by reading, and then pulling, you into a prophecy that had nothing to do with you.  That’s Fate’s second-favorite trick.”

“What is its favorite?” Penny asked.

She laughed bitterly.  “To persuade you to engineer the very situation the cards are warning you to avoid.  They love to do that.”

“That’s… cruel,” Penny opined, as Channah reached forward to unfasten Penny’s collar, shooting her an intense, commanding, silent glare in response to her look of surprise.  Apparently, this was a secret within a secret, to be kept even from Chas.  And not for the first time, Penny wondered how many secrets of Channah’s surrounded her, woven by Channah through the people around her, cautioning them not to share with Penny, even as she was warning Penny not to share her secrets with them.

“Ironic, at least,” Channah proposed, even as the collar came off—something deeply unsettling to Penny because of its significance, and of how much she had come to expect it as a permanent fixture of her life.

Rubbing her neck while Channah washed the collar, Penny said, strangely:  “I—I feel… something.  Nauseated.  Empty.  Terribly—” her eyes met Channah’s.  “Lonely.”

Channah smiled, abandoning Chas for a moment to take Penny’s cheeks in her hands and pull her forward for a deep soul kiss.  “Yesss….” She hissed.  “I knew it.  I knew you were feeling what I was feeling.  Our—” she spared a glance at Chas, before composing herself and returning to remove the third girl’s collar “Our three souls, are fusing into one another, I as your Domina, you as my slaves.”  And she laughed ruefully:  “Either confirming the cards, or proving how very slippery they are.  “Do not doubt for a second my collars will return to your necks.  Or rather, that they will return you to your rightful places under my gorgeous infernal feet—when Húanglóng brings you back for the next heteraslakos next week.  These accouterments, and more.”

“More?”

“You have six chakras, ginger.  Two more to go, sealing our union completely, after these first four.  But you don’t even need them anymore to feel the basic connection between us, do you?  It will never leave us; it is already a part of who we are.  That, and the craving your soul has to cleave to mine ever-closer, emphasized by the loss of the even deeper connection lent by the collars, is the loneliness you are feeling.”  As as she washed Chas’s collar, she explained:  “The connection between us, longing for the intimacy and amplification brought about by the chakra accouterments.  Even I feel it.  Now—” she stood up, and pointed to the platform on the other side of the stream.  “Go stand over on that platform.”

“Why, Domina?”  Penny asked.

“Get—over there—now!” she barked, stamping her foot, swatting their hips—and then their bottoms as they instinctively turned away from the blows—pointing insistently, staring down the girls until they obeyed her and cautiously made their way to the far ledge, hugging the cliff every step of the way despite the fact they had a good five or six feet insulating them from the precipice.  The platform was roughly a square, six feet on a side, defined on one side by the rushing water, a second by the cliff wall which provided the only sense of security, and on the other two sides by the abyss. 

Only after they were obeying did she explain:  “The loneliness you’re feeling is all about separation from me.  Magical separation, emphasizing—or more precisely, failing to compensate for—the physical separation that feels increasingly at odds with the spiritual connection between us.  But the nausea you feel is only partly at the isolation.”  She smirked a moment before becoming serious again:  “And Penny’s yummy shame.  Right now, the magico-chemical suppositories I placed inside you are finishing their work of dissolving everything inside your intestines and stomach.”  The girls looked at one another, worried.  “Well, except for the twister and the trigger, which will jell all by themselves when I command them.  And believe me, you want me to command them to do so, which I will do as soon as you’re in position.  Right now, they’re what are holding in your filth; but as your intestines churn more intensively…. They are ultimately tasked with not harming you, so they’ll allow you to vacate before anything more extreme happens.  But they will hurt like hell exiting your body if they’re forced out, without any further help from me.”

“Why?” Penny asked.  And Chas, simultaneously:  “How?”

“Now step to the very back of the ledge, furthest away from the edge, and squat down with your hands on the cliff wall.”

“Mistress!”  The girls whined with alarm and fear.  “Please!  Mercy!”

“Obey me and I will be merciful and jell your toys.  It’s hard not to experience what’s about to happen to you as unpleasant—”  Then, nodding her head thoughtfully, she qualified:  “Well, unless circumstances or spiritual darkness compel you to experience it a few times.  Then, I’m told, it can become quite addictive.”

“What?!”

She laughed.  “I know!  Humans are disgusting.  Point for today being, it’s unpleasant but not harmful or excruciating.  It won’t hurt a tenth as much as Fang’s paddling this morning.  It’s mostly the bad associations that make it unpleasant.  It’s hard for your mind not to experience it as the worst case of the flux you can imagine.”

“Mistress!”  The girls were almost crying.

“Good girls,” she laughed, enjoying their plight but pretending it was routine.  “The most important thing is to keep your mess there at the base of the cliff wall so the trigger and the twister aren’t swept over the ledge.  If they drop down there, you’ll spend the next week and a half after your return from Lytos searching for them.”

She shook her head, smiling, and sat down on a rock watching the girls shivering and whining and casting looks of fear at one another, then at her.  Bursting out laughing, she dried her hands on her dress while she cautioned them:  “Remember.  Do not let anything solid go over that cliff.”

“MISTRESS!”  They squealed in alarm, looking terrified, just before she smirked at them and relaxed something inside herself.

Immediately, their expressions melted into extreme discomfort.  “Oh no!” Chas yelped, as she became sick at both ends at once.

“Please look away, Domina!”  Penny begged, her face becoming agonized as she tried to resist what Chas had accepted.  “Privacy please—”

Channah sneered.  “Absolutely not!  It’s physically revolting, of course, and you should be disgusted and disgraced with what vile creatures you are.  So wallow in it, you dirty, despicable girls!  Go on!  Look at me while you void yourselves or I’ll whip you until I can see your bones!”  And when they obeyed her, she shuddered, her eyelids fluttering with the intensity of her arousal as she began rubbing herself, completely overcome with passion.  “Oh fuck I wasn’t planning to do this but occasionally I disgust even myself!”  She was laughing with the same intensity of their bitter tears, even as her body shook and jerked with one of the strongest orgasms they had ever seen her experience, a rolling orgasm that surged and subsided and surged again like waves on the ocean at high tide.  She could barely speak, half-grunting, and disturbingly, even shimmering back and forth between her human and demonic forms.  Most unsettling, in her intense state, the human and demonic forms, while similar to one another and all recognizable to the girls as their Domina Channah, were not the same.  As a demon she would have U-shaped horns, then curled rams’ horns, no tail that they could see, then a long one; and her human forms would vary between her usual obscene plushness and a grotesque, almost inflated fatness; then between olive and almond skin tones.  “Your shame is like opium honey to me,” she grunted, as she burst out laughing, unusually cruelly, which was saying something for her, as Penny, like Chas, started crying, shitting, and vomiting all at once.

Channah applauded and mocked them, their indignity, and their misery, when she could gather enough breath to do so between bouts of laughter so strong her efforts to breathe became a form of sobbing similar to her girls.  “This is horrific!  You’re the most disgusting, nasty, filthy mud-fountain whores I’ve seen in—years!  Lilith and Cain, I LOVE BEING SUCH AN EVIL NASTY BITCH!  OH FUCK!” 

By the time it—orgasm for her, flux for them—was more or less over, Channah was slumped back against her rock, staring off into space with glassy eyes, while the girls were quietly sobbing with their misery and humiliation.  It was several minutes before Channah finally took a deep, relieved breath and, apparently too fatigued to stand, practically crawled forward to wash her hands once again in the stream, before drying them again on her dress.  “Ohhh… thank you, girls.  Your mortification was so hot.  I love to see you suffering, emotionally and physically at once.  If you can train yourselves to get aroused while you’re suffering that way—” she ignored the girls’ noises of shocked protest—“You’d really learn to endear yourselves to me.  Now, set your triggers and twisters in that little pool there for safekeeping, but stay over there, well back from me and the stream, until you’re done.  Well—more precisely, until I’m satisfied you’re done.”

“We’re not done yet?!”  Chas asked incredulously, amusing her again. 

“In the main, my darling bimbette.  But to be safe, I’m going to give your tummies and bowels a few minutes to settle and finish whatever activity they may have remaining in them, while you attend to what I’m explaining.  We must be absolutely sure that you’re both done and pure.”

“Mistress….” Penny whined.  “I can’t stand myself!  Let alone—”

“Good!” she snorted.  “You can’t imagine how much that pleases me.  Do you disgust yourselves?”

“Yes, Domina, “they admitted miserably.

“Tell me.  Tell me!”

“The smell—it’s terrible.  And my skin—even the rocks around us—this is worse than Sodom!”  Penny bawled.

“I’m certain I’m going to be sick all over again—every minute I have to kneel here!”  Chas wailed, proving her words with a dry-retching sound that momentarily cut off her ability to speak. 

Channah whooped.  “That’s perfect!  You girls are a delight to me.  Although clearly I’ve been treating you too well.  But have a thought for your betters, Miriam and Rivqah.  Stop thinking about yourselves, and start thinking about them!  They’re going to have to kiss your nasty bottoms when we get back to the game, aren’t they?”

“Yes, Domina,” the girls admitted, surprised to remember it, or perhaps even to start to suspect it might be an actual possibility.

“And they deserve the very best, don’t they?”

“Yes, Domina!”

“Certainly, better than you two.  Just as I do.  So show us all the proper respect for our relative stations and have the patience to make certain you are clean as a whistle before we have to touch your nasty bodies.”

“Yes, Domina,” they mumbled in shame.

“Turn and face me, and get down on your knees and elbows in a proper posture of respect.”

“But the surface of the rock—” Penny began, gesturing unnecessarily at the spray of liquid filth polluting every inch of the stone around them, almost to the edge of the pool and stream.  Meeting the unexpectedly implacable and dark fury in Channah’s eyes, she started, even before Channah growled:

“One more bit of sass or resistance of any kind out of you and I’ll make you lick that entire side of the ledge clean with your tongue before I allow you to wash yourself.  If I sense anything other than gratitude and unqualified respect from you, you’ll have nightmares for a year from the things I force you to do in the next two hours.  Do you understand me, Penance Batonnoir?!”

“Yes, Domina!” Penny corrected herself, and her attitude, with an alacrity that clearly pleased Channah, an ugly smile blossoming on her face at how genuinely cowed Penny was as she watched Penny scramble to assume the specified positon.

And after pausing and staring her slave down, she hissed:  “Lower.  Spready your knees and your elbows so your hips—and especially your nose—are half as far from your stinking corruption as they are now.”

 “I’m so sorry, Domina, I swear it, I’ll be better!”  Penny fell over herself to show how contrite she was, and how bereft of the hubris that often made her try to act better than the chattel slave she was.  “I’ll be a good girl, Mistress!  Thank you for this chance to apologize and do better!  Thank you, thank you, thank you, Domina, I’ll be your good girl!”

“Of course!”  She crowed with satisfaction.  “You’re such a prissy, affected little snoot I should have guessed it!  Now I have another way to control you when I really want to.  Or how to punish you.”  She laughed meanly when Penny moaned fearfully, continuing to revel in her own power, and rub Penny’s nose in her own helplessness and lowliness, so to speak.  “Thank you for being so thoughtless and stupid as to reveal another profound vulnerability to me!  Now I have two:  Pain… and filth.  One day, perhaps we’ll have a test to see which one breaks you faster.  Unless you can continually impress me with your devotion and submission.”

“Yes, Domina,” Penny whispered fearfully, her voice shocked with horror.  “That won’t be necessary, I swear it!”

“You should be grateful I’m consigning you to my husband’s control.  I advise you to sink completely into your desire to surrender to him, and learn how to embrace the benefit and blessing of willing surrender, before I waste another minute on you.  Otherwise, you will find it very emotionally stressful to serve me with the level of meanness and humility I will require.”

“Yes, Domina, I’ll try, Domina, I promise!”  Penny babbled.  “Thank you, Domina!”

“And your lowly position is thoroughly appropriate.  You should be humble.  I am about to reveal to you my destiny, and yours.  Your place in this world.  Your significance, such as it is, here; and the meaning and purpose of your existence.”

Channah felt inordinately pleased with herself. As the girls knelt, shivering and miserable, their guts still cramping and their nostrils and eyes assaulted and assailed by the evidence of their lowest form—and how easily she could reduce them to it—she, their master, relaxed easily on a clean rock in a fresh warm breeze, overlooking a beautiful deep valley on a fresh morning, pulling a piece of cloth and a lacquered box from the folds of her robes.

Literature Section “07-41 Filth and (Mis)Fortune—more material available at TheRemainderman.com—Part 41 of Chapter Seven, “Channah’s Slavegirls:  Pawns of the Court of Lust”—4994 words—Accompanying Images:  2510-2521—Published 2025-11-18—©2025 The Remainderman.  This is a work of fiction, not a book of suggestions.  It’s filled with fantasies, stupid choices, evil, harm, danger, death, mythical creatures, idiots, and criminals. Don’t try, believe, or imitate them or any of it.