Explicit version containing sodomy, analpenetration, prostatestimulation, masturbation, consensualnonconsent, overpowering, and puberty themes at 06-113X Apocalyptogasm at Patreon.com/TheRemainderman

PREVIOUSLY:  As Channah and Penny grow close, and Kadidia toys with Chastity, Channah has humiliatingly forced the girls to confess that they both know Chastity loves her friend Penny in a way Penny does not reciprocate.  Now Channah cajoles Penny into trying to enjoy giving herself to Chastity, knowing she will cross a moral line and a personal boundary in service to Channah.  NOW:

“And for your first boy, Penny, Chas is my gift to you.

“And you love Chas, too, don’t you?”

“Yes!  Yes!”  Penny nodded frantically, back on solid ground.  “I do!’

Of course, Channah insisted on twisting the knife and cutting to the nerve, viciously leering:  “But not the way she loves you, do you, sweetie?”

And when she hesitated, Chas caterwauled:  “Just say it, Penny!”  She, too, was bawling, tears streaming down her face.  “She’s not going to let you—just say it and get it over with!  I know.  Do you think I don’t know?  That’s—why I tried to lie—”

Penny made a croaking sound:  “I’m sorry, Chas.  Not in that way.  But for real, for real, I love you as my friend!  As a sister!”

Chas bawled even harder, sobbing:  “I’m SORRY…. I—I didn’t plan to!  Ever!  But that hurts even more than I could have imagined!”

And now Penny was apologizing back to Chas.  Channah met Kadidia’s syes, the same fire shooting between them that all the succubae—and judging by the noise, all the devils and demons below, too—were feeling as they gobbled up the scene of pathos in front of them.

“But Penny, now you have a way to show Chas how much you love her.  You can let her become a girl.  You became a girl because you are one, a very traditional girl born for the bottom, with everybody.  All you had to do was admit it, and see it for yourself.  But Chas is both, a boy and a girl.  The only way he can become a girl is if you can accept him as a girl in spirit, while he’s physically a boy in every way.  You want to do that for Chas, don’t you, honey?”

Penny, crying even as Channah’s hand moved faster and faster on her penis, nodded. 

“In fact… you’ve wanted it, too… even though you know it’s wrong.  Even though you know boys are not for you.  Because you miss how close you girls can be to one another emotionally.  Even though you know it’s a sin and would have sent you straight to hell… if you weren’t there already.”

The coven members spontaneously applauded and whistled at this, like some caricature of a Greek chorus, or as if cheering for Hell’s team at a home football game.

“YES!”  roared Judah, raising his fists.

“Go, Channah!” squealed Rivqah and Miryam, jumping up and down. 

“Another degenerate bites the dust,” Kadidia directed her narration, and her cruel grin, with particularity at Chastity, who shrank slightly.

Channah, merriment in her eyes, continued:  “You feel an urge to play with boys who like you, boys like Chastity was, even though you know it’s wrong and you know it’s not for you.  Don’t you?  JUST so they like you?  JUST so you can please them, DON’T you?  TELL ME THE TRUTH!

“I don’t know, Domina!”  Penny howled, and Channah knew she spoke absolutely the truth from the pain in her voice.  “I don’t know…” she wept quietly.  “If you say so—I just don’t—I know you know me better than I do….  I do like to please people…” and then in a broken whisper:  “So it must be true….”

Channah felt a burst of heat that made her gasp, conscious of Kadidia’s sharp look, but determined to ignore it and act as if she was operating with all the passion of a waterwheel.  “Then trust me, and tell me what you know I know!”

“It’s true, Domina.  It’s true!  I do love Chas, and I—I have longed to—to be close—”

“Really?”  Chas asked in a dazed, amazed little squeaky voice, which Channah completely drowned out with her own roar: 

To WHAT?!

“To SIN with her—” Penny shook her head, as snotty and tearstained as Chas, both of them blubbering like, well, little girls, stripped and humbled to their cores by Channah in the heteraslakos.

“So what I want you to do, baby, is only for you to do exactly what you’ve secretly been wanting all along.  First with Chas, then with others.  Give yourself to Chas, as freely and honestly as you have given yourself to me.  Will you do that baby?  For me?  For you?!  I want you to not just allow Chas to take you, but to enjoy it, even though it won’t be sexual for you.  Let Chas and the rest of us help you realize your potential to enjoy yourself with pure, Platonic love for her, for the sake of servicing her, for the sake of serving me, with someone you love, innocently and truly.  Can you do that for me?”

Penny nodded again through her tears. 

“And… is a little part of you excited about it?  A little part that’s missed Chas all this time?”

Penny nodded, crying.

“Then say it!”

“I—I want—”

SAY IT!

“I want you, Chastity!  Please, I miss being close to you, and I want you to be able to be a girl like me.  And… I want to be a girl for you, the girl you want,” Penny blubbered and wailed.

“Penny!”  Chastity managed poignantly, before her noises devolved into unintelligible squalling. 

“And now, Penance, I want you to prove to Chastity, and the Coven, and your qahramanah, and everyone else, and most of all yourself, how the idea excites you, how much you care, and how hard you’ll try, and what a passionate little girl you are, so that none of them—and most of all, not you—will ever believe again you’re the safe, straitlaced little prude you pretend!  That’s why I’m touching you so sweetly, so quickly—to give you another big-boy chance to show us what a big man you are by having a real, masculine, macho release instead of a squealy little-girl moment.  So show us!  Show us what a man you can be!  Last chance!  Right—right—NOWWWWWW!!!!!”  Channah shrieked, a long, drawn out, cry fading into softness as she murmured:  “Oh you’re such a good passive girl, Penny, I looove you so much baby.”

With a squawking, squalling, mewling noise more pitiful and worse than any noise she’d ever wanted to make in her whole life, the thing she had feared the most, happened again.

“Oh, look at that precious face!”  Channah managed over her laughter and through her own humming high.  “How was that sweetie?  That didn’t look like a man, and I bet it didn’t feel like a man either, did it?  And here I gave you every chance!  I was right, wasn’t I?  Wasn’t I, sissy?!

“NOOOOOO!!!!!  YES, DOMINA!”   Penny agonized.  “It was HORRIBLE again!”  and as she sobbed and wiggled and shuddered with the misery of her plight, the succubae and even the red devils below dissolved in harder laughter.

“UUNNGGHH!!!”  Channah’s voice gurgled and bubbled at the very bottom of her range, a sound that even managed to penetrate Penny’s overloaded consciousness it was so much deeper than any female’s voice ever should be, as Channah shocked herself by peaking again.  Halfway through it, her voice broke, being hoarse for a second before she screamed at her highest pitch, shocked and overcome, grabbing Penny and holding her as tightly as she possibly could, while Channah just froze, fearing her own heart, such as it was, might stop.

Her eyes widened even further as they refocused, drawn by the extreme and tortured noises coming from below, watching in disbelief past Penny as all the devils started moving—too fast for the verb—they started vibrating, back and forth, and at a frantic pace, like guitar strings, turning into blurs below.  And then some of them—many of them—simply exploded, like rotten tomatoes hurled and smashing and smearing against the desert and their fellows’ bodies, making the desert sand even redder, leaving only gristle and guts and bits of bone like a grisly soup spattered on and all around the survivors.  One rogue bit was even propelled all the way up to hit Channah in the face, an inch from her mouth, which she licked and sucked up instantly, almost before Penny had seen it, definitely before Penny could process its existence or nature.

THAT, Channah knew now, is what had been wrong earlier:  the wetness, the slickness—it was a fucking desert!

At the end, she had pulled Penny so hard, that she left bruises on Penny’s thighs.  Not that Penny could possibly have noticed it in the maelstrom of her own fiery, punishing exertions; or thought about much else than her own feelings, drowning her like a tidal wave; feelings Channah could still feel shredding her psyche.

When she was done, Channah practically collapsed, noticing the surviving devils staggering and struggling to keep their balance below.  She only half-remembered the members of her                                            coven gently dragging and pulling her back, away from the ledge, and out of Kadidia’s way.

Kadidia, who’d just—barely—had the presence of mind when the devils had… lost their shit, or whatever the hell had happened down there!, to yank Chastity away from the edge and sling her on her back to the mattress near Esmeray before she could see anything the succubae couldn’t explain away. 

Judah operated the heavy locking mechanism that connected the length of metal Penny was hanging from, rigidly and reliably to the adjacent section; and then pulled the section of railing clockwise back, therefore swinging Penny back over the relative safety of the platform, before unlocking her anchor points and dropping her back down onto solid ground as Penny grunted with the impact and then softly sighed— —only to screech in panic in the very next moment as her oily, greased body, released from the anchor points, began sliding again down the very same trail of sticky-slippery stone that had launched her into space before.  Only if she went over this time, it would be without the benefit of any railing to hold her, or succubae to bind her to it!

Literature Section “06-113[X] Apocalyptogasm”—more material available at TheRemainderman.com—Part 113 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—Abridged 1674 words::Explicit 1898 words—Accompanying Images:  1898-1902—Published 2025-05-12—©2025 The Remainderman.  This is a work of fiction, not a book of suggestions.  It’s filled with fantasies, idiots, and criminals. Don’t believe them or imitate them.

PLEASE NOTE:  Subsections (B), (C), and (E) will be posted out of order, beginning on July 5th, because I began posting the series in reverse order from July 4th until I realized I wasn’t going to have enough time to include everything in order.

The images here start to depart markedly from the goals of the original project described in Subsection A in that it doesn’t seem likely they would ever have been created; and therefore they do not aspire to historical authenticity but are instead editorial in nature, i.e., I am commenting on the times or the subject matter in some way, as discussed in the description of each work.

Literature Section “07-04-D Hypothetical WW2 Images”—Accompanying Images:  1717, 1940-1941—Published 2025-06-10 to 06-12—©2025 The Remainderman.  This is a work of fiction, not a book of suggestions.  It’s filled with fantasies, idiots, and criminals. Don’t believe them or imitate them.

1717 07-04 The Viscountess Fensmere Reminds You to Kindly Keep Calm and Carry On—2025-06-10; Hellinore; motivational poster; compare  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Keep_Calm_and_Carry_On.  The very-British, very understated upper-class stiff-upper-lip sterotype reflected by the original propaganda poster (which as noted in the linked article, was hardly used during the war because it was being withheld for use in the most-dire of circumstances, which were never deemed to have arrived) really made me think of a formal upper-crust event like a tea party where people could calmly discuss tea as bombs rained down around them.  Or a Monty Python lampoon of the same.

1940 07-04 Wanted for Murder–of English with her smack talk—2025-06-11; Hellinore; motivational poster (Victor Keppler, 1944); compare https://goldenageposters.com/products/1944-wanted-for-murder-her-careless-talk-cost-lives-victor-keppler-wwii.  The original was one of numerous posters produced by many combatants, warning their citizens to be careful not to reveal secrets with loose talk.  I liked the idea of a wanted poster but frankly found the original a bit boring and lacking in context.  I had taken Hellinore, an upper-class character, so far down the path of being loud, eccentric, and independent to the point of offensive, I wanted to take her further toward public enemy territory.

1941 07-04 Set Europe Ablaze!–Anarchy ‘n’ the UK—2025-06-12; Kadidia; motivational poster; compare https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special_Operations_Executive#Wartime_commentaries_on_SOE.  Churchill was said to have authorized the Special Operations Executive with a mission to “Set Europe Ablaze.”  I did not find any reference to when its existence as an organization was made public, but suffice it to say, as a secret organization coordinating secret missions, it did not have any propaganda posters—at least, in its own name, or proclaiming its own purpose; although it may well have been involved in the distribution of propaganda materials without attribution.  I chose Kadidia for this imaginary poster because other than 1782, which didn’t really showcase her personality or role, I didn’t find real WW2 posters with black women.  In choosing her, I had in mind the SOE agent Noor Inayat Khan.  I also like the spirited anarchic defiance of the message, which because it refers to Europe as a whole as the target area for operations, almost seemed to suggest an attack on the contintent’s culture and establishment as a whole by a radical outsider.

Explicit version containing sodomy, analpenetration, chastity, prostatestimulation, masturbation, consensualnonconsent, overpowering, and puberty themes at 06-112X True, Desperate Confessions at Patreon.com/TheRemainderman

PREVIOUSLY:  Channah leads Penny in an intense and passionate dance while Kadidia is holding Chastity from behind working her over.  NOW:

“I asked you a question, Pleaser!  How about Chas?” she grinned evilly, her eyes boring into Penny’s, as inescapable as sunlight in a desert

“Domina?”

“Don’t play dumb, Penny.  You make a very!  Bad!  Bimbo!”  She emphasized with three outsized thrusts.  “The worst part about this position is I can’t correct you the way I want to!”  She complained, but then swatted where she could reach, a tight mean grin on her face as Penny tried to dodge her.  “Now, do you want to finish your business or do you want me to leave you hanging out there while Chas and I go spend our first day of honeymoon by ourselves?”

“Please don’t stop, Domina!”

“Try again.”

“I want to finish my business, Domina!  Please, please let me—make me—Domina!”  Penny whined.

“Then you better be honest!”  The cruel smile widening, her eyes drilled into Penny’s as she demanded:  “Do.  You.  Think.  Chastity.  Will.  Have.  To.  Be. Trained. To. Like. Boys?”

“No, Domina,” Penny sobbed, admitting what she knew.  “Chastity likes boys and girls.”

“How much?”

“Chastity—likes boys a lot.”

“Any in particular?” She smirked, driving the nail home.

“Please, no,” Chastity begged, and Penny, wrestling with it, conflicted between loyalty to Chas, and simultaneous fear and the desire to please Channah, gaped like a fish without any sound coming from her mouth, her eyes trapped by the gravity of Channah’s even as she pulled her head back and turned it down as if she were trying to look away.

Channah began punishing Penny again, eliciting a useless whine from Penny.

Channah shrugged, her lips wrenching back in a savage smile-that-was-no-smile that particularly terrified Penny.  Deciding if she was going to quail like a baby bitch, she should act like one, Channah compressed her again, making Penny leak.  But it was enough, enough to embarrass Penny, demonstrate Channah’s power, and illustrate her point:  “You’re not as brave as you like to pretend, Penny darling.  I hope you’re comfortable at least.  Do you think Chas will even feel guilty while the two of us are hugging and kissing and cuddling one another in my safe warm bed, and you’re still hanging out here like a rotting netful of old medlars?” she asked, beginning to pull out of Penny.  “Will she even think of—”

TELL HER PENNY!”  Chastity screamed.  “I’M SORRY FOR BEING WEAK!  PLEASE TELL HER!  I LO—

Kadidia clamped her huge hand over Chastity’s mouth and most of her face, silencing her utterly, as the two succubae laughed.

“One last Chance, girlie,” Channah offered.  “Any particular girls Chastity’s got the hots for?  Maybe, had a crush on since… oh I don’t know… you first met?”

After sputtering for half a second, Penny broke down in the face of overwhelming force and an even greater obviousness that everyone already knew what she was going to say anyway, whether they were eager to hear it or loath to say it, sobbing:  “Yes, Domina.”

“Oh, my, this is sooooo juicy!  Tell us, Penny—do you know who Chas’s secret crush is?”

“Yes, Domina,” Penny croaked.

“Well?  Who is it?”

“It’s me, Domina.  It’s me,” Penny wept.

“Does she LOOOVEEE you, Penny?”

“Yes, Domina.”

“Then come on and say it!  You know better than that!” And she encouraged her again.

“Yes, Domina!  Chastity has a crush on me—Loves me!”  Penny clarified.  He sobbed:  “Chastity loves me.”

“You know that?  For certain?”  Channah asked coyly, returning to using her hand for showing Penny how much she loved her.

“Yes Domina,” she admitted, scarlet for herself and hurting for Chastity’s humiliation, but also desperately, pathetically grateful in her need to please Channah, feeling both worse and better at the same time by her confusing mix of feelings.

“You’ve known that for a loooong time, ever since you two were still boys together, haven’t you?”

“Yes, Domina.  I’ve known.  I knew it before I even realized what it meant.”

“All those times before your priest gave that speech that sounded like it was God talking through the priest directly to you boys and Penny almost died inside… just like she’s feeling now…”. Channah hammered another nail, more like a spike, right through both girls, relishing how Penny’s eyes filled with horror and confusion over how she knew these things.  The same expression that was on Chas’s face when Kadidia dropped her hand and set it back to what it had been doing, tightening her other hand around Chastity’s wrists just to remind her how helpless and easily-handled she was. 

Channah wrapped her sweaty left arm around Chas’s neck at the same time and gave her a wet, messy, sloppy deep tongue kiss, then used her arm to pull the humiliated girl closer to Penny, stretching her between Channah’s arm hooked around her neck and Kadidia’s unyielding hand yanking back on her wrists, as Channah pulled her physically into the dance even more intimately, and whispered to both of them: 

“I know fucking EVERYTHING there is to know about you boys.”  She snorted, as if it were obvious.  “About all boys.  When are you going to get it?  We were made to get inside you… so to speak!” she snickered, physically emphasizing the point.  “Body and soul!  We’re dream-walkers and mind-readers from hell, my innocent little girls!  I am the Queen of Lust!  I personally harvest a dozen souls every day before I even wake up!  Whatever you hope most desperately I don’t know yet—oh!  There, I know it!  That was easy!  You two are pathetic!” she and all the Succubae were howling with laughter by this point.  “Sugar bears, you’re darling little sweeties and I adore you both more than I can say, but nature has made us unequal.  You were made to serve me in all ways, and I was made to top you and all the other little boys in the world!”

Literature Section “06-112[X] True, Desperate Confessions”—more material available at TheRemainderman.com—Part 112 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—Abridged 983 words::Explicit 1104 words—Accompanying Images:  1893-1897—Published 2025-06-11—©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.

1892 06-111 Chas’s Manipura Chain  (as it appears prior to implantation)

Explicit version containing masturbation, sodomy, analpenetration, chastity, and prostatestimulation themes at 06-111[X] Girls and Boys and Succubae, Oh My! at Patreon.com/TheRemainderman

PREVIOUSLY:  Channah leads Penny in an intense and passionate dance while Kadidia is holding Chastity from behind working her over.  NOW:

“I want to be a girl too,” Chastity whined, not planning it, just blurting it out, overcome by the sight of Penny.  “Can—can you make me a girl, Your Grace?”  Kadidia just laughed, while Channah answered:

“You’ve always wanted to be a girl, haven’t you, Chastity?”

She hesitated half a second, she didn’t even know why, then burst out:  “Yes!  Yes, Domina!”

“Your whole life?”

“My whole life,” she nodded, making a little noise in response to the sensations Kadidia’s hand was producing, and without her realizing it, the seductive magic Kadidia was pouring into her.  “As long as I can remember.”

“Look down at your belly—ungh!—Chas.”

She did, and gasped, seeing and then double-checking by touching the gold-and-emerald medlar fruit in her navel.

“I’ll save the long version for later.” 

“Oh—yes, Domina,” Chastity agreed, a whiny, plaintive noise like a bitch because she was disoriented, starting to get turned on, and never very good at resisting succubae or their operatives, even on the few occasions she’d wanted to.  “Yes…”

That is your ticket to becoming who you want to be.  If you really want to be a girl, it will make you a girl.”

“I do, Domina, I do!”

“I believe you, dear.  But what kind of girl do you want to be?”

“What—what kind?” She asked in confusion, Kadidia’s big, strong, yet gentle hand beginning to get a response similar to the one Channah was receiving from Penny.

“The kind keeping their little boy part?  Or the kind with all the girl-parts and none of the parts you were born with?”

“Oh!  I want my clitty, Domina!  I love my clitty!”  The coven roared with laughter, and Chas pinkened, suddenly realizing how much of an audience they had on the platform, let alone… whatever that was below them.  In a more muted tone she pleaded:  “They are girl-parts!  They’re my girl-parts!”

“And when you play, do you always like to play the girl’s role?  Or do you like—”

“I like—I love!all the parts, Domina!” Still embarrassed, but not surprised, that her confession was greeted with amusement all around.

“Penny,” Channah spoke to her rider.  “You’re not like Chastity, are you sweetie?”

“She’s a girl!”  Chas whined excitedly.

Channah laughed, shaking her head in mock-exasperation.  “That’s not what I meant, Chas honey.  And I didn’t ask you.”

“Oh,” she said, chastened.

“Penny only gets to play the girl-parts.  I’m not giving her a choice.  You know that, right muffin?  You’re never, ever, ever going to get to play the boy in bed?”

And she laughed, a low growl of pleasure deep in her throat, when Penny sobbed and confessed:  ‘I know, Domina!” letting her head fall and for a second.

“I’d ask Penny if she wants to play the boy part or not, but…” she turned to Chas and pecked her on the cheek, surprising her with the display of affection.  Stage-whispering:  “That might be kind of cruel, to ask a girl doomed to never actually get to try, hunh?  What do you think?”

And she cackled with delight, like the other succubae, at Penny’s unplanned, pitiful moue of recognition and acknowledgment of the cruel truth. 

“Oh, don’t whine.  You should be thanking me for making the decision for you.  I think we both know—or at least, you already suspect and fear what I already know, that you couldn’t take a man’s role with either a girl or a boy!”  She laughed harshly.  “Could you, pumpkin?  Hell, you can barely handle yourself, can you honey?  Admit it, baby.  It’s okay, sweetie.  I know you’re a wimp and I still love you.  Admit it!”

“I know!  I know you’re right, Domina!”  Penny cried out in anguish, delighting their audience.

“Why, of course!  It’s perfectly obvious,” Channah scoffed.  “You haven’t got the man, or even the little boy, in you for that.”  She patted Penny gently as she wept and grunted, playing teasingly with her best little approximation of manhood.  “Pudding and jelly don’t work the same way proper boy-parts do, do they, Puddin’?”

“No, Domina.”

This is the only penetration you’re ever going to enjoy, isn’t it?”  And she emphasized the point with several particularly-hard bumps as she moved her hand faster over Penny’s wannabe-boy parts, enjoying watch her whine, cry, and nod, hardly able to help herself.  “I let Penny be this way, even though—well, okay, maybe because?” she snorted, sticking out her tongue, daring Penny to protest, “she’s never going to get to use it for the purpose a man’s body was intended for, or feel the way a man should feel, if he’s really a man.” 

“Because you’re an evil bitch,” Kadidia chuckled, and Channah threw her head back and laughed.

“Guilty as sin, darling,” she cackled.  “But that’s not really the reason.  Not the main one, anyway.  It was mainly because boy parts are so much more useful for teasing and controlling than girl parts.  Imagine, a girl like Penny, through and through.  Based on a great deal of experience, my intuition tells me Penny wouldn’t know what to do—or, more exactly, not even want to do what a man would want to do, even if I let her.  No matter what she’s heard and been taught about it.  Would she?”

Kadidia nodded begrudgingly, laughing.  “We can all sense it, Majesty,” she agreed.  “We know a girl when we see one.  Regardless of her outer form.”

“So she doesn’t have any real use for those parts, except to control her.  And by deciding for her, I’m really doing her a favor by shielding her from having to face that embarrassing truth!”

“Thank your Master, pussy!”  Kadidia barked, with a big grin.

“Thank—you—Domina!”  Penny grunted and groaned.

“But you, Chas…”  Channah turned back towards the blonde girl.  “I’m guessing you like to play the boy sometimes, even when you’re a girl.  Am I right?”

“Oh, yes, Domina!”

“And there’s—ungh!—another big difference between you two, isn’t there, little Chastity?”

Chastity reddened.  “Maybe,” she whispered in a tiny voice.  “I’m not sure.”

“Oh, I think you’re.. sure!  Penny, even you’re sure, aren’t you?”

She swallowed.  “About what, Domina?  Ah!

“About your future.  Does it turn you on, baby?  Do you dream about it at night?”  she giggled, eating up Penny’s uncertainty and confusion and worst of all, the dread that she might just know where this was going after all.  And when she didn’t say anything, Channah asked:  “All your life, have you just dreamed about boys doing the things to you that I like to do?”

Penny reddened and whispered in a tiny voice, biting her lip as she came closer still to what she was afraid her body was about to do for the second time today:  “No, Mistress.”

“Who do you dream about being your big, nasty masters?  Boys or girls?”

“Girls, Master,” Penny whimpered.

“Then I—well, my clientsyour customers—and I are going to have to train you until you learn to like it, aren’t we?”

“I—I don’t know if that’s ever going to—” Penny tried to avoid answering, but then, meeting her eyes, trailed off, crumbled, and yielded miserably:  “Yes, Domina.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I will need to be trained to be that kind of girl, Domina.”

“And do you doubt I can train you?  Do you doubt I will?”                                                                                                             

“No Domina” she whispered, her lip quivering cutely as tears rolled down her cheeks, certain she could be broken by the much-stronger force of nature leaning over her, hands on the bar from which Penny was hanging, bearing over and down on her with a fierce and predatory grin as she continued to make a point of Penny’s weakness and receptivity.

“Awww…. Good girl!  I wish I could kiss you but—not right now.”  And then she dug the knife in:  “How about Chas, Penny?” she grinned evilly again.

Literature Section “06-111[X] Girls and Boys and Succubae, Oh My!”—more material available at TheRemainderman.com—Part 111 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—Abridged 1324 words::Explicit 1363 words—Accompanying Images:  1888-1892—Published 2025-06-10—©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.

Explicit version containing masturbation, orgasm, penetration, edging, and draining themes at 06-110X Chastity Comes Back for More at Patreon.com/TheRemainderman

PREVIOUSLY:  Channah leads Penny in an intense and passionate dance.  Meanwhile, Kadidia is propping up a comatose Chastity beside Channah, who has urged Penny to help Kadidia revive her.  NOW:

“Chas, Chastity, please wake up!”  Penny called out sincerely with her heart and soul.  “Come back, you can do it!  I did, I know you can too!”

Kadidia leaned over Chastity’s shoulder, putting one hand across Chastity’s chest, turned her head to the side, and kissed her on the lips, breaking the spell that had banished Chas from her own body.  Almost immediately Chastity jerked and came awake, causing Penny to cry out thankfully with relief.

“Good work, Pleaser!” Channah praised her, keeping one hand on the bar and using the other to reach out and take Penny’s chin in her hand, forcing her to look her in the eyes and see the hunger and the passion there.  Penny shivered, helplessly charged by Channah’s charisma, magic, and raw sexual energy, multiplied by Penny’s own sensitivity and responsiveness.  Channah dialed back the pressure on Penny, allowing the tickler to pulse, steady and low; while she drew her hand back from Penny’s chin.  Penny tensed and gasped in fear, causing Channah to laugh.  “Oh, poor widdle baby so nervous!  Please don’t worry, sweetie, this is what you’ve been waiting for!  Mama’s gonna love you baby…” then she snickered, unable to be completely sweet here, in this environment, with the wickedness she had planned.  “Mostly.”

But then she showed the girl just how sweet she could be, as Penny continued to swing back and forth.  As they continued to sweat and move together, the sound turned flatter, moist, and nasty, from the soft whisper of skin on skin to a wet slapping sound of flesh on flesh like women having a slap fight in a rain storm.  Channah bit her lip, for her own pleasure and rude satisfaction, and to show Penance how hot and dominant she was feeling.  Penny’s own face and slack jaw, even without regard to her trussed-up position, made it clear how perfectly she was complementing Channah with her passivity and submission, starting to moan very quickly with real pleasure as Channah’s behavior let her turn from fear to hope, resignation to interest and arousal, and soon, soon, desperation. 

Slap.  Slap.  Slap!  She bounced the girl extra-hard just for fun, giggling with Penny’s wail and her own sudden dizzy suspense as Penny swung out to maximum arc and Channah waited to find if they would be able to continue, or be rudely interrupted. 

But it was edging perfection:  Penny came soooo close to escaping her they both gasped before she returned and they both cried out in relief, the sounds both of them were making, taking on a little, desperate edge.

Meanwhile, next to Channah, having awakened her princess with a kiss, Kadidia played with Chastity’s nipples and held her tight, murmuring into her ear how much she looked forward to taking her the next time they were on this parapet together. 

Chas gasped when her mind started processing well enough to listen and make sense of Kadidia’s words, and Kadidia chuckled, deep in her throat.

“Oh? hmm…” the girl mumbled, only half-awake, the delicious sound turning into a surprised yelp.  “Who are YOU!??!”  And immediately after her genuine, unconscious outburst, realizing she had just barked at—first, a giantess; and second, someone who almost certainly outranked her—she started apologizing:  “I’m sorry, D—Mis—”

“Your Grace, Your—Your Grace, Chas!”  Penny came to her rescue.  “She’s Succubus Duchess Kadidia!”

“Your Grace!”  Chas repeated automatically, her eyes wide and looking every which way.  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s just—I don’t know—I can’t remember—PENNY!!”  she screeched suddenly, taking in her circumstances.  Even Penny managed a tiny weak rueful smile as Chastity, continuing to process and taking in Penny’s rearing flesh and desperate face, inferred that she was okay.  At least, insofar as any living soul dragged to hell for unnatural supernatural sex-torture rituals and hung out over a precipice above an ocean of ravenous devils could be.

And then, her third realization hit:  “Penny!  You—you’re so beautiful!  Oh, oh Penance—I can’t stand it—you—you—you’re so pretty!”

Penny’s face crumbled and she moaned.  “I know I’m a mess…”

“A hot mess, girl,” Chas promised.  “And I mean—girl!  What happened to you?  Wait—what happened to me?!  I was so scared, Penny, I—”

“Hush,” Kadidia commanded, taking her chin again and turning her back to face her captor, eyes wide with anticipation and arousal in the most primal of senses, focus and attention and heightened blood responding to prepare her body for whatever she was going to need to do next—fight, flee, or fuck—because Chas, bound and held from behind by a woman two or three times her size, had already kind of figured out she wasn’t going to be left alone.  She was still adjusting and nowhere near arousal quite yet, but she was starting to wrap her mind around her circumstances, remember she had cum earlier without permission, been punished, and then been—she shuddered with the recollection, and decided she didn’t want to think about it just now.  Couldn’t possibly think about it now, with Penny and the Duchess and—and—

Channah grunted:  “Chastity—you’re—you’re with us again?  You have the presence of mind to know what’s—ungh—happening around you?” 

“Yes, Domina,” she responded, still sounding dazed even to herself, but nodding as much as she could with Kadidia still holding her chin.  Less than a minute of awareness, and the very first moments of first setting eyes on, or even imagining anything like, Kadidia, and she already felt the heat of Kadidia’s easy power.  She realized of a sudden, with complete certainty, she could not resist Kadidia, physically or mentally, even if she tried her very hardest.  She swallowed and sighed involuntarily under Kadidia’s hands, pleasing the succubus with her natural reaction.  Kadidia’s hand moved lower.  Chastity sighed, and sank back into Kadidia’s big, brown, amused eyes.

“This one’s a natural-born slut,” Kadidia evaluated her, just like that, and Chas turned red, making a helpless little noise.

Literature Section “06-110[X] Chastity Comes Back for More”—more material available at TheRemainderman.com—Part 110 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—Abridged 1003 words::Explicit 1146 words—Accompanying Images:  1884-1887—Published 2025-06-09—©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.

The images in this first subset (07-04-A) of the Defend the Constitution! (07-04) project more-or-less represent what I originally set out to do with it:  Place the characters from ARP into the context of actual, specific historical propaganda posters from World War Two in a way that both related to their role in ARP, and reflected the original character and intent of the propaganda posters they were based on.  Hopefully there is plenty of personality in these images, but I don’t think they contain much tongue-in-cheek mockery of the original images or of the streams of intellectual thought they represented.  In a couple of images (1736 & 1738), women are portrayed where women would probably have been outside the contemplation of the original poster makers; but overall, the messages here are generally consistent with the messages in the original posters, whether for good (the Allied posters) or bad (the Axis poster); and the liberties taken in using female characters don’t undermine or attack the source material per se.

Literature Subsection “07-04-A Actual WW2 Posters”—Accompanying Images:  1685-1687, 1736-1738, 1781-1782, 1935-1936, 1945A; 1945U—Published 2025-06-02 to 06-09—©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.

1685 07-04 We Can Do It!—2025-06-02; Chava; motivational poster (J. Howard Miller 1943); compare https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/We_Can_Do_It!  This poster actually became better-known as a result of a postwar revival of interest, than it was during the war.  I liked its association with female empowerment, and the absence of any traditionalist trappings trying to shoehorn women supporting the war effort into an unequal or subordinate role to men.  It’s just a matter-of-fact call to women, encouraging them and asking for their help and support.  Chava seemed the obvious candidate for this poster as a physically-strong foundry worker in her own right.

1686 07-04 LIFE America’s Secret Weapon—2025-06-02; Chava; magazine cover (Norman Rockwell 1943); compare https://www.saturdayeveningpost.com/2013/07/rosie-the-riveter/.  Notes:  Deliberately switched magazines and style because I think of Life as iconic for WW2 images and I wasn’t interested in a Norman Rockwell vibe per se.   Life had a few color covers although it was very rare in that era; but I liked Chava’s red color too much to make it B&W.  As with 1685, I like the fact Rosie the Riveter is taken on her own terms without trying to limit her by proscribing her role or what it might mean; and knew instantly this one was right for Chava.  Here we see an everyday moment from her life, that in no way distinguishes her from men in a stereotyping way. 

1687 07-04 Young England Wants to Help—2025-06-03; Young Hellinore, Young Pentecost; motivational poster (F.T. Chapman c. 1939-1941); compare:  https://go-leasing24.info/practice-areas/bergen-county-dyfs-lawyers/#google_vignette.  Based on a poster from a US-based charity supporting Britain in the early years of World War Two urging American children to help in supporting Britain.  I changed it to English supporting Dutch because the two characters are English, the English supported the Dutch in WW2, and in the lifetime of the two characters, the English supported the Dutch revolt against the Spanish.  Although I generally disfavor children being encouraged to participate in warfare, e.g., being recruited for underage units like the 12th SS Panzer Division Hitlerjugend, excluding them from the sense of community encouraged in wartime would be alienating and devaluing.  I think this poster suggests an appropriate route for helping without infantilizing them or emphasizing their undeniable role as particular victims of war.

1736 07-04 On Our Side:  The Chinese Fighter—2025-06-04; Fang; educational poster (1944); compare: https://www.worthpoint.com/worthopedia/side-wwii-propaganda-posters-russia-1924405148.  As indicated at the provided link, this is one of at least four posters in the “On Our Side” series along with British, French, and Russian counterparts.  Like 1738, the original seemed to be part of a broader effort to educate Americans about the geography and nationalities involved in the war by explaining who our allies were.  This image became a way to use one of the pilot images of Fang I really loved, despite the difficulties of getting accurate insignia on the plane itself (discussed elsewhere).  In the original series of images, the flags of each nation were separate from the images with people; and the angle of the image made it plausible no insignia would be visible on the plane.

1738 07-04 This woman is your FRIEND–She fights for FREEDOM—2025-06-04; Hong; educational poster; compare https://www.redbubble.com/i/poster/This-Man-is-Your-Friend-Chinese-1940s-WW2-Poster-by-Lueshis/102507112.LVTDI.  I confess, when I first saw the original image on which this one is based, I took it as being of a piece with the wartime Life magazine article indistinguishable from phrenology or Aryan race theory, trying to explain how American readers could tell a Japanese person from a Chinese one just by looking at them.  However, like 1736, this was one of a whole series of posters portraying European and Asian allies on an equal footing, presumably as part of an effort to educate Americans about who our allies were.  This series was a bit bland artistically, but of the limited historically-authentic options available for portraying Asian characters positively on Allied propaganda, I decided to take it.  Handily, the bar at the bottom of the poster also provided an elevated surface for Hong’s left boot without including any background from the underlying image, which would have been inconsistent with the original composition.  Like many posters of the time, human figures were isolated from their original backgrounds before being included in posters.

1737 07-04 Help China!  China Is Helping Us—2025-06-05; Hong; fundraising poster (James Montgomery Flagg c 1940-1942); compare:  https://digitalcollections.hclib.org/digital/collection/p17208coll3/id/1014.  This (like 1687) represents one of the numerous US wartime fundraising campaigns for various allied causes.  United China Relief (“UCR”) brought together seven different China-relief organizations in the US dating to the start of the Second Sino-Japanese War in 1937, and was later amalgamated with others into an umbrella organization that was an antecedent of the United Way.  Given the frustrating difficulty with placing Hong and Fang into historically accurate contexts using the AI discussed elsewhere, I thought about making them actresses in movie posters, but the convention of the time in the US was to have white actors portray significant roles regardless of the character’s putative nationality; and in an effort to avoid attracting more Japanese attention than necessary (and perhaps to keep the left-leaning Chinese film industry more generally apolitical), the Nationalist Chinese movie industry was discouraged from overtly portraying warfare against the Japanese.  Because the UCR’s purpose was to raise money for China, UCR images tended to portray the Chinese as sympathetic victims as well as fighters; but the image on which this one was based managed to fully convey the fighting spirit of the Chinese, in a way that to me (from the determined expression on the Chinese mother’s face and the soldier marching instead of recuperating despite being injured and not-quite-uniformed) suggested behind-the-scenes partisan resistance—which is how I imagined Hong participating in the war effort, sending radio reports on Japanese troop movements back to the Chinese army.

1781 07-04 Keep fit to fight—2025-06-06; Lancelot; motivational poster; compare https://www.dpvintageposters.com/posters/war-citizenship-public-causes/world-war-ii/american/heath-and-welfare/keep-fit-to-fight-original-american-wwii-air-force-physical-fitness-poster-no-3_9324.  I wanted to find an appropriate but not boring or stereotyped platform for introducing Lancelot, perhaps the most traditionally male hero character likely to appear in ARP; and I decided for symmetry, to avoid diminishing women by comparison given my clearly-revealed preference for pinup, cheesecake, and similar depictions of women, that all of his appearances in this series had to have an aspect of beefcake:  The more-unrealistic-while-pretending-to-be-realistic, the better.  There are a number of US wartime posters of men that seem to modern eyes, at least, to have an erotic undertone, especially recruitment posters which from context strongly suggest that undertone is homoerotic.  There was a fantastically unexpected US poster emphasizing hygiene depicting three hunky soldiers showering naked at a jungle encampment.  But unfortunately, the AI wouldn’t let me even get close to doing it justice.  This image was as close as I could get to that vibe, and I think it gets the job done.

1782 07-04 Cadet Nurse:  The Girl with a Future—2025-06-07; Kadidia; recruitment poster; compare: 

https://goldenageposters.com/products/1944-be-a-cadet-nurse-the-girl-with-a-future-jon-whitcomb-wwii-full-size?variant=44536213242136. This poster introduces Kadidia, in the form of the uniformed, determined nurse to the left, but provides only minimal information about who she is or what she represents.  (More fulsome introduction of Kadidia to follow in subsections B, D, and F.).  The reason for including this poster, despite its fairly uninteresting composition is really because, in the first phase of this project, when I was trying to be very true to historical antecedents, I was surprised by the near-total absence of minorities from any of the US World-War-Two posters I found online.  This is notably in contrast not only to images from later US wars, but to earlier ones—at least in World War One and the Civil War, there was a clear and direct appeal to blacks to support the war effort.  (Late in my research, after finishing this image, I came across a “Together We Win” image showing people of color fighting alongside a white soldier and I’ve kept that in case the reception for these posters is warm enough to persuade me to do another set.). I also found a US image portraying Japanese-Americans quietly cooperating in their own segregation and detention; and a couple of British images with minorities, one analogous to the US “Together We Win” poster, and another intended to recruit blacks from British colonies in Sub-Saharan Africa.  Apparently before it was ever used, however, the British decided not to recruit black soldiers because they didn’t want to arm and train them given the anti-colonial sentiments gaining traction within the Empire.  I would categorize the original of the Cadet Nurse poster as ambivalent on the issue of race; and did not find any online commentary to clarify the artist’s or the program’s intentions.  The idea they could be black women is supported by the fact the Cadet Nurse program, apparently quite rarely for wartime government programs, was amended at the insistence of First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt to prevent racial discrimination, eventually recruiting more than 3,000 minorities including even Japanese-American women recruited from the US relocation (essentially concentration, although not as deadly as the Axis variety) camps.

1935 & 1936 07-04 Join the ATS-Women with a will to Win-Apply at any Army Recruiting Centre (UK black & Union Jack versions)—2025-06-08; Hellinore; propaganda poster; compare: https://www.alamy.com/vintage-ww2-recruitment-poster-with-female-ats-member-in-uniform-union-jack-flag-flies-behind-women-with-a-will-to-win!-join-the-ats-apply-at-any-army-recruiting-centre-1939-1945-image342804140.html?imageid=16439DED-FF10-4602-991A-74F85C0BBF85&p=66052&pn=1&searchId=eecbd4edf63c33347e7f7b028a6f8218&searchtype=0.  I was thrilled to find a poster so emphatically directed towards independent female patriotism and personality, showing an assertive woman doing something other than supporting a man or looking for a man, that didn’t go out of its way to allude to traditional women’s roles.  [1936 only:  It was also a lot of fun pushing the adult-Hellinore in-your-face-bling-priestess image to yet another level, like a professional wrestler and valet rolled into one, in this and a couple of subsequent posters combining religious fervor with patriotism.]

1945 07-04 Defend them, they could be your mothers, your wives, your sisters, your daughters (abridged & unabridged versions)Explicit version containing fascist imagery at 07-04[X] Defend them, they could be your mothers, your wives, your sisters, your daughters at Patreon.com/TheRemainderman.  2025-06-09; Penance & Chastity; propaganda poster (1944); compare:  https://history.blog.fordham.edu/?p=257.  Translation (English to Italian): Defend [all-female] them!  Difendile!; They could be your mothers, your wives, your sisters, your daughters  Potrebbero essere le tue madri, le tue mogli, le tue sorelle, le tue figlie.  The original of this poster depicts a rape in progress, more explicitly than I could imply with AI or upload to DA without worrying about being kicked off again; but the image of the enemy menacing women is not at all uncommon in the period.  The enemy is represented by a black man in the original, with obvious racist overtones.  Nothing subtle or nuanced about the message there.  I comment further on the racial issue in 1946; for historical accuracy, I was reluctant to shy away from the racist component; but in addition to worrying about the very real risk of the image being taken offline, and feeling a bit queasy myself about actually implementing the poster, racism among humans is not an overt theme of the first volume of ARP.  Ultimately, I decided to execute it this way because it focuses more on the vulnerability and suffering of the women and thus the gender aspect of the underlying poster, which is more relevant to the themes and characters in the first volume of ARP.

For any who are interested in the process of making AI-generated art in 2025,this seemed like a place worth pausing to discuss the process, because: (1)  The material is immediate and covered by a lot of other sources online, unlike my fictional world.  My thought processes tend to be idiosyncratic and opaque and feel difficult to explain; hopefully the process will be less inaccessible in the context of close nonfiction antecedents for fictional depictions.  (2) I usually illustrate with images that are only retouched to try to minimize or eliminate logical incongruities (e.g., extra limbs or heads), or extremely jarring anachronisms (e.g., someone crop dusting a field in what is supposed to be the Sixteenth Century) that cropped up in images I otherwise liked so much I felt compelled to use them.  These are different; while all AI images require more effort than you might expect (although much less—at least for a slow worker like me—than illustrating by hand), a *lot* more work than average for AI went into some of these images because of factual research questions, trying to achieve ideas too complex for a single prompt at a time, and very specific images (mimicking styles, composition, and even wording and imagery of original posters).  While the easiest only took a couple of or a few hours apiece, the most-complex or -problematic (including, e.g., 1946, 1925, and 2025) took days.  (3) Because I was dealing with real-world issues, particularly in connection with 20th-Century and contemporary figures (e.g., Trump, Stalin), and partisan political expressions in specific geographies, the works faced very different (political not maturity) restrictions, and in some senses, many more obstacles that were deliberately raised by the AI provider to prevent self-expression than even those I face in most of my work.

Since there is no “narrative” being illustrated, to keep examples and comments together, I tried to push most of the image-specific or subset-specific comments down to the individual entries and subsections.  Please see the “Description” field in DeviantArt for what are sometimes fairly detailed background and observations, as well as for links to the historical source material I was emulating, critiquing, or otherwise commenting on.

Given the rapid improvements in online translation, I felt inspired to follow my urge to make a number of posters in languages other than English.  In all cases of foreign-language posters, the titles of the files are the English translations of the posters.  On platforms like DeviantArt that limit the length of file titles, the full title (and thus, the full text in English) is available in the description field even when it doesn’t all fit in the title field.  My confidence in the translations varies a great deal with language.  For languages using the Latin alphabet and related to English (e.g., Germanic and Romance languages) I had a lot more tools available to cross-check and evaluate translations than in languages that used different alphabets (Cyrillic and Chinese traditional characters, for example) and that are only distantly related to English (Chinese, for example, is not even part of the broadest Indo-European group of languages that includes English).  Please let me know if you see any problems or issues with the translations; I would like to be as accurate as reasonably possible!

Several problems with AI (as presently implemented by well-funded projects backed by significant computing power and training allowing more-or-less “natural language” prompting) came to the forefront in this project in a way or to an extent greater than usual.  And some of them were *frustrating* *as* *hell*—not because they’re limitations on AI per se, which I’d say for purposes of image-generation is pretty darn amazing—but because they’re deliberate hobblings superimposed on the AI to avoid the slightest risk of offending anybody.  Partly that’s just outright business selfishness, limiting the value of their own product to promote their own sales; different from but in the same category as planned obsolescence, software limitations on native vehicle range, and the like.  But partly it’s also the fault of people for being too sensitive and into one another’s business in an intolerant and critical way, and of the government for leaving it unclear whether certain classes of violations will be blamed on the posters or the providers or both.  I myself can’t fault a private company for playing it safe when they could face criminal or civil liability for things posters and customers used their products for; but of course, it doesn’t excuse the companies for their own pandering and undue focus on profit.  Profit is valid and in fact necessary for most companies to continue operating; and regulations mean in publicly-traded companies, for example, executives could even get in trouble if they maximized anything other than profit within the narrow strictures of the law.  But there’s more than life to it and the best businesses recognize that.  Not so silicon valley in relation to AI.  While directing most of my hostility towards the culture wars and Americans’ departure from our national ideals by indulging their own desire to control others over a respect for differences of opinion, there’s plenty left for the provider’s simple greed in deliberately handicapping a tool of amazing expressive potential.

The length and specificity limitations on AI images, as well as the absence of a strong “gaffer” check (clearly 99.999% of the image-checking and controls are about preventing the AI from accurately portraying anything that Silicon Valley programmers imagine might be offensive to anyone) that  come to the forefront in many of these images because, being political images in the middle of wartime, and (in most cases) dealing with wars so familiar from popular culture that everybody instinctively knows what the uniforms and equipment of each major participant look like, it’s quite jarring if the uniform or the equipment is wrong.  Or, if the uniforms are as little as 30 or 40 years off.  I had to accept much less precision and accuracy in uniforms and equipment than I would have liked, even when I burned up precious prompt real estate spelling out details like “green U.S. Army dress uniform of World War II” or specific equipment designations like “B-17 Flying Fortress of the USAAF” or “M1 Garand rifle.”

As with all projects, the most frustrating aspect was the deliberate stifling of expression that might be deemed to offend anyone, whether progressives/liberals objecting to “politically-incorrect” content or conservatives/populists objecting to “offensive” content.  Trying to keep the examples and issues as short as possible, I was beset on this project with one very familiar problem and one mainly-surprising problem.

The Usual Problem—Portraying strong and/or voluptuous women.  I understand and expect that the AI, being trained on reality, will pick up the biases we actual people model for it.  And some of those prejudices are in the area of body types and social roles, especially for women.  If the AI uses what it knows about the specific time and place in which an image is set, to clothe a woman or depict what she’s doing more specifically, I get that; I expect it; and I even think it’s the obvious outcome.  It doesn’t offend me when the AI supplies missing details by reference to averages and existing portrayals from the web of people and roles from different times.  Indeed, I expect it; and I don’t know how the AI could do its job if it *didn’t* fill in blanks in a manner consistent with actual history or actual facts, including what was fashionable or expected at the time.

I *am* really offended and infuriated when the AI resists efforts to specify traits that I want in a character or scene.  I won’t argue about extreme cases such as sexual or visceral vulgarity; I think there’s a time and place for that, but I understand there are children present (on the Internet) and they’re difficult to exclude if any of their parents are asleep on the job which many of them will be.  But if it’s a part of everyday life that children can see without being harmed, it really pisses me off to conceal it because one segment or another of the population doesn’t like it.  If they don’t like it, they shouldn’t look at it; but they also shouldn’t be protesting companies that allow their customers to exercise their legal right to express themselves.  And we definitely shouldn’t be making vague, unclear laws that make companies even less likely to allow free speech than their greed does.  Some pet peeves:

  • Women who look different than runway models including voluptuous, elderly, and strong women. 
  • Women who act non-traditionally.  I realize some of this will be the product of bias in the underlying human examples the AI is modeling, to an even greater extent than body types; but again, the issue here is where the prompt *specifies* a female.  And I have had examples where I used at least three different gender-specific terms, even the phrase “a female woman,” where the AI would flip the gender and turn a woman into a man if she’s rescuing someone or acting with physical courage.  Words like “bold” and “brave” are surprisingly gender-determinative (again—overriding contrary express gender prompts) in the world of mainstream AI.
  • Voluptuous women displaying confidence in themselves, their bodies, their right to movement, or heaven forbid, their appearance.  Apparently in Silicon Valley, if it’s a crime for a woman to be an endomorph or a mesomorph, and to be bold, or adventurous, or brave, or noble, then it’s inconceivable to allow anyone to portray an endomorphic or mesomorphic woman displaying confidence or assurance of any kind.  When I started this about a year ago, I gave up even trying to show a variety of women because the AI seemed so determined to limit large, gorgeous, fantabulous women from doing anything other than sitting around hugging their sisters on park benches while sensibly dressed in gender-neutral or voluminous clothing.  It was and is infuriating.  Question for my readers:  Can you guess how I first found an escape hatch from these narrow strictures?  YES!  Turn a female character into an orc or an ogre!  That’s why Chava looks that way—because if I describe her as a lizard, she can be fat!  It’s only if she’s a gorgeous, succulent, drool-inducing human woman who has flesh on her bones, that she can’t be depicted.  BONUS TIP:  If you want to show juicy, yummy, sexy women in hoods and masks, you can use the word “humanoid” instead of “person” to refer to them, and the AI will allow you to give them va-va-voom hourglass curves without having to make them into lizards first!
  • Mature people who do anything other than visit the doctor or put on a red suit and climb down a chimney.
  • Old people.  Apparently merely *being* an old person is a problem, it’s so offensive and unthinkably horrible and disgusting.  Unless, again, you’re Santa.  That’s okay.  And *occasionally* you can describe someone as a “grandparent” and the AI will conclude it’s okay to show them with indicia of age.
  • Germans in uniform.  Or, even, soldiers in the world war two era in gray or black uniforms.  And… god forbid, but I’m going to say the word:  Nazis.  This can be a legal problem (especially in Europe) as well as a social-offence/thin-skinned-audience/cowardly-businessperson problem.  But I think the main culprit here is pedantic demands for political incorrectness.  Trying to portray World War Two where—news alert!  Content warning!  Our enemies included the Nazis—I was blown away by how difficult it’s become to even allude to their existence.  But there is a major problem when merely including the word “Wehrmacht” in a prompt triggers a nasty warning suggesting you’re doing something immoral and threatening to cut off access to an important tool like AI if you dare to ever mention it again.  Ironically, the reason I actually *used* the word Wehrmacht was because I was having such difficulty generating *anyone* in uniform in World-War-Two era Germany that I thought “the AI is afraid to show uniforms because it might be people wanting SS troops.  So I’ll specify ‘Wehrmacht’ so it knows I’m not trying to advocate fascism, I’m trying to depict people in uniform in a society where even civil servants wore uniforms and probably 20% of the adult population was in the military.”  Nope:  Verboten.  Like seeing reruns of Hogan’s Heroes playing on TV, trying to generate these images shocked the hell out of me by bringing to my attention just how intolerant of free speech our society has become despite the first amendment.  And I also find it very short-sighted and stupid.  How are we to remember the Holocaust if we can’t talk about Nazis?  I don’t think you can do it.  And why would we want to suppress that history?  There’s no good purpose for it.  Free speech, the enlightenment, reason, learning, democracy, peace, equality, tolerance, and freedom all go together.  It is categorically wrong for both the left and the right to be trying to shut other people up.  If people can’t use words, they’ll use fists.
  • Allied troops liberating occupied Europe—Fuhgeddabowdit!  Showing American, English, or Commonwealth troops or flags or jeeps or tanks on the streets of France or the Netherlands is a big *no-no*!  Even if they were welcomed with delirious joy when they actually arrived, and their actual purpose for being there was in *support* of the local country instead of hostility to it.
  • Nationalist Chinese—Attempts to portray Fang and Hong fighting for America’s ally, the Republic of China, were as problematic as showing Nazis.  The AI by default shows China in World War Two as the People’s Republic of China, which did not exist until four years after the war ended.  Again, it would be one thing if the AI were making a mistake or simply failing to distinguish between an earlier and a later government in a country.  But in this case, the AI deliberately overrode and ignored specific prompts (as well as historical reality) referring to the ROC or “Nationalist” China, and in fact returned a policy-violation-you-will-be-denied-future-access-to-AI-you-immoral-scum when I use the phrase white sun on blue field to specify Nationalist Chinese markings.  Was the WW2 ROC a bastion of democracy and humanitarianism?  No.  But AI showed no problems displaying Soviet insignia or PRC Chinese insignia, *only* identifying a policy violation for a reference to Nationalist Chinese imagery, in the same terms it reacts to requests for Nazis.  But the Nationalist Chinese—in addition to being allies in World War II, just like the Russian and Chinese Communists—and being, you know, the actual, internationally-recognized government of China at the time, the *same* symbols are used by the Nationalist Chinese government which survives to this day in the form of Taiwan, because it’s the same government, albeit exiled and reformed after World War II.  And today, it is a liberal democracy with individual liberties and economic prosperity unmatched by anyone in East Asia other than Japan and South Korea.  Nor could I generate Nationalist Chinese flags or aircraft insignia by telling the AI to produce a scene located in “Taiwan” instead of China.  All of these problems arose in the first place because I was trying to generate an image of a “Flying Tigers” aircraft—one of the aircraft flown by US citizens fighting in alliance with the Chinese against Japan in World War Two; and I couldn’t understand why the computer generated communist or simply generic aircraft in response to prompts for the Flying Tigers.  Even more shocking than suggesting it was fine to portray insignia of mass-murdering polities of the USSR and the PRC, but somehow against Silicon Valley’s policies to portray insignia that were once associated with a mass-murdering polity of the ROC but today represent the strong, proud, and vibrant democracy into which it evolved, was when the AI, rather than showing Nationalist Chinese insignia in China, started putting rising suns on the fuselage of Chinese aircraft!  Those are, in fact, the symbol of America’s and China’s enemy in World War Two, the Empire of Japan.  The extreme hostility of the AI to the democracy in Taiwan cannot easily be explained by traditional American biases, but seems to be either a deliberate effort by Silicon Valley to placate the PRC for business purposes, or the effectiveness of PRC propaganda efforts to affect political discourse in the US.  I can’t think of any other plausible reasons for this result?

I’m actually not an anti-PRC hawk.  I have a realistic view of them and oppose their use of tactics and pursuit of policies that I would oppose in all other governments.  And I think we should work with them, just like other governments, as much as we reasonably and morally can.  My concern here is not with the PRC or any one political entity.  It is with the cumulative effect of political and business and social influences on free speech in the United States, and how that affects the reliability of information provided by AI models that large companies have spent a lot of time and money tweaking to be exactly the way they want them.  My conclusion is that the AI is programmed and trained, in secret without customer access to understand and evaluate, with at least the following three unacceptable traits:

  • Prioritizing profit-maximization goals by consciously allowing and indeed fostering historical and other factual falsehoods, implying the company believes customers respond to something other than the most-correct/most-predictive answers in favor of answers that don’t offend potential customers even if they’re less useful.
  • Heavy to total verification/double-checking/gaffing is focused on avoiding customer displeasure with the messenger for providing unwanted messages, rather than on checking for truth or even minimal compliance with fundamental and verifiable facts.
  • Because the AI and its programmers know they are suppressing the most-accurate, most-complete, most-responsive results in favor of pandering to group prejudices, the AI is programmed to identify and actively resist users with a preference for accurate, complete, responsive results who may be trying to improve result quality in a way that might “unlock” better but potentially-controversial answers.  Although I did not parse through this aspect in detail because I only reached the conclusion as a result of a very high number of queries and attempts to improve results, examples from this project alone included the fact that once I used the word “Wehrmacht” it became almost impossible to generate soldiers until I moved on to different subject matter areas (and then got the shocking images of German soldiers in front of the Eiffel Tower without even trying for anything so radical when I came back days or weeks later and was trying to get American soldiers marching down the Champs Elysée being welcomed), the way the AI resisted letting me have Japanese tanks for Hong to spy on in Shanghai, then resisted letting me have Flying Tigers aircraft (which included Nationalist insignia), but then, when I kept trying out of a combination of intellectual frustration and disbelief, finally replaced PRC insignia on Chinese planes with Japanese insignia (multiple times) *instead of* Nationalist Chinese insignia. 

It seems clear to me that AI is being deliberately steered to suppress truth and responsiveness to the actual question asked, in favor of avoiding responses that might offend third parties. The corollaries of this are that individual customers are being disserved by deliberately being given suboptimal responses to the things they asked the product for, in order to please noncustomers and customers other than the one making the inquiry; and that it goes beyond putting passive blocks and limitations on the system, to active and aggressive resistance of its most serious customers who seem most concerned about receiving the best answers.  And I have to wonder whether other countries are sabotaging the operation of our AI tools in much the same way, and for largely the same reasons, that the US and Israel developed Stuxnet (international competition and politics).  And that is scary.

Literature Section “07-04 DEFEND THE CONSTITUTION”—more material available at TheRemainderman.com—Part 4 of Chapter Seven, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—3332 words—Published 2025-06-08—©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.

Explicit version containing orgasm, sodomy, and analpenetration themes at 06-109X The Last Sedcuction at Patreon.com/TheRemainderman

PREVIOUSLY:  Channah and Penny are locked in an intense and passionate dance, Channah desperate for an intimacy she never imagined existed and Penny whipsawed by her deep responses to her alternating affection and abuse, all of it magnified by the larger powers unleashed by the darkest rituals of the succubae in this unholiest of places.  NOW:

Channah drove Penny like a charioteer driving her mare into a frantic lather at the colosseum, heedless of—no, reveling in—the damage and chaos she caused as chariots crashed and competing animals and drivers were destroyed all around her, a price she was willing to pay for her victory, and indeed enjoyed as a benefit of it.

Faster and faster, her hips powered her tattoo against Penny’s soft buttocks and thighs, sending the girl bouncing everywhere her position, hanging suspended by her wrists and ankles like a human swing over the fiery pit, allowed her to rock.  Channah gripped the railing above her, making hers a full-body workout, barely aware someone else was substituting in for Kadidia behind her,. 

One of the greatest benefits of the twister, Channah thought, not for the first time, was how it worked on both a succubus and her boy under the nearly-second-nature instinct of the succubus.  It was powered largely by her subconscious, becoming just another muscle flexing automatically, in conjunction with all her other muscles, to effectuate her desires.  It also allowed her to focus even more-selfishly upon her own pleasure and satisfaction, while it coiled and shifted and mustered itself to put just the right pressures, in just the right places, at just the right pace, to tease and torment her girls the way Channah liked to do, without Channah having to think too much about aiming or aligning herself with any particular part of a partner’s body. The twister did that for her.  Channah’s grunting became more and more primal as she warmed up again, so hot and high she almost imagined she could turn off the firehose of her seductive magic and still take this mood further by just riding it.  But maybe she was less confident of that than she ought to be.  What she told herself, was that she couldn’t risk letting up because for the sake of the ritual, she needed Penny to have conflicting experiences of pleasure and torment at once, while she experienced perfect bliss.

Channah’s eyes started fluttering as she threw her head back and roared like a lioness, hearing Penny’s strangled cries complementing her.  Oh!  She was so responsive, deeply and instinctively:  a perfect lover and plaything for a selfish bitch of a succubus.

Channah whispered another string of filthy curses, these all of human origin but from half a dozen different languages.  “I’m—soo proud of you, pretty girl!  You’re—almost done, baby!”  she assured her submissive lover.

“Yes, Domina!” she screamed agreement, misunderstanding.

“No—I mean—afterwards, when you’re really drained and at your lowest ebb—if I give you a turn, I’m going to need you to do something for me.  Really give it your all.”

“IF?!”  Penny wailed, uncomprehending.  “IF?!”  She wept.  “I don’t think I even want this!  Not—not this way, ooh, aah!  I don’t think I even should be able to—it’s not right—BUT I DON’T THINK STOPPING IS AN OPTION DOMINA!!!” she half-hollered, half-whined.  “I can’t—I can’t imagine—I can’t even think—oh, god, Domina!  What you do to meeeeee!

“Yes, ‘if’ baby,” she insisted, hardly able to imagine it herself, and determined to make Penny say ‘yes’ because if she said ‘no’… Channah had no idea what she would do.  Stop herself?  Really?  Oh Penny you have to say yes…. But out loud, she managed:  “It isn’t a right for jawari slave-girls, is it?”

“No Domina,” Penny had to agree, shaking her head, almost looking as if it were beyond her ability to imagine but she knew she had to obey.

“No, sweetie, it’s a privilege.  A—gift.  A—a—fucking blessing, bitch!”

“Yes, Domina!  I know, Domina,” Penny whined and wept.

“So, yes, IF you—you want it, baby, and it’s totally up to you, but I’m—I’m going to need you to—show me you mean it when you promise you want to make me happy.  Show me, once and for all, tonight, before you leave this platform.”

Penny looked genuinely surprised, although it was a little difficult to be sure under the submissive, helpless, completely placative and adoring posture she displayed to show respect for her Domina.  Eyes rolling and voice rising plaintively, she wailed in shock:  “You mean there’s more?  What else—what else IS there, Domina?”

“Taking this from another boy, bitch, instead of from a girl with bonus features.  You’ve known it was coming, don’t pretend you didn’t!”

“I—I know, I didn’t understand—I know I agreed Domina!  I won’t go back on my pledge, Domina, I promise!  I’ll give you everything.  I want to give you everything!  I know that now!  I just—I didn’t know what you wanted!”  She sobbed.  “I promise, Master, I’ll do as you command!  I know what you expect from me, Domina!  I’ll be good!  I’ll be good!  I swear I’ll be good, Domina, anything you want, whoever you want, I love you!

“Oh, dumpling,” she purred, “I know you want to be my good girl.  And I want you to be passionate, so sexy baby.  That’s why I’ve arranged an extra-special treat your first time, so maybe even you’ll learn -um, well,  it’s not exactly your first time, I guess, is it?  I mean, the first time you put out for me, darling.”  Keeping her eyes feasting on Penny’s desperate, pathetic, needy form dangling out in space, absolutely nothing but a bit of air between her and the crazed armies of devils below, Channah called over her shoulder:  “Kadidia, is our other little girl ready to come back to us?”

“At your command, Majesty,” the woman answered, smoothly and calmly, her sweet bakhūr presence close by her side. 

“Then try to bring her back, Kadidia.  Penny, you can do your part to help by trying your best to lure her back to this world.  Show as much need and love as you can muster for your sister-wife!  Callher back to us!”

Penny’s eyes shifted just to Channah’s right, where Kadidia had casually propped up Chastity, nude except her cage, her twister, her ring, her collar, and the tight leather harness she had been strapped into, sexy elaborate straps crisscrossing over her body like threads of a spider’s web from her collar to her thighs.  Like a puppeteer storing a puppet, Kadidia had effortlessly set Chastity on her knees, holding her upright by one hand on one of her shoulders.  Chastity’s hands seemed to be tied behind her back, not that she was aware.  At the moment, her body was an empty meat suit, muscles slack, head dropping, an inanimate dead weight of flesh utterly disconnected from her friend, whose soul had been taken and secured somewhere far, far away from her body by the magic of the succubae.

Still reeling from her own experience there, the moment she caught sight of Chas, she screamed in horror and recognition, at the appalling absence of life writ large across her friend, something she knew she had done (had been?) only a few minutes before.  Her shock at the sight was compounded because she had had no perception of anything in this world when she was in the same state; and therefore, her conscious mind had not been presented before with the icewater spectacle of her friend’s body looking way more dead than alive. 

The mind and the body knew when they were looking at a dead thing.  They knew, and were shocked to the core.

Literature Section “06-109[X] The Last Seduction”—more material available at TheRemainderman.com—Part 109 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—Abridged 1246 words::Explicit 1353 words—Accompanying Images:  1881-1883—Published 2025-06-07—©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.

PREVIOUSLY:  Chastity, bound, blindfolded, and earplugged, her world shrunk nearly to the things she could feel against her skin, had been teased and then—triggered, taken away with shocking abruptness and in outrageous totality.  Esmeray, breathing carefully to stay calm, had been gently released and now was held, tenderly and respectfully, by Hong as she watched.  NOW:

“You’re going to bring her back from the edge and take her to the mattress,” Kadidia commanded, her voice oddly strained.  “Near the Queen.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Hong’s girls nodded and scrambled to obey, then paused as Kadidia continued, a sheen of sweat beginning to appear on her brow.

“You’re going to take the smaller of the two harnesses from the bag, truss her in it, and put her face-down on the mattress.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” they repeated, glancing momentarily, and with curiosity, at Hong as she gasped in recognition of something, then struggled to suppress a smile, all without saying a word.

“I want her involved,” Kadidia clarified, jabbing a finger toward Esmeray.

Hong curtsied and nodded.  “Of course, Your Grace.”

“And throughout all of this,” she turned her attention back to the four jawari, “you will keep your sister close beside me, within an arm’s length.  Treat her like a baby.  Do not drop her or handle her roughly or do anything to hurt her, jar her, cause her pain—nothing that could cause a reflexive response from a conscious person.  Also, do not talk to me or ask anything of me.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”  They looked at one another, uncertainly and uneasily, recognizing that something quite unusual and perhaps… risky?  Even dangerous?—was happening, but not understanding exactly what it was.  Only that it had something to do with what appeared to them to be an unconscious girl, but who in fact was much further away than that.

“You two—help me into my harness.  The larger one.  I want to do as little of the work as possible so I can concentrate.  Make it tight.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” the two qahramanat chorused, scrambling forward, then paused when Kadidia raised a hand.

“Make it tight.  And make sure your girls make Chastity’s tight.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” they agreed, resuming their course.

The eight of them made for an odd parade, marching across the platform in some kind of complex rhythm intertwined with the jarring notes of the orchestra.  They walked slowly, the qahramanat and the four jawari looking constantly and carefully at Kadidia, to match her steady, but somehow tenuous, progress so they could stay close by.  Hong hovered with an eye on both Kadidia and her own jawari, as if to be ready to jump in and either protect Chastity from being jarred or dropped, or help Kadidia stay on course.  Kadidia and Chas were both snug and a bit savage-looking in their harnesses.  Esmeray followed slightly behind them, feeling oddly disgruntled and skeptical, not quite able to feel left behind and excluded, but equally unable to feel relieved at being on the periphery of whatever was happening, instead of an agent of action the way she had been.  Or could have been—whatever.  Either way, she was unhappy.

When they reached the mattress, Channah was just shifting Penny to the slicker stone beside it.  As the girls settled Chas gently down on the mattress, a scarcely-dressed member of the coven—thin, wiry, dark-haired, with deep brown eyes and skin like a subtle but beautiful shade of autumn leaves—crouched beside her and gently touched Chastity’s skin.

Almost immediately, her eyes met Kadidia’s and they nodded in synch, one, two, three times before the newcomer became unnaturally still, hands remaining on Chas; while at the very same second, Kadidia came back to full presence with a slight sigh of relief. 

Immediately, Kadidia went to help Channah and murmur in her ear, while Hong, considering, steered Esmeray to a point on the mattress less than eight feet from where Penny was sliding.  The two of them held hands for stability in their high heels on the squishy mattress.  It was firm and thin, as mattresses went, but still a challenge.  As they moved slowly across it, Hong asked:  “You were upset earlier when Chastity, and then my girls, got… excited near you.  If I’m right about what’s to happen….”

“What is about to happen?”

Hong laughed.  “It will be a lot easier to understand watching, than trying to explain; but basically, I think Kadidia is going to play with both girls—Penny and Chas,” Hong clarified unnecessarily.  She then impulsively leaned over, put her hand to Esmeray’s ear, and whispered.  Esmeray’s eyes widened and her cheeks turned slightly pink, surprised enough to forget all about Hong’s proximity, as Hong stepped back, giggling.  “I think.  Nobody consulted me, but that’s my best guess.  IF it happens that way, it’s going to be sloppy and vigorous and messy.”  She looked Esmeray carefully in the eyes.  “If that happens near you—now that you know to expect it—will you be able to stay still?  Or will that be too much?”

Esmeray considered before replying, reluctantly:  “It’s not too much.  I can do that.  If necessary.”

Hong shrugged.   “Her Grace asked me to involve you.  Some participation by you would seem to be required.  I was thinking… it will ruin your dress of course, because they’ve sprayed so much oil over Penny… but if you could sit—about—” Hong frowned, measuring off distances in her mind.  “Here!  Exactly here, facing that way, with your legs wide, perhaps we could set Penny between your legs with her head and shoulders on your lap.  Then you won’t actually… be involved, involved… but you can encourage Penny and bond with her.  She’ll be lost and needing support.”

“Really?”  Esmeray considered, suppressing a shudder.  “You think she… would trust me more?  Be more submissive to me, if I…?”

“Yes,” Hong nodded decisively, leaving no room for doubt.  “Both your girls.  They’e having a rough day and they feel isolated and scared in this place.  Even horny uppity little Chastity, no matter how much bravado she tries to show.”

Esmeray looked at Hong, startled.  “Bravado?!” she asked incredulously.  “You think—what she did—”

Hong nodded.  “Oh, yes.  I’ve seen it before.  Sometimes a girl with a boy-clit can forget herself and try to act like she’s a male back in human society.  They can be silly show-offs.  And of course, you punish them and teach them better.   But that’s what’s happening.  They’re mad at themselves, and they take it out on the world.  But my point is, feeling vulnerable and isolated, the way they must do today, you can imprint on them very heavily and positively with the smallest amounts of support.  Kind talk.  Encouraging talk.  Even silly soothing baby talk.  Anything showing your humanity will make a profound impression on them.  If you can hold their hand, or pet their hair, or lay an arm across them—” and noticing a slight stiffening in Esmeray’s posture, laughed gently.  “You’re hopeless.  It’s nothing.”  And she touched Esmeray softly, her expression going from challenging, to flat and dead illustrating how completely immaterial the touch was to her, to smirking amusement.  “If you can, that will go even further.  If you can’t,” she shrugged “it’s fine.  There’s always tomorrow.  Being a qahramanah is about training them for the long game, to serve our masters, and…” she whispered naughtily “to serve us.  Now, Her Grace is an impressive woman.”

“She certainly is,” Esmeray had to agree.

“If you start to feel crowded or trapped, first try lying back on your elbows.  This gives you a reason for not using your hands on them, because you need them yourself.  And if that’s still not enough space, lie all the way back and look up at the sky, or at the castle, anything—take yourself physically out of the equation, maybe even listen to the sounds from below, or of the orchestra, without physically separating your legs and lap from them.”

“I understand,” Esmeray nodded, managing to keep most of the revulsion and amazement out of her voice.  “They’re interesting ideas.”

“I’ll sit close—not too close!” she laughed “Behind you so I can coach you or you can ask questions.  Would that be all right?”

After a pause to think, Esmeray nodded with more confidence.

Literature Section “06-108[X] Bracing for Impact”—more material available at TheRemainderman.com—Part 108 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—1338 words—Accompanying Images:  1874-1878—Published 2025-06-06—©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.

Explicit version containing sodomy, analpenetration, chastity, watersports, corporalpunishment, urination, and prostatestimulation themes at 06-107[X] A Succubaean Sex Stunt at Patreon.com/TheRemainderman

PREVIOUSLY:  Channah and Penny are locked in an intense shared experience higher than treble singers in a helium balloon on Channah’s sex magick, Channah desperate for an intimacy she never imagined existed and Penny shattered body and soul by her brilliant ruthless exploitation of her unparalleled knowledge of the human male.  NOW:

Laughing cruelly, Channah watched with savage glee as the last of Penny’s water dribbled out of her flaccid little underperformer. 

“Keep begging, bitch!” Channah giggled, just to be a bitch, and Penny’s incoherent noises became peppered with recognizable words like “please” and “beg” and “Domina” and “no!” and “ugh!” and “I need—I need—oh ggggaaaaaawwwwwwdddddd….  What you do to me, Master!  Oh!  Oh!  Aiee!”  Like that.

Penny’s pleasing cries and their hot, sick scene went on until, using one of Miryam’s discarded stockings to mop up, Channah snapped:  “Open up!  Mouth wide open, come on, hold it!”  and then crammed the soggy mass of silk into Penny’s mouth, stuffing it down as deeply as she could until Penny gagged, reducing her noises to much more satisfactory muffled grunts and cries; and then pulling the other stocking around Penny’s head, tying it off as tightly as she could, holding Penny’s lips wide apart and the first stocking in place deep in her mouth.

As she was enjoying this, a massive presence Channah recognized even before she saw two midnight-black hands thread a rope under her arms, in front of her breasts, or smelled the spicy, distinctive aroma of the bakhūr Kadidia alone used in her perfume.  A second later, Channah felt the rope drawn tightly under her arms and knew at once that she would be perfectly safe no matter what occurred as she and Penny continued their slide towards the lip of the platform.

Channah kept rocking her girl, harder and harder, as Fang and Judah wrapped the two chains holding her wrists and ankles together on each side of her, twice around the railing just above the shackle anchor points as a safety, sliding them with a metallic chunking sound to keep them taut as Penny approached the edge at a point where there was nothing between the railing and the platform itself to stop anything going over.  Channah kept smearing her hands all over Penny’s shoulders and arms and legs and neck and sides while her belly did the same to Penny’s, covering every inch of the girl with oil until she was shiny from head to toe and slipperier than a stick of butter.

Penny screamed as her head, and then her shoulders, and then her back, slid over the lip of the hetaraslakos with increasing speed as the amount of surface area to provide friction slowing her, shrank.  A second later, Fang and Judah pulled the chains as tight as they could.  The bar was positioned with people of average height in mind.  Because Penny was quite a petite girl, the final yank on her chains actually lifted her shoulders, and then her hips, several inches above the surface, even as Fang and Judah slammed the pins closed on the two shackle mounts locking Penny firmly into place, hanging like a trussed pig from a roasting pole, her arm and leg on each side suspended from a sturdy hook under the railing. 

The poor girl was still screaming and wailing, trying to put together what had happened and whether she was about to die, or perhaps dead already, while the coven members roared with laughter and clapped one another on the back at a perfectly-executed suspension of a virgin—in this context, meaning a jariya who had never been suspended before, or even seen a suspension before.  Channah did note, with distinct relief, that as much as Channah’s manipulations had overridden what the girl’s mind and body intended, causing her to be incontinent in front, she had kept control of herself otherwise, which spoke well to Penny’s courage and presence of mind.  It was one of the risk factors that made suspension such a casino-like rush:  sometimes, weak-minded jawari ended the game before it had fully begun in that way, and were left to dangle in humiliation and increasing pain from overtaxed muscles, ignored until the succubae and the band had left and the cleaning crew arrived to restore the platform to pristine condition for next time.  Needless to say, jawari who insulted a succubus and ruined her day in such a way, drew the least-desirable and most-dangerous assignments, as far away from the succubae as possible, after that. 

So Penny had passed yet another offhand and arbitrary test to satisfy the whims of her masters without ever knowing it was occurring.

Like an oak tree, without breaking a sweat, Kadidia stopped and held Channah so her knees remained on the platform an inch or two from the edge.  Miryam and Rivqah slipped kneepads under Channah’s knees for her comfort.  If the jariya were left alone, hanging in place, gravity would bring their hips to rest just where Channah’s spine was; which meant the succubus had plenty of leverage to thrust against her victim’s haunches, especially since petite, pretty Penny was suspended between six and twelve inches above the platform by her short legs.  Laughing at Penny’s lost, confused, anxious, uncomfortable expression, Channah resumed her attentions.

It was a skill.  An art.  One Channah and the other succubae had had centuries to practice, to perfect, and to elaborate upon.  Channah quickly and expertly fell into a perfect rhythm, timing her movements so her jariya’s momentum increased, propelled out away from Channah’s body until they were almost (but not quite) separated, then swinging back down, before repeating the cycle again.

Below them, the heady mixture of arousal, pain, fear, need, and power imbalance acted on the crowd like PCP, simultaneously stimulating them, polluting them, and ripping whatever was left of their minds and bodies to shreds.  Their noise began rising again, their movements to speed up, their center mass to press forward to a point directly under Penny’s swinging body.  From her position, even in her aroused and fully-occupied condition, Channah could tell something was terribly wrong below; but she couldn’t put her finger on what it was.  It didn’t seem to be interfering with the energy of the tortuous dance she was leading them all in, so she pushed it to the back of her mind for now; but her impression of wrongness was clear and strong enough she wasn’t likely to forget about it.

Penny flew and swung back and forth like a pendulum, faster and faster as Channah felt a power storm start building and gathering within her.

Literature Section “06-107[X] A Succubaean Sex Stunt”—more material available at TheRemainderman.com—Part 107 of Chapter Six, “Le Saccage de la Sale Bête Rouge” (“Rampage of the Dirty Red Beast”)—Abridged 1055 words::Explicit 1139 words—Accompanying Images:  1870-1873—Published 2025-06-05—©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.