Saturday, September 25, 2010

The Domina Zaritala Part 2: ThrustVanquisher's Doom - Alexith

Master DarkLord ThrustVanquisher yawned arrogantly, scratching his chin. Third Keeper of the Mighty Helmet of Potency and High Overlord of the People of Threek, Master DarkLord was a Gorean Master of great acclaim. He lived in a giant castle made of finest Gorean Granite, (mined from the Quarries of Ghecchnarrrrrrra), that sat atop a hill, which gave him a view of the vast lands he claimed as his own.

Master DarkLord pushed aside the reports he had been reading, sliding them further across the back of the girl he kept locked in position as his reading table, and placed his boots over her back. All was well. His Generals reported of great victories against his sworn enemies, and a steady stream of young nubile slaves were being acquired by the war engine that had become his conquering empire.

And yet…. Somehow tonight for all his victories, wealth and vast harem of slavegirls he could find no peace. Slipping out of his Codpiece of Justice, Master ThrustVanquisher decided to log on to Xstreets, perhaps to find some peace of mind perusing the market of strange and exotic Gorean goods his vast wealth could easily afford him. He sighed… All that could be owned he already had three of. Every sex position or tool of sexual dominion lay neatly rezzed in his vast subterranean sex dungeon. Ever weapon of mass banning, every gleaming penetrative potent sword of fine Gorean Crafsmanship already existed in his capacious inventory. He sighed again… he had conquered the known Gorean World, and yet he felt…. Empty.

Suddenly, Master ThrustVanquisher drew in his breath. He leaned forward, the slave girl on all fours who had been his chair for the last half an hour whimpered as his excessively muscled ass shifted on her finely toned back.

“Quiet girl”, he muttered, as he leant forward to get a better look at the strange object that had suddenly appeared on his screen. Oh it was a beautiful piece. A dark imposing statue of a grieving angel. It was beautiful and yet… it sent a chill down his spine. Nothing he owned could rival its exquisite sculpty detailing, and the complex particle scripts which seemed to surround the object with a shadow, even in the full bright of day. Enigmatically all the description of this amazing high-prim piece said was “The Domina Zaritala”.

Hands shaking with excitement, he purchased it, and seconds later it arrived in his inventory.

It took three of his most hugely muscled slave girls a week of hard work to shift the huge statue into place in his main greeting hall. The girls frequently uneasily gazed up into the dark baleful eyes of the statue as they set about their arduous task, and yet…. each time they looked up into The Domina Zaritala’s stern countenance their fear abated. They felt comforted, almost. The girls whispered and IMd amongst themselves when Master Thrustvanquisher was afk about the strange powerful energy this Dark Angel seemed to possess.

Weeks passed, and turned into months. Master ThrustVanquisher’s wealth and influence grew and grew and he triumphantly continued to wield complete sexual supremacy over his harem of shaking girls, and yet……. and yet….. as each day passed his unease grew. His home seemed no longer to be a sanctuary. At times he felt sure that malevolent eyes were upon him. At night he would turn around quickly expecting to see an Assassin of the Lands of Szxchhx standing poised to strike and yet, no one was ever there…. All was quiet. Except for the first time in his avatar’s auspicious gorean career, he felt true disquiet in his manly heart.

And then…. It happened.

One dark clouded night, Master ThrustVanquisher stood alone in his hall. His harem had all logged for the night and his vast castle was empty but for him. His boots wrought of finest Gorean Steel clanked hollowly in the stone halls, and then his steps faltered. He stood facing the giant statue of the Domina Zaritala, its wings outstretched, its dark stone made all the more impenetrable to the gaze by the stygian black particle shadow effects swirling about it.
A strange sensation crept over him, like a cold mist. At first he couldn’t identify what it was, until he realized with such a shock that he croaked the word out into the dry empty room, his own voice echoing back at him … “Dread”.

He lifted his gaze from the Domina Zaritala’s feet slowly upward, until finally his eyes were at Her face. At first he saw nothing, but then, penetrating through the gloom….. Her eyes…. Her eyes… Her eyes…. “oh god” Master ThrustVanquisher, Majestic Lord of the Plains of Vilmar groannnned in abject terror as he finally for the first time truly gazed into the malevolent, knowing, conquering eyes of the Domina Zaritala.

As swiftly as sharpest gorean steel through gorean butter, he was undone… by the power, the darkness, the depth in those eyes. He only vaguely was aware that he had sunk to his knees, and as his consciousness slipped away like fireflies in the night he heard a deep, potent, female voice in his head, cold and oozing with malice, utter these words:

“14 inches, gor boy.”

He only had a second to ponder what these words could possibly mean before all went dark.


Birds were singing on a fine morning in Dominion. Honeyed sun radiated through the branches of the trees overhead, shining on the porcelain pampered skin of resplendant ladies who reclined talking and laughing happily. Devoted loving boys knelt at their feet, eager to serve, eager to please.
There was a sudden flash, similar to a teleport but with a more ominous tone, and there lying in the courtyard was … a boy. A truly ridiculous boy. His hair had been primped up into a glamorous do. His hairless body, muscled but not excessively so, gleamed and shimmered with powders and lotions. Ladies giggled as they saw his pink leather thong, with caged sissy cock just peaking out. He groaned, and his voice was a light sound, almost feminine. Again the Ladies laughed as the delicate little thing whimpered, clearly slowly waking from a deep sleep. Floating above his head in magical letters were the words “Gorean Master”. Several Ladies smirked.

There in the grass next to this strange creature lay a long cylindrical silver box.. it must have been 14 inches long in fact. Neatly engraved on the top of the box were the words “ThrustVanquisher”. The boy finally opened his eyes just as the majestic Ladies opened the box and marveled at its contents… a thick, ribbed, evil fourteen inch Gorean War Dildo made of the finest Gorean Rubber, harvested from the Stately Trees of Garnk. The finest money could buy. As one, the Ladies gazed down at the boy wickedly, smiling.

Master DarkLord ThrustVanquisher, Third Keeper of the Mighty Helmet of Potency and High Overlord of the People of Threek, screamed like a baby as the Ladies closed in.


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