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Planetoid
- Joined
- Sep 25, 2020
Horst Prezlavik sat at his cluttered desk, a single lamp casting a yellowish hue over the piles of papers, maps, and books strewn across the surface. The office smelled of stale tobacco and old leather, a testament to his decades-long career as an investor and colonizer enthusiast. Horst, a rotund man in his late sixties with a sparse circle of light brown hair atop his scalp and a belly that strained against the buttons of his shirt, leaned back in his creaky chair, puffing on a thick cigar.
On the desk before him lay the most extraordinary report he'd ever received. It had come through a series of unlikely channels, beginning with a group of maritime researchers who'd stumbled upon the fringes of an uncharted island near Brazil. They spoke of strange, pale-skinned women who had observed them from the shores, disappearing into the dense foliage before they could get a clear look. The researchers, unnerved by the encounter, had reported their findings to the relevant authorities, who then contacted a few experts. Word eventually found its way to Horst.
The Czech government, recognizing the significance of the finding, reached out to one of Horst acquaintances, who eventually reached out to him with an offer he couldn't refuse. At his age, and with his dwindling financial status, he was always on the lookout for new business opportunities. This—this was different. An isolated tribe on a previously unknown island, and not just any tribe. Preliminary reports indicated that this was a society of Amazoness women.
It was an opportunity Horst had dreamed of, a chance to fulfill his long-standing, seemingly impossible fantasy of having a white indigenous slave. The tribe had been given a name by the first explorers who came across them: the Nyssa.
They lived on a remote island called Matarike Isle, a lush and verdant land surrounded by crystal-clear waters and dense tropical vegetation. The climate was pleasant, a far cry from the harsh environments of other islands around it. The Nyssa women, with their light skin and blue eyes, were an enigma. How had they maintained hidden their isolation in such an idyllic setting? How had no one else come across the island before?
Horst picked up the leather-bound journal on his desk, flipping through pages filled with notes from previous ventures and schemes. None had ever led to something as potentially gratifying as this. He paused on a page where he'd scrawled some notes about the tribe. A matriarchal society, with a ratio of ten women to every one man. That alone was enough to fuel his desires. How would they respond to a foreign invader? How could he bend one of them to his will?
He glanced over at the corner of his office where his suitcase sat in a dusty heap. It had been years since he'd indulged in travels, but the thought of finally having a chance to realize his fantasy filled him with anticipation. As he packed, his mind drifted to a particularly vivid daydream. He imagined a younger Amazoness, a striking figure with golden blonde hair and an ethereal beauty that seemed out of a dream. In his fantasy, she was standing on the pristine shores of Matarike Isle, her gaze both fierce and inviting. He envisioned her kneeling before him, servicing him with her mouth, the ultimate symbol of his dominance over this untouched society of strong willed women. The image was so vivid, he could hardly contain himself, and he found himself unbuttoning his pants, beginning to masturbate as he indulged in these fantasies.
Horst's breathing grew ragged as he let his fantasies consume him. The image of the Amazoness kneeling before him, her blue eyes wide with submission, filled him with a sense of control he had yearned for. He climaxed with a groan, his fantasies merging with the reality of his imminent journey.
Afterwards, Horst wiped his hands with a satisfied grin and refocused on his preparations. He needed to maintain his façade of professionalism, even if his motivations were anything but. He shoved the journal into his luggage, alongside a map of Matarike Isle, his camera, and a few other essentials, and most importantly, a whole load of condoms, birth control pills and Plan B's. His excitement was palpable, a mix of eagerness and raw desire.
His mind raced with thoughts of how to handle the Nyssa. Would they be resistant? How would he convince them to accept his presence? His strategy was clear: he would present himself as a benevolent and knowledgeable benefactor, while secretly harboring plans to bend them to his will. The isolation of the island and its people only heightened his anticipation.
Horst stood up with a grunt, pulling his heavy bag behind him. He cast one final look around his office, at the clutter, the dust-covered books, and the faded photographs of past exploits. This was the life he had built, but it was time to pursue his new venture.
With a sense of determination, Horst left the office, the door clicking shut behind him. The Nyssa awaited, and with them, the chance to impose his will and finally fulfill his most depraved fantasies. He was ready to embark on his final great enterprise, where his dreams of dominance and control would become reality.
After days of travel, a sweat drenched Horst finally arrived on the shores of Matarike Isle. The sun was setting, casting the verdant vegetation in a warm glow. He was greeted by a group of Nyssa women, their light skin and blue eyes contrasting with the lush greenery. Among them stood a tall, commanding woman with golden blonde hair and an air of authority. Her name was Lyria, their leader, and Horst's gaze was immediately drawn to a prominent bulge at the front of her loincloth... suggesting a substantial phallus despite her feminine appearance.
That night, Lyria granted the oitsider a private audience in her hut. The structure was simple yet dignified, with woven mats on the floor and a small fire burning in the center. Horst, driven by his desires, attempted to convey his crude request, but his grasp of the Nyssa language was poor. He stumbled over his words, not out of nervousness, but due to his incompetence with the language.
"Minä... tahdon nähdä... sinun iso jäsen," he began, his brow furrowed in concentration as he tried to recall the phrases he had practiced. "Ja... minä tahdon nähdä... sinun käyttää sitä... aasin... paskaisessa peräaukossa," he continued, butchering the grammar and pronunciation.
Lyria listened, her expression shifting from neutral to confused. She tilted her head, trying to make sense of his jumbled words. It was probably for the best, as the old man just tried to insult the proud leader.
For clarity, here is a translation of what Horst attempted to say:
"I... want to see... your big member. And... I want to see... you use it... in a filthy donkey's... shit-caked ass."
Lyria listened, her expression shifting from neutral to confused. She tilted her head, trying to make sense of his jumbled words. Once Horst finished speaking, she paused briefly before responding, assuming that he had attempted to introduce himself or convey a greeting.
"Olen Lyria, Nyssan johtaja," she said, her voice steady and clear as she gestured to herself. "Tervetuloa Matarike Saarelle. Meidän kansa on elänyt täällä lukuisia sukupolvia, ja me olemme ylpeitä perinteistämme ja tavastamme."
For clarity, here is a translation of Lyria's response:
Lyria: "I am Lyria, leader of the Nyssa. Welcome to Matarike Isle. Our people have lived here for countless generations, and we are proud of our traditions and ways."
Lyria continued her introduction, oblivious to the crude nature of Horst's attempted request. She spoke of her people and their history, treating Horst with the respect and hospitality customary to her culture. Her response highlighted the stark contrast between her dignified demeanor and Horst's disrespectful and presumptuous behavior.
After Horst's botched attempt to convey his crude request, Lyria continued speaking, assuming that he was interested in learning about her people and their ways. She maintained a polite and respectful demeanor, unaware of the true nature of Horst's intentions.
"Me ymmärrämme, että olet matkustanut kaukaisesta maasta tapaamaan meitä," Lyria said, her voice steady and her gaze calm as she addressed Horst. "Olemme valmiita ottamaan sinut vastaan yhteisömme, jos osoitatan kunnioitus perinteitämme ja elämäntapamme."
She paused, gesturing to the world outside her hut, and continued, "Meillä on paljon tietoa ja taitoja, joita voimme jakaa sinun kanssasi, ja odotamme, että myös sinulla on jotain tuotavaa meidän yhteisöllemme. Olemme avoimia vaihtokaupalle, mutta odotamme, että kunnioitat meidän tapoja ja arvoja meidän keskuudessamme."
For clarity, here is a translation of Lyria's words:
Lyria: "We understand that you have traveled from a distant land to meet us. We are willing to accept you into our community if you show respect for our traditions and way of life. We have much knowledge and many skills that we can share with you, and we expect that you also have something to offer our community. We are open to exchange, but we expect you to respect our ways and values while among us."
Lyria's words were sincere and welcoming, reflecting her people's openness to outsiders who approached them with respect and a willingness to learn. She saw in Horst an opportunity for cultural exchange and mutual growth, completely unaware of his disrespectful and exploitative intentions.
Horst, however, struggled to follow Lyria's words, his poor grasp of the Nyssa language limiting his comprehension. He caught phrases here and there, understanding that she was speaking about acceptance and respect, but his mind remained fixated on his crude desires. He nodded along, feigning comprehension and agreement, while his thoughts lingered on his twisted fantasies.
The contrast between Lyria's dignified and welcoming demeanor and Horst's disrespectful and exploitative mindset was stark. As Lyria extended an olive branch, hoping to foster a meaningful connection, the old bastard remained focused on his own selfish and offensive goals.
After expressing her willingness to accept Horst into their community, Lyria continued to explain the unique dynamics of her tribe, hoping to instill in him a sense of understanding and respect for their ways.
"Yhteisömme on erilainen moniin muuhun, ja meillä on omat syymme tälle," she said, her voice taking on a more serious tone. "Meidän sukupuolten suhde on kymmenen naista jokaan miestä. Tämä on seurausta siitä, että me olemme valinneet hallita väestömme kasvua tällä tavalla, estääksemme resurssiemme liikakäytön ja ympäristömme ylikuormituksen. Tämä on vaatinut meiltä kehittää yhteiskuntamme siten, että se heijastaa tätä epätasapainoa."
She paused, ensuring that Horst was paying attention before she continued, "Naiset ovat vastuussa meidän yhteisöstämme, ja he ovat tehneet sen vahvaksi ja kestäväksi. Sinun, ulkopuolisena miehenä, on erityisen tärkeää ymmärtää ja kunnioittaa sitä, että naiset ovat johtajia ja tekevät päätöksiä meidän keskuudessamme."
Lyria leaned forward, her blue eyes steady and earnest as she drove her point home. "Odotamme, että noudatat meidän sääntöjämme ja kuuntelet naisten ohjeita. Tämä tarkoittaa, ettet saa koskaan yrittää kyseenalaistaa heidän valtaansa tai arvostelua heidän päätöksiään. Meimme olemme vahvoja ja ylpeitä, ja me odotamme, että kunnioitat meitä ja meidän tapoja."
For clarity, here is a translation of Lyria's words:
Lyria: "Our community is different from many others, and we have our reasons for this. Our gender ratio is ten women to every one man. This is a result of our choice to control our population growth in this way, to prevent the overuse of our resources and the overburdening of our environment. This has required us to develop our society to reflect this imbalance.
Women are in charge of our community, and they have made it strong and resilient. As an outsider man, it is especially important for you to understand and respect that women are the leaders and decision-makers among us. We expect you to follow our rules and listen to the guidance of our women. This means that you must never attempt to question their authority or criticize their decisions. We are strong and proud, and we expect you to respect us and our ways."
Lyria's words were firm and clear, but her explanations were too complex for Horst to grasp. His poor understanding of the Nyssa language, combined with his single-minded focus on his own desires, rendered him unable to follow her meaning. He caught a few words here and there, but the overall message was lost on him. He nodded along, feigning agreement and understanding, mostly fixating on her barely covered chest instead.
On the desk before him lay the most extraordinary report he'd ever received. It had come through a series of unlikely channels, beginning with a group of maritime researchers who'd stumbled upon the fringes of an uncharted island near Brazil. They spoke of strange, pale-skinned women who had observed them from the shores, disappearing into the dense foliage before they could get a clear look. The researchers, unnerved by the encounter, had reported their findings to the relevant authorities, who then contacted a few experts. Word eventually found its way to Horst.
The Czech government, recognizing the significance of the finding, reached out to one of Horst acquaintances, who eventually reached out to him with an offer he couldn't refuse. At his age, and with his dwindling financial status, he was always on the lookout for new business opportunities. This—this was different. An isolated tribe on a previously unknown island, and not just any tribe. Preliminary reports indicated that this was a society of Amazoness women.
It was an opportunity Horst had dreamed of, a chance to fulfill his long-standing, seemingly impossible fantasy of having a white indigenous slave. The tribe had been given a name by the first explorers who came across them: the Nyssa.
They lived on a remote island called Matarike Isle, a lush and verdant land surrounded by crystal-clear waters and dense tropical vegetation. The climate was pleasant, a far cry from the harsh environments of other islands around it. The Nyssa women, with their light skin and blue eyes, were an enigma. How had they maintained hidden their isolation in such an idyllic setting? How had no one else come across the island before?
Horst picked up the leather-bound journal on his desk, flipping through pages filled with notes from previous ventures and schemes. None had ever led to something as potentially gratifying as this. He paused on a page where he'd scrawled some notes about the tribe. A matriarchal society, with a ratio of ten women to every one man. That alone was enough to fuel his desires. How would they respond to a foreign invader? How could he bend one of them to his will?
He glanced over at the corner of his office where his suitcase sat in a dusty heap. It had been years since he'd indulged in travels, but the thought of finally having a chance to realize his fantasy filled him with anticipation. As he packed, his mind drifted to a particularly vivid daydream. He imagined a younger Amazoness, a striking figure with golden blonde hair and an ethereal beauty that seemed out of a dream. In his fantasy, she was standing on the pristine shores of Matarike Isle, her gaze both fierce and inviting. He envisioned her kneeling before him, servicing him with her mouth, the ultimate symbol of his dominance over this untouched society of strong willed women. The image was so vivid, he could hardly contain himself, and he found himself unbuttoning his pants, beginning to masturbate as he indulged in these fantasies.
Horst's breathing grew ragged as he let his fantasies consume him. The image of the Amazoness kneeling before him, her blue eyes wide with submission, filled him with a sense of control he had yearned for. He climaxed with a groan, his fantasies merging with the reality of his imminent journey.
Afterwards, Horst wiped his hands with a satisfied grin and refocused on his preparations. He needed to maintain his façade of professionalism, even if his motivations were anything but. He shoved the journal into his luggage, alongside a map of Matarike Isle, his camera, and a few other essentials, and most importantly, a whole load of condoms, birth control pills and Plan B's. His excitement was palpable, a mix of eagerness and raw desire.
His mind raced with thoughts of how to handle the Nyssa. Would they be resistant? How would he convince them to accept his presence? His strategy was clear: he would present himself as a benevolent and knowledgeable benefactor, while secretly harboring plans to bend them to his will. The isolation of the island and its people only heightened his anticipation.
Horst stood up with a grunt, pulling his heavy bag behind him. He cast one final look around his office, at the clutter, the dust-covered books, and the faded photographs of past exploits. This was the life he had built, but it was time to pursue his new venture.
With a sense of determination, Horst left the office, the door clicking shut behind him. The Nyssa awaited, and with them, the chance to impose his will and finally fulfill his most depraved fantasies. He was ready to embark on his final great enterprise, where his dreams of dominance and control would become reality.
After days of travel, a sweat drenched Horst finally arrived on the shores of Matarike Isle. The sun was setting, casting the verdant vegetation in a warm glow. He was greeted by a group of Nyssa women, their light skin and blue eyes contrasting with the lush greenery. Among them stood a tall, commanding woman with golden blonde hair and an air of authority. Her name was Lyria, their leader, and Horst's gaze was immediately drawn to a prominent bulge at the front of her loincloth... suggesting a substantial phallus despite her feminine appearance.
That night, Lyria granted the oitsider a private audience in her hut. The structure was simple yet dignified, with woven mats on the floor and a small fire burning in the center. Horst, driven by his desires, attempted to convey his crude request, but his grasp of the Nyssa language was poor. He stumbled over his words, not out of nervousness, but due to his incompetence with the language.
"Minä... tahdon nähdä... sinun iso jäsen," he began, his brow furrowed in concentration as he tried to recall the phrases he had practiced. "Ja... minä tahdon nähdä... sinun käyttää sitä... aasin... paskaisessa peräaukossa," he continued, butchering the grammar and pronunciation.
Lyria listened, her expression shifting from neutral to confused. She tilted her head, trying to make sense of his jumbled words. It was probably for the best, as the old man just tried to insult the proud leader.
For clarity, here is a translation of what Horst attempted to say:
"I... want to see... your big member. And... I want to see... you use it... in a filthy donkey's... shit-caked ass."
Lyria listened, her expression shifting from neutral to confused. She tilted her head, trying to make sense of his jumbled words. Once Horst finished speaking, she paused briefly before responding, assuming that he had attempted to introduce himself or convey a greeting.
"Olen Lyria, Nyssan johtaja," she said, her voice steady and clear as she gestured to herself. "Tervetuloa Matarike Saarelle. Meidän kansa on elänyt täällä lukuisia sukupolvia, ja me olemme ylpeitä perinteistämme ja tavastamme."
For clarity, here is a translation of Lyria's response:
Lyria: "I am Lyria, leader of the Nyssa. Welcome to Matarike Isle. Our people have lived here for countless generations, and we are proud of our traditions and ways."
Lyria continued her introduction, oblivious to the crude nature of Horst's attempted request. She spoke of her people and their history, treating Horst with the respect and hospitality customary to her culture. Her response highlighted the stark contrast between her dignified demeanor and Horst's disrespectful and presumptuous behavior.
After Horst's botched attempt to convey his crude request, Lyria continued speaking, assuming that he was interested in learning about her people and their ways. She maintained a polite and respectful demeanor, unaware of the true nature of Horst's intentions.
"Me ymmärrämme, että olet matkustanut kaukaisesta maasta tapaamaan meitä," Lyria said, her voice steady and her gaze calm as she addressed Horst. "Olemme valmiita ottamaan sinut vastaan yhteisömme, jos osoitatan kunnioitus perinteitämme ja elämäntapamme."
She paused, gesturing to the world outside her hut, and continued, "Meillä on paljon tietoa ja taitoja, joita voimme jakaa sinun kanssasi, ja odotamme, että myös sinulla on jotain tuotavaa meidän yhteisöllemme. Olemme avoimia vaihtokaupalle, mutta odotamme, että kunnioitat meidän tapoja ja arvoja meidän keskuudessamme."
For clarity, here is a translation of Lyria's words:
Lyria: "We understand that you have traveled from a distant land to meet us. We are willing to accept you into our community if you show respect for our traditions and way of life. We have much knowledge and many skills that we can share with you, and we expect that you also have something to offer our community. We are open to exchange, but we expect you to respect our ways and values while among us."
Lyria's words were sincere and welcoming, reflecting her people's openness to outsiders who approached them with respect and a willingness to learn. She saw in Horst an opportunity for cultural exchange and mutual growth, completely unaware of his disrespectful and exploitative intentions.
Horst, however, struggled to follow Lyria's words, his poor grasp of the Nyssa language limiting his comprehension. He caught phrases here and there, understanding that she was speaking about acceptance and respect, but his mind remained fixated on his crude desires. He nodded along, feigning comprehension and agreement, while his thoughts lingered on his twisted fantasies.
The contrast between Lyria's dignified and welcoming demeanor and Horst's disrespectful and exploitative mindset was stark. As Lyria extended an olive branch, hoping to foster a meaningful connection, the old bastard remained focused on his own selfish and offensive goals.
After expressing her willingness to accept Horst into their community, Lyria continued to explain the unique dynamics of her tribe, hoping to instill in him a sense of understanding and respect for their ways.
"Yhteisömme on erilainen moniin muuhun, ja meillä on omat syymme tälle," she said, her voice taking on a more serious tone. "Meidän sukupuolten suhde on kymmenen naista jokaan miestä. Tämä on seurausta siitä, että me olemme valinneet hallita väestömme kasvua tällä tavalla, estääksemme resurssiemme liikakäytön ja ympäristömme ylikuormituksen. Tämä on vaatinut meiltä kehittää yhteiskuntamme siten, että se heijastaa tätä epätasapainoa."
She paused, ensuring that Horst was paying attention before she continued, "Naiset ovat vastuussa meidän yhteisöstämme, ja he ovat tehneet sen vahvaksi ja kestäväksi. Sinun, ulkopuolisena miehenä, on erityisen tärkeää ymmärtää ja kunnioittaa sitä, että naiset ovat johtajia ja tekevät päätöksiä meidän keskuudessamme."
Lyria leaned forward, her blue eyes steady and earnest as she drove her point home. "Odotamme, että noudatat meidän sääntöjämme ja kuuntelet naisten ohjeita. Tämä tarkoittaa, ettet saa koskaan yrittää kyseenalaistaa heidän valtaansa tai arvostelua heidän päätöksiään. Meimme olemme vahvoja ja ylpeitä, ja me odotamme, että kunnioitat meitä ja meidän tapoja."
For clarity, here is a translation of Lyria's words:
Lyria: "Our community is different from many others, and we have our reasons for this. Our gender ratio is ten women to every one man. This is a result of our choice to control our population growth in this way, to prevent the overuse of our resources and the overburdening of our environment. This has required us to develop our society to reflect this imbalance.
Women are in charge of our community, and they have made it strong and resilient. As an outsider man, it is especially important for you to understand and respect that women are the leaders and decision-makers among us. We expect you to follow our rules and listen to the guidance of our women. This means that you must never attempt to question their authority or criticize their decisions. We are strong and proud, and we expect you to respect us and our ways."
Lyria's words were firm and clear, but her explanations were too complex for Horst to grasp. His poor understanding of the Nyssa language, combined with his single-minded focus on his own desires, rendered him unable to follow her meaning. He caught a few words here and there, but the overall message was lost on him. He nodded along, feigning agreement and understanding, mostly fixating on her barely covered chest instead.
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