Tales of the Thousand and One Shades of Alanis, the Goddess (part 1)

Tales of the Thousand and One Shades of Alanis, the Goddess (part 1)


Dog she calls him. Just dog. Because that’s what he is. Her dog. Her creature. Once he was a man, his name was Marc. He liked to hike through nature, hills, isolated areas. There he met her, in an isolated gorge, Alanis, the red haired witch, the beautiful vampyre, the bloodthirsty Queen of the Dark Side, GODDESS ALANIS, his destiny.

Well, she hunted him down easily. She overpowered him. She bit him. She flooded his veins with her poison. She took him. That story is told elsewhere. Now he is her dog. For the rest of his life.

Look at him now.

Naked, he is kneeling in front of a laptop. His hair has gone completely. Never will grow anything on his body that his owner doesn’t allow. He wears a collar around his neck. A ring through his nose marks him as cattle. Her cattle. He can’t move a muscle without her command. So he waits for her command.

She stands close to him. She holds a leash in her hand, her grip is very tight, so that the head of the creature at the other end of the leash is very close to her thigh. He smells her scent, he could kiss her leg, but even if he would dare to try, he could never manage. Because he can’t move a muscle without her command.

“Dog”, she says. His back stiffens, and he listens carefully. “Dog. You know what to do.”

Dog opens his mouth, he sticks out his tongue, he pants as dogs do. He isn’t allowed to use human language as long as she doesn’t explicitely commands it. She pats his skull, pinches his ears. She holds her hand in front of his mouth, and he licks eagerly the fingers that own him.

“Yes, you know. I gave you a task. If you accomplish it to my satisfaction and amusement, you’ll continue to be my dog. A dog that I beat or feed, however I like it. If not…” She smiles. Dog flinches under her menacing caress.

“So, now, start the task. You will write 1001 stories, may they be short or long. Stories that reflect my perfection. Stories that picture my cruelty in beautiful colours. Stories that tell the truth about my power. Stories about the men and women I caught, just like you, and what I have done to them. Stoeirs about my creatures, my tortures, my killings, my love. Stories about you and me, also. You know by now that I can travel through time and space, and you know that I can take different shapes and forms. You know that, don’t you, dog?”

Yes, he knows. He knows everything. In the hours, months, years of his slavery (he has lost all sense of time), his Goddess has told him millions of cruel stories. And sometimes she didn’t even tell him those gruesome stories, she just bit him or sucked on him, drank his blood  – and all of a sudden he knew everything – and trembled in fear.

Alanis smiles. She feels him shivering while she caresses his neck. “Good”, she says. “Remember and type. But first, lick my feet.”

Dog blinks and nods. He crouches down and licks the feet of his owner.

“Now, write”, Alanis commands.

He begins to type:

His name was Carlos, and he went to a party somwhere in Barcelona. There he met her, a beautiful young woman, petite, slim, with long, enchanting red hair…


… to be continued …

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