Getting the lay of the land in the Land of Getting Laid

I step out of that luscious void of lust and loathing and squint as I find myself bathed in light for the first time in hours. Days? Months? Eons? I don't know how time passes in a dimensionless space like that. Temporal troubles aside, I start to sympathize for my patron goddesses. If a world soaked in metaphorical Light is as painful to the Dark as this literal sunlight was to my eyes, I could get wanting to overthrow it. And throw it to the ground. And rip off it's prissy little clothes...

The more I fantasize, the more I realize just how perfect this form was for me. People back on Earth always said that I tried to solve everything through sexual aggression, and that it would get me mired in greater trouble down the line. They're only half-right, though. Sure, being an unrelenting amazonian bitch was the only tool in my toolbox, but nearly all problems stem from systems made up of people. And when it comes to people, there's always someone down the line who needs to get nailed, so why bother with anything but a hammer? Hell, sometimes you can solve two problems that way! I was unemployed and probably going to get kicked out of my favorite gym for my... vigorous extracurriculars. The gym manager called me in to his office to gracefully inform me of my revoked status; 40 minutes, two fallen portraits, and a broken desk later, I walked out full of cum, power, and a sense of purpose as his Mistress and assistant manager. Didn't care much for the "assistant" part, but even I had to take baby steps. Built up a rep (and a harem of gym bunnies) as I gradually worked over the old manager for everything he had; car, house, wife, title. Ah, good times.

OK! Time for reminiscing is over. There's a whole new world I have to claim, and it starts right here. I take a deep breath, picking up on all the scents around me. The forest before me smells... fresh. I was never much for hiking back on Earth; I preferred the vibrant pulse of the city, the thrum of the thousands of strangers I'd pass everyday, the parade of imminent devotees to their swole goddess. But the forest here in Ruyanei is something else. I smell the dirt, packed with nitrates to invigorate the trees. Another sniff, and I smell a musk; nowhere near as potent or close by as my own. Actually, I smell it in a dozen different spots, all within 300 feet or so. I guess it must be some animal's mating season.

I'm about to draw another surveying sniff, and only then does the information I just drew reach my conscious brain. I can smell something that subtle from 300 feet? And I can recognize it's within 300 feet?! This is... I'm not even sure what this is. It's like a new dimension has been opened to me. If I can detect things with this level of precision, could I also track someone down by their scent? Could I find pick up the trail of a ripe little elf and follow it back the buffet of booty she calls a village? And then, once their in my harem, I'd have to keep track of who got a sample of my shaft and when; I could probably tell just by how powerful my scent is dominating theirs. I wish this happened to me ages ago! I've always been a huntress, but this body is designed for it!

Back to the sniff test. Now more aware of my mighty nostrils' power, I take in a deep breath and try to get a clear picture of everything. Deer, leaves, rotting trees, berries... iron? And... more of me? I turn around for the first time and find darkness. Not the inky, seductive blackout of the void, just your standard shadows you'd find at the mouth of a cave. My cave. My dungeon. Mine.

The entrance is pretty nondescript, a simple hole in the side of a cliff face. Looking up, I see more trees atop the cliff; I'm guessing this forest exists at varying elevations.

Syl'anor Forest covers approximately 1,700 square miles, with elevations ranging from 30 feet below to 700 feet above sea level.

Like a memory, the Lore of the Forest fills my mind with information on my new demesne. Love the built-in info; it'll make stalking my prey all the easier. We'll have to do something about that name, though. I look at the floor of my cave, taking a step forward onto rough-hewn yet paradoxically untouched stone. I guess the dungeon and its mob monsters were 'born' around the same time I was. Virgin territory, heh. But if that's the case, I doubt anyone will show up here for a while, this being both new and hidden in the forest's depths. As I place my foot down on the cold earth, an instant rush of information fills me. My new cock has been twitching at nearly every sensation, but this surge nearly sends it to half-mast. I have an innate sense of my dungeon's inhabitants, capacity, and potential. Sloping downward, the cave currently features a room with 9 goblins and 3 lesser orcs, at a 2:1 female to male ratio. Wonder if I can knock them up? I can tell they already accept me as their mistress, so it should be as easy as yelling, "Bend over!" Beyond that room are two branching hallways. The first leads to a room lined with manacles, wooden horses, whips, flogs, and collars. Bitch Breaking Central. The second leads to a (currently) modest throne room. A few torches line the walls, and about 70 feet beyond the entrance sits a nice wooden throne atop which I'll sit while my mobs do the hard work. They'll be the overseers of my ancillary harems - wannabe adventurer bitches too weak to make it through the trash tier beginner monsters. Any that make it to me have the pleasure of submitting to my monstrous cock, dripping quim, and dominating musk directly.

If I happen to get killed (like that would ever happen), the lucky adventurer will gain access to the rooms behind my throne: the bedroom and treasure room. Sure, they could stick to claiming the treasure and destroying the dungeon core, but would they really pass up the opportunity to fuck in a monster Boss's bed before doing it? Covering up her powerful scent with the aromas of their own rutting? Making their last effort to conquer a conqueror?

Huh. That was... oddly subby. Gonna have to figure that out. Domming has basically been my way of life, so those kinds of thoughts have never crossed my mind before. I figure it's my right to claim anyone I can throw around as my toy. Is that all there is to it? Am I actually a switch who just hasn't found anyone strong enough yet? I shudder; the very idea frightens me.

Slapping my face with my powerful new hands, I try to clear that thought from my mind. I'm a domme, dammit! Rightful ruler of any ass in sight! I'm not going to be beaten, so that's not a concern. I am the strongest, I am the fiercest, I am Gnasha, Jungle Queen!

If the dungeon is to be my staging ground and a lure for wayward adventurers, I'll need to head out into the world and establish myself as a **** to be reckoned with. I could ransack some travelers and collect their prized possessions for my hoard; I could kidnap some elven sluts and use them as hostages to bait a rescue party in; eventually, I could spread whispers of a secret dungeon across the land, inviting even stronger challengers to my lair. I know instinctively that the dungeon will grow in conjunction with my power; it hungers for growth and dominance just as much as I do, and I'm certainly not one to let myself go hungry. But the journey of a thousand miles and all that. I need a target.

The birdsong filling the forest canopy and the babbling of the nearby brook fill my ears with their tranquil melodies. The treeline is filled with vibrant colors; I can tell it's not autumn, but the leaves are nevertheless filled with gold, brown, green, and... silver? Though calming, I can't make out anything of significance, so I switch to Old Reliable: my beautiful nose.

Small birds. Wet dirt. Flowers, varying in height. Bushes? Sugar, fiber -- berries. And something under the berries, too. Juice intermingling with salt -- with sweat. Dry wood, untreated, with a concentrated berry scent atop it. A basket. Someone's gathering the berries, about 200 feet into the forest. A target.

Well, well, well. I move steadily towards this new scent, careful not to spook my prey.

Not spook them too soon, anyway.