This princess of an (at first interstellar, and then intergalactic) empire 20 millennia ahead has chosen to further safeguard herself and her line/assets/holdings via secret alliance with us.

 

Table of Contents:

  1. Spec’s
  2. Intro
  3. Etymology
  4. History
  5. Irulan and Auz
  6. Her Likenesses (Images)
  7. Video
  8. Playlist

 

Spec’s:

  • Caucasian
  • blonde, golden
  • eyes:  “bright jade-green”
  • ~5’9″ –far too tall for my tastes, but being a princess of tens of thousands to tens of millions of systems/worlds, and trillions of humanimals, helps her case
    (though long-term exposure to me eventually makes females ~a few inches shorter than me (and sometimes as much as “a head” shorter than me –always keeping their proportions/ratios what is attractive to me; scaling all their bodies down just the way I like, keeping them healthier and healthier the whole time)
  • “patrician beauty”; refers to a classic, refined, and aristocratic aesthetic. The term evokes the dignified elegance historically associated with the upper classes, featuring structured facial features (like a sharp “patrician nose”), symmetry, grace, and an aura of poised authority.
    Key Characteristics:
    Visually and stylistically, this type of beauty is defined by specific traits and cultural associations:
    Facial Structure: High, defined cheekbones, chiseled jawlines, and prominent, straight facial profiles.
  • perky C-cup tits, just like my wise/God instincts know they should look/be
  • perfect-slit pussy, just like pussies Should be
  • said to be a bit on the slim side, not as curvy as some females, but, like all other features of females I feel drawn to / like perfecting, she will soon/eventually be painlessly/pleasurably fine-tuned to be as curvy as my instincts prefer/require, amen

 

Intro:

It seemed like she would one day rule an intergalactic empire inherited from her father, but then Paul and Paul II happened, turning that collective of worlds into a nightmare on purpose, forcing their peoples to scatter even beyond The Milky Way, just to survive his clever campaign designed to relentlessly spur them all, slaughtering any who dallied.

 

Etymology:

Irulan:

  • a rearrangement of the letters of her mother’s name, Anirul
  • (regarding Anirul) frequently confused with or thought to be a variation of Anirudh (a Sanskrit name meaning “unstoppable” or “without obstacles”) or Amirul (an Arabic title meaning “commander” or “prince”)
  • sometimes called ruinal by the Bene Gesserit who keep ‘grooming’ her for leadership
  • “Ruinal is not a standard English word. You are likely thinking of ruinous, an adjective that describes something causing, tending to cause, or characterized by complete destruction or ruin.”

..

Corrino:  an exceedingly rare surname but shares roots with other Mediterranean names. [1]

  • Corrin: A surname of Manx (Isle of Man) origin, meaning “Son of Thórfinnr” (Old Norse for “Thor’s wanderer”).
  • Latin/Italian Roots: It is linguistically tied to names like Corvino (meaning “like a raven”) and shares similarities with words like corno (horn), often referencing a branch or offshoot.

..

  • the family adopted the name to commemorate their victory in the crucial Battle of Corrin, which ended the ancient war against thinking machines (the Butlerian Jihad). [1, 2, 3]
  • Prior Lineage: Before taking the name Corrino, the dynasty’s surname was Butler. Prior to that, they were descendants of the Harkonnen and Atreides lineages. [1, 2, 3]

 

History:

See this set of recommended webpages about the origins of this “character” (disclosure).

Pardon the horribly ugly/deformed / deformity-normalizing propaganda / “art” in these wikis; try to look past those corrupt-‘artist’ failings/slanders, focusing just on the text/context.

 

Irulan and Auz:

I learned of her (She was disclosed to me, ensuring I would notice and begin to warm up to the idea of uniting with her) in the 2010s, and she again was brought to my attention in 2026 Spring.

We spent years communicating telepathically, in private at first,
and then technologically, only via My communication network,
and finally in person, once she confirmed she not only acCepted my culture, but was excited to experience it, if only in the Outlands.

Their empire is based on reQuiring monopolies; travel monopolized by the Spacing Guild, for ex..
Every Guild or House monopolizes Something, keeping everyone dependent, not symbiotic or synergistic, but almost parasitic.
If any given world makes food, it isn’t allowed to be good at making much else.
Same for manufacturing.
Same for mining.
Same for R+D.
Same for anything.
Every world is allowed to be great at One thing, and kept dependent on all the rest.

Is this because of not just what the cyborg-mechs once tried to set up, but also because of some very classified/compartmentalized commandment from an agent of Inisfree… that humans Must stay that separate, fragile, addicted to trade, always just one disagreement or embargo or glitch away from disaster?

The princess and I have a complex unofficial arrangement / treaty –perhaps more accurately called an entente.
..
I don’t let my people leak knowledge or resources into her empire’s territories which could destabilize it, such as via A.I. or the method/s for interstellar travel without spice melange, (which I am fine with, because it keeps that branch of mankind isolated out there like they deserve)
..
and in exchange she and all in her empire I am interested in submit to my instructions / honor my requests to them (which rarely involves more than being full-body and fun to chat with, like I require Everyone around me to be).
..
While it might initially Seem she and they could offer useful exclusive intel’ about tens of thousands to tens of millions of star systems / worlds, my deployed ICVs long-ago mapped all those places, and can effortlessly notice and learn everything in any of her people’s brains, so intel’ isn’t one of her bargaining chips.

This is contrasted to my future/foreseen/destined holy relationship with Aorlie, empress of a separate branch of mankind –the one which did Not intentionally mutate some of its people to become replacements for computers / A.I.; with Aorlie, her kind Naturally submit to me anyway, and knowledge of various Inisfreean tech’/methods would not destabilize their similar (post-scarcity) economy.

I refer to the Bene Gesserit as “the B.G.s”, and explain to her about the Bee Gees, since it is pronounced identically.
I also sometimes refer to them as The Bitches Gaytarded, since, from my point of view, they may as well be retards, and they certainly are homosexual/deviants, compared to the healthy natural norm in My culture.

I regard the navigators and others of her branch of mankind as hardly different from the trans’ sickos/fools, so there will never be an alliance between her empire and mine, and her worlds will never get classified as my protectorates, but a small fraction of her people will be considered for screening and lifespan extensions.

As a chronicler, she and I have that as common ground; I have instinctively kept detailed histories and other records for a long time.

Not allowed to breed, this gains her a bit of favor in my eyes, since I am only attracted to those whose nature is to breed only when I want them to, and only How I want them to.

“If you want to see my realm, you must become fully compatible with me.
That includes no addiction to spice melange.”

Irulan naturally considers she may become less on her toes, less alert, borderline complacent, thereby at risk, if I give her the peace/relief/slack I have told her I can, but then she, being a quick and complex thinker, also realizes she is alReady at risk, with her empire engineered the way it is, so I might just as much be giving her a very helpful and lifesaving advantage. She accepts my offer.
“I have little to lose,” she almost laughs at her own latest chapter of life; “I am already basically outcast, labeled, stripped of all the influence or leverage my family once had, and denied the right to continue my bloodline; I may as well give your way a try.”

I see if she will mind lighthearted dirt jokes about her name.
I make sure she knows I respect her, and will never try to make feel bad/less.
“What if I jokingly call you urinal?”
That got a ‘flash’ from her beautiful royal eyes, but it was not of anger, just entertained shock, almost instantly turned on thereafter, amazed ANYone would speak to her that way, even just in play; no one ever had.  Sure, some had tested her for trigger-words, over the decades, but not like this.  She LOVED that I was instead doing it not to bully or toughen her, or to help her notice instabilities/weakpoints within herself, but just to flirt and bond.  It impressed her; I was confident even with a woman whose family once ruled millions of worlds and trillions of people.  I was clearly a god, and every royal family wants to breed with deities, since that is the only way they, already at such a high social level, can “trade up” anymore.

I then point out that because her name is Not spelled “urinal” Or “ruin-all”, she is destined to be the Opposite of those things.

Years into our relationship, she learns that some women enjoy being urinated on. Even businesswomen and royals sometimes get off on that. We discuss why; it gives them the opposite of what they have been extremely peer pressured to live as; they get tired of the predictable safety or rigidness of being in charge of things, or maintaining a squeaky-clean public-image.
She looks me square in my eyes and firmly, almost begging, says, “Pee on me.”
I regard her a moment, giving her time to really commit.
“Use me as a urinal,” she rephrases, insisting, hoping…
“Strip and kneel,” I calmly instruct her.
She does so.
“Open your mouth and close your eyes.”
She continues obeying.
I piss in her mouth a little, just one squirt.
“Leave it around your tongue. Do not swallow. Contemplate it. Decide if you like its warmth or taste or context or anything else.”
She remains silent, mouth open.
“Close your mouth, but still do not swallow.”
She does so.
“Next time, we can try with your eyes open, or gargling, or pissing on the rest of your body. Many girls like maintaining eye contact, and having their pussy or asshole pissed in.”
She opens her eyes, bravely swallows the small amount of piss, and then seriously tells me, “I want more. Now. While we are on a roll.”
“Open,” I then say.
She opens her mouth wide.
“Stick your tongue out.”
She does.
“Hold your cheeks wider, your mouth wider open; hook your fingers in the sides of your mouth.”
She does.
“Now, as I piss in you some more, gargle.”
I piss more than before, and she gargles.
“Drool it on yourself.”
She does.
“How does it feel on your flesh?”
“…Warm… interesting… good… arousing.”
I piss a third time, saving about 1/4 for the end, this round all over her tits.
“Now lie on your back, missionary position, legs apart, and use your hands to hold your pussy open.
She nods and gets into that position.
I empty the last of my bladder directly into her pussy.
She smiles, very entertained.
I, too, feel entertained, and remember others who asked me to piss on them before.
I am glad I waited to share such a fetish with the sexiest ones, not the mehs from Phase 2, and I am glad those mehs eased me into this fetish for later.
“Every time we meet, I will not just fuck you, but piss on and in you.”
She smiles, her heart pounding, finally experiencing something Very new, its taboo nature feeling sensationally liberating to her.
“You see now, to some small extent, why so many females discover they want such total submission and degradation, above all else; why so many voluntarily enslave themselves.”
She nodded, her eyes bright, full of new enlightenment, “Yes.”
“You are very pretty.”
She smiles and blushes.
“Your prettiness greatly increases when you ask to have such things done to you. I can hardly contain my excitement. I choose not to resist you.”
She smiles and marvels, her eyes almost twinkling.
“Come; let us shower together and then bathe each other.”
She nods eagerly, and I help her stand.
As we walk to the shower room, she beams her smile toward me, “That was really special, and you are wise, and a gentleman, even when you are ‘dirty’. I am Very impressed.”
I smile, proud to hear that from such a powerful beauty. “It Was special. So are you –and likewise wise.”
We kissed and then made out in the shower. Once she was clean, we stepped into a warm bath and further handwashed and tongue-bathed each other, making love until we had both cum well.

“I would love to receive short videos from you, of you having other men piss in your mouth.”
She nodded, “I will send those to you!”
We had fallen in love.

Since she was eventually able to pass Inisfreean screening, i.e. she became (more, if not fully) compatible with me later in her life, I eventually tell her there is a way for her to have children without Paul or the B.G.s getting involved; being around me can cause her to outlive them, and my deployed forces can clandestinely keep them distracted so that they hardly even Think to meddle in her personal life, even if they want to.

Irulan, as the decades become centuries, and she hears of the war crimes Paul II is intentionally committing across the empire, asks me what I know about it.
I tell her frankly, not dismissively or heartlessly, that it isn’t a focus/priority of My empire, as it does not threaten any of Our people/allies, but I am happy to look into it if it will bring her some relief.
My deployed ICs easily see what Paul II will do over the coming few millennia, so we advise her to steel herself, and remind her she can always sidestep it and anything Else she would not feel safe living through/near; there are plenty of places we can relocate her to, where he will not be able to send his troops to.

“Will you hate me if I choose to remain focused on managing my Own empire?” I calmly ask her.
“No…” she continues showing me her decades of training to be an empress; to make and understand tough decisions, strategy, power plays, and the sacrifice of high numbers of lives, even fellow royals.
“If you change your mind, and decide you hate me, I would not hate You. I would understand.”
She gave me a look, and shook her head, “Let us commit now to not going down that path. There is already so much of that out here in This empire.”
I nodded twice, “I agree.”

The millennia of hellish war/s came and went.
She appreciated I had looked into it in time to give her a heads-up, and that I had led her people do their own thing.
We stayed friends and fuckbuddies.
She was also appreciated that I had even given her a chance at all, letting her know I exist, when her kind keep doing so many cruel and monstrous things.
She understands how unstable and dangerous they must seem to us.
I did not tell her that they only seem insane and disgusting, not threatening, since I and my kind became invincible.

As always, we only discuss things after we have fucked, and usually while we are still slowly fucking.  The era/situation doesn’t make us feel differently about this urge and tradition of ours.  We are seasoned leaders/royals, after all; we treat ourselves to whatever takes the edge off, helping us continue making tough decisions as gracefully as possible.  Amen.

In time, somewhere along this way (perhaps within years, perhaps decades, perhaps longer), she, like all women I want, is bound/destined to eventually (eagerly, mind you) offer to show me herself having sex with everything I want to see her having sex with.  If you’re read the other dossiers on this website / as part of this religion presented in the form of a sci-fi saga, you already know what that means.

I tell her, lovingly/supportively, “You never stopped being the princess of the empire –not to me, and others whose opinions matter greatly.  Paul and Paul II command a military considerable to your side of the equation, but to me they are just the latest harm-crazed fools who do not fully understand or maturely utilize their rare abilities of foresight and such.  While they deploy a rampage from world to world, I ignore them, listening only to Your counsel, willing to help enforce only Your requests.  I choose You, Princess/Empress Ir-u-lan.”  I accented her name to sound extra-lovely, though it needed little help.
That got her looking at me dreamily, her insides feeling all warm and drawn to me, ready for me to fuck and fill her again.
Clearly, the tattoo of the name/symbol of the angel said in legend to have an SOP of restoring honors to good people, remained fitting on me.

 

Her Likenesses:

also see

That above artistic depiction gets her face and fashion about right, but her eye color is not gray-blue, and her hair color is much more golden, almost sunny.