Chapter One
By: Ocean Tempest@GO
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The life of a pet was surprisingly hard. No matter he tried, Remus just could not get Cecil to notice him. He could kill a dozen of her enemies, he could bake her a thousand cookies, he could flirt with a million other women, and she wouldn’t even bat an eye. No, she was too damn wrapped up in whatever she was working on at the moment.
Spells! Potions! Enchantments! Curses! Jinxes! Remus was sick of them. How could Cecil be such a perfectionist? A million books lined her study, and every one was better than he was, evidently. Though he had to admit, he often enjoyed watching her flit about, meticulously planning her evil doings.
Remus watched her latest conjuration with interest. He sat on the wooden chair, carefully eyeing the open book sitting on the desk. It was a long wall of text that blurred before the eyes. Remus stared at the book despondently.
But was she truly evil? Yes, she kept many slaves, Remus himself apart of her menagerie, and she was often petty and cruel, but was she really evil? Maybe she just... didn’t care. Didn’t care about anything except her own pleasure. If this was true, Remus wondered, do I not give her enough pleasure?
Everyone in the nearby town knew he loved her. The evil witch and her strong little slave boy were the talk of the town. The whole region speculated about their nightly orgies with Satan.
Except they never did have orgies with Satan. Would’ve been fun, though.
But he still loved her. He loved her blue eyes, her blond hair, pale skin, even that freaky little crown thing she always wore. Remus would never understand why she loved that little trinket so much. Cecil would never tell.
“Remus!” Cecil’s melodious voice chimed out, sickeningly sweet in just the way he loved. Was it possible to get diabetes from a sound? If it was, he needed to see a doctor.
“Remus, sweetie. Be a dear and fetch me the monkshood from the cabinet!” she called to him again. Sometimes he wondered if she was a... what was the word?... sadist. Everything about it rubbed him the wrong way. The way the plant smelled... supposedly so awful one whiff was able to kill a mouse. He could certainly believe it. The dainty little blue flowers... so pretty as they called you in to just take a little whiff... then you’d want to pick some. You’d get just a little bit of milky white sap on your hand. Maybe it’d leak in through a cut, or you’d absentmindedly suck it off. Either way, once it was in you had a one way ticket to Hell.
Remus shuddered at the thought, remembering how close he had come to dying when he himself had tried to eat the deadly plant’s roots. Turns out the roots were worse than the sap. Just one little bite, and he’d very nearly died. Large amounts of very nasty symptoms he didn’t know the names of, just that they involved pain, throwing up, and almost dying.
Luckily, Cecil had been there. Cecil, and her strange medicines she had learned in the Far East. Which was even stranger, considering he didn’t think she’d ever been to the Far East, but regardless, she knew the secrets of medicine, and it had saved his life.
“Yes, master,” he said, distaste evident in his voice. He turned and faced the door that led to the store of supplies. Had he remained for a second longer, he would’ve seen the brief moment of pleasure evident on Cecil’s face at his discomfort.
Back in the dark basement, Remus lit a small candle to light his way. He moved quickly through the shelves of supplies. He stopped in front of the shelves that held the dreaded monkshood. He gingerly picked up the dried plants and shifted his candle. Slowly, he made his way back to the open door, light streaming through it and into the dusty basement. The stairs creaked beneath his feet as he made his way up to kitchen room where Cecil was busying herself with whatever project she was rushing to finish.
Slowly, Remus stepped up behind her and set the dried monkshood on the table beside her. He then slumped back into his chair, staring at the wall. He let out a long sigh.
“What is your problem?” Cecil asked him pointedly, as she began to chop the monkshood in small pieces.
“Nothing.” He sighed.
“Then stop your moping and do something useful.”
“I got you the monkshood, didn’t I?”
“Yes, you did. But that is no where near enough. You still owe me.”
“If I recall correctly, I don’t owe you anything. I am here of my own volition.”
“You may be here by your own choice, but I still own you. Remember your pendant?”
“Yes, I do. What would you have me do then, master?”
“I don’t like your tone. Watch it, mister, or you will regret it. As for what you can do, I have just the thing.” She said, placing her knife on the counter and stepping away. She slowly approached the chair Remus was sitting in.
“What would you like me to do?” He said, his heart fluttering.
“I am in dire need of dragon’s blood. It just so happens there is a small dragon that has set up shop near here. It’s just a tiny thing. You are to go and slay it,” she said, wrapping her arms around his shoulders from behind. “That shouldn’t prove too difficult for a nice strong man like you, would it?” she whispered slowly into his ear.
“N-n-no...” Remus said.
“Good!” Cecil cried, abruptly drawing away from the close contact. The small bit of hope growing inside of Remus died an abrupt death. Why did she torture him so?
“Then why don’t you pack up and get going?” she asked. “The sooner you get going the sooner you get back. And really, it shouldn’t take too long for you, right?” she asked seductively, titillating Remus in just the way she knew would get him going.
Remus slowly rose up and began walking back to the basement. He briefly stopped in front of the door and looked over his shoulder back at Cecil, who had returned to busily preparing the monkshood. “Just be glad I don’t ask for payment,” he stated to the air, knowing that Cecil wouldn't be paying any attention.
Remus slipped back into the dusty basement to gather his supplies before setting out.
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The life of a pet was surprisingly hard. No matter he tried, Remus just could not get Cecil to notice him. He could kill a dozen of her enemies, he could bake her a thousand cookies, he could flirt with a million other women, and she wouldn’t even bat an eye. No, she was too damn wrapped up in whatever she was working on at the moment.
Spells! Potions! Enchantments! Curses! Jinxes! Remus was sick of them. How could Cecil be such a perfectionist? A million books lined her study, and every one was better than he was, evidently. Though he had to admit, he often enjoyed watching her flit about, meticulously planning her evil doings.
Remus watched her latest conjuration with interest. He sat on the wooden chair, carefully eyeing the open book sitting on the desk. It was a long wall of text that blurred before the eyes. Remus stared at the book despondently.
But was she truly evil? Yes, she kept many slaves, Remus himself apart of her menagerie, and she was often petty and cruel, but was she really evil? Maybe she just... didn’t care. Didn’t care about anything except her own pleasure. If this was true, Remus wondered, do I not give her enough pleasure?
Everyone in the nearby town knew he loved her. The evil witch and her strong little slave boy were the talk of the town. The whole region speculated about their nightly orgies with Satan.
Except they never did have orgies with Satan. Would’ve been fun, though.
But he still loved her. He loved her blue eyes, her blond hair, pale skin, even that freaky little crown thing she always wore. Remus would never understand why she loved that little trinket so much. Cecil would never tell.
“Remus!” Cecil’s melodious voice chimed out, sickeningly sweet in just the way he loved. Was it possible to get diabetes from a sound? If it was, he needed to see a doctor.
“Remus, sweetie. Be a dear and fetch me the monkshood from the cabinet!” she called to him again. Sometimes he wondered if she was a... what was the word?... sadist. Everything about it rubbed him the wrong way. The way the plant smelled... supposedly so awful one whiff was able to kill a mouse. He could certainly believe it. The dainty little blue flowers... so pretty as they called you in to just take a little whiff... then you’d want to pick some. You’d get just a little bit of milky white sap on your hand. Maybe it’d leak in through a cut, or you’d absentmindedly suck it off. Either way, once it was in you had a one way ticket to Hell.
Remus shuddered at the thought, remembering how close he had come to dying when he himself had tried to eat the deadly plant’s roots. Turns out the roots were worse than the sap. Just one little bite, and he’d very nearly died. Large amounts of very nasty symptoms he didn’t know the names of, just that they involved pain, throwing up, and almost dying.
Luckily, Cecil had been there. Cecil, and her strange medicines she had learned in the Far East. Which was even stranger, considering he didn’t think she’d ever been to the Far East, but regardless, she knew the secrets of medicine, and it had saved his life.
“Yes, master,” he said, distaste evident in his voice. He turned and faced the door that led to the store of supplies. Had he remained for a second longer, he would’ve seen the brief moment of pleasure evident on Cecil’s face at his discomfort.
Back in the dark basement, Remus lit a small candle to light his way. He moved quickly through the shelves of supplies. He stopped in front of the shelves that held the dreaded monkshood. He gingerly picked up the dried plants and shifted his candle. Slowly, he made his way back to the open door, light streaming through it and into the dusty basement. The stairs creaked beneath his feet as he made his way up to kitchen room where Cecil was busying herself with whatever project she was rushing to finish.
Slowly, Remus stepped up behind her and set the dried monkshood on the table beside her. He then slumped back into his chair, staring at the wall. He let out a long sigh.
“What is your problem?” Cecil asked him pointedly, as she began to chop the monkshood in small pieces.
“Nothing.” He sighed.
“Then stop your moping and do something useful.”
“I got you the monkshood, didn’t I?”
“Yes, you did. But that is no where near enough. You still owe me.”
“If I recall correctly, I don’t owe you anything. I am here of my own volition.”
“You may be here by your own choice, but I still own you. Remember your pendant?”
“Yes, I do. What would you have me do then, master?”
“I don’t like your tone. Watch it, mister, or you will regret it. As for what you can do, I have just the thing.” She said, placing her knife on the counter and stepping away. She slowly approached the chair Remus was sitting in.
“What would you like me to do?” He said, his heart fluttering.
“I am in dire need of dragon’s blood. It just so happens there is a small dragon that has set up shop near here. It’s just a tiny thing. You are to go and slay it,” she said, wrapping her arms around his shoulders from behind. “That shouldn’t prove too difficult for a nice strong man like you, would it?” she whispered slowly into his ear.
“N-n-no...” Remus said.
“Good!” Cecil cried, abruptly drawing away from the close contact. The small bit of hope growing inside of Remus died an abrupt death. Why did she torture him so?
“Then why don’t you pack up and get going?” she asked. “The sooner you get going the sooner you get back. And really, it shouldn’t take too long for you, right?” she asked seductively, titillating Remus in just the way she knew would get him going.
Remus slowly rose up and began walking back to the basement. He briefly stopped in front of the door and looked over his shoulder back at Cecil, who had returned to busily preparing the monkshood. “Just be glad I don’t ask for payment,” he stated to the air, knowing that Cecil wouldn't be paying any attention.
Remus slipped back into the dusty basement to gather his supplies before setting out.