Gently Bitten

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Nice Life

"I still can't believe you gave up your will to that young sorceress.  Why would you allow her to cast that spell on you?"  The merchant looked in sad confusion at his friend and, until this point, fellow pilgrim.  Of the two of them, only one would be able to continue on to the shrine, still a good two weeks' travel away.

When the group had become lost in the forest, everyone feared that some of them might succumb to its famous hazards-- the rumored sorceress among them.  But Marly had never expected the loss to be voluntary.

Callister the Blacksmith-- he'd probably be called Callister the something-else soon enough-- met his friend's gaze evenly.  "It was the only way to make sure that everyone else could pass safely through her domain.  My servitude, for your safety.  And I figured, is it really so bad?  I've always wanted to meet a woman I could really settle down with.  Now, I'm in sexual thrall to her forever-- but have you *seen* her?  I'd have given my left nut to get to have her.  It's not a bad life.  And the locals, they all said she was a nice queen."

Marly returned his friend's look with growing horror.  Callister was the unabashedly lewdest man Marly had ever met, and couldn't go a day without bedding a barmaid somewhere *and* leaving his seed behind the bushes by the side of the road.  Now, the only woman he could ever have again was... "They didn't say that, my friend.  Oh, my friend.  They said she was *an* *ice* *queen*."

There was just a moment for realization to cross Callister's face, before, far off, the snap of the sorceress's fingers echoed through the forest.  Callister's eyes went blank.  "I live to serve, Mistress," he intoned, as he turned and walked into the leaves.