The Witch's Amnesiac Sex Slave
727 Views · Ongoing · Fuzzy Melissa
Those beautiful dark golden eyes of Cassius should have been filled with dependence and longing for me.
Not like now—bewildered, innocent, like a lost fawn.
I perched high on an oak branch, watching the man below who was being ordered around like a servant by the knight squad gathered around their campfire.
The most feared top-tier human assassin, and... my devoted hound who warmed my bed.
Three days ago, he'd vanished without a trace after getting caught in a spatial rift while searching for abyssal crystals for me.
Never imagined when we'd meet again, he'd not only lost his memory but been picked up by a bunch of self-righteous fools.
I pulled out my communication crystal and reached out to my vampire bestie Lilith: "He's gone from attack dog to puppy dog, and I'm not sure how to handle it. What should I do?"
Her reply came instantly: "Easy—make him remember who owns him."
I curved my lips into a smile, my gaze piercing through the darkness to settle on the man by the flickering campfire below.
The dancing flames illuminated his half-wet, tattered shirt, clinging to outline that lean, muscular waistline in exquisite detail.
I stared at him, silently clenching my jaw.
I wondered—when night fell and I slipped into his tent, when I bit down on that strong nape of his neck again... would this sweet, innocent pup still be able to hold back those enticing gasps of his?
Not like now—bewildered, innocent, like a lost fawn.
I perched high on an oak branch, watching the man below who was being ordered around like a servant by the knight squad gathered around their campfire.
The most feared top-tier human assassin, and... my devoted hound who warmed my bed.
Three days ago, he'd vanished without a trace after getting caught in a spatial rift while searching for abyssal crystals for me.
Never imagined when we'd meet again, he'd not only lost his memory but been picked up by a bunch of self-righteous fools.
I pulled out my communication crystal and reached out to my vampire bestie Lilith: "He's gone from attack dog to puppy dog, and I'm not sure how to handle it. What should I do?"
Her reply came instantly: "Easy—make him remember who owns him."
I curved my lips into a smile, my gaze piercing through the darkness to settle on the man by the flickering campfire below.
The dancing flames illuminated his half-wet, tattered shirt, clinging to outline that lean, muscular waistline in exquisite detail.
I stared at him, silently clenching my jaw.
I wondered—when night fell and I slipped into his tent, when I bit down on that strong nape of his neck again... would this sweet, innocent pup still be able to hold back those enticing gasps of his?















































