Cruella opened her eyes, although she wished she hadn't, the intense stage lights beating down made her pupils ache. The back of her head hurt like someone had smacked her, and the rest of her body didn't feel too far behind in pain. Out of the corner of her eye she could see a figure, she looked over and saw Jean Pierre kneeling over her, holding her hand with his.
"Mon Dieu! My God! Cruella, are you alright? Such a fall, so sudden, you've been out for ages!"
Cruella sat up, and looked around. She was back on the stage where Le Pelt's fashion show had taken place, the room completely empty still, save for himself and Cruella. She looked down to find herself wrapped up in the Lynx babydoll coat dress she had out herself in to. She looked over at Jean Pierre, still hazy and confused
"What happened? Did someone hit me?"
"No, madame. You were walking down on the runway, and all of the sudden splat! Poof! You just dropped and smacked your pretty head on the floor. You've been unconscious for about 10 minutes, I phoned an ambulance not two minutes ago!"
"So I...fainted?!" Cruella had never fainted, it showed a certain weakness she didn't think she possessed. Cruella started to get a sick feeling in her stomach, the kind of feeling that told you whatever was wrong was serious, and it was near. As she stood up, Cruella became flush with the memories she dreamed, they became clouded and mixed, like the ingredients for a cake, what were easily picked apart could no longer be separated, the only thing Cruella knew is that these memories we're making her violently ill.
"Call of the ambulance, darling, I am not going to a hospital" Cruella said, in a shaky and breathless voice that could only have power and dominance because it was spoken by her.
Cruella felt like she was wearing heels, despite being barefoot. She looked over at Jean Pierre, still holding her arm, keeping her steady so she would not fall again. The sickly feeling in her gut suddenly picked up, to the point where she doubled over. Jean Pierre bent down with her, intent on catching her if she fell for a second time.
"Oh, my sweet, you really should go to the hospital"
His voice, his touch, his attitude, it all made Cruella sick. His hands on hers, keeping her upright, gave her all the slimy and cringey feeling of having a viper coil it's scaly body around her arm. She couldn't stand the feeling any longer, she needed to leave
"Get your hands off of me!" Cruella ordered, yanking her hand away. It took the strength that ten men could not possess, but Cruella managed to keep herself upright, and began moving away from Jean Pierre. She walked down off the stage, and made her way over to Jean Pierre's trailer
Without looking back to him, she shouted "Where is the bathroom in this pigsty of a fashion house?!"
"Oh, well, it's to your right, walk about 10 meters from my trailer, it's a women's room, very large." Jean Pierre shouted at the retreating Cruella. "You need me to follow, no? You can barely stand!"
Cruella gagged slightly "Jean Pierre don't you dare come anywhere near me!". As she hobbled towards the restroom she picked up her pile of clothes she had worn here, she needed to leave as soon as she could. "Just get on the phone and tell that ambulance to turn around!" Cruella added.
Jean Pierre, with layers of confusion and sympathy on his grizzled face, dashed for the nearest phone he used only minutes earlier to call the ambulance.
Cruella finally reached the women's room. She had several rules about how to conduct herself in public. Never use public transport, never ask a stranger for anything, never be seen by press in a poverty stricken part of the city, never interact with people from those parts of the city unless business related, etc. The rule she was about to break was never use public bathrooms. In her mind, public bathrooms were disgusting cesspools for the poor to defecate because they had not the curiosity or foresight to go in their own homes before departing. However, at the rate Cruella's stomach was turning, she would have walked straight into a sewage plant to relieve herself.
She quickly stumbled over to a toilet, just in time for a flurry of vomit to smack against the porcelain and mix into the stagnant smelling water. She knelt down in front of the toilet for what felt like hours, her stomach getting none the better. For a moment, when the sickness subsided enough for her to breath, she collapsed back, sitting on the floor with her back against the wall of the stall.
The temperature inside the stall seemed to rise at an alarming rate, Cruella soon found herself in an oven of metal walls and tiled floors. She had never felt this warm before, she was always very icy cold, just how she had liked it, the only time she felt at normal temp was in fur. Fur. the word made her bend over in pain, a dagger punching through her abdomen from the inside. Her skin began to feel itchy, and soon pain, as a million finely tipped needles bore into her skin. Cruella looked down at her body, the top of her breast visible from the baby doll dress. Her chest was covered in hives, and a deep shade of red. Cruella began to feel faint, almost passing out again. She couldn't breath. She was confused. She was alone. She was angry. With the unrelenting anger only alive in the heart and soul of Cruella De Vil, she kept herself awake. She stood up, despite the crippling pain. She needed to cool herself down, she was so hot. It was too much, for the first time since she had taken over her mind from Ella, Cruella had decided the fur needed to come off.
As she gripped the dress, her hands were sliced, she winced back, and looked at her palms. No marks, just an intense shaking. Cruella took a deep breath, and regripped the dress. Fighting through the pain, she was able to strip herself of the dress, and threw it across the floor, under the row of sinks next to her dragon dress she had been wearing earlier. She collapsed down, exhausted from the ordeal. Her body began to slowly stop shaking, the hives had started disappearing, and the needle like stabbing had gone away. Cruella sat on the floor, naked and huddled like an abused animal, slowly realizing why she was in this state
"The fur! The fur made me feel this way?!" Cruella thought to herself. Again, Cruella vomited into the toilet, but this time she knew why, she was sick at the reality of what just happened. She had a violent reaction to being in fur.
After the last blast of puke was expelled from Cruella's stomach, she stood up and wiped herself down. She felt much better now, like a composed and elegant human being, despite spending the last 15 minutes sick in a bathroom stall. As she walked over to the sink to wash herself down, Cruella looked above the mirror and read a banner.
"Monsieur Le Pelt's 7th annual fashion show!"
"Le Pelt...Jean Pierre" suddenly the memories she had hallucinated during her unconsciousness all fell into place. The coats, the agents, the partnership, the hotel room…
Cruella's sickness came back with a vengeance. The sink filled up with regurgitation before her stomach calmed down.
Cruella had never let a man conquer her, whether it was the firm boot she had planted on Alonzo, or the fear she struck into her designers, Cruella had always been in charge of the men in her life. The very thought that she had given herself to one. There was nothing left in her stomach to come up, but Cruella still gagged. Her life didn't make sense anymore, all she knew was that she needed to get home.
She quickly stepped into her dress, the intimidating colors of the dragon made Cruella's eyes hurt, but it's the only thing in this building she could wear without becoming sick. Her make up was akin to a Jackson Pollock painting, luckily her dress had the veil to cover her face. Another rule of Cruella, do not be seen in public without looking your best, and then some.
Cruella threw in her heels and placed her hand in the decorated dragon head muff, and quickly walked out of the bathroom. She stopped for a moment by the pile of fur on the ground, the plush lynx baby doll coat dress that she felt like a predator in, she felt so relieved just an hour ago to be back in and around fur. Bending down towards the coat, she slowly began placing her hand out. Only a few inches away from touching it, Cruella's hand cramped up and her whole body began shaking. Fighting for breath, she backed off from the coat, and left the bathroom in a quick pace.
Jean Pierre, sitting on the edge of the stage, perked up when he saw Cruella exiting the bathroom.
He greeted Cruella "Oh, my inspiration, I thought you were dead in there for a minute. The ambulance is not coming, so I hope you're feeling better. Need something, need to sit? Come and sit in my trailer for a while, until you feel better!" he started over at her to help her walk
Cruella did not look at the Frenchman, his voice alone making her queasy. She continued forward, toward the exit, with her dominating stride, a facade covering her very real submission to the pain.
She yelled loud enough so he could here her no matter what direction he was in, "Jean Pierre I'm fine, and don't you dare touch me! I'm going home, it's best we are not seen anywhere near each other for a short while, until I can figure out the next step of our plan. I have your contact info, I'll call you when I'm ready. Do not call me first! Do not attempt to come to my property until I address you first!" Cruella reached the exit and placed her hand on the handle, waiting a moment before stepping out into the cold.
Jean Pierre stopped in his tracks, and responded "Well, if you're sure you're alright, I suppose. I will prepare my shop in Paris for our spotted friends while you set your master plan in motion!"
Spots
Cruella was almost sick on the door in front of her, but stifled her gag long enough to reply.
"Okay, whatever darling, just don't contact me!"
And with that, Cruella exited the building and made her way down the abandoned sidewalk to where her car was parked.
A clock affixed to the front of a bank read 2:15 AM. Cruella, composure now regained after being out of the building for a few seconds, came up to her car. Alonzo was fast asleep in the driver's seat, luckily he left the doors unlocked, not that it would matter much considering how Cruella had ripped the doors off once or twice before.
She got in and sat, taking out a cigarette and lighting it, she yelled
"ALONZO! Wake up! We're going back to hell hall!"
Alonzo jolted upright in his seat, and instinctually opened his own door to get out and let Cruella in, before realizing she had already been in the passenger seat. Alonzo, stopping himself, was taken aback. Cruella loved to drive, she would speed and go head on into oncoming traffic, drift and smash into mailboxes, all with the laughter of a school child, which is why he was shocked when Cruella simply lit her cigarette, kicked off her shoes, and huddled in her seat, staring out the window.
Alonzo spoke up "Well m-madam are you sure you don't want to d-drive, it's a lovely night to hit a f-fruit cart or smash into-", suddenly, Cruella's hand, still wrapped with her large golden dragon muff, smacked Alonzo across the face
"JUST DRIVE!" she screamed, starting daggers into Alonzo
"Of course, m-madam" he stuttered, and they were off
It was 4 AM before Cruella finally got herself into bed. She kicked off her Rex rabbit pelt bedspread, still feeling sick at the site of fur, and lay in her bed with nothing on except for her silk covers. She had just spent an hour in the bathtub scrubbing herself, feeling absolutely disgusting and dirty for what she had done all those years ago, for what she let herself do. For some reason, though, she felt even filthier and disgusted beyond that, and she couldn't tell why. Cruella rationalized it just must be the separation from her furs, luckily that blathering idiot Ella had a convulsion when she came home and found the entire upstairs decorated in fur, and forced Alonzo to keep them all in the basement. Cruella noted it was probably a good idea to keep them down their, in case Chloe Simmons popped in for a surprise inspection
Despite her head rushing with all kinds of memories and feelings, she soon drifted into sleep….
Cruella awoke in the dark. She couldn't feel her covers on her anymore, yet felt even more claustrophobic, she could feel what felt like a suit buttoned around her. Cruella leaned over to turn on the lamp on her desk, when her arm suddenly jerked still and couldn't be moved further.
"What the hell? What is this" Cruella thought, as she began moving her arms and legs, all of them bound down and clinking metallically, no doubt some form of chains.
As she was ready to burst into a rage of yelling and screaming, a light on the ceiling above came to life. Cruella was in a padded room, maybe 4x4 meters at most. She lay on a flat metal bed, her arms and legs restrained by heavy industrial chains. She was dressed in black and white stripes, her old prison dress, the dress given to her when she started her run of experiments with-
"Dr. Pavlov…" Cruella said in a hushed, confused tone. The padded door she was facing swung open, and in through it walked Dr. Pavlov, lead psychotherapist at the London Institute for the Criminally Insane.
"Good evening Miss De Vil" Dr. Pavlov said, looking down at a clipboard in his hands, attached to the top corner was a picture of Cruella upon her arrest, marking the sheet of paper as Cruella's file. The Doctor had a very slow, lumbering pace, almost like a giant, but at the same time his limbs were very bouncy and springy, like a marionette puppet. He was just very unnatural in his movement, Cruella thought, no wonder he worked in the basement of a prison.
He held a large duffle bag with him, which he placed on a metal chair in the corner of the room.
"Sorry for the chains" he said "I know they must be uncomfortable, but after you so effortlessly broke out of your last restraints and bit me last time, well, I couldn't take any chances" he smiled wickedly as he stroked the black and white striped stocking on Cruella's legs "don't worry, I didn't report you to the warden, although I understand how the added time for the assault would have garnered more therapy that you love so much" he squeezed her calf and smiled.
Cruella gritted her teeth and flexed her arms, the chains straining to keep her down. She screamed "You absolute imbecile! Let me out of these chains at once! I said I was done with this torture, I have my rights!"
"Ah, Miss De Vil, you had your rights, of course, before you signed them away in a contract that would reduce your sentence in exchange for taking part in therapy" Dr. Pavlov responded, putting the clipboard on a small surgical table and reaching into his bag. Out of the bag he pulled a metal box, adorned with dials and gauges, sprouting two wires with suction cups on the end.
Cruella winced at the site of the box, straining her neck to get her head away, but Dr Pavlov quickly grabbed her by her hair and forced her head back, securing a tight metal bracket fixated to the table around Cruella's neck.
"A leash for an unruly dog, almost?" Dr. Pavlov laughed, as he fixated the two suction cups to each of Cruella's temples. Cruella began to jerk more violently, but to no avail, she was firmly stuck in place on the table, waiting for whatever form of torture The doctor had in store for her today.
Dr. Pavlov reached back into his bag, and pulled out a large fur coat, dyed red and black, made from now extinct Tasmanian Wolf pelt. This was the coat that Cruella was wearing when she was arrested, and the one she so proudly adorned in her file photo. The Doctor draped the coat over the back of the chair, removed two small picture frames from his bag, and placed them both on the surgical table.
He went to the small box and turned a dial, the machine then came to life with a menacing static ticking. At the same time, a camera fixated at the top corner of the room came to life, recording the session.
writing something down on his clipboard, he spoke to Cruella, giving her the same speech "Now then, Miss De Vil, you have been tried and found guilty of dog napping, assault, animal endangerment, animal cruelty, trespassing, and robbery. For the remainder of your sentence, you are to undergo constant therapy and monitoring. If my methods succeed, you will be released. If you refuse to cooperate, you will serve the entirety of the 25 year sentence the court had originally ordered, is that understood?"
Cruella furrowed her brow and cussed at The Doctor , "When I'm released from here, the first thing i'm doing is skinning you alive, is that understood?!"
Dr. Pavlov smirked "I'll take that as a yes then". The Doctor stood and looked at the camera, addressing it, "The subject demonstrates a clear lack of sympathy, unnatural amounts of anger and inhumane strength, all stemming from some psychological impairment. Subject has been observed while in normal custody to use her looks and skills with negotiation to subdue and command guards, almost escaping on several occasions. A typical femme fatal if you will."
Cruella smirked and laughed "Foolish men, will kneel in servitude for anything in a skirt" she said as she remembered sweet talking a guard into letting her out of her cell after hours in exchange for a kiss, only to throw the guard over the railings. After that, all of Cruella's guards were women, and even that was beginning to show cracks before her therapy began and she was moved to special containment. For the last 3 months, Cruella had no contact with anyone, besides Dr. Pavlov.
Dr. Pavlov continued "Subject shows extreme displeasure in most things involving nature, wild life, and anything living in general. Subject shows extreme pleasure in every aspect when shown, or given, fur clothing or pelts of animals. Subject has shown increased states of euphoria when given fur, on the subject of fur, or mentioning death of animals, no doubt a severe form of Zoosadism. We will observe this now using the scanner attached to her head, when she is presented with fur".
Dr. Pavlov puts the clipboard down on the surgical table next to the two frames, and walks over to Cruella. He lays his boney hand over Cruella's abdomen.
Wincing and scowling, she barks, "Don't you dare touch me you pig! You absolute idiot, I swear I will kill you!" She screams. Dr. Pavlov, unphased by Cruella's wrath, slides his hand under the buttons on Cruella's prison dress. The dress, argued, would be a way for Cruella to differentiate between fashion and fur, so if she was cured, she could return to normal society and continue with her work, and not end up unemployed. The dress was complete with stockings, opera gloves, high heels, earrings, a pillbox hat that read "6660", which was Cruella's prisoner ID number, all of which were stripped black and white. At first, when given it to wear instead of her tattered orange jumpsuit, Cruella was thrilled. But since it's all she ever wore, with no changing or bathing since the therapy had begun 3 months prior, she felt like 's doll, some play thing, a show dog he dressed up, if she was allowed access to mirrors she would be sick to look at herself.
Her heels clicked against the metal as she twitched when the icy skin of Dr. Pavlov's fingers came into contact with her porcelain skin. He slowly moved his hands under the front buttons on her dress, before quickly ripping it open, exposing Cruella's bare breasts, illuminated by the bulkhead light above. Cruella lay there, stripped, and fearful. She was never fearful, not in her whole life, but of , she learned what fear was.
The Doctor walked over to the fur coat and brought it over to Cruella. He dropped it over her and left it there for a second, as he reached back over to the table and turned the small box towards him.
As Cruella's nipples hardened with the soft fur caressing her, she began to feel relaxed. A security blanket to keep her safe, her beautiful fur coat protected her from all in the world at this moment.
A loud crash wrang out and Cruella's eyes shot open in pain. Sharp knives poked the back of her eyes and her brain was on fire. She screamed loudly as her ears were filled with an electric explosion. Every muscle in her body tensed up, she checked herself involuntary pressing against the metal collar that restrained her, slowly squeezing the life from herself.
Suddenly it all stopped as Cruella relaxed her muscles and gasped for air. She looked over at Dr. Pavlov, as he was lowering a dial on the small machine. He looked to the camera
"So far, we have made progress with most forms of conditioning, whether it be drug enhanced, negative reinforcement, audio and visual hallucinogenic enhanced, drowning, lashing, choking, burning. Subject has responded with aggression to all, but has noticeably improved with all. Still, the unwavering love of fur and suffering has remained part of the subjects psyche, which is why we have moved on to electroshock therapy". Dr. Pavlov again cranked the dial, this time noticeably higher, leaving it on
Cruella jerked violently screaming as the machine did it's work. Dr. Pavlov moved over to the table and placed his hands on the fur coat, massaging and caressing it into Cruella's bare flesh, fondling her with the soft fur as she screams in agony. He shuts the machine off, again addressing the camera.
"The subject will associate the constant electrical shock with the fur and other objects we will show her momentarily. Given the subjects psychological illness, I will start with a minimum of 5 hours of electroshock therapy per day, for the next month."
The next few hours were filled with constant fluctuation between pain and pleasure, the soft and warm fur, followed by the gritting shock of the machine, slowly frying Cruella from the inside out. Throughout the session, Dr Pavlov presented the frames to Cruella. One showed a picture of her dalmatian puppy coat, surrounded by various furs in her collection. He placed the picture in front of her face, as she tried to raise her hand and caress the photo of her darling children, "Miss De Vil, fur is why you are in here, you tried to kill puppies, a hundred puppies, you are evil, and this photograph is why". cranked the machine, sending Cruella into another fit of spasms, before turning it back down. The other, a portrait of Jean Pierre, taken sometime when him and Cruella worked together, was presented to her. Dr. Pavlov smirked at Cruella when she looked fondly at the picture "you've told me about this man, your nights with him, your partnership, it is bad, it is not good for you" as he held the picture directly in front of Cruella's face, he cranked the machine all the way up, shocking Cruella to the point her neatly dome shaped hair started to spring out into twisted curls. When Cruella first started therapy she told Dr. Pavlov all about her past with Jean Pierre. Cruella, of course, told him to stuff it when first questioned, but after brought in a fur from Cruella's collection and burned it infront of her, she spoke when told to do so.
After 5 hours, the torture had finally ended. Cruella lay there, naked and afraid, as Dr. Pavlov packed his things to go. He began to fold the coat up, and looked back at Cruella. With a devilish smile he thrusted the coat towards her. Cruella screamed, and tried to turn away from the fur, before coming to her sense and realising what it was. Dr. Pavlov smiled and looked at the camera
"The subject has made remarkable improvement in just the first day, electroshock therapy seems to be working wonders!" He said, before moving over towards the camera. He reached up and removed two wires from the back of the camera, disabling it.
He lumbered over to the metal chair, now moved close to the operating table Cruella still lay on, her makeup smudged and he clothes stretched. Dr. Pavlov had his own form of therapy he had been working privately with Cruella for the past 3 months they had been meeting, and Cruella began to shake.
He spoke to her, softly and pervertishly, "Oh Cruella, in all my years I have never met a patient as remarkable as you. So set in your mind, you're my greatest challenge yet". He began to stroke around Cruella's abdomen, caressing her waist "you're a wonder!" Dr. Pavlov exclaimed, before standing up and kissing Cruella's breast. As he began fondling her and climbing up on the table, Cruella turned her head away. Instead of fighting, screaming, kicking or cursing, all she did was cry.
"Oh darling, why do you continue to be so...cruel" the angelic voice whispered to Cruella.
"Go away" Cruella said, depressed and defeated, huddled up in her padded cell, the only noise was the sound of dalmatian puppies barking being played over a speaker, fed to her 24 hours a day.
"Oh come now, it would be so much fun if you just let me in control, just for a tinsee winsee little bit, no?" The voice said, as it began to materialize.
Across from Cruella stood a woman. Hair black and white, neatly shaped like a large dome, which had been the hairstyle mandated for Cruella since beginning therapy. She looked like Cruella in every way, save for a few details. This women wore pink lipstick instead of red, her face was more powdered and white, she wore pearls and gold jewelry instead of jewelry made from animals bones and black. The woman wore porcelain white gloves with no nails, instead of the black gloves with claws like Cruella had always worn. She stood across the room, in a tight white dress, buttoned all the way down to her feet, and long white robes, wrapped around her head, topped with a wide brimmed hat. The woman looked like a couture nun.
Cruella started laughing "my word, Ella , you look absolutely dreadful tonight. You look like you were dressed by little orphan Annie!" She begins laughing uncontrollably, until slowing down and finally stopping, slinking back down into her own filth and dreadful state.
"My my, you're such an awful woman" Ella balked "the things I could do if I were in contact would make the De Vil name one of great peace and kindness"
"Which is why you'll never be in control" Cruella snapped "you fur hating freak! You're not real! You're some dreadful personality those bastards out there came up with to get me to 'behave', but I'm not breaking, I'm not giving up on fur, and I'm not giving up on what made me this way!"
"Oh honey, the fur is gone. Once you're out of here you'll either be me, and want nothing to do with it, or you'll die in here!" Ella snickered "Your business is crumbling, you're the laughing stock of london. All because of some irrational lust for the pelts of animals cruelly killed" Ella cried out, getting angrier.
"I'm not talking to you anymore, you're not real!" Cruella yelled at her alter ego, as she got closer to Cruella. She bent down and carressed Cruella's face with her hand, and smiled
"Oh darling, you'll just never learn will you. Have fun being whore, I'll be back tomorrow" Ella laughed as she evaporated into thin air.
Cruella screamed at the fading apparition , throwing one of her heels at it, only to hit the wall behind her. Cruella's eyes welled up, as she laid down and hugged her knees, sobbing uncontrollably.
"You're not real, you're not real, and you'll never be real!" She cried the rest of the night
AUTHORS NOTE
to anyone tuning in for this chapter, I apologise for the long wait. Life caught up with me and I just wasn't sure where I wanted to take our favorite villainess Cruella from here. But I'm happy with the story I'm setting up now and we'll learn more about her past, see more from Miss Di Ablo in the next chapter, and find out if Jean Pierre and Cruella will make it.
Thanks so much to all of you who view it, I am so thankful and would love to hear feedback
