Lady Cassandra is the embodiment of unchecked cruelty, driven by an insatiable hunger for power and dominance over all living things. In a society where most women hold their horses in high regard, treating them as prized possessions and symbols of status, Cassandra stands apart, disregarding all such sentiment. For her, everything—man, beast, or otherwise—exists solely for her pleasure, her whims, her capricious desires. There is no reverence, no affection. Her world is a dark theater of control and violence, where every living thing is simply a tool to be used, abused, and discarded as she sees fit.
Unlike the other women of Cruella, who take pride in the elegance of commanding their horses with a flick of their wrists or the subtle press of spurs, Cassandra’s control is brutal. She does not revel in the finesse of her mastery, but in the raw domination she can exert. Her spurs, unlike the ornamental ones used by others, dig deep into the flesh of her horses without restraint. When she rides, the delicate balance of power between rider and horse is shattered. She is not merely guiding the beast—she is breaking it, crushing its will beneath her iron grip, indifferent to its pain. The horse may be revered by others, but to her, it is no different than the men who grovel at her feet: something to be dominated, hurt, and discarded when it no longer serves her purpose.
An example of her nature is in how she hunts—not for sustenance or sport, but for the sheer thrill of it. Lady Cassandra treats the lives of animals and men alike as playthings, finding joy in the chase and ecstasy in the kill. Whether she rides her horse through the wilderness, hunting down a stag with the same detachment she’d show for a rat, or sends a group of male servants into the forest, knowing they won’t make it out alive, it’s all the same to her. She takes pleasure in the suffering, the desperation, and the final moment when she decides whether to end their lives or let them linger in pain just a bit longer.
Her cruelty extends beyond physical violence—it infects every aspect of her being. She enjoys playing with her prey, whether human or animal, like a cat with a mouse. She might give her servants or horses false hope, granting them a momentary reprieve, only to snatch it away with a sudden, vicious command or a sharp strike from her whip. The sight of hope flickering and then dying in their eyes thrills her, feeding her insatiable need for control.
She holds no loyalty to any of the traditions or rules that other ladies of Cruella follow. While they might pamper their horses, adorning them with fine silks and feeding them delicacies, Cassandra relishes in their destruction, enjoying the knowledge that she could end their lives with as little care as she would a servant’s. Her spurs cut deeper, her whip strikes harder. The blood of a horse under her hand excites her as much as the blood of a man—perhaps more, because she knows how much the creature means to others, and how little it means to her.
Her disregard for societal norms does not make her an outcast—rather, it makes her feared. The other women whisper about her behind her back, horrified by her extreme cruelty and selfishness, but none dare confront her. Lady Cassandra cares little for their opinions. To her, they are weak, bound by the sentimentality that she considers a flaw. They see beauty and grace in their horses and the few men they protect; she sees only weakness. She mocks their reverence, seeing no value in anything beyond the immediate satisfaction of her sadistic desires.
Her stables, unlike the pristine barns of her peers, are grim, dark places of torment. Horses cower when they hear her approach, for they know that her presence rarely means anything but pain. Her stable boys, knowing full well the fate of their predecessors, live in constant terror of her next mood. She might call for one to groom a horse, only to castrate him if the animal doesn’t meet her expectations. The horse, too, could face similar consequences—a broken leg, a bad trot, or even a perceived slight could result in the creature being whipped to death, its carcass left as a grim reminder of her absolute control.
Lady Cassandra’s cruelty has no limits, no boundaries. She does not see herself as bound by the laws of nature or man, but as a goddess, standing above it all. Life, in all its forms, is hers to manipulate and destroy. Whether it’s the slow, agonizing death of a servant begging for mercy or the brutal exhaustion of a horse run to its breaking point, she thrives on the suffering of others. In her world, everything is expendable, and nothing holds value beyond the pleasure it can provide her in the moment.
To Lady Cassandra, mercy is a weakness she will never indulge. Each day, she seeks new ways to exert her dominance, her cruelty. She finds herself bored by anything that does not challenge her power or allow her to explore the depths of her sadism. The women of Cruella may not approve of her methods, but they can do nothing to stop her. She is untouchable, a force of malevolent nature that bends the rules of society to her will. The fear she inspires in both men and women is intoxicating, and she basks in it, knowing that her power—and her cruelty—are absolute.
Lady Cassandra and Athena share a bond forged in cruelty, a friendship built on a shared love for power, control, and the dehumanization of those beneath them. In a world where most alliances are based on politics or status, their connection runs far deeper, rooted in their mutual understanding of life as a mere plaything for goddesses such as themselves. For both women, there is no higher joy than the manipulation and destruction of living beings—whether men, animals, or their own twisted creations—made even more intoxicating by the company of a kindred spirit.
Athena, the reclusive genius behind the state’s breeders program and the infamous “minimen” project, keeps much of her life hidden from the public eye. Few in the realm know what she looks like, and even fewer are aware of the depths of her sadistic nature. The veil of secrecy around Athena only serves to enhance her mystique. She is known by reputation for her brilliance, her scientific breakthroughs lauded by the elite, but only Lady Cassandra is privy to the true depths of her soul. For beneath the cloak of respectability, Athena harbors the same ruthless belief that all life exists solely for the amusement of the goddesses.
Their friendship thrives on this dark philosophy, an unspoken understanding that they are superior beings destined to toy with the lesser creatures of the world. While other women of the realm might take pride in their ethical superiority or nurturing care for their horses and servants, Cassandra and Athena scoff at such weakness. To them, morality is an illusion, and compassion a vice for the weak. Their friendship is a celebration of their mutual freedom from such chains, a space where they can indulge in their most base desires without judgment.
Athena, ever the intellectual, was the one who first introduced Cassandra to her private laboratory, a place filled with the strange hum of machinery and the quiet whispers of experiments in progress. The moment Cassandra stepped into that space, she knew she had found a home of sorts—a sanctuary where cruelty was not only accepted but encouraged. Together, the two women have spent countless hours in the lab, reveling in their twisted experiments. They have dabbled in every form of pain, from chemical trials to the dissection of living beings. But one of their favorite pastimes involves the use of electricity, a method that both find endlessly entertaining.
It was during one of these sessions that Athena gave Cassandra the nickname “Electra.” The name had been coined after a particularly memorable experiment where they subjected a series of living subjects—both men and animals—to waves of electrical current. The subjects had convulsed, screamed, their bodies writhing under the surge of power that Athena and Cassandra controlled with a mere flick of a switch. It was an art form to them, watching as the creatures begged for mercy, their flesh twitching and burning, their pleas falling on deaf ears. The two women had laughed—pure, unbridled laughter—at the sight of their subjects’ agony.
Athena had turned to Cassandra, her eyes alight with sadistic glee, and said, “You control them like a goddess of lightning. You are Electra, my dear.” The name stuck, and from that moment on, it became a secret token of their bond, a reminder of the shared joy they found in the suffering of others. Whenever Athena addresses Cassandra as “Electra,” it brings back the thrill of that first experiment, the laughter that echoed through the lab as lives were extinguished for their pleasure.
Their experiments know no bounds. Cassandra and Athena are not limited by the constraints of society, the law, or even ethics. Together, they have performed acts of cruelty that would make even the most hardened of hearts shudder. They take pleasure in the fact that they answer to no one, their power unchecked, their whims catered to by the lives they destroy. Whether it’s testing the limits of human endurance through chemical and physical torment or breeding new forms of life only to watch them suffer, they are united in their desire to push the boundaries of cruelty for entertainment.
Despite her private nature, Athena feels at ease around Lady Cassandra in a way she does with no one else. It is only with Cassandra that Athena can truly be herself—her unmasked, sadistic self. The two women speak in a shorthand of cruelty, their conversations often punctuated with shared glances of amusement as their latest victim screams or writhes before them. There is no need for explanations between them; their minds are perfectly aligned. They understand that their friendship is one of shared dominance over the world around them, a partnership in which they are both gods wielding power over the helpless.
Cassandra, too, values this friendship in a way she doesn’t with others. While she commands respect and fear in all aspects of her life, with Athena, she finds an intellectual and emotional equal. Their cruelty is not random; it is calculated, designed to bring maximum pain and satisfaction. Athena’s scientific mind combined with Cassandra’s relentless hunger for power creates a deadly synergy. Together, they enjoy each other’s company in a way that transcends mere friendship. It is a connection built on mutual pleasure—the pleasure of breaking, manipulating, and ultimately destroying the lives they deem unworthy.
When Cassandra visits Athena’s laboratory, it is often for no other reason than to engage in their shared passion for torment. They work together with an ease and efficiency born from years of understanding each other’s darkest desires. Whether they are creating new breeds of life to be tortured or experimenting on existing ones, their enjoyment is always mutual. Cassandra might bring a servant or an animal with her, knowing that Athena will have just the right tools to turn the visit into an unforgettable experience. And Athena, in return, often calls on Cassandra when she has a new project in need of testing, knowing her friend’s appetite for cruelty is limitless.
Their friendship is one that defies the norms of society, a partnership built on cruelty, dominance, and a shared disdain for anything resembling compassion. In each other, they find the freedom to indulge their darkest desires, unburdened by the moral restrictions that others cling to. Together, they laugh at the suffering they cause, finding joy in the control they wield over all life. Whether it’s a man, an animal, or one of Athena’s creations, it makes no difference—everything is there for their amusement.
In the end, Lady Cassandra and Athena are more than just friends; they are partners in cruelty, goddesses in a world where life exists solely to be shaped, manipulated, and destroyed for their pleasure. And in each other, they find the only true equal—a companion in darkness, a sister in sadism, bound together by their insatiable hunger for power over all life.