Page 33 of Deliria

The doctor’s words echo in my mind, his assurance that the new medication will keep her compliant, manageable. It seems he was right, because for the first time in weeks, Scarlett appears to be truly accepting of her situation, of the care we’re providing for her.

It’s about fucking time.

I release her, stepping back to lean against the edge of the vanity. I can see she’s got herself all dressed up for dinner, but I’m not in the mood for the drama that will inevitably bring with it. “Why don’t you get some rest? It’s been a long day, and I’m sure you could use the sleep.”

She hesitates for a moment before nodding again, rising from her seat to cross the room to the bed.

I watch her, my gaze tracking the subtle sway of her hips, the graceful movements of her body. Even now, in her fragile, emaciated state, she’s impossible to resist.

As she slips beneath the covers, I feel my cock stiffen. Memories of what I did to her only last night surface. Does she realise? Does she feel that soreness between her thighs and wonder? Or is she so medicated that she can’t connect the dots?

I approach the bed, my eyes never leaving hers as I begin to undress, peeling away the layers of my suit to reveal the toned, muscular body beneath.

Her gaze flickers with uncertainty, a silent question hanging in the air between us.

“Alex...” she begins, her voice barely audible.

“Shh,” I murmur, silencing her with my hand over her mouth.

I’m more than aware that she technically needs another dose, another hit. But right now, I’m not all that bothered. If she decides to become combative, then so be it. I’ll hold her down if necessary.

She gulps, while her body language tells me everything I need to know. That she’s submitting. Playing the dutiful wife she’s meant to be.

My hands roam over her body, reacquainting myself with the softness of her skin, the warmth of her flesh. It always feels different when she’s conscious. Like I’m with an entirely different version of her.

She responds to my touch with a quiet gasp, her body arching into mine as if seeking the comfort and reassurance she knows only her husband can provide.

There’s a good fucking girl. See, you can be obedient when you want to.

I take my time, exploring every inch of her, seeing all those bruises, those scars, reminders of what her body has endured and will endure. I pinch her nipple, one then the other and she whimpers loud enough that I can hear it.

I’ve always liked it rough, always liked proving my dominance. It’s another thing I liked about Scarlett in the beginning, that me abusing her, degrading her, using her, was what turned her on. No, my sweet, innocent looking wife was anything but innocent once I stripped her down and got her between the sheets.

There was never any pretence, any gentle lovemaking. We both got what we needed, what we wanted.

It’s what gave me the idea in the first place. She may be forgetful of some things, but this part of her, this sideremembered. She was always a filthy, dirty little whore in the bedroom – so why not continue to take advantage of that? To enjoy that? Afterall, what else is she good for in her present state?

I pinch her clit, and her whimpers become sharp little cries.

“Al…”

“Tell me that you’ve learnt.” I say, unable to stop myself, unable to resist the chance to prove my power over her while she can respond to it.

“I have.” She says quickly.

“Tell me you’re going to behave from now on, that you will do as you’re told and be a good wife.”

“I will.”

I smirk, leaning in and bite her lip just hard enough to draw blood.

“Tell me what a filthy slut you are for me. How much you love my cock, how much you need it.”

She hesitates just for a moment, so I pinch harder, twisting, hurting her more. Her legs jerk as she twists beneath me, but my weight holds her down. She’s not going anywhere until I say she can. Until I’m done with her.

Maybe I should get a clamp, maybe I should invest in some proper toys.

“Alex,”

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