Page 14 of Savage

“I don’t have to be healthy for you to fuck me,” she says, nibbling on her bottom lip before looking up at me through long lashes. “And I could suck your cock instead. Wouldn’t that be better than feeding me anyway?”

“No,” I answer flatly. “You can’t manipulate me, Stef. But fine, it sounds like you do want the IV. Or potentially a feeding tube.” I pick up the tray and get up. “I’ll be back with all those supplies in a bit.”

“No!” she says quickly. “I’ll eat. I’m sorry. I’ll… I’ll eat. Please. No IV, no feeding tube. I’ll eat.” She looks utterly miserable, but she’ll look more miserable than that if she doesn’t get proper nutrition to help her get through the next few days.

I sit down again and pick up another small morsel. Without another word, I hold it up to her mouth and wait as she tentatively eats from my hand.

My cock stirs again, but I ignore it and focus on feeding her instead. Her little tongue darts out a few times, lapping against my fingers. I don’t think she’s doing it on purpose, and that only makes it all the more beguiling.

Halfway through the meal, Stef turns her head aside. “Please. I really can’t anymore.”

Considering how little she’s been eating, she’s probably gotten used to a calorie deficiency. I nod and set the tray aside, then reach out to rub my thumb across her bottom lip. “Good girl. Was that so hard?” I ask gently.

“Yes,” she whispers. “My stomach… It’s uncomfortable. I need… I need you to unchain me in case I get sick.”

The transparent attempt at manipulation doesn’t amuse me, but I set my hand on her belly and begin rubbing. Her skin pebbles up underneath my touch, and her nipples harden. “If you make a mess, I’ll clean you up,” I tell her.

Stef is already pale, but she goes a shade paler. She squirms as I touch her, looking up at me with a bleak look, like she’s not sure whether she should beg me to stop or go along with this.

I want to explore her body and learn every blemish, every flaw. I want to measure her, feel the bones, and know that I’m the one who’s making her better. I’m going to cure her, and she’ll worship me for it.

But not yet.

I let go and stand up. “I’ll bring a bottle of water,” I say, taking the tray of leftovers. “Try to get some rest, though. It’s going to be a rough few days.”

“You don’t… You don’t really expect me to stop cold turkey, do you?” she asks, though she already looks resigned. She knows the answer to that question.

“I’m not going to let you poison yourself any further,” I answer. “And this is the fastest way to get through it.”

I could wean her off the drugs, slowly reducing her dosages, but that would take weeks or months and has no guarantee that she’ll truly come off it.

Going cold turkey is harder, but she doesn’t need to worry about backsliding.

I’ll be keeping her on track the entire time.

CHAPTER 4

Stef

It’s the nausea that wakes me.

In my dream, I’m on a boat, and it’s rocking so hard in either direction that I can’t even stand up. I sit down, flailing for something to hold onto, but there’s nothing to grasp except soft cloth.

A bed.

I’m not on a boat. I’m not seasick.

I know what this is, what it means, and it has tears blurring my vision because I’ve been through this before when I pissed Giulio off too much.

I need another hit, just a quick fix to keep all of this at bay, but the doctor is more determined to make me miserable than anything else. Making me go cold turkey is just cruel, but then, what else should I expect from him?

He hasn’t been that bad, a small part of me tries to argue. Just… invasive, and condescending, and dickish.

Just like every other man I’ve been around in the past few years. It’s nothing new. They’re all assholes, and they all think they know everything. This one’s no exception.

Except… this one owns me, and there’s nothing I can do to change that because he has me locked up in a bedroom in his private, expensive home.

I slowly try to sit up, wanting to see if it’ll clear my head, but it makes everything worse. I gag, trying to keep down the little bit of food and water I’d managed to take in the night before, and it’s all I can do not to vomit all over the bedspread. I shouldn’t have agreed to eat. At least if he’d forced the IV, it wouldn’t have been something sitting heavily in my stomach like the chicken and vegetables he’d made me eat.

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