Horror turns within me as goosebumps form on my skin. An upward cackle vibrates against the walls. His body deflates as Kate’s demonic form reveals itself. She turns, then in one serpent-like motion, she slithers toward me. A whimper escapes from my throat. She hovers above me while her sinister laughter pierces my soul. I lie helpless, waiting for her inevitable assault.
Sal’s nurse scrubs are now dispersed shreds that are scattered all over the waxed tile. Kate continues to scowl above me. Her eyes are fierce flames that flicker to and fro, and her hair is sleeked back and caked with sanguine goo.
“Why?” I whimper in a subdued tone.
“Because, my sweet.” She combs her fingers through my hair then places a chunk of hair behind my ear. “You and I are forever, my sweet, sweet Scarlet. Until death do us part,” she hisses as her fingers creep under my bed sheet. “Oh, how I’ve missed you,” she moans as she dips her fingers into my tense apex. I shut my eyes tight as Kate sticks her drenched fingers into my mouth.
A prayer repeats in my mind: Lord, please save me. Save me from my sick mind.
Tears stream down my face as Kate exposes her favorite part of me.
I swallow and imagine I’m anywhere but here. She groans and thrusts as she morphs into Klad. He inserts his unwanted growth inside of me. David’s face flashes in my mind and his kindness compared to this strengthens my courage.
Once Klad completes, I’m left feeling ashamed and mentally will this hell to end. My previous prayer cycles in my mind while Klad laps at my center. I beg for forgiveness from God for whatever harm I did to deserve this hell.
My mind is weak to believe that Klad is actually possessing me as well as using me like this.
“You’re not real!” I shout as I kick Klad away. He smirks then continues to torture my apex.
“You are not real,” I scream as I fight to push him away from me.
“Scarlet?” an unfamiliar voice calls my name. A beeping begins in the distance that causes Klad’s face to contort into a glare as he pulls away from me.
“You’ll never be free of me,” he snaps before he departs with such force out of the room that a brisk wind blows my hair out of my face. The bedroom lighting changes as the sun begins to set.
“Hello?” I plead that someone real will come to my rescue. But no one appears. What feels like hours pass while I continue to be confined to the bed. I’m alone and absolutely defeated by this debilitating mental illness.
David
Weeks have passed, and Scarlet has not made any progress toward recovering from her psychosis. Dr. Blantz is courteous with frequent email updates. At first the emails brought hope, but with each new notification that states the same prognosis as before, the realization that Scarlet may never recover has begun to take hold.
Dr. Blantz enthused optimism as she revealed the name of a specialist that showed interest in Scarlet’s case. His name is Dr. Greenburg and he’s scheduled to meet Scarlet soon. My lover’s psychosis has provided the necessary wake-up call for Elizabeth. Since Violet had to step in to make Scarlet’s medical decisions, Elizabeth took Violet’s decision personally. Elizabeth has spent the last two weeks in a substance abuse clinic.
Violet and Milton postponed their nuptials until Scarlet’s prognosis is determined. There was talk of an unknown pathogen being the possible factor in Scarlet’s mental sickness, but until the specialist sees Scarlet, we’re all in the dark.
Tim and Kim have attempted to be supportive, but with their friends from the Keys keeping them busy, it’s been a while since they’ve contacted me to inquire about Scarlet.
A knock on my office door interrupts my occupied mind. Without prompt, Ivy opens the door wide enough for her head to peek in. She smiles widely and says, “Dr. Jensen, may I speak to you?” Before I’m able to reject her request, she weasels her way into my office. She licks at her lips while she struts toward my desk.
“Ivy…” In annoyance, I rub at my temples. “I thought we agreed that what happened between us was a moment of weakness…It will not and should not happen again.” My face hardens while I wait for her to flee.
Only my office desk separates us. Her seductive stare burns holes into my wall of willpower. Every time she offers herself to me, I become stupid and useless. I tell her no, but she knows that I’m weak to her carnal advances.
“How’s Scarlet?” she taunts while she unbuttons her blouse.
“No progress,” I reply while I dig my nails into my knees.
“David, you know that it’s been weeks. She’s never coming back to you.” Ivy’s words are harsh. Her blouse withers to the floor.
A reminiscent stab of emotion floods through my mind as I remember Scarlet’s limp body and unresponsive, mentally absent stare.
“I’m here, David. Always.” Ivy’s down to a red thong and nothing else.
My weakened, cowardly heart embraces Ivy’s advances. Her lips urge against mine. My mind begs Scarlet for forgiveness while Ivy guides my hands to her hips as she mounts me.
“I’m here. She’s not. Let. Her. Go, David.” Ivy’s words pierce my heart. Her lips press and urge against mine.
Her fingers twist into my hair while her left hand releases my one-track dick. Ivy swears she’s on the pill, and we’re too many times in for it to matter, anyway.
Indulgent moans escape her throat while she takes all of me into her pussy. Ivy’s words cycle in my thoughts while I suppress my cock’s impulse to blow.
“She’s never coming back to you…” repeats in my mind while Ivy thrusts and moans on top of me. My dick becomes limp as I take in my transgression against Scarlet. How could I?
“Not again,” Ivy growls. She pushes off of me, then rushes toward her clothing. “I could have anyone—anyone. Have you even bothered to read about the probability of her recovering?” Ivy’s brows wrinkle as her eyes squint with disgust.
My attention is taken by my limp cock, so without a word, I compose myself then check my calendar. I jerk my gaze at Ivy, press my fingers to my temple, then retort, “You and I are done. You’re done filling my thoughts with bullshit. And I believe it would be best if you put in your two weeks’ notice and fucking leave.”
I stand to leave my office. But then, Ivy charges at me. “No. We’re not done. I will ruin you.” Her eyes are filled with fury. She jabs her index finger into my chest. “My period is late and it never is…” she scolds up at me. I ignore her lies and move past her. Right as I reach for the door, I feel a thud against my head. The room shifts as I twist my gaze to face Ivy.
“Motherfucker. It’s me or death.” She slams the metal lamp from my filing cabinet against my temple. Blood seeps down my face while Ivy thuds the lamp against my skull. A high-pitched squeal sounds within my cranium. My sight blurs while I lean and slide down the wall. Ivy moves in and out of my line of vision. A jab followed by warmth spills from my chest. My head injuries induce a lethargic reaction. A sharp pain, followed by a glance to my chest, reveals my engraved letter opener—a birthday gift from my parents—is now protruding from my shoulder.
“Now, I’ll leave. For now.” She digs her heal into my sac. I stumble over in agonizing pain and observe as she dresses herself then leaves my office.
Vomit spews from my mouth as I fail to sit up. Time lapses before my nurse, Heather, walks into my office.
Her screams could shatter the windows as she rushes to my aid.
“Multiple-head-injuries,” I stutter.
“And a stab wound,” Heather adds. With a swiftness, she rushes to use my desk phone to dial for help.
Following a brief lapse of time, a paramedic and Lin, the staff patrol officer, comes to my assistance. Almost an hour creeps by before I am transported to North Naples Hospital. The uncertain haze that follows a head injury has begun to fade.
I’m assigned to a hospital room that resembles Scarlet’s NNH room. Disgust from my behavior smacks me like a venomous woman on a war-path. How did I become so weak?
Dr.
Blantz has provided transparent care of Scarlet; not one detail was ever missed. But as optimistic as she attempts to be, deep down I know—Scarlet’s never coming back to me. It’s been weeks, and her mind is gone. She’s mentally gone.
“David?” a male inquires as he hovers over me. I answer his questions to my best ability. Considering that crazy-bitch Ivy has most likely told the entire birthing center about our affair, I decide to file assault charges and a restraining order.
By 1:00 AM, a turbo taxi is dropping me off at my home. I lurch with pain as I manage to open then walk through my front door. With a quick flick, I lock the deadbolt. As I stagger toward my bed, tripping over the dispersed clothing and other objects that are all over the floor, I reflect, I seriously need to clean.
My prescribed opioids lure me toward a deep, drug-induced sleep. But, to save face and avoid a scandal, I email Greg:
Man…I’ve made a mess and need you to call me ASAP.
Talk Soon,
David
With my cellular phone in my hand, I struggle toward my bed. As I’m inches from my comforter, I face-plant, squirming until I can find a position that doesn’t cause pain. Seconds later, I fade into an intense, dreamless sleep.
My cock’s hard and becomes sore as a familiar hot crevice surrounds my dick. Moans linger in the distance while I arouse into a nightmare. Ivy’s mounted and grinding on my cock. With every buck from her pelvis, my injuries throb. I lift to shove her off, but a pair of handcuffs dig and scar at my wrist and ankles.
“Hey, baby,” she grunts as she pulsates on my dick. The more I struggle, the tighter the handcuffs become. Ivy leans back then twists my balls as she continues to bounce on my cock.
Discomfort builds before she quickens her speed. A grunt of unwanted pleasure escapes my throat. More moans vibrate from Ivy, and before I explode, she hops off to jab my dick deep into her throat. My body responds in accordance while my cum fills her throat. A smirk of satisfaction forms on her lips before she mumbles, “See, I knew I’d make you cum again.”
My cock decreases in size before settling onto my thigh. “Did you seriously think that I would just let that thick dick go? Ha!” she taunts me as she dismounts. My restraints make it impossible to move. Nonetheless, with difficulty, I manage to peer out and witness Ivy retrieve a pistol and syringe from her purse.
“I’ll end you before I let you go,” she shrieks right as she jams what she can of the pistol right up my asshole. Before I can react, she inserts the needle and its poison into the interspace between my right large and second toe.
A euphoric drowsiness courses through my veins. The room swirls and spins. Ivy rummages through her purse, and her movement induces an extraordinary arousal throughout my body.
“Do you like that, baby?” she moans as she teases a finger from my injection site to my cock. Waves of pleasure pulse throughout every muscle within my body. A low satisfactory growl builds deep within my esophagus. Ivy’s fingers transform into tentacles that encircle my enlarged dick. With pure intentions to make me cream again, she tugs and tugs until I’m subdued under her grip.
The haze that once smothered my will to oblige to my values has succumb to any intentions I had to stay true to Scarlet.
“Free me!” an inner-animalistic predator growls from within me. She wants me to fuck her, and that’s what I intend to do.
“Free me, now—Ivy.” My cock throbs and jolts within her grip.
She exits my field of vision, then returns to my feet. The tight-metal restraints that kept me at her whim fall to the bed. Ivy slithers her way toward my wrist. With effort, I nip at her nipples.
The moment I’m free, I slam Ivy onto her back. Her small frame becomes one with my mattress while I drill her until she shrieks with pain.
Hours pass before Ivy succumbs to my vengeful cock raid on her twat. She begs for me to stop, and since I’m no rapist, I release her. Ivy crawls from my bed toward my restroom. A triumphant laugh expels from my lips.
My rubbed-raw dick glistens with Ivy’s cream. I repeat to myself, Scarlet’s mentally gone and she’ll never return. Never.
Ivy’s poison has faded and reduced its sinful grip. My assault wounds remind me that I’ve surpassed my next dosage, so I hobble out of my bedroom and then into my living room. With a swift gulp, I wash down my opioids. I return to my bedroom to find Ivy in head-to-toe leathers. A leather bodice confines and pinches at her waist. Leather hot shorts fit snug on her pelvis and reveal what she fails to conceal. Thigh-high, laced-leather platforms have boosted her height.
Ivy cracks a braided whip in my direction. “Where did you go, David?” she demands as she stalks in my direction. Her gaze is fixated on my face. White rims of powder circulate her nostrils.
“On all fours, now,” she orders before she cracks her whip against my back.
My dick twitches, and without protest, I fall on all fours. Ivy teases her whip against my back then maneuvers the damn thing to my ass. She startles me with a firm slap against my right cheek.
“You were wrong to file charges against me, David. And now, I’ll have to teach you a lesson.” She sets her whip on my back, then says, “Relax or it’ll hurt.”
I listen as she stalks toward her bag then I gawk in shock when I notice another syringe. She sniffles and swipes at her nose. “You know how you’re gonna pay, David?” she pauses, then strikes my ass when I don’t respond.
“How?” I question. My mouth waters as I recall the bliss that will follow the insertion of Ivy’s euphoria.
“You’ll get another dose of fun, but this time you better not cum. Otherwise, I’ll have to surprise you with something unpleasant.” Ivy taunts a finger down my spine. Goosebumps rise as I anticipate the relief that follows the insertion of the syringe.
Discomfort pricks my interspace between my left large and second toe. Warmth travels from my left leg and then flows throughout my veins. The simple softness of the carpet awakens my cock. Ivy’s whip across my ass reminds me that she’s in control.
She presses her knees onto my feet, but before I can react, she orders, “Not a peep or you’ll pay.”
Her hands are cold against my warm skin. She strokes my shaft with one hand then adds the other. “Now remember: You cum. You pay,” she orders before she uses a firm grip to taunt my dick. A pain forms in my abdomen as I struggle to contain my excitement.
“Please,” I huff in discomfort when she releases a sinister giggle.
One hand separates from my dick and slaps against my ass. Heat pulsates throughout every hair on my skin.
“Please,” I beg, while her hands restrict around my pained dick.
“First, you must repeat after me.” Ivy quickens her speed as she masterfully strokes on my cock.
“Yes. Anything,” I groan as I fight the urge to explode all over the carpet.
“Then say, ‘Scarlet is dead to me.’ Say it!” she instructs before she increases her speed and tightens her grip on my tortured dick.
“Ahh…” I wail as I struggle to contain my pending load. “Scarlet…Is. Dead. To. Me,” I conform to her demand.
“Stand,” Ivy orders, before she releases her grip.
I push myself upright and then stare down at her. My cock pulses as she yanks my shaft then plunges my tip deep until it rubs against her tonsils. Without much effort, I fill her esophagus with my built-up load.
Part
David
Ivy’s drugs are strong and the necessary distraction I need to forget Scarlet. But when the bliss fades, the guilt and grief returns. I often plunge into a deep, prolonged depression that can only be eliminated with Ivy’s euphoria syringes and constant fucking. We have days of the same routine: Get high, fuck, sleep, then do it all over again. Years of muscle mass diets and lifting have gone to fuck after my weeks of drug abuse and malnourishment. Some days my dick hurts from sticking it to Ivy too damn much. But she shit-talks too fucking much, so I plow into her until she yells for me to stop.
Ivy
hasn’t left my home since the day she broke in. Today’s Valentine’s Day—it should be my first with Scarlet. Scarlet. Why can’t I just forget her?
Ivy is the salt and vinegar in those chips that I dislike so much while Scarlet was the sweet and spicy spark that made everything feel just right. She gave me balance, aided to my need of structure, and she helped me want to become the best version of myself. Now, my biggest accomplishment is my daily shower.
“You ready?” Ivy shouts, before she gives my arm a jab with her overgrown nail.
“Do you have to be so fucking vicious?” I growl at her as I shove my head through my shirt.
Today, on what should be been my first V-Day with Scarlet, Ivy has the wild-hair inclination to pack all of Scarlet’s possessions, then ship them to the Belka’s house.
“You need to purge that bitch’s shit from your life!” Ivy yells before she leaps off of my sofa. Apparently, after weeks of watching Dr. Phil, yesterday’s episode was the one to encourage Ivy to convince me to not only sell my shares of Jensen and Associates, but to put my house up for sale. And of course, return all of Scarlet’s belongings.
“You need this, babe. We need this,” she kept repeating every time I would second-guess her decision for me to rip Scarlet from my life.
At first, I hesitated to sign away my beloved birthing center. Then, with regret, I listed my home. But now this? To just pack Scarlet up, and pretend as if she had indeed passed away? I’m a statue of mixed emotions as I stare in absolute disbelief while Ivy executes Scarlet’s extraction from my life.
“How many boxes and rolls of tape should we buy?” she ponders out loud, while I attempt to look sober at the U-Haul store. Ivy turns to face me—as usual, her pupils are in their exaggerated, dilated form. She reminds me of those random YouTube videos where a drug addict is unknowingly filmed. The addict believes they’re sober, but they’re totally not. We’re embarrassingly that couple.
Scarlet Unleashed Page 6
