Good Behavior: Chapter 9

Jesus fuck. That was the hottest, sexiest…

That man is going to be the death of me, I swear. It’s a good thing the RV park is only a couple of miles down from the ranch, or I’d end up wrapped around a tree.

I drop the keys twice before finally letting myself into my trailer. My fingers are equally uncooperative with the vest, and I lose a button to my nervous fumbling. Finally free of it, I yank my shirt over my head and toe off my shoes, nearly busting ass as I strip off my fancy argyle socks. I finally wrestle off my jeans, tossing everything into the built-in hamper before crawling naked and hard onto my perfect bed.

Pumping some lotion into my fist, I stroke myself, firing up the memory of the last time I saw Dr. Barlowe in lockup.

I thrust into my tight fist, the memory of his scent pushing me over the edge. Cum spurts from my cock, coating my abdomen in thick stripes. I continue stroking myself, milking the last of the good stuff until it’s dripping down over my fist and my tiny room smells like sex.

Every time I shower, I think of his directive to clean my cock, as though he wants it kept clean for his consumption. I used to imagine him paying off a guard to look the other way while we fucked, but he’s never even come close to touching me like that.

The one thing I haven’t done since our first encounter is call him Daddy. I don’t want him to give me that cold look ever again. Besides, I like being called a too much to fuck with…whatever this thing is. I love his authoritative tone. He always listened in therapy, but after, he gave me a command or two to follow, almost like he was trying to keep me out of my head.

I was raised my entire life to prioritize loyalty to family above all else. One of his early demands was to prioritize me. Whenever I’d talked about being loyal and worried about what my family would think of me once I was on the outside, he’d remind me that I’m worthy of the life I want, regardless of their opinions.

Weird thing is, I believe him.

Wait, what?

Dr. Barlowe, I got out today, and I hear you’re the person responsible. So…thank you. I won’t ever forget our sessions. I’m just sad I couldn’t thank you properly for everything you taught me. I don’t have a phone yet, but I have this email account. If there’s anything I can do for you out here in the real world, just let me know. I’ll do anything you want me to.

Ignacio “It’s just a few packages, primo.”

I blink back to the present.

Huh. Guess I got my wish after all.