“You making fun of me?”
He draws his chin back, almost as if physically struck by my words. “I would never make fun of you, Ignacio. I respect you far too much for that.”
Those simple words—I respect you—make me hard. I whimper, rolling my eyes as my cock brushes the overhang.
Wordlessly, he stands and pushes my chair in, essentially trapping my cock between my stomach and the hard wood. He has to know what he’s doing, but I dare not move a centimeter. Worse—or better, depending on your perspective—he continues to heap praise on me until it’s time for the guards to take me back to my cell.
“You are incredibly smart, Ignacio. When you knew you were about to be arrested, even though the arresting officer noted you were drunk and belligerent, you did everything possible to give yourself the least amount of time. You ditched the weapons and didn’t self-incriminate,” he notes in his efficient, sterile style.
Bastard’s edging me, and he knows it.
Before he calls in the guard, Dr. Barlowe rises and makes his way around the table, his shoes practically under the chair as he faces me. I keep my eyes on my hands, trying not to think about the fact his cock is mere inches from my face or that I can smell his earthy personal scent.
“You take excellent care of your clothing and hygiene, Ignacio.”
“Thank you, Dr. Barlowe,” I whisper, staring forward as I subtly roll my hips.
“Tell me, Ignacio. Are you circumcised?”
I nearly swallow my tongue as I shake my head, not daring to look him in the eye.
“Good,” he says, breathing heavily. “Good. Are you keeping up with your intimate hygiene?”
“Yes, Dr. Barlowe.”
Fuck, did he move in closer?
I turn my head, careful not to make a big deal of it, and inhale deeply. His hand lands on my head, and he pulls me in closer, then steps back so quickly I can’t tell if that happened or if I imagined it.
“Excellent. Make sure to pay extra attention to the details, Ignacio. Maybe tonight you can spend a little more time ensuring your cleanliness.”
He has to know that being in solitary means I shower alone, and I’m pretty sure he’s telling—ordering—me to soap up and jack off.
“Of course, Dr. Barlowe. I’ll do it a few times to make sure I get the job done.”
“Good boy.” He grips the back of my neck, stroking the side with his thumb as he presses the button for the guard.
After waiting anxiously to be escorted to the showers, I take my time, just like the good doctor ordered. Pulling back the loose foreskin, I drip soapy water over my glistening, exposed glans, then draw the skin up and over, enjoying the slippery sound as I push my cock through the bubbly lubricant again and again, teasing myself until I can’t hold back.
I come with Dr. Barlowe’s velvety, insistent voice in my head. True to my word, I clean myself again in the same way before exiting the shower, shaken and spent.
* * *
I thrustinto 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 agood boytoo 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.
* * *
After followinghis instructions to clean myself, I couldn’t wait to tell him how thorough I’d been. Also, he found a job opening at a family-run fencing company in Johnson City, and per his request, I’d completed my résumé. I thought it was a waste of time since I wouldn’t be out for another year, but he insisted, saying I needed to start getting my name out there now.
Even if I don’t need it right now, I’m proud of how I explained my jail time. I’d hand-written the résumé and requested to go to the library to type it and send it to Dr. Barlowe. Before I could do any of that, though, I get a surprise visit from my state-appointed attorney.
