9
ROXY
God, that was easier than I thought.
I’d been dreading the whole “yes, I am actually certifiable” conversation since I got released. Brushing my teeth, I realized Buck was the first person I told about my diagnosis, and he was all “no big deal.”
The marks he made on my breast with his sucking were still visible, and I admired them like badges. They marked me as his.
Next thing I knew, he knocked on the bathroom door and said, “Ms. Addison, are you ready to accept your punishment?”
“Whaaa…?” I swung the door open, and there he stood in perfect professor attire—white button-up shirt, faded jeans, navy V-neck sweater.
Aka: H.O.T.
“Er, I mean, yes, sir?” I said.
“Good girl.” He grabbed my hair and led me to the bed where he had set out a pink sweater, short knit skirt, and ankl
