’ I grabbed Jonathan by his arm and pulled at him as he stared down his brother. ‘Come on, Jonathan, I want to go now.’ Jonathan looked at me an... nodded his head. ‘I’ll see you later, Jonathan,’ groaned Mr. Atkins, walking backwards toward his desk. ‘Are you okay?’ I asked, rubbing my hand along his bicep. He shook his head as we walked down the hall to my locker. ‘He’s my brother, but he can be such a dick,’ he groaned. ‘I swear he’s like that because of us.’ ‘Why would you say that?’ ‘He. You are a fucktoy, fuckmeat with three fuckholes for the use of any man of my choice. That is what you were born to be." That is what I am good for," I cooed."Come here," he said with the marker in his hand. "Time for some body art."He wrote all over my body words like slut, whore, fucktoy, cumdump, scumbag, cunt, sperm receptacle, cocksucker and cum-consumer. He wrote "fuck" above my mouth and "hole" below it. Mr. Bradford wrote phrases like fuck my ass, pound my cunt, drill this bitch, twist. More

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