Tough Love

Chapter 1

1

Ryan

“So are you gonna do it?”

“What, sneak out of the house like a f*****g kid?” I asked my best friend, Jackson. I knew how badly he wanted to go to this party. How much we both wanted to go, actually. “Yeah, I guess so. I mean, Travis isn’t gonna let me go to a party on campus. Not after what happened when you and I went to the lake with everyone after graduation. I don’t think he trusts me anymore.”

“What do you mean anymore. Travis never trusted you. And that night at the lake was special! Everybody was celebrating getting the hell out of high school. So what if you got a little wasted. You were entitled. Man, what’s up with him?”

“It’s not his fault, really. He’s just been super overprotective since my parents died.”

“But that was years ago, and he doesn’t let you go, like, anywhere. All through your senior year you had to be home by ten at night. Even on the weekends. It’s almost as if he wants to chain you up in the house and never let you out.”

“Come on, he’s not that bad,” I said, but I knew what Jackson was talking about. Travis was almost embarrassingly overprotective sometimes, but I really couldn’t blame him. Not after what happened. “Travis has been my guardian for a few years now. He’s had to be totally responsible for raising me and making sure I stay out of trouble, all on his own. It’s not really fair that the job landed on his shoulders.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Jackson said with a shrug.

“Plus,” I continued, “he’s got a lot of stress from his job too, so he comes off a little intense sometimes.”

“Yeah, I can imagine being Chief of Police would be a pretty stressful job.”

“I mean, I have his job to think about too. Underage drinking is totally illegal, and if I get caught he’s probably going to be the one who’s gonna get in trouble.”

“Even now? I mean, you’re eighteen. He’s not technically responsible for you anymore. Besides, everyone does it. Sneaking out and getting drunk is part of being a teenager. At least it is in all the movies.”

“Yeah, I know. I think he still feels like he’s responsible for me.”

I didn’t just think that about Travis, though … I knew it. Ever since he had become my legal guardian he had been incredibly strict with me. Way stricter than my parents ever had been. Sometimes it really pissed me off, like when he grounded me for a month after the graduation party. But there were other times … times when his clenched fists and intense stare really turned me on.

Times when he was standing so close to me I could feel the heat coming off his body in waves. Times when I could smell sweat and musk and the leather of his g*n holster and it made my c**k embarrassingly hard. And times when he was towering over me and glaring at me so intently that I felt like I just wanted to fall to my knees at his feet.

I tried really hard not to dwell on those kinds of thoughts, though. Travis was super hot, but he was also like a dad to me. I didn’t want to make things any more awkward than they already could be when we were at home. And the last thing I wanted to do was make him mad. I figured the reason he could be so easy to whip up into a frenzy was because he was angry that he’d gotten stuck raising me.

At least that’s what I tried to tell myself.

There was another voice in my head, though. One that always got me thinking about what was really going on inside his head. Every once in a while I had a feeling that I wasn’t the only one who was affected by our close proximity. That I wasn’t the only one whose c**k got hard when we were in an argument.

Because, see, something happened one night while Travis was at work. I knew he’d be at the station for hours and I was curious. I wanted to know if he had any secrets, so I let myself into his room and woke up his computer. He didn’t even have the lock-screen on, which seemed kind of strange to me because he was always so careful. It made me wonder if maybe he was testing me. Or that he wanted me to see what was on there.

I sat down in his huge, leather desk chair and clicked around in his browser history first—checking out some bound and cuffed sites, which were awesome. I’d been interested in that sort of thing for a while. I’d even experimented being a sub with one of my boyfriends a bit. It was definitely fun, but it was never as intense as I’d hoped it would be.

Seeing this sort of thing on Travis' computer totally surprised me at first, but then, when I thought about Travis' job, and how controlling he could be, it started to make sense. I figured if he had sites like that in his history he’d have to have other stuff downloaded onto his computer too, so I snooped around a little more.

It didn’t take me long at all to find what I was looking for. I opened a file called Lockup and found dozens of movie files. When I clicked on them, I saw scene after scene of a bunch of different guys tied up in a dark, dungeon-like cell. Sometimes the guy would be shackled to a stone wall, sometimes he was secured in a stockade, and sometimes he was tied down to a short table. One where his mouth and asshole could be easily accessed by the men on both ends.

As I watched the movies I realized I knew most of the guys in them. Not the ones who were tied up, but the men who were standing around, surrounding the table and the stockade. Those men—the ones who were f*****g the restrained guys—were Travis and his work partner and some of the other cops at the station.

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I must have sat there for hours, watching and rewatching the videos, playing with my c**k and edging myself as I watched the grainy, homemade movies. I just couldn’t get enough. Especially of the scenes where I knew it was Travis doing the f*****g. I rewatched shots where I recognized one of his T-shirts as he lifted it up, exposing his sculpted abs and thick, long c**k. I practically salivated as I watched him plunge the entire length it into an asshole or down a throat in one, violent thrust.

I was completely obsessed with the videos, but when I heard the key in the front door I moved so fast I probably broke a world record. I immediately shut everything down and silently closed Travis' bedroom door, then slipped into my bed and pretended I was asleep.

Later that night, about a half hour or so after he got home, Travis came into my room and stood at the foot of my bed for a long time. He didn’t even knock. He just opened the door and stood there, silently. I had no idea what he was doing, but I didn’t move. I didn’t even c***k my eyelids. I was sure he’d notice somehow. I just pretended I was asleep and waited to see what he was going to do.

As I lay there, I wondered if he was in my room because he knew I’d been on his computer, or if this was something he did regularly. If maybe I didn’t know because I was usually asleep. The thought made my already hard c**k twitch and throb, and I was terrified I would pitch a tent and give myself away.

Finally, after another excruciating minute of trying to keep my c**k down, I heard Travis leave my room and shut the door behind him. As soon as I was sure he was gone I jerked off like a madman—to the thought of being tied up in that weird cell and being f****d on both ends by Travis.

In my fantasy he was watching as I was f****d by that group of men, then, in the end, after they’d all had their way with me, he stuck his massive c**k inside me. First in my asshole, where he came deep inside me, then all the way down my throat.

Then I thought about something else I’d seen in the videos, and it was one thing I couldn’t get out of my head. Travis and his friends weren’t just torturing the random dudes in the cell. They were making them c*m too, sometimes over and over again until they seemed like they couldn’t go on any longer. It was almost like their orgasms were a form of t*****e. The perfect combination of pain, humiliation, and pleasure.

As I imagined Travis filling me up with his c**k, then forcing countless orgasms on me, I came harder than I ever had in my life. I moaned out loud, then caught myself because I knew he could hear me. I lay there in bed holding my breath for as long as I could, and I swear I could hear Travis' heavy breath right outside my door. After what seemed like an eternity, I heard the faint click of the lock on his bedroom door.

I snapped out of my daydream when Jackson nudged my arm. “You’re not gonna keep doing everything he says, are you? You’re not a kid anymore.”

I looked at Jackson and sighed. “Well, he’s my guardian, and I’m still living with him. I’m sure he just wants what’s best for me. Plus,” I said, staring into the distance and thinking back about those movies I saw on his computer—particularly of one scene where Travis had removed his belt and smacked some guy’s a*s … hard. “I really don’t want to piss him off.”

“Yeah, Travis is a little scary.”

“Are you sure there’s no way we’ll get caught?” I asked, looking back at Jackson. “I mean, we don’t have to buy any of the alcohol, do we? It’s gonna be there already, right?”

“Yeah, some of the older frat dudes are buying alcohol for the entire party. It’s gonna be rad, Ryan. Seriously, we have to go.”

“Rad? What is this some eighties party flick?”

“I wish,” Jackson said with a smile. “Then we’d know for sure we were getting laid. Okay, so here’s the plan. You pick me up at eleven. That’ll give my dad plenty of time to be asleep before I try to sneak out. Just wait for me a few houses down and I’ll find your car. Then we’ll head to the frat house and the par-tay. Sound good?”

“Sure,” I said, rolling my eyes at Jackson. “I just hope nothing goes wrong.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He slapped my back and smiled. “We’ve got it made in the shade.”

I laughed and gave Jackson a shove. “You’re such a weirdo! Alright, I’ll see you tonight.”