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Tyler, save me. Guide me to the edge of this cliff and push me over. Bring me to the peak and shove me right off. I need you to grant me the courage to let go. Tyler, let me let go.
Tyler—
“I hear you,” He cuts, hand on my hip gripping harder, “I’m right here.”
Tyler’s pushing me deeper into the mattress and I am moaning like a hurt animal. I can feel him—clothed, still—pushing against my ass and so huge it slots right against my hole. He’s teasing, being mean. His other hand is what’s keeping me from coming, cupped across the length of my cock like a twisted little chastity belt. I can’t come. Not like this. There’s no friction and all I’m feeling is his warm, unmoving palm as I grind and grind uselessly.
Tyler, I can’t. It’s been so long. I need to go. Won’t you let me?
“What do you think, pup? Been good enough?”
My chest pangs at both the nickname and the implication that I’m not good enough to orgasm.
I hesitate, hips stuttering.
He laughs, kind of pitifully. The way he laughs when I lose another fight. I can hear him sigh before he slaps my ass and I start humping again. Quick as a trained dog.
“I think puppy knows.”
I want to whine in protest, but that seems too pathetic even for me. Still—I think the sound escaped me before I could quell it, because Tyler clicks his tongue. Amused. I’m still grinding the mattress, being good. So good, in fact, that I think it warrants an orgasm.
“You wish.” He scoffs, taking his hand off my hip. This gives me the freedom to move with more force. I don’t try that though. He never gave me that order.
“Puppy can’t stay. Can’t sit still when asked to.”
There’s no need to ask him what he means because he knows, so I know. Tyler is talking about when he told me to keep myself inside my room while he had Marla over.
“Puppy’s a restless little thing, too needy.”
And I couldn’t stand the constant grunting and screaming they were producing, so I walked out to the kitchen to grab a beer.
“Puppy doesn’t think much about other people, only about himself.”
I thought the drink would take my mind off it. But they were fucking right there. Against the sink. One of Marla’s legs was in the air and I could see just how wide Tyler stretched her. And the sight made me feel hot—but a bad hot, so disgusting and wet. It immediately made me sick.
“Puppy doesn’t know that what he wants is not what he needs.”
So I bolted. Ran and hid under the blanket to get that hot feeling away. I thought that was it.
But sometimes when I feel sick, Tyler does too.
So Tyler got sick.
And— well—
“Wouldn’t have happened if puppy was good. If this bad, bad puppy just listened to dad.”
I can’t help but try and grind my dick harder against his hand.
My chest stings with loss when the additional force doesn’t translate into additional sensation—save for the sticky precome that’s now so copious, it’s dripping between his fingers.
Dad.
It’s been a while since he’s said that. Was I really that bad?
Tyler clicks his tongue again. “Not the point. Are puppy’s listening ears really on?”
Uhuh.
“Really now?”
He pinches the skin of my balls as if to punctuate my pause of hesitation. I swallow my pain.
Yes—I’m listening.
“Who are you listening to?”
I wish the sound of my humping was enough to drown out this conversation.
Dad.
“Is dad saying that you’ve been good, or very bad?”
…Very bad.
“Attaboy. Do bad puppies get to come?”
No. Not unless their daddies say so.
“So, should this bad puppy come?”
It all happens so suddenly.
I dig my hips particularly hard into the mattress. The gesture feels angry, almost. His hand tightens in response. It’s only for a flash, but fucking intense enough to make me howl. I lose rhythm after that, moving irregularly. I haven’t finished in nearly a week—for fuck’s sake, my balls are red. I need to. I’m starting to grind harder now, spurred by frustration. I’m thinking: you can’t take that away from me. Please. I didn’t know I was bad.
Let me have this one thing.
Tyler just whistles for a few seconds. Like the sound of a dropping bomb.
He removes his hand slowly.
And there’s nothing now—separating me from finding pleasure. I could probably come right now.
But even bad puppies know when they fuck up, when to start fawning to avoid punishment.
My body forces itself to stop. I’m shaking. I try not to shake. I don’t want to look at dad because I know he’ll be mad. I don’t like when dad gets like this.
We have just lost cabin pressure.
Oxygen masks are dropping and the plane collides with something hard. Explodes. Causes immediate mass death. And then it collides a second time.
I only realize what’s actually happening when he slaps me again.
And then again. This one hurts more.
Again.
Dad.
And then he’s flipping me over onto my back, legs pressed up against my tummy.
My eyes are still shut. I don’t even want to imagine what face he might be making now. Was it anger? Or did it steer more towards disappointment?
“Puppy’s got some nerve.”
My cock’s trapped between my thighs in a way that feels bad hot.
“Cowardly little bitch. Look at your dad when he’s disciplining you.”
I open my eyes and see him kneeling up above me. He only needs one hand to hold my legs in position.
“Hey. You do not act like that.”
My eyes are getting wet. The tears burn like menthol.
“You do not talk to dad like that.”
I’m six years old again and being yelled at for acting out in school after the fights at home started.
“No, you are here.”
I finally meet Dad’s face and it’s just blank. This somehow hurts more than any other expression.
“You are a thirty year old boy who has done nothing but run and run away.”
I didn’t mean to walk in on you and mom. I didn’t know.
“You have done nothing but disappoint me. How will you apologize?”
Dad. Don’t make me.
He ignores my tears and choking cries while he unzips his pants. They drop smoothly and his freed cock looks like it’d hurt coming in.
Dad.
I’m sorry.
He’s nice enough to gather some of his saliva and smear it over my hole so I won’t bleed.
I didn’t mean to. I get scared sometimes and don’t know what to do. I always get scared when you’re doing that stuff with mom.
“Dad knows, pup.”
His cock is pressed right against my hole and I can’t breathe through the tears.
“See, dad’ll show you what he does with mom. Show you it’s nothing scary.”
It pushes in. Just a little bit, but enough to make me cry out.
I can’t do this.
Dad, slower, please. It already hurts.
“Oh, but puppy,” he sighs, corners of his mouth pulling up, “this is a punishment.”
And then dad slams his dick inside me.
And he pulls it out.
And then he drives it in again. Harder.
And it doesn’t even feel good. It just feels hot. Bad hot.
And I’m sobbing and whining so much that my face is wet.
And dad’s speaking again. But I’m such a bad kid that I can’t listen.
And I notice that dad’s pinching the base of my cock. I think he’s saying that it’s keeping me good. I trust him, I think. He says it keeps me from coming. Says I’m too bad for that.
And soon enough he finishes. Inside me.
And then he’s pulling out—for real, this time.
And I don’t think I feel angry anymore. Just tired.
Dad’s scooping me up into his arms and I cry while his cum drips out of me.
I’m sorry.
“I know.”
I wont do it again.
“I know.”
Are you mad at me?
“I need to help you.”
Cause you’re my dad?
There’s a pause.
“Yeah. When you need it.”
I just nod, accepting, and I feel my cock twitch. This makes the bad hot feeling spark, just a little bit. I don’t want to feel it.
Dad. I wanna be good.
He kisses my wet temples and hums. He can be so kind.
“Puppy learned his lesson, didn’t he?”
Mhm.
“Puppy’s ready to be good, isn’t he?”
Yes, of course. I am.
“There’s my boy. Now, aren’t we tired?”
So tired. Dad, let’s sleep.
“Go ahead. I’ll be here.”
I relax and let my sobs fizzle out into quiet hiccups. Dad’s an inch and a half shorter than me, but he feels like the biggest thing ever. No one can get to me with him hugging me like this. I shift some more before finally settling.
“Night night.”