Calluses Pt. 01: Friction

Editor's note: this story contains scenes of non-consensual or reluctant sex.

*

"Fuck," I moaned. I was only three hours into a six hour road trip, coasting south along a deserted state highway, heading back to college after a sexless winter break. I'd been passing the empty miles imagining Jennifer's secret smile, the jiggle of her just-right tits, and every desperate, keening simper ready to devour me whole the second I got back to the dorms...and I'd been lost in that swollen, hormonal haze for at least an hour, thumbing my stiff cock through the tight fabric of my jeans like a horny, drooling idiot. My foot had gone heavy on the gas pedal, forgotten, as all the blood in my head pumped down into the throbbing, slippery dick below...

...and the cop had come out of nowhere, pouncing like a tiger from the tallgrass, and it was way past too late now. I was going well over a hundred miles an hour when his blue-red lights lit up the rearview mirror, filling the gray sky behind me, and I knew I was -

"Fuck!"

I flashed the turn signal and slowed down, robotic, drifting to a complete stop where the crumbled asphalt met the faded grass. My hands were shaking, sweating all over the steering wheel, and my stomach was a ball of frozen butterflies. I'd never been pulled over before...hell, I'd never even talked to a cop. There'd just never been any reason to. My parents were beyond strict, so I'd done almost nothing but study and play football in high school. The cops of my hometown were always happy to look the other way, at least when it came to harmless white football players, and the cops of the affluent college town I went to school in now were no different. I knew there was a proper procedure to follow when it came to getting pulled over, a way to get on the cop's good side, but my rising panic wasn't making it easy to remember.

The cop's cruiser pulled up behind my modest black sedan, all but touching my back bumper. The lights were still flashing, bright and angry. I could see a broad form in the driver's seat, made black by the shadows of the bitter winter day.

My mind raced, trying to remember what I'd need to have ready for him. I pulled my wallet from my pocket with shaking hands -- insurance! I reached over and clumsily yanked it out of the glove compartment, spilling papers and maintenance receipts all over the floor. I had my hands on the steering wheel in seconds, ten-and-two, waiting like the good citizen I was. I heard a car door slam shut behind me.

The man approaching in the rear-view mirror wasn't just broad -- he was composed of thick, sinewy muscle that bulged beneath the navy blue of his uniform, threatening to burst at the shoulders and chest. The skin of his hand where it gripped the butt of his gun was weathered and pale, almost milky - but strong and heavy, covered in a thick coat of fine black hair. His eyes were hidden behind black aviators, but his head was shaved bald, and he had a full beard, equal parts black and gray. Despite the amazing shape he was in, he was also considerably older than me -- just over fifty, maybe. About as old as my dad. I couldn't read much beyond the stern look on his face...but I knew he wasn't happy.

A fresh wave of cold dread poured into my gut. Somehow I knew this would be no common scolding.

I rolled down the window as his massive frame came to rest at the driver's side. His firm, sturdy belly engulfed my view, flat enough but broad. It swelled with his even breathing above a giant silver belt buckle, the black strap and holster of his heavy sidearm -- and what looked to be a very large bulge in his pants.

Why had I even noticed that? Why was my mouth so dry?

"License and registration," he said flatly from above the roof of the car. His voice was deep and rich, thick with a refined South Georgian accent, but the command behind every word was undeniable. I realized I hadn't said a word, hadn't even greeted him politely, as I'd always been told to. "And turn off the damned car."

"Yes sir," I answered, a reflex more than anything else. I blushed and fumbled to do as he said, almost forgetting to put the car in park first; I held my credentials out for him after that, feeling like a doltish, ignorant child. The hairy hand that took them was bigger and broader than mine, rough and warm where his leathery fingertips brushed across my knuckles. Something stirred in the pit of my stomach when that happened, butterflies again...but they were no longer frozen. They were a swarm.

I pulled my hand back and blinked hard enough to hurt, pushing the butterflies back down where they belonged, writing it off as nerves. I put both hands on the wheel again, ten-and-two, visible and still. Don't give him any excuses...to what?

He was looking over my license, my paperwork, quiet as before. I didn't dare speak up at this point. I could only hope it was obvious how shaken I was, and hope it would be enough to excuse my silence. I'd rather be thought of as a pussy than disrespectful, at least where gigantic cops with guns were concerned.

"Where you headed today?" he asked casually, friendly even, perhaps trying to put me at ease.

I welcomed the distraction. "Oh, uh -- back to school. GTSU."

"College boy, eh?" It sounded like he was grinning, at least for a second. "What's your major?"

"Forestry, sir."

"Ah. A buddin ranger, maybe. You're definitely in the right shape for that kind of thing...real good shape." He was leaning against the car with one big arm slung over the roof, and the other held my license as he looked it over. This lowered his flank down towards me, putting the full spread of his belly just a bit too close for comfort. Worse, it splayed his cavernous armpit less than a foot away from my face, close enough to warm the air between, and his potent body odor flooded the car like tear gas. I fought the urge to lurch away from it, forcing myself to endure it, to breath it in, because I didn't want to...offend him? Make him angry? God. He was intimidating me already, and he wasn't even trying.

Get your shit together.

"You just gettin off winter break, then?" he asked.

I swallowed, but it just made my throat even drier. "Yes, sir. I always spend Christmas back home, up in Blairsville, but spring classes start this week, so...yeah. Heading back..." Why was I telling him all this? Why was he even asking?

I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. "I've been driving for hours, you know, and I didn't get the best sleep last night, so I guess I just..."

"You aware the speed limit is only sixty-five around here?" he barked, cutting me off - and his casual tone had vanished completely.

I straightened my spine against the seat. "Uh - I hadn't seen a sign in awhile. Sir. I kinda let my thoughts drift off...it's a really long drive." My face was getting hot, and I knew he could see it.

"Mmm-hmm," was all he said, curt and cold, but he was still leaning against my car with this armpit in my face, making sure I couldn't read his.

"I honestly haven't seen a sign," I told him, because it was true enough.

"Well, speed limits don't even get close to one-twenty-nine in the state of Georgia, or pretty much any of the others, so that ain't no kind of excuse. Might seem like you're the only car out here on the road today, but that don't mean you can treat it like the goddamnau-to-bahn. I'm gonna have to write you a ticket for that, understand? There'll be a fine."

A spike of anxiety brought me into reality, making my head spin. "How much?" I asked quickly, not thinking, forgetting the rules. I tried to look up at him, but all I saw were the broad plains of his chest, cold metal buttons against the blue uniform that clung to his powerful form. The body camera strapped to his chest bore into me with its perfect black eye, following my every move.

"Oh, I don't know...for something like this, I'd expect close to four thousand or so. I know that's a lot...but you were going way too fast, son. Could've killed somebody. This is pretty serious business...now, excuse me. I'll be right back." He took my ID and paperwork back to his car, ending our conversation before I had any chance to process the enormity of what he was saying.

"Fuck!" I groaned, pure despair, as soon as his door shut. Four thousand dollars! I didn't even know tickets could get that high, and I was ready to puke all over the floor of the car. I wasn't like the plastic, trust fund daddy's boys I hung out with in college; I was there on a scholarship, nothing else, and it barely covered my room in the dorm. If I couldn't pay off this ticket...I'd be arrested, right? If I was arrested for a felony, I'd definitely lose my scholarship. I knew that much about the fine print. I'd have to move back up to my shitty little hometown and bag groceries for a living, trapped forever in the wastelands of domesticated suburbia - assuming my strict, cheapskate parents even agreed to take me back in after doing something this stupid...

I swallowed. My palms were sweating against the wheel again, mind racing like a pinball machine. I was doing everything I could not to panic - and of course, by the time the cop had returned to my window, I'd completely failed. I had to do something - anything.

"I'm sorry, sir -- I'm really really sorry," I blurted out -- and then it just kept coming, pouring out before I even knew what I was saying. "I make this trip a few times a year, and you know how this highway is -- nothing but trees, for hours and hours -- I screwed up, I know, but I just got tired. Lazy. It'll never happen again, I swear to God, I just -- I can't pay that much. I can't - and if I get arrested I get kicked out of school, then that's it. It's over. My only shot! I'll do anything, man - sir. You name it, sir, and I'll do it. Community service, whatever you want, anything -- I've got almost three hundred bucks in my bank account right now -- you can have it -- just please, please don't ruin my -- "

"That's enough!" he roared, and his massive hands closed up into fists.

I shut up, like a scolded little kid. My knuckles had gone white around the steering wheel. My pits were soaked through with cold sweat. My heart was racing dangerously fast. All the work it had taken to get that scholarship, all the work I'd done the last two years of school...it was all slipping away in real time, wasted, because of one stupid mistake. I willed myself not to tear up, because I couldn't handle any more disgrace, but the shock was already muting that and everything else.

One big hand gestured to me after a long moment, beckoning. "Get on out of the car now, boy. Turn it off first."

Shit...

I opened the door and got out, in a daze now. My jacket was strewn across the back seat of my warm car, but I wasn't about to grab it. I wore only a black t-shirt and jeans, so the sudden chilly bite of the winter air seemed to slap me awake. I could feel my nipples harden from the cold in half a second, digging almost painfully against the thin cotton of my shirt. I wasn't thinking about it then, but I'm sure he could see them, along with everything else; the shirt was on the tighter side, after all.

I'd been a pretty shy kid in high school despite being on the team, an average running back at best, at least until I'd dropped out of football just before my senior year and started going to the gym instead. I'd been pretty consistent with it since then, and I'd always been an active hiker, so my body had trimmed down and shaped up pretty fast. My freshmen year of college was a sexual awakening, with the realization that beautiful college girls thought I was hot as hell. I'd bought a load of new clothes since then, one size smaller than anything I'd ever worn before, now that I was finally getting confident enough to show myself off. The tighter shirts accentuated my broad shoulders, developed pecs, flat stomach, while my slim jeans were always snug and firm around my thick thighs, powerful ass, and narrow-enough waist. I'd enjoyed an immediate spike in the number of gorgeous college chicks willing to let me fuck them when I strutted around in this new form-fitting attire; it had steadily replaced any lingering shyness with a fresh, sexual confidence, and I'd become instantly addicted. I'd started wearing tighter, thinner clothes every day after that - even chilly winter days like this one, obviously far too cold for t-shirts - because I couldn't get enough female attention. I should have realized that attention isn't always a good thing, and that it wouldn't always come from nubile young women...not even close...but some lessons can only be learned the hard way.

I stood on shaky legs, facing the cop. He wasn't much taller than me, but he was so much broader, obviously stronger, and he held every other possible ounce of power besides. He towered over me in his neatly pressed blue uniform, gun resting easily at his hip, eyes inscrutable behind the dark aviators and furrowed weight of his brow.

I kept my eyes locked on the black pavement far below, hoping they weren't too wet or red. My frayed brown sneakers were less than a foot from his meticulously polished black boots, shifting nervously like rabbits in an open field.

The weight of his hand appeared at my shoulder, leading me around the front of my car. "Let's get out of the road first," he said. I let him guide me, mind all but collapsing under the weight of everything that would happen over the next few months, my future falling apart in real time...

In moments we were at the passenger side of his sleek, navy blue cruiser. Its windows were tinted black, utterly opaque; along with the roadside shrubs, a nearby exit sign, and the downward slope of the earthen shoulder itself, we were well hidden from the view of any cars that might pass on the nearby highway...more or less...

Why had I even thought about that? Where were my thoughts trying to go?

The pseudo privacy was just enough to break the dam I'd been building up over the last twenty minutes, and I couldn't help but let out a strained, hitched sob. I felt the sudden sting of tears leaking from my eyes...but I shook my head, wiped them away, livid with myself. I would not cry in front of this fucking cop. Not even if...wait. Why had he taken me around to his car?

"Am I being arrested?" I asked, hating the way my voice wavered at the edge of tears.

"Shut up," he ordered. There was no malice in it - only force. Complete and utter authority. "Cross your hands behind your back."

"Fuck..." I whispered, and complied. The expected snap of handcuffs around my wrists followed seconds later. They were cold and constricting, and he fastened them just tight enough to pinch the skin.

He grabbed my bound forearms and hauled me roughly around to face him, my back pressed flat against the freezing steel and glass of his cruiser. He had his hand pressed against my chest, keeping me pinned. I knew he could feel my heart pounding. This didn't seem right...

I made myself look him in the face, trying to read his intentions, or maybe just get a good look while I had the chance. His jaw was broad and hyper-masculine beneath the thickness of his well-kept beard, thin lips tight and pursed. The dark stubble of his bald head told me he'd have a widow's peak if he let it grow out. The heavy brow and strong cheekbones were stern, made of stone. He'd removed the aviators, clipped them to his collar for some reason, and the vague suggestion of crow's feet at the corners of his narrow eyes told me he wasn't always this terrifying.

He caught me with those concrete eyes, black beneath bushy, gray-flecked brows. The strangely-warm butterflies returned to the pit of my stomach, drowning my thoughts; I'd been in the presence of authority figures before, but nothing like this. Only my father, grandfather, uncles -- teachers, professors, the dean -- but never a cop...

And yet somehow, even in my youthful ignorance, I knew the butterflies were far more than just that. There was something about the way he'd been talking to me, the way he was looking at my face, studying it...drinking me in.

My hands tightened into useless fists behind my back. Violent, unnerving scenarios played out inside my head, each more sexual than the last. I could knee him in the balls -- maybe -- but all I could really hope to do was run. Not that I'd get far...but why was I thinking like this? He was a cop. He even had a body-cam attached to his shirt. He wasn't going to do anything to hurt me...right?

"I could arrest you," he snapped. "You could go to prison, right now. Today. You know that?" His deep voice hit me like an earthquake at this close range, reverberating in my chest almost pleasantly, though the feeling was gone when the words sank in. "You just tried to bribe an officer of the law, boy. That's a felony. Cut and dry. One year in a state prison -- at least. Do you understand how serious this is?"

I nodded, the picture of shame, and my eyes melted away from his...back to the ground below...trying not to burst into tears. My heart beat faster against his palm, lost to panic once again. I could feel his eyes on me still, burning into me...

"I know which one they'd send you to," he went on, almost like he was enjoying it, like the anger was just an excuse. "It's not a happy place, that prison. It eats silly little boys like you for a midnight snack, and the world don't even pretend to notice. You hearin me? A nice-looking, blue-eyed college boy wouldn't do well in there at all, you understand? Especially not the weepy type, with an ass like yours..."

I kept nodding -- wait, what? What did he just say?

I glanced at his face again, and he caught my eyes. Held them. He looked angry, but there was no hate or loathing in him. I felt like I was getting chewed out by my father...but my father wouldn't have such a creeping hunger in his gaze, and he certainly wouldn't have said...

I looked away, blushing deeply. The fear, the dread, the complete helplessness, and the strange sense that came from knowing he'd indeed been looking at...appreciating my ass...all of it clashed chaotically in my brain, my stomach, everywhere else. I had no idea what I was feeling at that point.

"You've got two choices now, boy. I'll make them real clear. Choice number one: I write you a nasty speeding ticket for four grande, and take you in for attempting to bribe an officer of the law -- proof of which I have right here on this handy body-cam." He tapped the boxy camera, still strapped to his broad chest. "It'd be plenty fair, and legal, and you'd fuckin deserve it. It'd also knock you right out of that fancy college and into prison. Not many folks can put their lives back together after something like that."

The tears were back, flowing freely as my face tightened against the grief. I couldn't do it...I couldn't handle that...

"Choice number two: you make good on that offer you were giving me. You do that, and I'll forget any of this ever happened. You can go back to your life of drinking with your buddies and fuckin pretty little college girls -- or whatever it is you like to do. But only if you stick to your word. Otherwise I've got everything I need to put you away for years no matter when I decide to do it, and all it'd take is a little bit of...embellishment, on my part."

I went numb. "You can't..."

"Shut up. You may not know this, boy, since you're not from around here...but I ain't just a cop. I'm the cop. Most respected chief of police the fine city of Metter's ever had, and proud of it." He pounded my chest like a drum to emphasize this. "I own that town. Even this bit of highway. My word is the fuckin law here, and then some." His hand was lower on my chest now, more to the left. His thumb was on my nipple, still hard from the cold beneath my shirt...and a fluttering ripple of something like pleasure made my entire body tense up.