At Risk
Keywords: Risk, At,
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Yeah, Diane thought, she heard it all the time, all right--whenever some fucker was about to beat the crap out of her. Well, like the assholes who"d pretended to care about her, she"d learned to act, too. She knew what they wanted to hear from her. "A girl never gets tired of compliments," she said, keeping her voice coy.
"You could be a model," he said. "You should be one."
She chuckled.
"Seriously."
Just get on with it already, she thought. "Thanks." She let her hands follow the firm, tight flesh covering his ribcage. They traveled to his waist. She brought them up and around, to cup his buttocks. She gave the compact globes a soft squeeze. "You"re pretty gorgeous yourself."
He blushed. "I look like a Cro-Magnon."
Or a Neanderthal, Diane thought. "Nonsense. You"re sexy as hell."
"Am I?"
He seemed to want--to need--reassurance. What the hell kind of game was he playing? Diane wondered. None of the men she"d been with before had needed to be reassured about their appearance. They"d all been full of themselves. They"d been vain, arrogant bastards who had no doubts at all that they were studs built like Adonis. If anything, they"d implied that it was she who was lucky to be in their company; it was she who was fortunate enough to be beaten unconscious by them and left for dead. Inwardly, she shrugged. If Eric wanted to pretend he needed her reassurance, she could pretend to give it. "You"re an Adonis. I didn"t sidle up to you at the bar because you reminded me of a caveman."
He smiled, reflecting on her words. Then, he kissed her again.
Diane was tiring of the foreplay, the game of cat and mouse. She needed sex, rough and raw and brutal. "Fuck me, Eric," she whispered into his ear. "Please fuck me."
Eric smiled. His hands unbuckled the thin belt at her waist. He unzipped the black leather mini-skirt. Diane raised her hips, and he tugged the skirt down, over her sleek thighs, past her delicate knees, and down her shapely, smooth calves. She drew her legs up as he slid the skirt over her dainty feet. Carefully, he set the skirt aside.
Diane could hardly repress a giggle as she thought of the surprise she had in store for Caveman Eric. He wouldn"t be much of a gentleman after he discovered her little secret. Already, she could almost feel the blows, like hammers, against her face, and she shuddered, both with fear and with desire. Beat me, she thought, but don"t kill me.
Eric paused. He shook his head as he studied her shapely, tapering legs. His hand glided up and down the sleek skin that covered the well-formed limbs. "Beautiful," he whispered.
"There"s more of me to see," Diane prompted, concealing her impatience with a smile.
His hands slid back up her thighs. He grasped the waistband of her panties and slid the red silk fabric down, over the tight ringlets of her blonde pubes.
Diane watched his face, studying his features intently. She focused on his eyes and mouth. Her heart beat fast, and she shivered, anticipating his reaction to his discovery of her secret. In a moment, he"d discover the truth about her. Then, he"d doff the mask of kindness and the costume of compassion and reveal his actual, bestial self, and the blows would begin to fall, mallets of his malice.
He"d paused.
What now? Diane asked herself, wanting the pretense to end and the beating to begin.
"You are gorgeous, so gorgeous," Eric murmured. He kissed the tight curls of her pubic hair.
Diane sighed, rolling her eyes, confident that, since he was scrutinizing her pubes, he wouldn"t see her exasperation. "Thanks," she said, rather more curtly than she"d intended.
If he"d heard the brusqueness in her reply, he showed no sign. He gave her pubic tresses another kiss, and then finished sliding the panties down, past her crotch. Diane had, of course, tucked her penis up, between her thighs, and back, against her perineum, but the small organ had swelled and stiffened with her excitement at Eric"s imminent discovery of her secret, and enough of her penis and her scrotum were visible for them to have the effect on Eric that Diane had anticipated. His eyes snapped wide, and his moth gaped.
Diane stiffened, expecting the outrage, the cursing, and the blows to follow at any moment.
Instead, Eric took her genitals in one of his huge hands, toying with them as gently as he"d caressed her breasts. "Beautiful," he said.
Shocked, Diane stared at the huge muscleman who tenderly stroked and massaged and fondled her stiff-standing penis. What the hell was this? she demanded of herself.
"You"re beautiful," he said, masturbating her. "Above and below, you are gorgeous."
Diane remained tense, expecting the rage, the violence, the pain, but none came. Eric was as tender in bringing her to a climax as he was gentle, afterward, in fucking her, showing consideration and kindness in the gentle thrusts he made into her ass with his monstrous organ. He never assaulted her, sexually, physically, or otherwise.
Diane thought that, surely, the violence and the pain would follow on their second date. Eric was, despite his appearance, a far more sophisticated sadist than anyone she"d dated previously, she told herself. He was biding his time, setting her up, getting her to trust him, to care about him, to love him. Then, when he let the beast out, her fear and suffering would be all the more intense and enduring.
If anything, on the second date, Eric was even more tender and gentle and solicitous of her comfort and pleasure than he"d been before.
The violence didn"t occur on the third date, either.
Finally, after they"d been together for a year, Diane decided that Eric truly did love her. He would never harm her. He would always be tender and gentle, sweet and kind. Eventually, she confided in Eric, explaining how she"d relished pain and suffering until, with his gentle, tender love, he"d made her realize that she could trust him and that love and trust were far better than humiliation and torment.
On their first anniversary, along with wine and roses (and some fantastic lovemaking), Eric presented Diane with an insight into the innermost depths of her soul: In all the years that she"d sought rough sex at the hands of violent bad boys, he told her, she"d been "at risk" of learning that falling in love with a goodhearted and caring man was superior by far to seeking violence and, quite possibly, death at the hands of an uncaring bastard with a penchant for hurting others. In meeting Eric, her worst fears had come true, and she had fallen in love. "Sometimes," he added, "we should be careful what we wish for, but, other times, we should wish for what we truly want more than anything else; we should wish to love and be loved by someone who is worthy of our love."
Diane became teary eyed as she kissed her man, hugging Eric close. "I love you," she said. Her voice was tremulous with gratitude, love, and need.
They made love twice more, and, in the morning, Diane was sore, but from lovemaking, not violence.
She"d found her salvation in the arms of a strong, virile, tenderhearted man who loved her for herself, and she knew that she was luckier than millions of others who settled for less because, like her, they feared that there was no one else for them but some loser who would rather beat them than to love them. Really, truly loving a woman, whether she was a genetic girl or a shemale, took a strong man who was sure of his own manhood and who loved women, whether the woman was equipped with a cunt or a cock and pair of balls.
Diane had been at risk, but she wasn"t anymore.
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Keywords: Risk, At,