The dangerous ones aren’t the brutes, the fat or muscled dullards that grab and slap you around. Not really. You can see them a mile away. They’re predictable, quick to anger, mini-hulk’s in all their fury. They can be fun to bait, to tease, to taunt. They’ll hurt you, maybe even badly. They always leave bruises and sometimes bloody you, maybe even break a bone if crazy enough. But they aren’t really dangerous, just bottled fun, pain, orgasms, and blood. A quick snack during a dry period, for when you are dead inside and have to remember you are alive, no matter the cost.

No, those are the ones that are the easiest to recover from, beautiful bruises fade, yellowing to nothing. Split lips that are so delicious to run your tongue along heal, allowing you a return to normalcy. It was just some asshole, you can pretend, that’s all. A one-off in a weak moment, nothing more. They aren’t dangerous. The dangerous ones are the ones that made you, molded you, broke you, and rebuilt you to their liking. Any thug can beat you, but the dangerous ones are the ones who fuck your soul to oblivion, slice your self-worth into tatters, feeding the scraps back to you. They make you doubt every word, every thought you have until you think you are stupid. They make you believe your only worth is between your legs and even make you crave the abuse. Leading you down the darkest alleys of your life, never to return whole again.

Those are the dangerous ones.

Peter was my dangerous one, handsome at six feet tall and a slick talker. If you hung around with him long enough, you might notice he was full of shit, but in the moment, he made everyone drunk with his words and charm. Just turning forty, he had a full head of hair and unlike so many at that age, kept his body fit. Not overcompensating, not soft, just toned to perfection. Easy on the eyes, with a commanding voice that made you want to obey him without thought. The kind of man every woman with daddy issues gravitates toward if their dad wasn’t a drunk. I was hooked on him immediately.

I was nineteen at the time, fresh out of small town USA, ready to take on the world. My family had always been poor and I hadn’t been able to afford college, but I got a decent job in the city and moved in with a friend who had moved there the year before. I was short and slim, 5’2, 100 lbs wet, with some nice B cups and long brown hair. And at the start, things were going well. I had had a few rough experiences, a few parties that had gotten out of control, and some asshole boyfriends, but I had survived all that. I knew guys could get rough, especially if drunk. I knew the signs and avoided them. Sometimes I missed the roughness though, the rush of adrenaline. It always left me feeling guilty and ashamed that I had those thoughts. But overall, things were going good.

When I met Peter, who also lived in the apartment complex, it was lust at first sight. He almost immediately charmed the pants right off me, and not long after literally did so as well. He was mature, smart, and funny in a teasing way. Sometimes it felt a bit mean, but then he’d grin his grin and well, I was just being sensitive, you know. When he asked me out, I almost told him no. In fact, I did say no, but he just kept explaining to me why I should. He was so much older than me, but I did find him attractive. We went out to a nice place and he looked sharp all dressed up. I was in my best dress, but I frowned when he said he thought I was going to dress up for him. He told me if I wasn’t going to put any effort, why was he buying me dinner? I felt confused, angry, and ashamed. I whispered that I didn’t have any money and then, the charmer was back. He held my chin and apologized for being a boorish ass, and that if things hit off between us, he’d take me shopping. He spared no expense that night and kept feeding me drinks until I could barely walk.

I don’t remember much about that first night, him walking me back to his car. I remember his hand on my thigh, sliding up it, as I weakly tried to push it away. I remember us parking, him kissing me. My seat being lowered as his weight pressed on me. I felt his hands pull up my dress, parting my legs as he clumsily fucked me, pushing into me. He called me a whore as I pushed at him, muttering no. And then, it was over, wet between my legs, him driving us back to the apartment. I don’t even remember going to my room, just black until the morning.

When I woke, I wasn’t even sure it had happened, I checked myself, but I couldn’t find my panties. Otherwise, I felt fine other than hung over. I showered, confused about the night, chewing my lip until it was time to head to work. When I got home, he was there, waiting for me. I told him that he shouldn’t have done what he did last night and asked him what happened to my panties. And you know what, he laughed at me. He was confused as fuck because I had come onto him, begging him to fuck me. That I even had given him my panties as a memento and he felt embarrassed about accepting them. He told me I should have had more respect for myself. Then he frowned and apologized. The fault was his, really. He said he was sorry, and hugged me. I told him it was ok, that I was sorry. I wasn’t even sure why, but I shouldn’t have put him in that position right? And thus, it all started.

We dated for a bit. I drank too much and would throw myself at him, but I rarely remembered it that way. He even showed a video of me saying fuck me, just a short clip. I thought we had been talking, him telling me to say something but I had just been confused. I was confused a lot. He told me I shouldn’t feel stupid, it was just cause I was from the country. Before him, I had really never felt stupid. I always did around him though, he was so smart. He’d chuckle and pat my head, telling me not to burn a brain cell thinking too hard. At least I was pretty. He reminded me of that all the time. I might not be the sharpest tool in the shed but I was pretty. He liked showing me off, making guys jealous. He liked buying me dresses as well, short tight numbers. The first time I complained, he got so upset. I was being ungrateful, and I guess I was. He was being so nice buying me things and here I was, being a bitch. He was upset the whole way back and I asked him if I could do anything to make it up. He told me to give him a blowjob and when I hesitated, he got even madder. So I did.