Gain Through Pain

Note: This story contains a lot of rough sex (not the roughest sex you're going to find on Literotica, but some of the roughest you're going to find in one of my romance stories). I sometimes get comments from readers saying something to the effect that "How can you write about this unsafe/unpleasant thing? What about kids who might read your story? You're harming them!" All I can say is that only adults should read my stories and all of my stories, no matter how much realism I include, are fantasies. This story involves a transwoman overcoming a touch of dysphoria by embracing some consensual roughness. I don't think this would work for real people in the real world. It's supposed to be a sexy fantasy. Enjoy it on those terms!

Freya's long slender fingers slipped through my long, black hair. I felt her palm cup the back of my head as she gently lowered me back onto the bed. I let out a little sigh as I sank into the mattress. I spread my legs slightly, allowing Freya's body to slip between them, her slight weight pushing down on me. I wrapped my legs around Freya's hips, pulling her in towards me. Freya's large, warm breasts landed on top of my smaller, perky ones (though we were both still encased in the dresses we'd worn out for our anniversary dinner).

Freya's long, golden blonde hair tumbled down onto my face as she leaned over me, smiling. Her large, blue eyes sparkled as she bent down towards me. My own brown eyes closed and I tilted my head slightly to the side. Freya's soft, pouty pink lips pressed softly against my own. My lips split apart softly, and I felt Freya's cool, slick tongue pass into my mouth. My own tongue rose to meet her, tasting her mouth and feeling the gentle bumps of her taste buds. I pushed my tongue out and licked her lips and groaned at the flavor of her skin.

One of my hands reached up behind Freya's back, finding her head and pulling her into me, willing her tongue deeper into my mouth. My other hand grasped at the shoulder strap of Freya's dress, pulling it down and exposing one of Freya's soft breasts. My hands squeezed at the firm flesh. I found her nipple with my thumb, pressing it and rolling it gently. Freya gasped into my mouth. Her hand continued to massage the back of my head and neck as she kissed me. Her free hand moved gently up and down my thigh, rubbing my skin and working up under the hem of my dress. Sometimes she even grasped at my ass, squeezing the flesh, shaking it.

Four years in and I was still overwhelmed with desire for Freya. I had never dreamed of being with someone as beautiful, as wonderful as Freya. My body longed for her. I pulled her in deeply with my legs, wanting to feel the distance between us disappear entirely, aching to merge as one. I sucked on her tongue, wanting to pull all of her inside of me. Freya's hips began to rock, gently, pressing her body against mine.

And then I felt it.

Suddenly, all of the heat went out of my body. My heart rate dropped, the electrical feeling in my skin sort of dissipated. I felt my legs slip off of Freya's hips, my hands moved off of her neck and breast. I squirmed a little bit underneath of her, pulling my lips away from her.

"Wait, stop," I said, uncomfortably. For a moment, Freya didn't hear me. She kissed my neck and I shrugged her off. She finally recognized my sudden coldness, "Come on, stop," I said. Now Freya heard me and she moved off of me. She rocked back onto her knees, on the bed, between my leg, her eyes still sparkling, her breast still exposed.

"What, what is it?" Freya asked, concerned, pushing her hair out of her eyes. For a long moment I couldn't respond. I propped myself up on my elbows on the bed, trying to slide myself back away from Freya, "Nicole, what is it?" she asked, sounding annoyed now. I knew then that she had already figured it out.

"I don't want to do...that anymore," I said, knowing that explanation was not going to be sufficient.

"Do what?" Freya asked, even though she knew the answer.

"I don't want...come on Freya, you know," I said, frustrated, and unable to meet Freya's gaze. She sighed loudly, pulled the strap up on her dress, and crossed her arms in front of her breasts.

"Are you seriously stopping, again, because you got an erection?" she asked, her voice sounding incredibly bitter. Even more bitter than I expected. I felt my cheeks flush and I bit my lip. I shrugged. But I was more pre-occupied by the word she used. Erection. Disgusting.

"I mean...you know how it is," I said. I felt our discussion falling into the well-worn grooves of our relationship. I felt like I knew everything we were going to say, but it all had to be said.

"Christ, Nicole, its our anniversary! I feel like I am very, very patient with your...issues in the bedroom. But sometimes... I don't know...Can't I..." Freya shook her head and looked away. God, she was more beautiful now than ever, anger always did something to her face. Freya was short (like me) with a willowy body except for her large (fake) breasts and the anger seemed to make every small inch of her glow. I was a little more curvy, but not to the point of being voluptuous and I have no idea what my anxiety did for my looks, probably nothing good.

"Can't you what? Get what you want? Is that what this is all about, Freya? You get what you want, no matter how uncomfortable I am?" I shot back. I knew I wasn't really being fair. But Freya's anger and frustration always seemed to wind me up, make me push back at her.

"That's not fair and you know it! When was the last time we had sex, Nicole? I think it was four months ago! I want to have sex weekly! I am constantly putting your needs ahead of mine. You're the selfish one!" Freya shot back, her body almost shaking with anger now.

"I will offer what I always offer when we have this...mismatch. I will suck your cock Nicole. I know you love how I do that. I will do it right now. I just don't want to have sex," I said.

"You do want to have sex!" Nicole shot back, "You do, I could feel it in your body. Didn't it feel lovely when we kissed? When our bodies were pressed together? When your legs were pulling me into you?" Freya asked desperately. I could still feel those sensations. My body still pulled towards Freya, I wanted to have her hold me again. But I could feel...it pressing against my dress. I ignored Freya's last statement.

"Look, you said you wanted sex. I offered to suck your dick. You get what you want, I get what I want. Or I can jack you off or whatever. You can put it between my boobs, you like that. Meet me halfway!" I said.

"That's not halfway! Freya shot back, she ran her hand through her long hair in frustration, "I am not just asking for like...cheap sexual gratification. If I want to masturbate, I can do that. I want to have sex with you Nicole."

"So a blowjob isn't sex? A handjob isn't sex? If I went out and gave someone on the street a blowjob, you wouldn't be angry?" I asked bitterly. I lifted a pillow up off of the bed and used it to cover my body, despite the fact that I was still wearing my dress. I felt exposed.

"Don't try to get cute," Freya shot back, "You know what I mean. I want to...and fuck you for making me say this...I want to make love to you Freya. I don't want a... dutiful blowjob of appeasement. I want actual physical intimacy with you," As she spoke, she got up off of the bed and started pacing around the room, something she only did when she was very upset. I felt a rock forming in the pit of my stomach. This was an all-too-familiar fight. But it felt like Freya was getting upset faster. The fact that this was our anniversary seemed to have really ratcheted up her frustration.

"I feel that when we kiss, when we hold each other. I don't need sex to feel physical intimacy," I said, having told myself the same thing a thousand times.

"Well I do, Nicole! And it isn't selfish of me to have needs. I just want you to understand..." Freya said, and I cut her off.

"I need you to understand, because I am tired of saying this over and over and over again: I am not comfortable with my body, Freya. I don't like it. I love you but it doesn't make me feel good for you to touch it. I don't feel closer to you when we have sex, I feel more alienated from my body," I said, feeling stronger now that I was sure I was telling the truth.

"You talk about your body, your body. We both know you aren't talking about 'your body.' You're talking about your penis. You hate having a penis," Freya countered. I looked down at the pillow in my lap. I felt like I could see my...penis through it, mocking.

"Yes, Freya, you win!" I said sarcastically, "Its my penis. I have a penis and I hate it and it is disgusting. And it makes me hate my whole body because it doesn't make sense with a penis on it. Do you feel better now, making me say penis and talk about it?" I said.

"I love your body, Nicole! Every inch of it! You're beautiful," Freya said, and I could hear the pain in her voice as she said it, because of how honest she was being.

"I know that. But you can't make me love my body, no matter how hard you try. I think it is wrong, whether you like it or not," I said.

"We have very similar bodies, Nicole. I have a penis. Am I wrong and disgusting? Do you hate my body?" Freya asked. I felt the wind go out of me. I started shaking my head and stammering.

"That's really not fair Freya! How can you ask me something like that? I just offered..."

"Answer the question!"

"Of course you're beautiful Freya. I love your body. I love your beautiful face and your slender arms and you big breasts and you narrow waist and your wide hips and your hard cock. I love all of it! Your body is not my body, even if they are similar. I love you and I love your body and I want to kiss it and suck on it and love it. It isn't about you, Freya! It's about me and the way I feel about my body, the fact that they are similar is totally irrelevant," I knew that in some ways the way I felt didn't make a lot of sense, but at the same time...it did make sense. I was not Freya. I could love and appreciate her body even if I didn't like mine. It felt like this whole line of argument, which Freya had never raised before, was underhanded and unfair.

"It doesn't feel irrelevant when I am sitting here on our fourth anniversary begging to make love to you," Freya shot back.

"I want to be intimate with you, I really do! That's why I offered to suck your cock or whatever...I just don't want to do anything where we'd have to see my...penis or have it involved or visible. I want to pretend that it isn't there," I said.

"I have offered this before, and I will offer it one last time, Nicole: If you want to have it removed, I will help pay for it. Hell, I am trans too! I know what it means to want to have the body you want. I've had FFS, I have had boob jobs, I had a butt lift for Christ's sake. If I didn't want my penis, I'd have it removed tomorrow. So if you want a different body, let's go get it. I can call Dr. Garth's office in the morning and..."

"I am terrified of surgery, you know that," I cut her off. It was true. I'd had my tonsils out when I was nine. I'd gotten some sort of terrible infection and nearly died. Ever since then I was deathly afraid of going under the knife. I was lucky, I guess, in that I started hormone treatment relatively early. I had feminine features, feminine curves. My body looked exactly the way I wanted it to, no surgery needed...except hormones don't make your dick fall off (they do sometimes make it smaller, which was good. But not good enough).

Freya stopped pacing now. She ran her hands through her hair again. She walked over towards the bedroom window, looked out on the quiet even street below. She sighed once, then looked like she was about to speak. She caught herself and shook her head. I felt the tension ratcheting up in the room. This was not normal. It was like five of our fights had all been amalgamated into one. We were going deeper and angrier than usual. It didn't feel like Freya was going to accept one of my, what did she call it? Appeasing blowjobs and come snuggle with me in bed.

"Freya?" I asked when the quiet had gotten too intense for me. She turned and looked at me. Her eyes were glassy with tears. I felt a cold stab in the pit of my stomach. I felt my hair sort of stand up on end.

"I understand what you're saying," Freya said slowly, "But I don't know if you understand what I am saying, Nicole. You are telling me your needs and you think I am talking about my wants. I am talking about my needs too."

"What does that mean?" I whispered. She sighed and paused again.

"I love you so much Nicole. I don't ever want to be with anyone but you. I feel, sometimes, like you're my soulmate, if that's a real thing."

"Sometimes?" I asked, latching onto the word that seemed to be carrying so much weight.

"Sometimes," Freya said, "I feel like without real sexual intimacy, we are just best friends. Really good friends who love each other. But something...less than what I want."

"What are you saying, Freya?" I asked. I don't know, it was clear what she was saying. Some horrible part of me wanted to make her say it. To hurt her. To hurt me.

"If this is the way things are going to be for the rest of our lives...I don't know if we can spend our lives together," she said. I felt my heart rending in half. I'd never felt anything like it in my life. Freya was the entire world to me. I couldn't imagine a day, let alone a lifetime, without her. It felt like it was happening so fast, even though we'd had this argument a thousand times. It felt like I was dying. I was incredibly sad, the grief was overwhelming. I couldn't engage that part of myself. Only my anger could rise to the top.

"So you are so fucking shallow that you are going to break up with your fucking soulmate because I won't let you play with my penis?" I said caustically. Freya seemed taken aback.

"That's not fair and that is not what I said," Freya responded.

"Now we are being fair?" I said, "Now you want to talk about fair when you are breaking up with me on our anniversary? When you accuse me of thinking that you're ugly? When you want to throw everything away so you can go have sex with some younger, prettier girl?" I asked, each accusation flying further and further from the truth, but feeling better because of it.

"Nicole, I..."

"Fine, if you want to break up, then we can. I don't want to beg someone to be with me. Especially not someone who doesn't deserve me. I am the only one on the lease. You can stay in the guest room until you find an apartment," I said, and I pointed to the bedroom door. Freya looked at me for a long moment, almost dazed. I could see the pain and the anger and even fear in her eyes. I wanted to go to her, to apologize for the mean things I said, to beg her to love me again. But I knew if I did that, if I wrapped myself around her, I'd feel my cock up against her thigh. It would always be between us.

I pointed again at the door, more insistently.

* * * * *

I wended my way through the apartment. It was stacked with half-filled boxes, pieces of bubble wrap, and rolls of tape. It was amazing how much stuff Freya had managed to get over the course of four years. When she'd moved in, it had only taken a suitcase and two banker's boxes. Now, it felt like half the stuff in the apartment was going to be moving out the door with her. She had really settled in here. This was her home. This thought made me sigh.

"Eric is that you?" a voice said, and Freya popped up across the room from behind a stack of boxes. Her long hair was pulled back in a ponytail and covered in a cloth handkerchief. She had on a skintight pair of jeans, and a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the top three buttons undone. She looked gorgeous. It was the first time I'd seen her in two days. "Oh." She said sheepishly when she saw it wasn't her brother Eric.

"Yeah, hi," I said softly, "Sorry, I planned on getting back later but the power went out at the office. I will get out of your hair," I said.

"Oh, yeah, no problem. Should be all packed up by Friday. Eric is bringing the U-Haul that afternoon," she said.

"No rush, you can take your time," I said, sort of ridiculously.

"Thanks," she said and bent down and started taping a box shut. I stopped for a moment and looked at her. It still didn't feel real. That Freya was really packing up all of her belongings. That she was going to be moving out. That we weren't going to live together forever.

I walked into our bedroom. No, it was my bedroom now, I guess. Freya had started there with her packing. It felt bare and empty now, despite the fact that my items were still there. Freya had left a picture of the two of us on our night stand. I couldn't read what that meant. Should I be happy that she wanted to leave a reminder of us? Or upset that she didn't want one? What difference did it make?

There was nothing to do until dinner except nap, so I decided to do that. I was sleeping a lot lately, feeling depressed. Over the last weekend, I hadn't even left my bedroom on Saturday until nearly five o'clock in the evening, driven out by hunger, only to retreat again until Sunday at noon. I started to get undressed, slipping off my skirt and my blouse, taking off my bra and putting on a slightly oversized t-shirt. I laid down on the bed, sighed again.

I could hear Freya out in the living room, packing quietly. She never said anything, but I could hear bubble wrap and tape and cardboard. I felt like I could see Freya moving. The way her ponytail would flip over her shoulder when she bent over. The way she'd bite her lip as she was considering what to do next. The way she'd wipe her hands after a job well done. I could see her, but I didn't go back out to actually look at her or, god forbid, speak to her.

Ever since that horrible night, our anniversary, we'd been walking on eggshells. It felt like there was a barrier up between us. We couldn't talk anymore. Freya had quietly gone about the process of starting to move out, going to stay with her brother for awhile until she could find an affordable apartment. We hadn't eaten together. We didn't watch television together. Sometimes we said "good morning" and other times we said "good night." We had said all the terrible things we intended to say and now it felt like there was nothing left. Or that there were a thousand things left and we were afraid of all of them.

In idle moments over the last couple weeks, when my mind was wandering uncontrolled, I found that I had been trying to figure out how to take back everything that I had said. I would picture myself going up to Freya, falling on my knees and apologizing for being who I am. So that I could put everything back the way it had been before our anniversary. I wanted to sit on the couch with Freya's arms around me. I wanted to kiss her on the neck. I wanted her to tell me that she loved me.

As I flopped down onto the bed in my depression pajamas, I found myself playing the same game. The imagined reconciliation. But this time, for whatever reason, I moved past the point where I'd begged forgiveness. Skipped the part where Freya told me everything was going to be okay and kissed the tears off of my cheeks. Instead, I found my mind circling back to the perfected past or I guess maybe an imaginary future with Freya.

In fact, my fantasy now was very specific. I thought about the last time that I had been in this bed with Freya. The night of our anniversary. She'd been wrong about some things that night, but of course she was right that I had wanted her so badly that night at first. I wanted her now. She was just on the other side of the door. I could call her right now. Have her come in and do that again. Pick up right where we left off like the fight never happened.