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"Finally", said Walter. "Thought we'd never get a moment's peace."
Eleanor swallowed. "My parents just wanted... They were enjoying the reception..."
"Sure." Walter was loosening his tie. "But now it's just the two of us."
"Um, yes." Eleanor reminded herself one more time that marrying Walter Davies was by far her best option. Everyone said so. She shifted from foot to foot, causing her long white gown to flow from side to side.
She had been 24, with no husband. She wasn't the best-looking young woman around, she knew, and her parents weren't rich. And more importantly, everyone in this town knew she wasn't pure, on account of what had happened almost seven years ago. Sure, Walter was already in his forties and he never smiled. But he had fallen for Eleanor, and he had been willing to marry her despite everything. She'd have been a fool not to accept.
Everyone said so.
"Let's get this off you", he said, stepping behind her. Eleanor felt frozen in place. But inexorably, his fingers set to unbuttoning the numerous small buttons in the back of her white dress. She could do this, she told herself. This was different from that time. She was married now, an honourable woman, and this is what married people did.
The air in the small bedroom felt cool against her back as he patiently opened her dress. The clock on Walter's desk ticked away the seconds. It took a while, but finally, the white dress fell on the floor around her. Eleanor was bare, her back still turned towards her new husband.
"Turn around", Walter said, his voice breathy now. "Let me look at you."
Eleanor's throat felt tight. But slowly, she turned, letting Walter see what only one man had seen before, and that other time had not been her choice. But this time, it was supposed to happen. This was all right.
Why, then, was she thinking of that other time? Of hands ripping her dress, pawing at her flesh? Of the weight on top of her and the pain of...
No, she decided. Everything was different now. This was her husband, a man that had chosen to spend the rest of his life with her.
He licked his lips. Then he reached out his hands and hugged Eleanor's naked body close. He still had his white shirt and trousers on, the wool of the trousers rough against her bare skin. And there... God, Eleanor could feel it, the hardness of his manhood. It reminded her of... No, she must not think about that. This was her husband's body. It was natural.
His hands were roaming her body now, touching the backs of her thighs, cupping her bare buttocks, running up her back and down again. One hand found its way between their bodies and squeezed Eleanor's breast.
"I like a girl who has something to hold here..." Walter said, squeezing her breasts with both hands now. Eleanor's chest had got its share of attention during the years, developing early and growing bigger than most girls'. She'd always felt embarrassed by it, wishing to be smaller. But her husband liked it, and that was important, wasn't it? Walter was squeezing her large breasts quite hard, kneading and pinching them, looking at Eleanor's chest instead of her eyes. Eleanor didn't know where to put her hands.
"Are you nervous, girl?" Walter asked. Now, he was looking in her eyes, a piercing blue stare, and she had to look away.
"A... a bit", she admitted, letting out a joyless laugh.
"You've done it before, though." Walter was looking at her inquisitively, and Eleanor felt like she was shrinking under his gaze.
"It was..." she tried and swallowed. "He was not a good man." That was like saying a tornado was not nice weather. But she did not have the words to make anyone understand, she'd never done.
"You can relax", Walter assured her. "I know how to treat a girl."
Eleanor tried to calm her breathing. But somehow, his promise didn't feel as reassuring as she would have hoped. Walter's gaze was roaming her body, his hands holding on to her shoulders.
"Get on the bed", he said matter-of-factly. "You'll feel better once you see how nice it feels."
Feeling extremely self-conscious, Eleanor laid back on the bed. She felt tense, her every muscle stiff. But it would be fine, she told herself. It would feel nice with a husband. She needn't be afraid.
Walter unbuttoned his shirt and let it drop on the floor. He was not a large man but he had a surprising amount of muscle under his shirt: strong, wiry arms and a broad chest, and the beginnings of a belly. His farm was thriving, but not so much that he didn't need to work every day.
Walter undid his dress trousers and pulled them down along with his white underwear. And there it was, erect and surprisingly large, the first male member that Eleanor had actually seen. That other time, she had not seen it, but she had felt it... Eleanor felt a cramp between her legs and turned her thoughts to her husband. She tried not to look directly at that strange and big body part.
He pushed one of her legs out of the way, so that she was spread-eagled, and sat on his knees between her legs. The room was dimly lit, only the one gas lamp on the desk providing light, and she was glad that he could not see everything so clearly. Unceremoniously, Walter put a hand between her legs and fumbled there for a moment. It felt bizarre, so have someone so casually touching her there, where she did not even touch herself except when she had to wash. His fingers were bold, feeling about her private parts with no qualms. But he was her husband now, she reminded herself. And he seemed to know how these things went. His other hand roamed up her belly and to her breast, squeezing again, a bit too hard.
"You're dry as a desert", he said.
Eleanor wasn't sure if it was a reprimand or just an observation. But Walter simply spat on his fingers, then put them back there, slippery now. Eleanor's breath hitched as he found the centre of her, between the folds of flesh she had there. He didn't wait but pushed a finger in.
Elenor shrieked. And she jumped away.
She managed to dislodge the invading finger, escaping to a sitting position at the head of the bed before she was even thinking about it. It had been agony. That one finger inside her had pained her like a lightning strike, and she had wanted nothing but to escape it.
Eleanor stared wide-eyed and scared at her husband. Walter was staring back.
"What the hell?" he asked unkindly.
Eleanor's breathing was shallow and she had to struggle to get words out. "It was... it pained me..."
"It was one finger."
"I know, I know... Sorry..." Eleanor was close to tears now. "I, you can try again, sorry."
"Come here, love", Walter said, sounding gentler now. "Lie back down, I won't hurt you. No need to be scared."
Eleanor laid back down in front of him, her legs open. It felt like her heart was going to burst. No need to be scared, she repeated to herself. This is my husband.
He spat on his fingers again, and put them between her legs. And then he started pushing a finger in, slower now.
Eleanor whined, high and wordless and desperate. It still hurt, though the slower pace was marginally better. But it felt like she was being ripped open. It felt like she was under that other man once again, being raped... Don't think about it, she told herself. Thinking about that time only makes it worse.
She managed to stay still as the wet finger was invading her, more and more. She was going to burst open, it was too much, too large. It was like her private parts were made of wood, and his finger was boring a hole where there was none before, and she felt every tiny bit of depth it gained as a burning agony. But she tried to breathe, and she managed to stay there with her legs open, and slowly her new husband started to thrust his finger slowly in and out, in and out.
It didn't get better. It grated her insides in a terrible way on each push in and each withdrawal.
"It hurts still?" he asked, but Eleanor gathered that he could already see the answer in her face, in the tightness of her whole body.
Not trusting her voice, she nodded.
"Sometimes it takes some getting used to, for girls", he said.
Another glob of spit on his hands, and that was disgusting, and then, there was a second finger trying to gain entrance into her. It would not go in.
"It won't..." she breathed, very close to full panic now. "Please..."
"You need to relax", Walter ordered. And then he pushed the second finger in.
Eleanor sobbed, and pulled away from him. But Walter had expected it, this time, and his hand moved with her, the tips of two fingers staying inside her. Eleanor sobbed and squirmed and tried to get further away from him, but one strong hand was holding her shoulder so she couldn't completely escape the bed, and one hand was thrusting roughly between her legs, white-hot flashes of pain on each thrust. Eleanor was kicking her legs and pushing at Walter with his hands, beyond reason at the pain, and finally, Walter stopped.
"Why are you putting up a fight?" he asked, frustrated.
Eleanor just sobbed. She wanted to explain, and to apologise, and also to tell him to never touch her again. But the only word she could get out between ragged breaths was, "Hurts."
"I know it fucking hurts", Walter growled. "Listen, did you want to marry to me or not?"
"Y-y-yes", she sobbed.
"Then we're doing this", he said firmly. "Come on, just let me. You'll feel better when we're done."
She looked at him through the haze of tears. She wanted to let him do this, she really did. But if two fingers felt like she was dying, what would his actual manhood feel like?
But it was her wedding night. She was lucky to be married at all. She couldn't risk disappointing her new husband more than she already had. That thing that had happened years ago was bad. But this, doing it in her marital bed with her lawful husband, this was supposed to be good.
Maybe he was right. Maybe she just needed to get over the first time, and then it would get easier. Slowly, with her whole body trembling, she once again laid back down on the bed, opening her legs for him, and looked at the ceiling. She was feeling terrible, more anxious than she could ever remember feeling, and the seconds were ticking by very slowly. Her husband spat on his hand and then rubbed the wetness on his member. This was it. It was going to happen.
He laid down on top of her, his weight heavy on her body, just like that soldier had, all those years ago... No, she told herself, not that thought. And then the heat of his large penis was poking her between her legs, to the place that felt so tightly shut and pained. He pushed.
Her folds parted, and the bulbous head of the member was pushing in, and he made a short push, and... then he just stopped. It was like she was sealed shut. He made a few pushes with his hips, and that sent blinding pangs of pain through her whole pelvic area, but he did not make any headway.
"You have to let me in", he snarled.
"T-trying", she stammered. But she could no more relax herself inside than she could will the solid walls of the room to turn liquid. She was blocked. He would not go in.
He grabbed the base of his member. And then he thrust hard.
It was like she had been cut open. Eleanor was screaming again, glad that there was no one in the house to hear it, and desperately trying to push at Walter's chest, to get him away, to stop this pain.
Walter took her in a bear hug, though, so she could not push at him anymore. And even if her panic and pain gave her more strength than she had ever possessed, her strength was no match for her husband's hard muscles. Holding her close, he made short, stabbing thrusts into her burning hole, opening a way for himself. Eleanor was breathing fast and shallow, her vision going dark at the edges, her world getting dimmer and dimmer, and then, for a moment, everything was dark and painless.
She jolted back awake to feel his wiry hair against her crotch. He was all inside.
"You're tight, girl", he panted. "It's not so bad after all..."
It was bad, it was worse than she had ever felt. Worse, even, than the first man seven years ago, maybe because now she knew to expect the pain and the humiliation of a man invading her. She had been wrong about it being better with her husband. There was no difference between how she was feeling now and how it had felt then, even though one had been a stranger, an errant soldier who had raped her when he was passing through town, and this was a man she had chosen to marry. Regardless, she was being torn apart by the penetration just the same, and the heavy breathing of the man labouring on top of her was familiar, and the feeling of helplessness and loss had also not changed at all.
"Good..." he breathed, indifferent to her suffering. "Feels so good, you're strangling me, girl..."
She could do nothing. Her legs were open, her upper body was still locked in his strong hug, and his penis was thrusting deep inside her, time and time again. He was panting and groaning on top of her, and Eleanor knew that he was getting what he wanted. This was what men desired, just to thrust inside a woman's hole, and the woman could be willing or not, enjoying it or in terrible pain. It was still just as good for the man.
"I'm going to fuck you so much..." Walter murmured against her neck. "Every night and every morning and even when you're heavy with child... Fuck, you feel good..."
Eleanor burst into tears. She was married to this man now. There was nothing to do, she would have to just take this pain whenever her husband wanted sex. And it sounded like he would want it so much. The ache between her legs had not abated, but by now it felt like she was a little way off, standing beside her own body. The distress was not so acute, or if it was, it was not quite happening to her, just to someone who resembled her a lot.
Eleanor observed Walter's movements getting more urgent. He could not speed up much, as he still had to work hard to push it in, thrust after thrust, but somehow his rhythm grew sharper and crueller. He was beyond words now, just panting in her ear, and Eleanor thought that maybe she was bleeding now, maybe she had been ripped so that her insides would never close.
He pushed deep inside her, and there was a shrill cry coming from somewhere on each of those deep thrusts, and finally Eleanor realized that the shrieks were coming from the body trembling under Walter, the young woman who was not quite her. She could not stop herself from crying out every time he pushed in deep, deeper than she ever thought possible, breaking her open on every thrust.
And then he almost stilled. He was still making tiny, harsh stabs in her, touching her somewhere very deep and tender. And eventually, he calmed down. His member was still inside Eleanor's sore hole, but it was no longer moving. And she was no longer crying out, just trembling and weeping quietly. Her body did not belong to her. It was easier if she would just let him have it, and Eleanor herself would go somewhere else.
To her complete surprise, Walter kissed her on the mouth, hot and wet.
"I like it when you put up a bit of resistance", he muttered.
He rolled off her, withdrawing from inside her. The ache inside of Eleanor didn't really get better.
Walter rolled on his side, his back to Eleanor. Soon, he was breathing evenly, and she realised that her husband had fallen asleep.
The woman who was not really Eleanor stayed up for a long time, staring at the ceiling.