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Endure Him

J. Dander

Hear as I say in reality,

Don’t do as I write in fantasy.


J. Dander
Endure Him
© 2019, J. Dander
Red Ant Publishing

All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, stored in a database and / or published in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

There are stories nobody wants to talk out about.

This is one of them.

I met Eleanor in 2001.

Though old, she was very much alive.

She made me promise to tell her story, the real one, raw and uncut.

I told her some stories were better when left untold, but she didn’t agree:

“People always hide behind ethicality and profanity. It’s invalidating.

It was my life, and I am no longer ashamed of it.

Life isn’t a book of regulations, carefully written without any flaw.

You get into situations you never imagined.

Situations in which you’re confronted with that one reality.

The stronger ‘win’, and the gentler, often don’t have the luxury of choice.

In the world I was in, I chose to fight,

even when it meant, I had to consent.”

It felt more as an act of domination than of slight passion. There she was. Her body pinned against a moist tree trunk, trying to drift off to a better place as he unbuttoned her top. He grinded his cold body against her and tried to spark her passion by squeezing her tits. He bit her shoulder and panted in her neck as he called her a nasty slut, a horny bitch, his dirty whore.

He lifted her skirt and tried to enter her. She was dry, but he pushed and forced until her cunt accepted him.

He started bashing. Bashing, pounding, and hammering. His trusts became deeper and harder while all she did, was receive him and accept.

His gasping and thrusting accelerated, drilling her body blow after blow. She panted deeper to make him come faster, yet the more she moaned and tried to let him come, the dirtier she felt.

He continued scratching, squeezing and kneading her like he owned her. His teeth clamped shut on her earlobe while banging and thumping her flesh.

Say you’re my dirty little slut.”

She remained silent, busy staying on her feet as he kept hammering her pelvis.

Say it,” he repeated, in a tone more pressing, and crude.

“I’m a dirty little slut,” she let out.

Say you’re my filthy whore.”

Again, she was silent.

He pulled back, ripped his cock out of her slit and yanked her hair with spiteful aggression. He bent her over and shoved his cock up against her undefiled ass. Without any spit, he forced himself into her. She screamed and begged him to stop.

“Don’t you worry. I didn’t forget to put one on before putting it in,” he said glancing at the rubber on his cock. “You’re so lucky I’m not a civilian. If I was, I would have gone from ass to slit without one.

You should actually thank me for being so considerate,” he said as he pushed his full mass deeper into her.

Tears swelled in her eyes as he kept poking her. Poking, like it was his calling in life to destroy her.

Her torso, unable to maintain the momentum of his forceful movements, got out of sync with the rest of her body. She tried to grab on to the tree but its coarse texture scratched her skin like bladed sandpaper.

“Now, tell me whose little slut you are,” he growled.

“I’m your slut Paul,” she muttered, fighting back her tears.

“Tell me what you feel Eleanor. Tell me how much you love feeling my hard cock up your ass.

Tell me how much you crave my sturdy meat, and how much you need me to pound that innocent flesh of your tight little butthole. Say it,” he said, bonking her with painful blows.

She had turned her face away from him but knew exactly what he looked like. She knew his every move, smell, and expression, with such dreadful familiarity that she could almost taste him. She quivered, trapped, like a caged bird clung to the iron bars of its pen.

“Long for my touch, Eleanor,” he persisted clamping on to her bare skin. “Tell me how you want me to defile you like the whore you long to be. Say it.

His panting intensified as his aggressive pounding subsided into deeper and heavier strokes. He desired to feel her slippery wet puss, to really feel her. He wanted to fuck her and feel her tight little slit clamping onto his rock-hard cock. He had to smell her, touch her, and experience her. All of her.

His rocks had swollen, and his overpowering excitement had tightened his balls. His compact balls slammed against her pink, puffed labia, producing sucking sounds of soft splashing impacts. She knew he was almost there as his balls lifted and instead of withdrawing, he drove himself deeper and deeper inside of her, as if he tried to go beyond the borders of her maximal depth. He pulled her away from the tree and pushed her flat on her belly. He ripped off the rubber and pressed his cock deep in her vulva. It was all the stimulation he needed, for within seconds he shot his warm cum inside of her.

His body calmed down and he lowered himself on top of her. He grabbed his cock and squeezed the last bit of cum out on her puss. He sighed, got up, and wiped his cock against her sleeve.

“You weren’t into it Eleanor,” he muttered. “I know you are, but you’re never really into it. You’ll have try harder if you want this to work. This isn’t doing it for me.”

Eleanor, completely silent, stared at her feet. She tried to remove the dirt from her coat and looked up at him. Her eyes stared him dead in the eye.

“I am giving you exactly what you want, right? You fuck me whenever you want, and however you want to. What more do you want from me?”

You, honey,” he said smiling, reaching for her hand. “You know how I feel about you. I want you. I want your body. I want a family with you. Everything there is to own about you, I want to own.”

She threw him a cold smile. “Paul, you know I’m married. This was the agreement and as far as I’m concerned that’s the end of it.”

He laughed with a sinister flicker to his eyes.

Paul,” interrupted Eleanor. “We’ve talked about this before. This is all I can give you. I cannot be with you.”

Paul didn’t respond.

It was still, except for crackling leaves circling in the cold winter wind.

He broke the silence, “You wouldn’t want something unexpected to happen to William, would you?”

Eleanor snapped and pulled back her arm. “Paul. If anything, and I mean anything, happens to William, there is no reason for me to ever let you touch me again.”

Paul fastened the final two buttons of his military uniform in complete silence. “Jesus, you’re so god damn predictable.”

He was displeased, yet the smirk on his face turned into a full-blown smile. “I’ll see you again tomorrow, and Eleanor, I expect you to do better.”

Eleanor nodded. She turned around and walked off to her bike.

As she unlocked it an elderly couple passed her by. They stared at her and looked at her like she was a whore. She could just read it from their faces. If they only knew what this was about, they wouldn’t be this harsh.

She feigned nothing had happened, swallowed her shame and greeted them.

Their expression changed. They no longer looked at her like she was a whore, they ignored her altogether. They pretended she just didn’t exist.

It had happened before, and like before, she bore it. The only difference was that this woman was a known gossip. It would be a matter of days before the whole world would know about her secret.

Eleanor climbed her bike and tried to console herself. It didn’t matter what the world thought, as long as William wouldn’t find out.

She cycled off as the rain, spurred by the cold winter wind, poured down on her. Wet flurries flustered her face. All she wanted to do was to go home, take a shower, and hug her dearest William.

When she arrived home, she leaned her bike against the wall and hurried inside. The house was dead and silent. Her ass felt bruised, her vulva sticky and painful. Paul’s warm fluids were dripping down her raw cunt and had completely drenched her underwear.

She went to the bathroom, took off her clothes and stepped into the shower. The bathroom filled with droplets of steam.

She scrubbed herself, over and over again. Her skin, sensitive from the rain, burned as she turned up the heat again and again, as if she wanted to punish herself.

She turned off the shower, grabbed a towel from the stack and held it close to her heart. She stared at her reflection in the mirror and traced the lines of her face with her second finger. She never considered herself to be a catch in any way, how could this have happened?

Yes, Paul had been a high school crush, and back in the days he was sweet and kind. She used to think he was quite a gentleman. But then, they went their separate ways. He joined the army, and she continued her studies, and like time, they had moved on. Well, it turned out that she had moved on.

Paul had often approached her during her studies, but by then she had already met William. Being with William had given her a whole new perspective on life. He was cultivated, well read, cheerful and a true friend. She could still remember the butterflies in her stomach, the laughter, and the raging fire under her skin when they met. Let alone, the breathless moments right before they touched.

At first, they had just studied together and had lively discussions. But then, after six months, he asked her out for the evening.

She remembered how reluctant she was to enter the gold-plated ballroom with magnificent chandeliers. It was something she would never be able to afford. Men in suits, women in beautifully airy dresses, covered in delicate jewelry. She could still hear the lively songs from the big band playing in the back. Blaring trumpets and smashing rhythms, sweaty dancers on the floor. It had made her skin tremble.

William had laughed at her uneasiness, and had put one of his strong reassuring arms around her. He held her hand as he led her to the center of the floor and positioned his large chest opposite to hers. He pulled her towards him, and looked her in the eye with a serious but caring gaze. She could still feel her heart pounding as they stood there, face to face, eye to eye. Their breathing slowed, as if even their breaths couldn't bear to interrupt them.

For a brief second, he touched her face. It had been a paradox to her how anything could be both calming and electrifying at the same time.

And then they danced. They danced like there was no tomorrow.

It was also that exact evening, the evening of their first date, that he proposed. He walked her home through the park, and before she realized what was going on, he dropped onto one knee and asked her to love him to the end of times. Without any hesitation she said yes. Yes, had been the only word she could think of. The only word that would satisfy her cravings and her need to belong. It was that special and tiny word, yes, that had tied them together, and had led to their very first and most memorable kiss.

Anxious screams and intense cries coming from the street interrupted her loving memories. Plaintive squealing chilled her to the bone. She dried herself, threw on a robe and looked through the window to see the commotion.

Shivers raced down her spine as she looked outside. It was the Aaronson family.

The family was dragged out of their house by soldiers, and huddled in the street like frightened animals. The 90-year-old grandmother, towed through the street by her hair, begged for clemency. Not for herself, but for her children and grand-children...

Soldiers, annoyed by her protest and unaffected by her pleas, dragged her to the curb. Her long silver hair, once so neatly tucked away in a bun, brushed all over her face. A deafening crash followed. The sound clapped through the air as the old woman fell to the ground. Executed. In front of her family. Her family ran towards her, but were battered and forced into trucks. Compelled to leave her there like forgotten roadkill.

Eleanor moved away from the window. Her heart was racing, her hands trembled and nausea made her stomach turn.

Motionless, she withdrew to the hallway and lived their pain. She could feel it in her heart and vessels, and in each cell of her body.

The evening was setting in. She had to recover, put the pots on the fire and try not to think about the Aaronsons, but how could she not? Somebody was going to be the next one. When were those soldiers going to bang on her door?

Her thoughts sent shivers through her spine. She couldn’t wait for the night to fall. She couldn’t wait for this dreadful day to end and close the curtains so she could at least pretend to be safe.

She craved for William’s protective arms around her. She needed him. She needed him to say that all would be fine.

Eleanor looked outside. It was getting dark. The streets appeared peaceful.

She closed the curtains and put the locks on the door. She double checked to make sure that everything was securely locked. Nobody could enter.

She went to the storage room and slowed down as she passed the mirror. Her reflection paused too, and gazed at her. The woman in the mirror looked composed and sighed. It was a good thing that her reflection was the only thing he would see.

She looked closer and noticed a red spot in her neck. It was Paul’s.

She pulled some hair loose from her up-do to camouflage the bruise. I can do this. I can do this, she told herself with clenched fists.

She continued her way to their storage room and entered. She pulled a large thin board from the wall. Behind it – visible only if you knew where to look - you could see the thin lining of a double wall. She pulled and shoved and pressed until the hatch was visible. Once it was, she opened it, and a warm ear-to-ear smile welcomed her. She giggled, her worries forgotten at the sight of him.

“Crumble,” he whispered, opening his arms to hug her.

“Oh Bear” she fluttered as they embraced.

She took his hand, walked into the room, and sat at the dinner table.

“Honey, look at all those extravagant things you cooked today,” he said pointing at a rather scarce meal.

Eleanor frowned.

“You mean these two potatoes and this egg? William, you do have some curious thoughts on high-end dining. But then again, I’m the wealthy one in this relationship,” she said cheeky.

He chuckled.

“Of course, dear. Now, could you pass me the salmon please?” he asked with a wink.

They laughed as they split the egg between them.

“How was your day?” asked William. “Any news?”

“Nothing spectacular,” she said. “I volunteered for that teaching position. Guess what?”

“You didn’t get it.”

Eleanor frowned.

You got it. Congratulations Crumble, I’m happy for you.”

Eleanor examined him.

“I know how you feel about this. I’ll be fine. Trust me.”

William smiled and kissed her hand.

“I know… I know…”

“What else?” asked William, bobbing his head from the left to the right, while drumming his fingers on the table. ”Tell me all about your day Eleanor. I've been so bored.”

Eleanor laughed.

“Nothing happened. The war still isn’t over. We haven’t been freed, but it was a good day.”

“So… No further arrests?” asked William, pressing the issue.

“No arrests,” murmured Eleanor as lighthearted as she could.

William sighed with relief and stood up from the dinner table. In one continuous movement he lifted her up and held her in close embrace, lifting her off her feet. Eleanor put her head against his robust chest, and savored his strong arms. They danced to the sound of his humming.

William stopped humming. With his hands still wrapped around her middle, he leaned back and looked at her with a naughty glimmer in his eyes. After all those years he could still make her blush. He could still make her feel as if they were about to share a kiss for the very first time. He moved in and cuddled her lips with his.

In a sudden move, he withdrew from the kiss and gauged her response. Again, he looked at her and frowned. Only this time it was with the look of a young man, determined to see his lover naked. Right there and then. Eleanor grinned as she saw his desire.

They kissed, and as their moist lips met, their tongues entangled as if they had a mind of their own. Eleanor lost track of the whole world around her, in William's world she felt safe.

With sudden ferocity he groped her and carried her into the bedroom.

“Me Tarzan, you Jane,” he mimicked as he dropped her onto their bed.

“Hey!” laughed Eleanor, crawling away from him as he was about to lower himself on her. “Today it’s my turn,” she said, hopping out of bed. She stood behind him. He chuckled and wanted to get up, but she pushed him over and threw him onto the bed. Like a jungle cat she hopped after him and positioned herself on his tight, muscled belly. She pressed her knees on his powerful biceps. “Who's the boss of you now? Say it William! I want to hear you say it!”

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