tagNonConsent/ReluctanceNo One Will Hear You Scream

No One Will Hear You Scream


(This is a story about rape; dark, hopeless and unforgiving. It is my opinion that there is no excuse for rape. No one 'deserves it'.)

Monica Traveler was the chief bitch of her company and she never let anyone forget it. She got off on the fear she generated by walking into the central work area. When that wasn't enough, she would single out someone for personal humiliation and suffering. Monica wouldn't stop at words, no; often some sort of real physical torment was necessary for Monica to get on with her day. Sexual relationships did nothing for her because no man or woman would stay with her through the torments that got her off. Paid sex was empty because whomever she paid knew their suffering would be over at the end of the night and wasn't likely to be repeated. No, Monica had to revel in the helplessness of her victims.

Sally Klausen was hunched over her desk at her cubicle. She was humming a song that she had heard on the radio when she came back from lunch, pushing her glasses up her nose and brushing a loose black hair out of her face. She wasn't thinking about it, she was on automatic. It was her deep-seeded mouse-like instinct that made her look over her shoulder. She was a moment too late. Monica was glaring down at her.

"I ..."

"You know our policy on music in the workplace," Monica stated.

"It was an accident. It won't happen again," Sally pleaded.

"Oh, I'll make sure of that," Monica said with a wicked gleam in her eye.

"Glasses," Monica instructed. She drunk in the power of Sally's trembling hands as they slowly worked up to her glasses and pulled them off. On the periphery Monica could see all the other employees ducking down into their own tiny holes hoping to go unnoticed and secretly happy this was happening to someone else.

Sally finally got her glasses off. Tears were making their way down each cheek.

"I would let you off ..." Monica told Sally, letting that slight flicker of hope arise.

"... Except I can't have people breaking the rules." She slapped Sally across the face. It wasn't a hand slap; only enough to leave a faint red mark. Monica was a past master of applying force to flesh.

"Hey!" exclaimed a masculine voice from behind her. Monica spun and looked to see who would dare disturb her when she was having her fun. He reached out and grabbed Sally's arm before the woman could crawl under her desk. It was that new guy who had replaced that man who fallen into a bottle and wrapped his car around a tree.

"Back in your hole or you're fired," Monica commanded. The man took a step back. Monica was going to deal with him as soon as she slaked her thirst with Sally. Monica returned her attention to her current victim.

"Where was I?" Monica said rhetorically. She knew exactly what was coming next and by the look on Sally's face, so did the little mouse.

'Smack' went the backhand. As she drew her hand for the harder return slap someone grabbed her wrist in a viselike grasp. Monica snarled and spun on her assailant. It was that new idiot. She slapped him hard across the face, leaving a red mark.

"That's it Mister, you are fired and you can expect to get a scathing report to your employment agency."

"Don't hit me again, leave the lady here alone, and go back to your office," he instructed her. Monica saw red. Where was the fear? She couldn't tolerate this. The fact that he didn't even know Sally's name wasn't lost on Monica and made his actions all the more irritating. Monica growled hauled off and slapped him again as hard as she could.

His head pivoted violently to the side, but his grip on her other wrist tightened. Monica bit her lip to stifle her scream. The man didn't look hurt; he looked furious.

"I told you not to hit me," he told her with a deadly calm. Monica hauled off to hit him again. He didn't wait for the blow to connect. He chopped down and hit Monica's wrist causing her to yelp in pain.

"You (slap) stupid (slap) silly (slap) bitch," he declared as he slapped and backhanded Monica. If he hadn't been holding her other wrist she would have fallen to the ground. Around her Monica could sense all the other works burying themselves into their miserable hovels. She'd make them all pay for this humiliation. When Monica managed to get her knees working again, she attempted to kick her attacker. He took the kick to his thigh without flinching.

"Someone needs to teach you a lesson," the man declared with a voice full of menace. He violently released her wrist and spun her around so that her back was to him. Before she could get her bearings he shoved her down the corridor.

"You'll regret this," Monica snapped as she stumbled forward.

"I'm already regretting his," he responded coldly. "You are a cold heartless bitch. I've only known you a day and I can't stand you. I hate to think what people who've been here a year feel about you." As Monica stumbled past the last few cubicles she began shouting.

"You," she barked, "call security." The cubicle drone stared at her frozen in fear. He didn't reach for his phone though.

"Help me," she yelled at an older woman near the end of the line. The woman spun her chair around and glued her eyes to her computer monitor. "Useless bitch," Monica howled. "You are all fired!" she screamed at the room.

"That may be the dumbest think you've ever done," the man commented dryly. "Who has any reason to help you now?"

He slammed her down to the door at the end of the hallway were it T'ed. Monica attempted to turn around but he grabbed her shoulder and pushed her hard against the door. She helplessly struggled against his grasp. When he opened the door Monica stumbled in. The conference room was long on its side; maybe twenty-five feet and twelve feet wide. There was a large table running down the middle of the room and the wall facing Cubicle Hell was made of glass. Monica and the Man were at the head of the table.

"You will never get away with this," she seethed. "I'll make sure you suffer."

"I see no reason to be gentle then," he responded. He stepped toward her and for the first time Monica felt fear. She staggered back but not fast enough. He grabbed her arm and pulled her close. He struggled as he grabbed her other wrist and twisted her so that her back was to the table.

He tried to kiss her but she moved her head away from him. The Man nuzzled her neck instead, kissing her.

"Stop, damn it," Monica snarled.

"I haven't even begun," he promised. Monica tried to beat on him so she was a bit surprised when he shoved a knee between her thighs. She clamped down but couldn't drive him out.

The Man leaned on Monica bending her further back. He was working his other knee in.

"NO!" she screamed. "Help!" The Man stopped and looked out of the glass windows at the cubicle. No head was rising up no one was coming their way.

"You don't seem to be very popular," he gloated.

"Security is coming," Monica threatened.

"They are coming very slowly if they are coming at all," he pointed out. Monica realized that no one would come and save her so she would have to save herself. She desperately twisted one hand free and slapped the man with all her power behind it. His head snapped to the side from the impact.

"I've had about enough of that," he growled. With his free hand he began slapping Monica back and forth across her face until her head was ringing and her vision swimming. Her face felt like it was on fire. She was vaguely aware of the Man letting go of her other wrist. She flopped back against the desk hitting her head hard. She clumsily tried to reach up to shield her aching head.

His hands found her blouse and she felt a tearing sound and the small plink of buttons flying around the room. She feebly tried to pull her arms to her chest but he pushed them aside as her jacket and blouse were pushed over her shoulders and down her arms.

"No," she whimpered, "this can't be happening ... not to me."

He yanked her blouse and jacket off of each arm roughly then pulled down her bra. Her breasts sprang free as Monica began coming back to her sense. One arm crossed over her breasts pressing them to her chest while the other pushed against his chest as she tried to pull herself up. Monica's arms were hampered by her bra straps. She had to allow him to push it down and down he arms so that she could get her arms free.

"No, wait, please," Monica pleaded. He glared down at her, angered by her words.

"How many times have you heard those exact words and laughed I wonder?" he spat. Monica felt trapped by her own existence and her own pitiless nature. Knowing she was going be receptacle of her own predilections, Monica redoubled her efforts to break free.

The Man hauled back to smack her again. Monica saw this and flinched, raising her hand to ward her face. Something inside her cracked and she started to weep uncontrollably.

"Please," Monica sobbed, "I'll do what you want. Don't hurt me."

He grabbed her other wrist and pushed both of them over her head.

"Don't move," he said quietly. Monica turned her head while her chest was racked with sobs. He lowered his head down and started suckling and biting at her nipples, first one and then the other. Monica blocked out the pain as best she could his hands came down and began kneading the breast that wasn't getting his oral attention.

When he stopped suckling at her breasts Monica thought her torment might be over and he was finally bored with her. When his tongue came down on belly button, she felt her flickering hope fade. He worked his hands under her skirt and reached for her panties. Monica tried to twist her ass in a pathetic effort to keep his hands away. She failed and her panties and hose began to come down.

Monica rebelled a moment too late. The Man yanked up on her hose and panties over her toes as she started flailing him with her legs. She brought her heel down on his collarbone hard enough to weaken his hold on her. That allowed her to keep away. Monica staggered him but he held on to her other heel and yanked on it hard. Unbalanced, Monica slipped half off the table. She was forced to plant her arms on the table edge to avoid crashing to the ground.

By the time she recovered he was on her again. Monica thought she had twisted free until she felt his hand on her ass rolling her over. He pressed down on her hips and kicked a leg between hers before she could stop him.

"No!" she screamed again. It made her heart burn even more to know that everyone in the office heard her screaming and no one cared. Worse, they were privately reveling in her pain and torture. How many were smiling behind their fragile walls?

He twisted an arm behind her back and painfully turned it until her struggling ceased. He kicked her leg aside and brought his free hand back. She heard his belt unbuckle and his zipper go down.

"No, no, no, no," she wept. "Please, don't ..."

He pushed his member against her ass crack. The Man worked his penis up and down until it slipped between her cheeks and entered her in one easy push. Monica couldn't stop a moan from escaping her lips. That made her weep louder.

"Damn you are wet," he commented. He slid deeper into her until she felt him press firmly against her ass. The Man held it there for a moment before pulling back out and slamming back in. She grunted.

"Please," she said in a small voice, now nearly hopeless. He wasn't listening he kept on going until she began to feel herself starting to catch fire. Her eyes stung with shame as she kept moaning louder and louder.

'Don't come,' she begged herself, 'don't come.' She knew it was fruitless as her own body was betraying her the way everyone else had. She hated herself for being such a helpless slut.

"Nooooo!!!" she cried out as the orgasm hit her. The scream echoed down the halls. Undoubtedly her workers covered their phones so her despair wouldn't upset the people on the other end of the conversation. She was panting now and sweat pooled where her body impacted the table with a sticky seal.

He pulled out with a juicy slurp and Monica felt that her ordeal was over. The Man rested his member between her ass cheeks, rocking it up and down. She was so fuzzy that she didn't realize what was going on until her anus began to give way under his pressure. She grunted and tried to squeeze him out. He drove his body forward. Monica moved her thighs as hard against the table edge as pain would allow. There was nowhere to escape to.

"Ugh," she gasped as he entered her ring. She felt her as ripping from the intrusion.

"Not so hard ..." she pleaded between hiccups and sobs. He didn't seem to care. He didn't slam it home but he certainly wasn't gentle. He moved at his own pace as if she was nothing more than some hole he wanted to feel. It was like the woman named Monica didn't matter.

The Man let loose of the arm pinned to her back and grabbed a handful of her hair. He yanked up and started to slam into her with the slap of sweaty skin accompanied by their tandem grunts. Once more she felt her body tingling and burning. The rougher he got, the more she was getting into it. She couldn't cry anymore tears though her eyes burned. She fought a silent war within herself to not come again, and it was a battle she was losing.

When he came it was like a fire pouring into her. She'd never had anal sex before and she had little doubt that blood was mixed with his semen. He let go of her hair and pushed her body back down to the table as he pulled out. She lay still panting and racked with sobs. She heard him pull up his pants, zip up, and then buckle his belt. Somehow Monica expected him to say something. Instead she heard the door open then close.

Monica slowly slumped down onto the floor, boneless and vacant. The sound of the office functioning around her invaded her senses. The World had gone on around her. It was as if nothing else had changed except her violation. She waited for someone to come, for Security to rush in, for something.

She had no idea how long she waited. The adrenaline receded and the real pain set in. Muscles went through spasms and cramps. Monica waited for the horror to set in, but there was only numbness. He'd taken her and used her and left her like a used piece of trash. Finally the tears came back.

No one looked at her as she weaved back to her office. She couldn't even manage a dignified gate her muscles hurt so much. No one asked, no one moved to help, and no one let their eyes follow her. They all shared a portion of her shame not only for doing nothing but for enjoying by proxy what she'd been put through. They all thought she had it coming.

Days passed. The police investigation got nowhere because no one saw anything, the room had been cleaned in the hours between it happened and Monica finally pulled herself together enough to make the call. The Man denied it. It was he said – she said and thought the police didn't say so, Monica knew that her employees poisoned their opinion against her. The police said they would keep the case open on the off chance that something developed. She knew what that meant.

Monica walked the hallways a different woman now. She looked into each cubicle with a gnawing sense of fear. When her people looked at her, she sensed their cloaked look of triumph. They had seen her weak and they weren't afraid of her anymore. With iron will and determination she kept herself walking the floor, keeping an eye on them. Only now she knew they were watching her too.

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