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The Bosky Invasion (Completed)

Jean Evans is just an ordinary working girl. Or so she strives to be. As a criminal in hiding, she has to keep her head down and be prepared to go on the run at any moment. When the neighbouring nation invades her city, suddenly her dreams of an ordinary, relatively unnoticed life goes awry. She doesn't want to be noticed, but someone has. And now that she's been noticed, she has become bait, a tool used by both sides of the war in an effort to control the man she once thought could be a dream boyfriend. The man who had turned into an enemy in the midst of her daydream. Can Jean rise to the occasion and show the strength of her abilities or will she be crushed when events set her back over and over again? How many times can a girl be crushed before she gives up? --- Author's note: This story is relatively depressing and many of the themes are for more mature audiences. I wouldn't call it a romance story. More a slippery slope of distasteful greys sliding into darkness. This is a work of fiction based upon a dream. No characters, settings or events are based on any real life people, environments or events. In the event anything resembles something in real life, it is an accident.

Tonukurio · Urban
Not enough ratings
137 Chs

Fifty-one: No one to complain to (WARNING - mature themes)

<p>WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS MATURE THEMES INCLUDING SEXUAL VIOLENCE. To avoid it, please skip to the last six paragraphs.<br/><br/>I whined at the burning pain in my scalp and then grunted when I was thrown over his lap. The back of my head hit the underneath of his desk when I tried to get off. [REDACTED]<br/>My backside had been set on fire and every spot he had hit or touched, ached with the forewarning of impending colourful bruises. He seemed to take a perverse pleasure in my squirming. When I was no longer able to struggle, he used me to jerk off once more.<br/>"Are you sure you won't reconsider my offer?" he whispered in my ear, making it tickle. His hand was inside my [REDACTED].<br/>I shook my head hard, trying to escape from him once more but I had very little energy left. I was exhausted. One day, he'd get his just desserts. If no one else gave them to him, I'd find a way to. I could bide my time.<br/>The dirty scumbag pushed me down over his desk and forced my legs apart with his knees. One hand held the back of my neck down so hard, I thought it might snap. <br/>[REDACTED]<br/>Although, he wasn't penetrating me, it hurt. It hurt so much. I wasn't going to give in. I attempted to protect myself with my arms or curl up to hide from his heavy hand that would strike when I seemed to least expect it, but it didn't help much. <br/>Why was he doing this to me?<br/>"From now on," he told me while he continued to [REDACTED], "after today, you will happily do whatever work I tell you to do. You will cheerfully work and starve to death as you wish. This is the one and only time I'm going to give you this kind of special attention. If I catch you acting suspiciously or trying to pass on messages, you will suffer for it. Even when you come to me begging for forgiveness, you'll have to lie in the bed you made. This is your choice. Don't you forget it."<br/>While demeaning, this wasn't the first time something like this had happened to me. My first workplace where I had broken the internet, that place had been filled with similar bullies. Even if I hadn't broken the internet, I would have resigned from that workplace sooner or later. Being violated in this way wasn't as bad as being properly done in and made pregnant, but it was still a crushing blow to my self-esteem. One of my co-workers had experienced being used in that way. She'd been pretty. I, on the other hand, was just a doll for people to practice certain techniques on.<br/>"Are you done yet?" I managed to squeeze out. There was no way he was going to [REDACTED]. Even if he dared go the whole way, I'd just spit on his face.<br/>My question earned me another heavy beating. One that left me sweating all over and that got him using me to jerk off, yet again. [REDACTED]<br/>"You may think you're a tough nut to crack but I will conquer you today," he told me. "I don't believe that I can't make you [REDACTED]."<br/>It was a tortuous day that left me bruised and battered. I couldn't see straight, let alone stand. How much time had passed, I had no idea. In the end, he gave up. After beating me up a final time to vent his frustration, he waited for me to fix my clothes somewhat before he dragged and threw me back into my room, locking me in.<br/>The first thing I did was have a long shower to try and scrub myself clean. And then, I settled down to wait for the morning while I tried to suppress my hunger pains. Having had experience in this type of abuse didn't make me feel any better, but I at least had an idea of how to come to terms with it. In short, I felt guilty, angry and depressed. The best way for me to deal with this was to purposely erase the details from my memory, but damaging my own memory in this way left me dizzy and feeling worse than I already felt. Last time I'd purposely deleted certain memories, I'd been sick for days. This time might be worse. I wasn't in a good shape to start with.<br/>It seemed that I was forgotten for the next two days. My door remained locked. When they did finally remember me, I was sent to the army doctor for a check up, because I was too weak to move. My entire body was one big colourful bruise. I was given an IV and fed a banana. <br/>Another two days later, I was released from the infirmary of the Compound despite the doctor's misgivings. The bruises of being assaulted were self-evident and the doctor wanted to know who the perpetrator was. When I finally gave into the doctor's pressure and admitted it was the Scumbag, the doctor fell silent for a long moment.<br/>"Pretend I never asked you," the doctor said in a trembling voice after a long moment, his eyes darting left and right. His entire body shivered and it made me wonder what he had seen or what the Scumbag had done to him before. "I'd have to find a way to report it without him finding out and killing us both first."<br/>Why did powerless people like me always have to suffer under the rule of authoritarians who thought of their own pleasure more than their own work?<br/>Since the doctor was too scared to do anything, I filed Scumbag in my mind under a file to be dealt with later should the opportunity arise. A few years later was never too late for revenge. Justice might be delayed, but it would come. I could bide my time.<br/>Like he promised, Scumbag never paid me any attention again after I was allowed to start working. Like he promised, he ensured the soldiers gave me the most minimal amount of food and the heaviest, most tiring jobs that they could come up with. I couldn't be bothered complaining. Who was I going to complain to? There was no one to complain to.</p>