Quiet
His hands fumbled around the desk, knocking all of the papers, the cups, a keyboard onto the floor; he tore off her blouse, pulled up her pallid bra, and bent her over, imprinting her breasts on the spotless glass. He held her mouth shut and told her if she so much as moaned, he’d shut her up himself.
Fiction 
How sad. I’d like to know what happens to the poor woman and her abuser.
Depends on your definition of abuse. Some like it rough.
Maybe I’ve met too many of the former. This is a solid piece, by the way.