I slapped and punched my thighs until I was too tired to carry on, but the tears continued to roll down my cheeks as I sobbed. Memories from the past came rushing out of the box that I’d locked them away in.

The cold, ruthless hand wrapped around my throat, his vile stench suffocating me while the weight of his body on mine made it hard to draw in a breath at all.

Shaking, I drew my knees to my chest and dropped my head down as I cried for an entirely different reason than only moments before. My heart felt like it was going to claw its way out of my chest while my lungs burned for a good, deep breath. It’d been over three years since the last time the memories had surfaced — since they’d last held me paralyzed in their grip.

My phone beeped in my purse next to me, but I couldn’t force my hand to grab it.

Time passed while I sat there; my butt had gone numb long ago. Nothing was more important than sitting there, arms wrapped around my knees, comforting — protecting— myself. Numerous times, my phone beeped, but my hands and arms refused to move to get it. As I slowly managed to push the terrifying memories back into their locked box, my heart slowed, my breathing returned to normal and I regained the use and control of my body.

Tugging my purse to my lap, I slid my legs out and leaned my head against the door as I blindly dug around for my phone. Of course, it was at the bottom under everything else in there. I had numerous messages along with a missed call, but no voicemails. Swiping across the screen, I found that all of them had been from Master J. Without reading any of the texts he’d sent me, I sent one of my own.

Can you meet tonight?

I knew it was late, but before I could put my phone down I had a return message.

Just tell me when.

I can be there in 15.

I’ll be there.

Making a quick stop in the bathroom, I wiped the makeup from my face and pulled my tangled hair into a ponytail before heading to the club. There was no one waiting out front or inside the door. I left my purse on the counter. If someone wanted to steal it, let them. I didn’t care. There was no one around that I saw. It had to be near midnight though so I wasn't too surprised, when I broke down it took hours for me to recover. I went to the same room I'd been left at during previous visits. Opening the door, I was surprised to find the door to the inner room open. He was waiting for me. I could feel it in the air. Indecision filled me — was I still supposed to strip or go straight in since the door was open?

"Come in and kneel. Now." Master J's voice came from the room.

Averting my eyes, I walked straight to my spot and lowered myself down to my knees.

"This is an unexpected surprise. What made you want to meet tonight?" His shiny shoes stepped into my view, standing shoulder width apart.

"Nothing, sir." I swallowed hard. I didn't want to open that part of myself to him — to anyone, ever. Some secrets are better off never shared.

"Don't lie to me, girl. You don't tell me you want to meet right away if there isn't something going on." Those shoes stepped out of my view and I strained to hear where he was going.

"I just needed the escape you gave me last time. Sub space or whatever you called it. I need it, sir." I didn't know what else to do. When his name had popped up on my phone, it was my gut reaction. Obviously I didn't think it through because he was asking questions I didn't want to answer. I should've just waited a day or two before setting up another meeting.

"What are you running from?" His palm smoothed over my head as he stepped behind me. "Don't say ‘nothing’ or I'll walk out right now."

"The past, sir." I shivered as tears filled my eyes. I didn't want to talk about it. I wanted to escape it. That was why I was with him.

"What about today made your past come up?" he asked before gently pulling the tie out of my hair.

"Sir, I don't want to talk about it. I just want to forget." I lifted a hand to wipe away the tear that escaped even though I was fighting to keep them back. I didn’t want to relive the embarrassment, the humiliation that came with the thoughts of the past. How undesirable I felt. The pain that had been pounded into me repeatedly by my rapist. The rapists that no one believed me about.

"Oh, Precious. I'll help you forget. If you tell me what I'm asking." His long fingers ran through my hair, delicately untangling it.

"I got caught masturbating at work by someone. That person will most likely tell my boss and I’ll lose my job," I sputtered out trying not to focus on it. It was the easiest, least painful answer.

"So you are upset that you might lose your job? Or that someone saw you doing something you knew you shouldn't have been doing at work? Or do you not care that you were risking your job for pleasure that you should've been getting from me?" His voice lowered an octave, letting me know he wasn't happy with me.

"I hadn't been thinking at all, sir. Not about you or my job. It's an impulse thing. A compulsion." I dropped my chin to my chest in utter humiliation.

He didn't speak. I could still feel him standing behind me, his hand in my hair. The silence filling the space between us was thick and choking.

"I have a confession, sir," I blurted out before thinking it through. I wanted to air part of my dirty laundry I'd been holding onto for so long.

"Go ahead." He removed his hand from my hair and stepped back, removing his warmth.

I had to do it on my own, without his support. "I'm a sex addict, sir. I can't help it. I get this feeling that can't be ignored and I have to masturbate. Don't laugh. God, please don't laugh. It's the honest truth. I can't help it. I fight it, I struggle with it and yet, my body gives in and does it anyway. I hate that I do it, I hate that it controls me. I've been through rehab and the twelve steps, the whole she-bang. Then my eye got caught by this man at work and even though I haven't given into compulsive behaviors or masturbating in years, it's like it never left. I know I need to get help. I will get help. It's just awfully embarrassing and everyone laughs when you try to tell them about it. They think it's a joke or that I just like doing it or the feeling..."

"Stop." He cut me off as I continued to ramble with tears streaking down both cheeks. "I understand. Guess it's a good thing I didn't want to fuck you. Heaven only knows what you have or how many men you've slept with."

His voice was harsh and cut to straight to my heart. My cheeks turned red as I bit down on my bottom lip, trying to hold back the anger that built within. I was angry at myself for being such a failure. Angry with the situation I was in and that I likely was going to lose my job. Angry with the man I'd thought to be so different for turning on me so quickly when I'd shared something so private. My tremors of fear turned to anger.

"I'd bet you've slept with more men than you can count. Lost track because there are so many. Or do you just sit by yourself while you fill your pussy with fingers, dreaming it’s a guy since none of them will touch you?" he spat from behind me.

My anger shot through the roof and I couldn't hold it back. I might be messed up five ways to Sunday, but I wasn't a doormat. No one talked to me like that. "Fuck you. You don't know what you’re talking about. You know nothing." I stood and reached for my blindfold. I wanted to see him as I tore into him, but his hand shackled my wrist and pulled it behind me as he yanked me back against his body.

"That's better. There’s that fire I want to see. You aren't that weak, pathetic girl who came in here tonight. I don't want to see her. Addiction is addiction. I'll help you deal with it. I'm here to help you face your fears and come out the other side a stronger woman. Don't think I'm going to coddle you and let you wallow in self-pity. Not happening. Now back on your knees. Time to get to business." His voice vibrated the last of the fear from my body. My anger dissipated as quickly as it had flared up.