I was more scared when he left me than I’d ever been in my life. He’d locked me in. I was wearing nothing but my bra and panties.

I hammered on the door, screaming for him to let me out but he ignored me. The safe word was on my lips but it died away. Would he even listen to it? Already I was getting the feeling that he wasn’t someone who played by the rules, even the ones he’d made.

I shouted until I was hoarse before giving up, my hands throbbing from where I’d beaten the wood. I slumped to the floor, my head in my hands, tears running down my cheeks.

I couldn’t take my underwear off for him. I’d already seen the disapproving look in his eyes when he saw my legs, it would only have deepened into disgust when he saw me naked. I didn’t think I could stand it, having him repulsed by me, by my body.

I shivered, a draught hitting me from underneath the door, getting me up again. I listened hard, wondering if he was still out there. I heard nothing.

I began pacing the room to try and keep warm, my feet rubbing on the bare floorboards, my toes becoming numb even as I marched faster, my hands pressed to my sides.

Jumping on the spot made no difference, nor did again screaming to be let out. In the end, I slumped against the wall, wrapping my arms around me, shivering uncontrollably.

The only thing in there other than me was the pot. It was made of tin, large enough to sit on. That was when it hit me. He expected me to use that? How long was he going to keep me in here? Dread rose up in me, almost suffocating. What was to keep him to his word?

He’d told me a week but no one knew I was here. My phone was in my jacket pocket and he had my jacket. He could keep me here indefinitely. No one knew where I was.

The sentence kept echoing in my head.

No one knew I was here.

The walls seemed to close in on me, the bare lightbulb above my head dimming. Each time I blinked, it seemed to brighten but as I looked, it dimmed again. Was my mind playing tricks on me? Was the room smaller than it had been?

My breathing became more ragged as I felt myself on the verge of hyperventilating. “Relax,” I said out loud. “Just relax.”

It didn’t work. I was trapped. I was alone. He was out there somewhere and there was nothing I could do until he came back.

Where had he gone?

I had no idea. Was he outside the door? I got up and ran over to it, in time to hear footsteps in the distance. They grew louder and then his voice reached me, smug, full of self satisfaction. “Ready to strip.”

The voice infuriated me. He was revelling in my anguish. “Go to hell,” I snapped, gripping the waistband of my panties as if I thought he might tear them from me.

He walked away again and I shook my head. What was wrong with me? The thought of him tearing my underwear off should have terrified me beyond measure but instead I felt a flash of lust within me at the idea.

I felt sick. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want him to do this. I wanted to go home.

So say the safe word, I thought. Why not say it?

I wasn’t sure of the answer. Maybe I thought the rules would change, he would tell me there was no safe word anymore. Or it might have been because holding onto the safe word meant holding onto hope.

What it definitely wasn’t, was that I wanted him to stay here with him, have him rip my clothes from me, throw me to the floor and fuck me like no one ever had. It definitely wasn’t that.

I sank to the floor, groaning as my body fought against my mind. Into the mix came the realisation that I needed the bathroom. I looked at the pot and shook my head. There was no way I was going on that thing, I wasn’t a child using a potty. I was an adult and I could hold it.

Without a window, it was impossible to tell when it got dark. I could only establish the passing of time by how full my bladder became and how my eyes started to sag. The thing about adrenaline coursing through you several times in one day is that it leaves you drained afterwards.

Somehow, despite my increasing need to pee, I managed to fall asleep, laid on my side, shivering almost uncontrollably. I don’t remember it happening. I just remember jolting upright when I heard the key in the lock. I groaned in agony as my bladder screamed at me for release.

My mind was still groggy. I had dreamt of being trapped inside a castle turret, held prisoner by an evil Lord, awaiting a ransom from my parents. “That’s not right,” I said to the Lord as he entered my chamber. “You give them the ransom, not the other way round.”

“I paid to get you,” he replied, undoing his tunic and walking slowly towards me. “Now I’m not letting you go.”

He jumped on me, ripping off my gown in a single motion, his hands already on my skin before I knew what was happening.

His fingers were rough, groping at me, his nails scratching as his teeth grazed my lips before his tongue plunged into my mouth.

“I’m going to fuck you,” he muttered, his fingers delving inside me, making me gasp at how good it felt. “And you’re going to love it.”

When the noise of the door opening brought me out of my sleep, I was still getting flashes of the evil Lord. Who had he reminded me of? Of course, how apt. He looked exactly like…

“Good morning,” Ethan said, a wicked grin on his face as he stepped into the room. He’d changed clothes. It wasn’t a huge change. No suit jacket this time, blue shirt instead of white. Still the same monster inside. “Sleep well?”