The door slammed, echoing down the long hall! You could hear the reverberations along the dark, dank, dusty corridors. How did it come to this? Why have I ended up here?  What did I do that was so wrong?
The smell of mould and damp in my nostrils was putrid, I wanted to vomit. Tears were searing my eyes and the bile was rising in my throat. Dear Lord, help me!!

I wanted to get on my knees and pray. However, the fetid puddles on the stone floor made that impossible. Nevertheless I did want to pray, like I hadn't for so many years, since childhood really. I still remember those enforced Sunday sojourns, when the whole family was marched to the Chapel. We were scrubbed to within an inch of our lives. I remember the brush used to scour our skin, can still feel it mentally purge our sins. We had to be clean, none of the Devil's dirt on our blessed bodies. Anyway, I digress, those days were a walk in the park to where I am now. Where did it all go so horribly wrong?

We met over the internet.  He was 'perfect'. So loving, attentive and so very Christian. He put me at my ease immediately. The persona he had built up was a dangerous, deceitful facade. He sucked me in, made me believe in him. He was a consummate liar and total psychopath. I was in too deep before I realised any of this. From the first physical meeting he played me like an expensive Stradivarius. Gently gliding over my fragile self-esteem and plucking at my heart strings. Hook, line and sinker, I was caught. I drank in every compliment like I was thirsting for his validation. In  no time at all, I went from wanting to be with him, to needing to be with him. I must have been so emotionally bereft. An easy target indeed. All I wanted was for someone to see me, for how I am, to totally envelop me in pure, unadulterated love. For a few wonderful months, that's how I saw the relationship.

Suddenly I was being castigated for the tiniest wrongdoing. Undeservedly I was also lambasted for past relationships. I had opened up to him about previous partners. The thought that I had this open, honest and wonderful man to tell all my well hidden secrets to was absolute heaven. Little did I know that these same things were going to be the stick that beat me down. Down to depths that I had never plumbed before. I accepted this treatment, nay welcomed it! In my warped mind, if he was this upset about previous liaisons then he must really love me. He needed, not wanted, needed me to sleep with someone whilst he watched, then he could trust me again. If I showed him everything I had done sexually before we met, with another man, then I would have proved how much I loved him. It wasn't too much to ask. Was it? He'd been good to me, took me into his house and life, shown me what 'real' love was. This was just one small symbol of proof that I was grateful to him. Reparation for some perceived wrong. For the life of me, in my more lucid moments, I couldn't fathom what I'd done that had ruined the dream. It had been shattered into tiny little pieces.

Deep down in my psyche I knew what he demanded of me was wrong. A kernel of courage started to grow. I made excuses to put the dreaded deed off. Each day I tried to grab onto this sliver of bravado. How long I could delay the disgusting act was doubtful. Eventually it dawned on him that I was not going to do this willingly. I need to be punished, brought back into line. Maybe a stint in solitary would change my mind. Make me more amenable.

The door slammed, echoing down the long hall...