The next day was a special kind of hell, a masterclass in psychological torture orchestrated by a man who was quickly revealing himself to be a sadist of the highest order. I woke up in the guest room bed, my body aching in ways that were both painful and deeply, shamefully pleasurable. The memory of the previous night—the cold wood of his desk, the rough fibers of the rug, the raw, possessive way he’d taken me was branded onto my mind.

I spent the morning avoiding him, hiding in my room under the pretense of a headache. But the house wasn't big enough. Eventually, I had to emerge for coffee,...