Behind The Close Doors

Interrupted Nightmare

Mason’s sigh was almost imperceptible, but it sent a shiver through me. He stepped closer, his eyes still on me, before speaking again.

“I don’t get charged until I… discipline my company.”

My breath caught, and my chest constricted. I didn’t understand.

“Discipline?” I repeated, my voice barely above a whisper, barely able to mask the confusion in my words.

Mason nodded, taking another step forward, his body mere inches from mine.

“I’m not a monster,” he said, almost defensively, like he was trying to justify himself.

“But I like to… give a few slaps, or you could say hits, to my escorts. Without it, I can’t… perform.”

He looked down at the floor as if he were ashamed of the words he had just spoken, but I didn’t believe it.

His eyes were cold and unreadable, and the words had come out with such ease. The air between us thickened with his admission, and I recoiled instinctively, pulling away from him.

My breath grew shallow, panic seizing me as the words started to sink in.

What was happening?

What was I supposed to do now?

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” I asked, my voice cracking as the fear finally began to rise in my chest.

Mason’s face hardened. The faint flicker of hesitation was gone, replaced with a cold, indifferent mask.

“Because escorts like you don’t usually have a problem with it when there’s enough money on the table.”

My stomach churned as I processed his words. Escorts like you. I was just another transaction, wasn’t I?

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a thick stack of cash, tossing it onto the table with a dismissive motion. The sound of it hitting the surface was like a slap to my consciousness.

“Ten grand,” he said, his voice smooth, almost too calm.

“Maybe more if you’re a good girl. No one else will pay you this much.”

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the money.

The bills gleamed under the harsh light, mocking me.

Ten thousand dollars. My breath hitched as the reality of it hit me. It was enough to cover Adam’s treatments, enough to buy time, to keep Bob and Rosa away—at least for now.

But what would it cost me? What was I willing to sacrifice for that kind of money?

My stomach twisted in disgust as I glanced back at Mason.

I knew I was trapped.

My gaze flicked to the money once more, then back to him. The room felt smaller, tighter, suffocating.

My body screamed for escape, but my mind told me to stay still, to hold on to the one thing I had left: my survival.

There’s no way out, I thought, not anymore.

My voice barely rose above a whisper. “I won’t let you hit my face.”

Mason’s smirk deepened, something cold flickering in his eyes like a shadow passing over the sun.

“Only your back,” he murmured.

My throat tightened as I nodded, the smallest movement, yet it felt like I’d handed over a piece of my soul.

The air between us grew heavier as he closed the distance, his lips crashing against mine with bruising force. My stomach churned, my body stiffening beneath his grip, but I couldn’t pull away. He was everywhere, suffocating, relentless.

The first slap against my back sent a jolt through me, fire radiating along my spine. I gasped, lurching forward onto the mattress, every nerve in my body screaming in protest.

“Good girl,” Mason murmured, his voice a knife against my skin. His words were hollow, a mockery of comfort.

The strikes came harder now, sharp and unyielding, tearing through my resolve. Tears burned behind my eyes, spilling down my cheeks despite my efforts to hold them back. Each blow carved into me, stripping away pieces I didn’t know I had to give.

“Please, Mason, stop…” The words slipped out, fractured and desperate. His hand faltered for just a moment, a flicker of hesitation, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared.

Then the sound of a phone cut through the room, shrill and jarring. Mason froze. The air shifted, heavy silence filling the space between us.

“Mr. Ward, this is unexpected,” he said, his tone sharp, the mask of control slipping.

A knock on the door followed, hard and deliberate. It wasn’t a question—it was a command. My heart raced as the sound reverberated through the room.

Maximus’s voice cut through the silence, low and dangerous.

“Open the damn door.”

Mason froze, his eyes narrowing, but even he knew better than to refuse Maximus Ward.

The silence stretched for a moment before the door creaked open. I could feel the weight of the moment in my chest as I kept my head down, trying to make myself as small as possible.

Mason stood there in a robe, his face a mixture of irritation and something darker.

But it wasn’t his presence that gripped me—it was the figure that stood behind him, like an immovable force.

Maximus Ward.

I couldn’t breathe.

The door opened wider, and there I was, sprawled on the bed, exposed.

My body was a mess of welts, streaked with blood.

I felt it all—the sting of every strike still fresh on my skin.

My trembling hands clutched the sheet, and I couldn’t meet anyone’s gaze, not even Maximus's.

“Mason,” Maximus’s voice was low, but I could feel the anger simmering just beneath the surface.

“This ends now.”

Mason opened his mouth to argue, but Maximus’s gaze silenced him instantly. It was like the world had shifted, and Mason’s words no longer mattered.

He looked at me—soft, intense like he saw something more than just the damage I was carrying.

“Come with me,” Maximus said, his voice gentler than I expected.

My eyes darted between Mason and Maximus, panic rising like bile in my throat. I wanted to run. I wanted to scream.

But Maximus’s outstretched hand felt like the only lifeline in the room. And for the first time in what felt like forever, I took it.

His hand was warm, steady.

And with a single, smooth motion, he guided me out of the room.

I could hear Mason’s faint protests in the distance, but they were nothing more than background noise to the suffocating weight in my chest.

The door clicked shut behind us, and I didn’t know what to expect anymore.

Minutes later, I found myself sitting in the middle of Maximus’s room.

It was colder here, the walls devoid of warmth, sharp and impersonal. But in this place, I felt more exposed than ever. I couldn’t quite wrap my mind around what had just happened, the strange shift from fear to tentative safety.

Maximus’s voice cut through my thoughts, calm and firm: “Sit down.”

I obeyed without thinking. My body was shaking, not just from the cold or fear, but from something deeper. Something I couldn’t name. I perched on the edge of the couch, my muscles sore and stiff, and I couldn’t stop trembling.

As if on cue, he handed me a balm and a glass of water.

“Put this on your back. It’ll help with the pain.”

I took it without protest, my hands too shaky to hold it steady. The balm felt cool against my skin, a stark contrast to the heat still lingering from the bruises. But no amount of relief could erase the rawness inside me.

“Why did you bring me here?” I whispered, unable to stop myself from asking.