Guilt ridden, she wrote these words: I am a slave to the pain and taste, feel and touch of sex. I breathe humiliation being thrust upon me like a chil... being chastised. Will the Lord ever forgive me for this habitual transgression – this lust of the flesh? I feel as though I can’t shake it. Every time I think I want to let it go, I give in and give up and let the pain, not the dominant, act as my master. Will this internal struggle ever end for me? It calls out to me in the middle of the night. Mr. Ferris started beggingme to work more hours. I told him that I couldn't possibly work any morehours. He half-threatened to let me go. I held my ground and told him that Iunderstood, but I couldn't possibly work any more hours. I almost told himthat I'd considered calling out sick this morning. That I felt like I wasdoing him a favor by working for him at all. At one point I told him yetagain that I'd understand if he needed to hire someone else that had moretime to devote to the job. I. More

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