“Why did you ask those questions about Robin, hm? Why can’t you stand it when I’m nice to you? What are you really afraid of?”

Her face wrinkled up in discomfort and she attempted to look away from me. Angrily she clenched her jaw, her eyes filling with enough tears to look glassy, but not enough to spill over.Oh I know, baby. I know what you’re thinking in your head right now.She took a deep breath and tried to compose herself, but she was struggling.

I stroked her cheek softly, affectionately, with as much kindness as I could scrounge up. “See, I think neither of us are really worried that your ex is going to come find you and take you away. I think it’s something else... and I know what it is. It’s not your ex you’re afraid of. It’s me.”

Her eyes jumped to mine and held my gaze. She kept looking away and then looking back at me, unsure what I meant.

“See, Alice, I don’t need to hurt you to make you cry, and I don’t need to put a collar on your neck and whip you for you to know that you belong to me. I can make you do anything I want to. I can take complete control from you with one word...”

Her eyes widened and she took a scared breath, holding completely still, as if terrified I would.

“But Iwon’t. Because I don’t need to force you. I don’t need to manipulate you. I don’t need to brainwash you. Ican...but I don’tneedto.”

Her lip bottom lip quivered.

“That’swhat scares you. The fact that I can... and that I don’t need to.”

I could see her waiting, listening, almost hoping that I would drop her. I could use any of those words to coax her into trance. We’d done it so many times over the past three months, and she was so convinced I had that power over her, that it wouldn’t take much.Sweetheart. Good girl. Pulse. Float. Melt.She wanted me to do it because it would give her a chance to safeword, to pull that power back from me, to have a reason to say that she couldn’t trust me.

But I’d never give her that reason.

I took a step closer to her, still holding her chin in my hand, and brushed a tender kiss across her lips. She gasped and let out a cry of frustration, overwhelmed with what was going on inside her head and her body.

“Is that right, little fox?”

She shook her head again, grunting.

“I want you to admit it, Alice. I want to hear you say it.”

“No!”

“Do I need to drag it out of you? Trust me, little bug, you don’t want that, and we both know I can.”

As we looked each other in the eye, she fought her mental battle, and I stood by, holding her in place and waiting as she worked it out. I wouldn’t force her, but I would be there for her while she did it herself.

The truth was, I loved her, and she loved me, and we both knew it. And that’s what she was afraid of. The idea that someone had actual, real power over her, not power that could be revoked by renegotiation, not power that could be halted by the using of a safeword. Real, honest power in the form of emotional ties and vulnerability. This wasn’t a game anymore. This wasn’t just pain and pleasure and crying and sex. She made me happy, and I made her feel safe.

And she hated that, because every time she felt safe, that safety was wrenched away, and she was hurt.

That’s why she couldn’t cry. Because if she cried, she’d have to feel it. And she didn’t want to feel all that.

“Come on, beautiful girl. Cry for me... hurt for me.”

Her breathing started to come in bursts, and she gnawed at her lip as she stammered and tried to figure out what to say.

“I want to break up,” she spat.

I laughed. “No you don’t.”

“I... Let me down. I don’t want... let me down, untie me!” She fought against the ropes, pulling and squirming.But she refused to safeword. She was begging me to quit on her, for me to be the bad guy. To give her an out.

“No.”I’m never going to give you a reason to leave, sweetheart.

“I don’t...” her voice shook, and she stammered out, “I hate you.” It was just a whisper, a little squeak of a mouse.

But that’s not what she was saying. Not really.“I know.”

“I hate you,” she said again, her voice louder and more confident.