Page 32 of X: Command Me through Alexander’s Eyes

And now I see what’s holding her back. It’s not denial or ignorance. It’s fear—an unnatural fear. She isn’t scared of what I’m suggesting because it’s unknown. She’s scared because someone made her that way.

“Someone tried to break you before,” I say sadly.

She’s crying now, and I want to wipe the tears away. I want to take back what I’ve suggested. If I had known…

“I’m not him, Clara. That’s not what I want to do to you.” But how can you explain that there is a difference between submission and humiliation—a difference between giving control and having it taken from you.

“You warned me,” she accuses me. “You told me you would hurt me!”

“I did.” But that wasn’t what I meant. And in the end, even if I convince her to stay now and build the trust I’ve nearly destroyed, I won’t keep her. She deserves more.

She hesitates for a moment, waiting for me to give her a reason to stay. “I should go.”

“You probably should,” I say, wishing I could let her walk out the door but knowing I can’t, “but I wish you wouldn’t. Go to bed with me one more time. Let me show you. Let me give you pleasure.”

She’s already backing away, and I feel a veil descend between us. She can’t see what I’m offering, and I can’t show her—not until she’s ready. Not until she asks.

“I can’t,” she says.

“You won’t.” I can’t let her go without delivering this final truth. I hate myself for not reaching out for her. I hate myself for not being able to lie and tell her it was all a joke. I hate myself for needing more than she’ll give.

I hate myself for scaring her.