“I want you to fear me,” he said.
“But why, Sir?” she asked.
“I don’t understand.
Fear means walls. Guards. Seclusion and distrust.
Not knowing what you’ll do to me, that isn’t fear.
It’s anticipation. And I’ll gladly offer myself to you.
If it was fear, I would run.
I would run and cower and hide from you.
Even under your restraint, even if I couldn’t get away,
I’d build up those walls, high and thick around my heart.
Because fear’s intent is to destroy.
And I have no plan to let it.
I won’t allow it to win.
But I want you in.
I want you to penetrate me
deeper than fear could ever hope to.”