She didn’t want to be a fragile precious thing. Or if she was, then she wanted a partner who knew how to break her. In all her fantasies, the lurid books that got her wet, it was the kinkier side that drew her in. Bondage, domination, just enough humiliation to take her out of her own head, a balance of pain and pleasure to remind her that she was alive. These men had none of that. And she didn’t know how to ask directly. She knew it would come across as crazy to some and she was far too cognizant of her fame to risk displaying her true desires to someone who would neither satisfy nor share them. Even worse, they could go straight to the Prophet with tales of her "sick needs’, and that was a headache she simply was not willing to risk, not to mention a potential threat to her career.