(Trigger Warning) She’d never had a phobia. Phobias were for people who lived coddled live

(Trigger Warning) She’d never had a phobia. Phobias were for people who lived coddled lives, where fear was kept away by white picket fences and trust funds. But you have to fear something, so the irrational creeps in, and clowns, spiders, peanut butter; the mundane becomes the banal becomes the terrifying. She’d had just enough excitement growing up to save her from that fate. But it wasn’t like she’d had much to fear, either. Apart from the reaction of her parents when she brought home a poor report, or the thrill at an amusement park, she didn’t feel the hairs on the back of her neck rise, or goosebumps ripple across her forearms. She didn’t get nausea from her mind running through the possibilities, or the overwhelming urge to just fucking flee, get moving, run run run. It seemed like such an odd thing to miss. Even stranger, then, to crave it. To actively seek it out, to approach this man, this gorgeous, beautiful man that had done so much for her, and ask him to frighten her, to make her scared, terrified. To make her fear for her life, while, not. Someone safe to take her somewhere dangerous. They’d run through the scenario, in general terms. An abduction. Masks. Rope. The boot of the car. She’d found it difficult to talk about it beyond then, a mixture of arousal and reluctance to steal the magic from it. Just thinking about it was creating that heady mixture of thrill and lust that was exactly what she was after. He’d kept quiet, but he was pensive. Thinking. She knew when he was thinking. They hadn’t agreed on a time, because that was half the point. They hadn’t agreed on a place, because that was the other half. But she’d taken to walking late at night, in secluded spots. She wanted to make it easier for him. She wanted to be able to spend time dwelling in the possibilities, to wonder whether this would be the time. She wanted, most of all, to forget that it might ever happen. She did. It took a while, but she all but lost hope. It retreated into the back of her mind, and she didn’t think about it, except fleetingly when she decided to swing by the park at ten in the evening, or wander down a particularly secluded street after a night on the town. But it had become second nature, and it was more habit than thought. And so when that van pulled up beside her, and that man got out, with that hood over his face. And he put those hands on her. And he put that duct tape over her mouth. And he put her in the back. Well, then she knew fear. -- source link

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