A Letter from your girl

Dear Mr. Smith,

Though we have not been exploring each other long, I have become quite enthralled with our time together thus far. I appreciate how you have pushed me, given me some of the most stunning moments, and broken me into the most glorious of pieces.  I can only hope and wish and pray that we have more time than we know what to do with on the horizon.

All of this said, I do have fear. Genuine fear. I have what I believe to be well-founded fear.

I have had my phobia of ((X)) for what is approaching fifteen years. Well, I should say I discovered my phobia almost fifteen years ago. It has trailed me through high school, college, plenty of parties, many sexual encounters, and every subway ride. And while I have met, faced, and conquered a number of fears and deep-seeded phobias, this one has remained in tact.

I have, of course, faced it here and there, and each time walked away a little battered, sometimes bruised, and always with the scar of absolute terror. When I face it, my skin starts to crawl and my head feels like it is floating. My heart begins to race and I am cold to the touch. Sheer panic and terror set in and I am paralyzed and wanting to run at the same time. Sometimes I do, bolting out and finding solace far, far away. Sometimes I simply faint, my heart unable to cope with such a fear sitting in front of me.

All of this has trailed me for fifteen years and I have chosen to hold this tight. I have chosen not to "get over it" or "face it" and am perfectly content going another 15 or 50 years with it as a specter in my constant presence.

And yet, because of you, I know that this will have to be faced. I know it turns you on, and I know that my deep desire to be a good girl for you can trump anything. Even this. And therefore I am afraid. I know you will make sure that this fear comes, and I stare it straight in the eyes. You will watch me break. You will watch me shatter and cry and scream and fight, truly fight. You will watch me meet it and curl into a trembling ball of nothing but vulnerability and anger and shame and humiliation. I will be reduced before you in a way you have not seen. I don't know how many times it will take before it will no longer shake me to my core.

And when I am on the ground, broken and wilted, I am still yours. I don't know if you will beat me. I don't know if you will cum on me. I don't know if you will make me get up and take your hard cock in my mouth while I cry... I know how much you look forward to fucking my throat while black mascara tears are streaming down my face. But even in that moment, I promise I will still do everything to serve you well. I am yours, even when I am coming apart at the seams.

Even writing this to you now shakes me. There are goosebumps rising on my arms and the hair at the back of my neck has shot to attention and I am praying already that what I write to you is false, but I know better and so do those goosebumps.

And so here I am. Shaking and terrified and not ready and hoping that it never comes and praying that you will never make me do it and devoted. I give you all of myself when I submit to you and that means I give you this. I have never given it to anyone before. Of all the things I can give, this one has been sacred and absolutely mine to hold. No matter how often or who or how long, I have held this one tightly. Because no one was allowed to make me such a vulnerable creature. But this one, I give to you. I am yours, even in these moments.

Thank you for making me stronger than I was yesterday. I will try and focus my eyes on the day after, when I have been pushed to the breaking point and I have come back better. And I hope you will be proud of your girl. I am scared. Truly, fully, honestly scared.

Yours,
A