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August 20th, 2006

I've been toying with writing this entry and haven't been
able to concentrate on anything else since it happened, which is why there have
been no other entries. There are reasons to write it and reasons not to but
what it comes down to is there was a very important lesson learned and it far
outweighs the reasons not to write this.

Before I start, I want to make perfectly clear, I do not
want pity. I do not want anger. I do not want this to be seen as anything but
what it is – a Master taking what's His. I don't feel sorry for myself. I
wasn't damaged physically or mentally by the act. And, as you'll hopefully see,
I was actually reassured by what happened.

Master and I went back to the Kaverns (a channel on irc) for
the first time since the falling out months ago. We drank while we chatted and
I tried to reassociate myself with the specific protocols and the new bots with
a pretty good buzz on. When Master was ready for bed, we left and went to our
room where Master promptly ordered His extremely drunken slut to lick Him.

I did as I was told, got rather horny, but could barely hold
myself up. My head was spinning and I felt like the bed was bucking. It's been
a while since I've been that drunk. Eventually, Master told me to lay down. It
was time to go to sleep. And I passed out as soon as my body became limp and my
head hit the pillow.

I wakened to someone jerking me onto my back, throwing my
legs apart and ordering "Spread your legs so I can fuck you, bitch."
I was completely disoriented. I couldn't remember where I was, who I was with,
why I was naked. And I fought. By then it was too late. The man was already
inside of me. But that didn't stop me from pushing frantically with my hands
and trying desperately to close my legs and bucking and arching to try and
force Him out of me.

He leaned close to my ear and a chilling growl said
"It's too late, bitch." I fought more. "Did you hear me? It's
too late." It was my Master. And I was still scared. I continued to
struggle. "Put your arms down." I did for a second, and panic
consumed me. My hands flew back to His shoulders. "I said put your arms

He slapped me and punched me. He'd kiss me and I'd turn my
head trying to get away from His raping tongue. He lifted up to His knees to
avoid my flailing hands, driving His rock hard cock deeper and deeper into me.
I saw this as my window, and bucked harder trying to dislodge Him. Nothing
worked. He continued to take what He wanted from me.

And then I heard the telltale groan that meant He was
cumming. I dropped my arms and legs and laid there while He emptied His balls
into my pussy. I waited for Him to get off of me, and whimpered when His cock
slipped from my hole. Then I rolled to my side and curled into a ball thinking
about what had just happened.

And what I thought about wasn't "Oh my god. He just
raped me." What I thought about was "Oh my god. I just made Him rape
me. I just tried to refuse Him what's His. I hope I didn't hurt Him. I hope I
didn't make Him think I don't want Him or love Him."

"Go get a washcloth, whore."

I crawled out of bed and went to the bathroom to get a warm
washcloth. When I returned, I blindly searched for His cock so I could clean
Him up. "What's your problem, bitch?"

"Nothing, Master."

"Your pussy certainly didn't seem to have a

Had the lights been on, He would have seen my cheeks flame
red. I knew I had been wet the entire time He was raping me. I knew that had it
lasted much longer, I probably would have came all over His violating cock. And
He knew it too.

When I was finished cleaning Him up, I put the washcloth
away, not cleaning myself as well. For the first time in a long time, I didn't
mind the feeling of my pussy being so slippery wet that my lips rubbed my clit
when I walked. And I laid in bed and we went to sleep.

And when I woke, I was in an amazing mood. I had learned
something that night.

When Master took me, He didn't falter. He seemed surprised
that I fought, but He didn't ask what was wrong. He didn't let me know it was
Him. And more importantly, He didn't stop. He took what was His, whether I
liked it or not.

I gave Him consent a long time ago to do this. I told Him
that I was His completely and He never had to ask my permission for anything He
wanted. We discussed in length what this meant and I understood and agreed that
this meant He had free reign to my body as well, regardless of my personal
feelings when He wants it. But I never believed He'd follow through.

I always believed that if I made it known I didn't want Him
to use me He'd either just leave me alone or go find someone else to fuck. I
didn't want either of these things… still don't. But I thought that's what
would happen. The reason I never fight, even when I'm tired or sick or just
plain not in the right frame of mind (which happens less and less as I grow in
my slavery and learn that I should always be in the right frame of mind), is
specifically because I'm afraid He'll go find someone else to fuck.

He showed me in a night these things won't happen. He showed
me in a night that He'll take what's His, as He should, regardless of my
feelings. And that lesson brought a reassurance that I didn't know I could
find. As long as I'm what He wants, He'll take me when He wants me.

It's time for me to make an effort to always be what He

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