hiding behind a cupboard or something, waiting for me to slip up and I'll feel that heat cover my
cheeks or the sting of whatever new electro gadget you've gotten your hands on.
It's the first time I've been able to actually form a few sentences directed at you,
and I think the issue is I'm not angry, and I don't know why I'm not angry, and in that same breath
I feel like I'm supposed to be livid, destructively angry, but it's not there.
The therapist, and I know she's going to want to listen to this, but what's the odds we'll
actually get through this with anything worth sending to her? So much pressure. I think she
wants me to be angry too, and it's all this pressure just sitting on me, boxing me in,
and I can't really dig into what I'm actually feeling. Heck, it's only been three months since
I was last in that room. The day before that, you were inside me, using me, over and over,
like you always did. Except those last couple weeks, I started to feel kind of different,
not really used. I felt like I could leave if I asked you. I didn't. I don't know why that is.
I think I'd begin to want to be there. It's kind of weird to say it now, but I felt
owned, like this strong, masculine, hard man owned me. I was his property, and every single time I
could make him come, make him empty himself in me, on me, exclusively, for months. It was his way,
no, his body's way of saying that I was just perfect. Fuck, and I'd make you come almost every
day. I cried at the start. I remember the first time, coming to, realizing where I was, scared,
scared, so fucking scared, you have no idea. First off, I remembered leaving the house feeling all
morning as if someone had been watching me, tracing me, just that kind of you're not alone
feeling. It was so unsettling, but I told myself not to overthink it. I followed my usual routine,
and I think that was the issue, because I went for another late run. I guess it wasn't that late, but
I shouldn't have gone there, near the woods, and yet I know now, sitting here, well, it turns me on
to remember how hard your hand gripped around me, how I pulled away and ran so hard, my breath burnt
my chest, inhaling like I'd been fucking, and I didn't have time to think, I just remember running,
running and tripping when your weight pressed me down so hard, and I thought you were going to tear
my thighs off, but you pressed your hand against my throat. It was dark. I couldn't see your face that
well. Your hand was hot against my throat, my breath icy cold and stifled because I was being
suffocated, and the next thing I recall is waking up, stripped of whatever I'd been wearing, just in
panties, just in cotton panties, and I'm ashamed to admit it now, that I felt a wet spot in them.
I had a bruise on my cheek, and my throat hurt badly. You came in, showing me your face, though
whenever someone asks, I say that you wore a mask. You didn't say anything, just lifted
and pressed me against a cold wall. Then you smelled my crotch.
God, am I really touching myself while I'm thinking about this?
You smelled my cunt, and around my asshole. You were filthy. You wanted to smell how wet I was,
and then you ripped my panties down, and you dipped your tongue wet and slick into my cunt,
eating me out like you would your girlfriend. I tried so hard not to come,
but after a few minutes, having my pussy and asshole eaten, I came on your tongue.
What a little slut I was. I was so angry at myself. I fucking hated you.
So much in that moment. So much. You didn't even acknowledge me, just my holes.
You took your cock out, stood on your feet, and told me to turn around. I looked at your eyes as
long as I could. You only looked at my body. I wanted to grab your fat dick so badly, and when
I saw you spit on it, and glide so furiously over the tip, I thought I was going to kill you.
Glide so furiously over the tip, did I try and reach out, realizing too late my fucking hands
were handcuffed. I was so fixed on your thick cock. I knew you were going to come. I felt ashamed,
like something was wrong with me, but I kept watching you milk your cock, tugging at your balls,
and then you whimpered, quietly, before the groaning started, and you came so hard.
I wanted it to land on my skin so badly, but it didn't. We did that for a while, every now and then,
for what could have been a month, eating me until I came, then jerking off while you perved on my
body. You'd feed me twice a day, allowing me to bathe, never too much. You craved my smell,
not that of lotion. You dressed me, just for warmth. It stopped being about sustenance, really.
I counted days in that little room by the loads of cum you shot on the floor,
watching them land on my feet, which you always had me keep pedicured, on my stomach at times,
even touching my breasts when you made me kneel in front of you, but never in my mouth.
Fuck, I'm so wet. I'm just a dirty girl, and I don't know how to tell anyone,
how to tell anyone that I've been masturbating for weeks to the memories of what you did to me.
How, after that month, you finally fucked me. You used rope to spread my legs over a work table,
had my pussy perfectly trimmed, and my body smooth and washed. You treated me like your girlfriend,
not a little rapeslet. But I was a rapeslet. A little rape victim you snatched in a forest,
a cheap little whore who couldn't even run from you. I can't tell anyone how I stuck my tongue out
for you to spit on me while you fucked into me. How I loved feeling the rope, how I loved
into me, how I loved feeling the rope burn me, and how your cocks split me. I don't even know your
name, but I've never come like that. You drained my asshole, fucked in and out of it like a cunt.
I think hearing me cry makes you come harder, slapping my face, pinching my nipples,
and choking me. It all makes your thick, fat cock even harder. You trained my throat,
stopped my gag reflex, showed me what happens when I'm good. I promise I'll be so good, sir. I promise.
You were so animalistic with me, so fucking primal. You smelt my holes, sucking on my breasts.
Sometimes you even licked my underarms, tasting me. You were so dirty. I think you chose me
because you wanted someone who you could use for your every sexual woman. Someone who,
with enough training, would sit between your legs and eat your ass. Eat your ass while I jerked your
cock off. Yes, whoever else is listening, my hands were always tied up. And sometimes,
when they were, it's because he needed the illusion that I was struggling.
But, eventually, he wasn't raping me. He was just using me because I wanted to be used.
And raped. And owned. And I feel like I tripped on purpose sometimes. Like I wanted to see
if you'd rape me. Make me cum and cry in the dirt. Cum like a slut in the woods covered and filled
with your perfect cum. I'm going to cum for you again. Just like I did yesterday, and the day
before, and the weeks before that. Thinking about the first time your cock filled me up. How good it
felt being full. Wondering what the news report said. Wondering what they'd say if they heard me
moaning. Wimpering like a little bitch in heat because of your fat, heavy cock was making me
cum again. What would they say if they saw me pressing to your lips, trying to kiss you while
I got close to cumming, over and over. And then you had me hung up in ropes. And when the lights
come on, you entered. There was an audience. Maybe eight people. And then you came in. And
eight people who I'd seen many times during the months that went on. You'd fuck me in front of
them. Treating me like a sex toy you were jerking off with. They'd watch and play with each other.
Women and men. It made me cum knowing that I was just porn to them. No personality. No interests
and desires. No hopes and dreams. Just a flesh. Holes. A pretty face and a tight body. Hanging
there, trying to balance with my hands roped above my head. My body displayed for everyone.
I've never felt sexier. When you walked in, calling you sir,
knowing that every time I said it, I'd get wet. Hearing your footsteps in the passageway, I'd feel
my pussy tense and pulse, ready to cum for you like a good girl. Later on, I'd beg for it.
Shouting and moaning if you hadn't made me cum in 24 hours. It makes me cum now.
Pressing my fingertips over the scars where you cut me, or beat me, or slapped me.
Joking myself just the way that you would. I didn't want to leave. I want to go back.
I still jog the same route, you know. Hoping you'll rape me by a tree, dump your cum in me,
make out with me, tell me what a good little victim I am.
That's all I want, sir. I want to be your good girl again. I want to make you so proud. I want
to hear your footsteps. I want to smell your cologne, and your skin, and your cock. I want
to lick your balls, and suck your dick until you've cum all that you can. I want you to drain your
heavy balls for me. I hope you haven't fucked any other little bitch since then. I'm your little
whore, and I want to be your whore again. I want you to beat me, and choke me, spit on my face,
and choke me, spit on my face, eat my pussy and asshole. I want you to rape me
until I'm your little submissive slut again. I promise I'll do good. I won't disappoint you.
I promise. Oh fuck. Don't you hear how what I am?
Don't you hear how badly I need you to rape me in front of your friends again?
I can only masturbate to the memories so much. I need new memories, sir. I promise
I'll be so good, sir. I swear on it. I'll suck your toes, kiss your feet, lick all over your
hard, perfect body. I'll be your perfect slave again, better than I was last time. I'll moan
and beg for you. I'll keep your cock absolutely empty. I just want to cum for you. Please.
God, I hope you're masturbating to me wherever you are.
I know you've got videos of us. Recorded scenes of you raping me.
I bet you're sitting down, stroking your perfect fat cock while you watch us.
While you watch your perfect little girl. God, I want to cum so badly.
I want you to cum with me. Please, just do it. I'm gonna cum so hard that you'll be
like, I'm gonna cum so hard thinking of you coating my little whore face in your cum while
your friends watch. I'm gonna make you so proud. Please, sir. Oh, fuck. Please, sir. Please.
Please cum for me, please.
Please, sir.
I'm so frustrated.
I just want you to own me again. To slap me. Fuck me. Choke me. Own me. Please,
kidnap me again. You know I'll struggle like a good girl. I can take it. I promise.
I guess this is another unsuccessful attempt. God, what's wrong with me?
Oh, it must be time for that run, I suppose.
