Dear Diary:

Hello! It is such a pleasure to meet you. Your predecessor has served me loyally and well these past few years. There's a lot to catch up on, so I just wanted to inform you of what my old friend already knows.

But first, Diary, let me introduce myself. I, Rarity, am a unicorn, a business success, incredibly beautiful and trim for my age, and I have the ear of some of the most wonderful minds in Equestria. By any yardstick, my life thus far can be considered to be successful. But - to be honest - these traditional measurements of success pale in comparison. I have the fortune of having five of the best lovers anyone in the history of the world has had the pleasure of knowing. I'll get to the rest of my life in the entries to come, but I think it's most important for us to start with them. Those dear friends whom have been my comrades in arms for the better part of my adult life have all become my lovers. This fulfills many of the dreams of my fillyhood - of sharing a libertine relationship with many lovers at once, while becoming great for my art. In many ways, I was wrong, both in business and in love; but even when unpleasant, the reality of all these friendships has shown itself to so much more wonderful than my juvenile dreams.

I think I should first start with Rainbow Dash. Although she was not my first lover among my friends - Twilight Sparkle, my beloved mistress, always will have that honor - she was the one whose courtship felt most... traditional. Just us going out on dates, whether spending times at films and dinners after, or lazy afternoons spent side by side, talking about nothing at all. And I learned how refreshing an afternoon nap for two could be. It was the stuff of cheap tween romance novels, but after a few weeks together, I came to realize why those stories sell: because they are good and wholesome and make the heart glow.

Yet, when it came to going further than cuddling - well, she was adamant. She would ignore the question, or just give me a sheepish grin and a shrug, or - when I pressed hard enough - demand I stop talking altogether. It seemed to me that she would never grace my questions with a response; so after a while, took her cool responses to mean she was uninterested in me physically. But one night, when we had taken a picnic for two and the sun was setting over the lake - I felt her lips against my neck, and her hoof tracing down my side, those slender hips finally pressed up to mine. She had a question on her lips, and I spent the better part of the night answering her.

That night, I learned the secret to her sexuality.

Although Rainbow Dash is proud, true, when it comes to physical intimacy, she is very withdrawn. I believe this comes part from how she was raised; and part from how her 'cool' demeanor doesn't mesh with 'mushy' things like sex and romance. She doesn't even like talking about such topics, especially in public; if she is surrounded by others, or if there's even someone she's not ready to be with in earshot, she'll defer the question. This terseness lasts until the moment she feels the moment is private. And then, she can go to withdrawn filly to passionately shoving me down to the ground in ten seconds flat.

Oh, she would hate to hear that phrase on my lips! And if I thought it would be effective, I would use it - but unfortunately for me, her anger comes through as a desire to hit things, rather than a desire to take revenge. I would do many things if that lithe mare would be my Mistress for an evening - her love of power in sex is quite unlike Twilight's, and while I do love a good tease, there are times a mare just needs to rut until it feels like something's breaking. (And, by the princesses, is she adorable when she's out of breath.) Finally - unlike Twilight, that mare likes to cuddle afterwards. Twilight does have her kisses, but when I spend the night with Rainbow Dash, I am liable to be grabbed around the waist and dragged up to a low-hanging cloud, there to be held and cuddled until morning. (I was fearful the first few times, I admit; but I truly underestimated how grabby that mare can be, and how wonderful it feels to have wings locked around you, with nothing but the sound of the wind and the gentle coos of a joyful pegasus.)

And I got to show her how a quick 'afternoon nap' can be spiritually refreshing, as well.

While I am thinking on the subject of powerful rutting... let's go to another of my big surprises, Applejack. When I imagined life with her, I thought of an 'idyllic' romance, like a painting from a bygone era - the common rustic earth pony folk that us unicorns fantasize about. But Applejack is no dove, cooing plaintively until her love returns. No. I learned that my farmer friend has a 'work hard play hard' mentality.

And she loves to work me hard.

Granted, it was hard for me to work with her, at first. I had to actually train just to keep up with her - my first attempt to prove I could do anything an earth pony mare could was, to put it bluntly, a disaster. And when she told me to take a break, because a pony like me could never match her in a dozen years - well, something broke in me. It didn't matter if she meant a city girl, or a unicorn, or a fashionista - I was going to prove I could.

It took some time to get my body strong enough to do even the simplest of tasks around her farm - Rainbow Dash was actually able to help me, by putting me in touch with a few unicorns and pegasi around town who had decided to prove they could be as strong as any earth pony. And so, I worked, challenging myself not for the sake of beauty or strength or even Applejack's heart, but in order to satisfy my own pride. She seemed to respect me a lot more after that -

• and then, when she next came over to Carousel Boutique, she found my lips and met them.

It turns out she had meant that phrase as a joke, and didn't exactly expect me to do even the first push-up. But... well, she did not know my pride well, then, does she? She said something about finding a mare who sticks to her word "mighty attractive" (oh I still love to hear those words coming from her lips) - and, right on my own bed, she showed me how country girls take care of business. There's still a gouge in my headboard from where my horn got pushed into it.

We still have weekly 'get-togethers', if not biweekly - if we ever plan so far as that. I am now always welcome at the Apple Family farmhouse - although they tend to use my attention to detail for things that my telekinetic talents are better suited for, such as repairs of fine or complex items, even old Granny Smith has come to realize that I can buck with the best of them. I do have to be on my guard - because Applejack can't always make it to her bedroom or mine before the desire gets too strong. Sometimes, we just go at it under the shade of a particularly distant tree, or on the banks of the old stream, or even in the barn when it's empty at midday. (I found it ominous that the new barn she designed includes a loft with a door that can be locked from the inside.)

And then, there's her love of flirting. She just adores seeing me hot under the collar - dirty suggestions in furtive whispers, suggestive glances across crowded rooms, a tail briefly hiked in just the right way as she's walking in front of me. These flirts sometimes lead into spontaneous making out - and, well, she doesn't particularly care how far it takes for us to get to a room, if even we make it there. We've had a few close calls - in the Palace of the Crystal Empire, most notably - but, well, those just seem to stoke her fire further. I wonder if she'd be an exhibitionist were it not for the risk of the old matriarch of the Apple family finding out?

Then again, when it comes to mares having a healthier libido than I imagined, that leads me to the next friend we made a lover - Fluttershy. And I specifically say 'we', because this was a team effort between Twilight Sparkle and myself. We were talking about our friends as lovers (as you do), and when Fluttershy came up, it turned out we both had nearly identical fantasies about her - cuddling quietly next to each other, spending afternoons together, occasionally sharing kisses or love bites. And... well, we both giggled like schoolfillies as we imagined how red the two of us working together could make her.

So we did. We spent a couple days seducing her, testing the waters - and, well, once we overcame her initial suspicion and timidness, she seemed to react quite well - to both of us. And so one day, when we were invited to her house when we settled in for tea - well, Twilight and I purposefully sat close, our flanks barely touching. Although she did blush, it was not of shock... there was a joy in her eyes, a knowing smile.

And then she propositioned us.

We had not been half so clever as we imagined in seducing her; she had seen us looking into each other's eyes, giving permission as the other flirted. But it was clear to her we weren't being mean; instead, we were just unsure, and being careful. How do you invite someone into a relationship when one already exists? She had seen that day coming weeks in advance - and met us in it happily.

Making love with Fluttershy makes one feel... inadequate. Not in the sense that you cannot perform to satisfaction; no, I led her to satisfaction many times. No, it's rather like the feeling a student gets when with a master. She had so many wonderful ideas - not fetishes, but little things we could be doing - little things to do with our hooves, or uses our lips could be put to, or even ways to just cuddle after. And those eyes... if you don't do it, she doesn't get mad. She becomes disappointed, which is far worse.

Twilight and I have taken to calling Fluttershy 'our mistress'. Not because she shares this special fetish Twilight and I have, but because she just naturally takes command - the little things in her demeanor. Of course, she's trained and practiced; she can look at a pony and see a dozen things that they don't know about themselves - as a lover, this gives her the talent to see just when to rile someone up, or give them space. So when she watches us going at each other - or us, going at her - she can just join in with just the right action for any moment.

I'll say this... I thought that having multiple orgasms in a night was an old mare's tale, something nags teased each other with when the foals were out of earshot - and, if they were possible, were intended for some mare luckier than I. Fluttershy, upon learning that, found it as horrible as hearing we were deathly ill. And... well, she trained us, as well as she could, about perception and cues, about how the body works and how to work a body. Granted, I don't think I'll ever be able to wrestle a bear's sore back, but I know that I can make all of my friends scream joyfully.

Except... except, always, my Pinkie Pie. Diary, I am going to reveal something terrible to you - something not even your predecessor has learned about. And thus, I am glad you have a key and combination.

Well... it starts about Pinkie Pie learning about the things that ... well... the rest of us were up to. Of course, she hates to be left out - I swear, for all her virtue, I'm certain that she could have been the Element of Codependence. But - well, as I told your predecessor, I have had fantasies about her as strong as all my other friends. And so, we began courting.

Perhaps courting is... too strong a word. "Going out," yes, that will do.

It was pleasant for a while, but frustrating in the extreme. All my flirting went over her head - she never seemed to catch on my innuendoes. But, she was physical - hugging, smooching, nuzzling and cuddling almost from the moment I implied we could become something special. Especially when she began nibbling my ears and neck - oh, especially when she showed me how a light little zerbert along the neck could feel so wonderful. Naturally, I assumed that she was fine with it, and began to press further. Of course, the gate to Tartarus swings wide on an assumption.

One evening, we were cuddling in my bed. (We had come into that habit, because although she can be reckless, she understood that living with her adoptive parents, her adoptive little siblings, and right above her workplace provides plenty of distractions. So the nights we organized together were at my place.) The evening had gone on pleasantly enough, and she was being as physically affectionate as always, so I led my hooves lower - and she cooed. I took this as a sign.

She went in to my neck again with those wonderful little zerberts, and eager to return those wonderful feelings, I rolled over and started to return - adding in some little nibbles in the mix. She moaned happily, and stroked my hair, so - well, I continued. After a while, though, she stopped moaning. Her breath was short, and her hooves were limp at her side. I thought I was just doing well, so I continued - and she climaxed, arching against my bed. Yet when I came up to her, it was not romance in her eyes, but-

Oh, why am I trying to gussy up this ugliness in florid prose and gilded metaphors? Diary, I have to come clean, so I need to say this in plain language: I raped Pinkie Pie.

But I didn't

I

She didn't even

Diary, I am sorry for our absence. Once the words hit the page, I just stared at them. Suddenly, I could no longer find words; I don't really remember the day afterwards, except that I spent the time in bed, just staring at the wall. I kept remembering moments from that night, and wishing I never could again.

It's strange, isn't it? 'Rape'. Saying it conjures up musclebound brutes or mustachioed villains, or vagabonds that steal into your room at the dead of night. We imagine rape to be done to us by those not like ourselves. Rapists are always evil barbarians, villains beyond the pale, are they not? But... in hindsight, I should have known. Pinkie Pie is a mare whose self-worth is defined by her friendships. If she has her friends, she can weather any storm; but if she feels her friendships are in danger, well... her self-esteem disappears just like that. So where I led, of course she was eager to follow.

I think the key moment I should have been aware was when I drew my hoof down her belly; I heard her gasp, and that should have been the moment that everything stopped. She had never responded to me sexually even once, but - well, I had assumed, falsely, that she would have a more private sexuality similar to Rainbow Dash. It never occurred to me that she might not be a sexual being at all.

Of course, when my lips went down, she probably would have said something or done something - were I just some stranger. But we've been friends since we were young, and that would have made the poor dear conflicted. So instead, she simply lied back, limp, and endured. For the sake of our friendship.

She excused herself soon after that - and I did not see her for a while. I don't think she ever told any of our friends, for they surely would have hated me - Rainbow Dash, in particular, would have beaten me into a pulp now that she knew I was strong enough for it. When I did see her next, she was strangely deflated - she smiled to see me, and gave me a curt greeting, but her heart was elsewhere.

I assumed, then, that that was that; she was willing to keep our friendship, but didn't want to talk about our 'terrible time'. That's what I called it, diary; a 'terrible time'. Just an evening gone wrong. I only realized how terrible what I had done to her was in the weeks after - not suddenly, but as a growing realization, which I could only wholly encompass by putting it to paper. So imagine my surprise four weeks later, when Pinkie walked up to me in the market and asked when we were going to have our next date.

She was rather more forceful in her rejections, after that - but she didn't often need to be, because I wasn't pushing her anywhere. But we started just going out as friends again - doing silly things. She came to love exploring the park or just shopping on market day, and we started dining at Le Maison Sur Le Coin. At that time, I think I came to understand Pinkie a little better.

Although I cannot bring myself to ask her, I have come to think that Pinkie Pie is, perhaps, completely asexual - she not only does not have sexual attraction toward anyone, she does not experience pleasure sexually. Oh, she does enjoy physicality, yes, and perhaps has romantic intentions - but sex is just not in her heart. It is alien to her as cupcake-making is to me.

A few months afterwards, we started to get physical again - but on her terms; necking and nuzzling, for the most part. And after perhaps half a year, we started to sleep together. And once again, Diary, I must point out that this is in the literal sense of the term - I would have a sleepover with her. We came to an agreement after that: because "sleeping with friends is so super-duper-betterer than sleeping by yourself," we came to agree that the other's bed is always open to each other, in the strictly snuggly sense.

At least once a week, Pinkie Pie comes over with fresh donuts and a towel; and every so often, I come over and help her babysit her darlings. (Being around when Pumpkin Cake had one of her surges surely saved Pinkie some stress.) And it's in those moments that I feel the least worry coming from her - she's happy and effervescent, yes, but at least some of that is a mask; and when I'm with her, she feels safe letting that mask come down.

I think... I think that's when I stopped worrying about it, my latest panic attack besides. I started to wake up to her. Just feeling her against my back, or curled up in a fetal position in my hooves. She's always such a bastion of strength for us - and there she is, letting me be strong for her. She's never spoken of our first and only time together, and I'll never ask. But I think she's forgiven me, and that's enough for my heart. We will never again make love; but if snuggling is sex for the soul, then I can call Pinkie Pie one of the lovers I am most grateful to have.

Finally, to finish up this inventory of my friendships, I cannot neglect the only friendship to have become a formal relationship: my beloved Mistress, Twilight Sparkle.

We have gone further and further in the times since; she has learned to use metaphor more freely. She no longer requires such formal languages - I have spent happy evenings cuddled up as her pet, or teasing her as her elegant professional whore, or begging for her rod as her air-headed slut. To say nothing of the depravity we get up to once she decides to call me her 'show pony' - to the point where she can almost make me lose it by mouthing those two words alone.

A sorceress of her talent has her own special desires, too - and she's only recently begun truly letting herself go in that regard. For example, one day she acquired a book about the joys of 'pegging', and we had a pleasant little evening just reading bits from it, and acting out some of our favorite parts. When she declared she wanted to try it out, I had the ignorance to ask her where she was going to find a stallion willing to let her experiment. When I saw her horn light up, and the expanding magic field covering my face and flank and my rapidly rearranging nethers, only two words came to my lips: "Silly question."

Once she gained her wings, and started practicing her power - well, she came to grow more frustrated, and began to use me to take her frustrations out. Whether that comes by binding me up and slapping a crop across me as she recites the frustrations - or using her authority to make the demands she once made as my mistress. There is nothing quite like hearing her say "Your princess demands it, bitch." Especially because, by that point, she's usually on full display in the privacy of her royal quarters or having shoved me down to the floor of her royal traincar... but I digress. My Mistress is forgiving... but when she is my Princess, only a safeword or unconsciousness will stop me from working her frustrations.

There are two things that she has desired, though, that we have not done.

The first was, to be honest, even more grotesque than I could have thought. You see, diary, Twilight Sparkle loves to be the brightest mind in the room - even if she has to do it the hard way. She finds the thought of dampening another's mind down to be frightfully erotic - and, she has admitted, she wants so very much to take my mind away, in bits and pieces, spells dampening my mind bit by bit, losing skills like speech and etiquette and the memory of my name, becoming less civilized and more feral with every spell, until I am little more than her sex-frenzied love slave. To be honest, this side of her disturbed me - it is the only thing I have outright refused of her. (I understand that Fluttershy shared this kink - and I have heard from Fluttershy that Twilight was the first mare who was powerful enough to indulge her in it. I hope them many happy evenings, of which I hear nothing about.)

The second... well, tonight is going to be our first night. I am levitating the symbol of my submission in front of me as we speak. She admitted, privately and with much embarrassment, that she has always been interested in... well, imposing herself on a sleeping mare. However, that raises a problem, since she desires forms signed in triplicate. (Even now I occasionally have to sign one of her waivers.) Obviously, she cannot seek consent while I am asleep - that would wake me up! So, I have to previously agree to it - and in my grasp before me, is that sign of consent.

It's a platinum torc, elegant in its simplicity, each end of which ends in a stylized star-and-diamond design - our marks reinterpreted creatively. The true beauty, however, lies underneath. Inside the torc is an elegant inscription in Old High Unicorn. It looks beautiful, but the text was explained to me once in another example of her incredible powers of semantic seduction. To those few who know the language, it reads:

"Princess Twilight Sparkle's bitch submits."

As I slip it on, it occurs to me - with this gift, she has officially put a ring on me! Granted, it is more of a yoke than a wedding ring, but I feel it weighing against my neck - and it feels right. Diary... I am really going to go through with this. She has indulged my fantasies; now I am going to indulge one of hers. Anything she wants to do to me... well, tonight, I am at her disposal. No going back.

I think I shall sleep on this; even with the missteps and mistakes, I have been fortunate to make lovers out of my friends, and my friends have made lovers out of each other. It's a complicated circle, to be sure; but as I feel this torc weighing on me, and the thoughts of those five mares who could be sharing my bed with me run through my head, I know I would have it no other way.

It's a short life, Diary, but a blessed one. I can only hope I fill your pages with as much wonder and joy as your predecessor knew.

Yours truly,

R.

Author's Note

As concerns the scene that made this story suddenly merit a 'dark' tag... it definitely wasn't in the plans when I plotted this story out. But I wanted to do an epilogue chapter, and I was kind of tired of the "slutty kinky pinkie" depiction, so I decided to do the exact opposite. And... well... the story wrote itself.

I'm not quite satisfied with it. I think I could have done it much better, and I'll probably rewrite it a dozen times in the weeks to come, much like I'm still editing DJ COL-7 and Lie of Omission. But I try to do something new with every story, and... well, this sort of scene definitely isn't something I've done before..