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Home » good girl

good girl

The Lesson

September 26, 2020 By eve 2 Comments

dark haired submissive chained to bed
via stock.adobe.com

Dear Diary,

A black shag rug, Heavy velvet drapes, a patterned chaise, and seedy lighting. The key elements to a 1950s homage to boudoir. The pouted red lips on a powder-white face, high heels, and a bathing suit. The classic pin-up girl. Whether she was a blond brunette or redhead, on a calendar or pinned in a locker.  The sexy woman in a black and white movie. She is the epitome of sexy for me. In another time, I was that object of desire, frozen in time and the woman of men’s fantasies.  I know I’m silly, but I like the realness of pin-up girls. I could be a pin-up girl. I’d never know who had seen me or put my picture in their locker. The internet-famous thing scares me. The judgmental and anonymous comments didn’t offend me; they are pathetic attempts to not be invisible. No one puts a picture in their locker of women they judge. I also like the idea of being admired from afar.

    C 


Sir,

There is something weird about writing a journal in longhand, then sending you a picture of it—anyway, crazy busy with the installation for the rest of the week.  I will have limited ability to communicate. 

As requested, I have attached the pictures of my closet and bedroom rearranged to your liking.  I am walking to work in order to ensure I am getting exercise every day. I am wearing what I like to work not things that make me invisible, and yes, I love the feeling of no one knowing that I am wearing lace and satin under jeans and shirts. I touch my bracelet a thousand times a day to remind me of you and how much I love being yours.

I have this weekend marked as you arrive Friday morning.  You have your key. I will be home by seven. I can’t wait to see you. 

       C 


Sweet Caroline,

You have done well. You’re an amazing woman. Thank you for the pictures of your tasks. I rather liked the black lace with the rosebuds under your company polo shirt. Imagine my hand cupping your breasts while you present your latest plan.

This Friday, leave the jeans home, wear your tight pencil skirt- nothing underneath. I want a picture of you at work in your skirt and heels, lace bra and white blouse.  Your nipples display perfectly, your tits look amazing in your lace bra. Wear your hair in a loose braid, lips red. The small ass plug just to top it off.  See you soon.

Sir


 The anticipation of seeing Sir made Friday drag. I used lunchtime to get my paws and claws painted Brazilian red.  In the late afternoon, a quick flurry of text messages inspired the most effective stakeholders meeting in meetings’ history. I manage to get out of the office and home before six.

The surprise of the living room transformation stopped me cold. Sheets of burgundy velvet over the windows made the room darker with a rosy glow. A large umbrella light, like photographers’ use, was across the room. The couch was missing, and a square leather-topped table had impact toys and red ropes.  My chaise was positioned in the middle of the room. It had a shaggy black throw.  I giggled in delight and actually jumped up and down with joy. It was perfect. We were going to play photoshoot. With arms crossed, Sir watched me from the dining-room door. His form-fitting black t-shirt was my favorite thing. I bounded across the room to greet him, “thank you, what a great surprise.”

“I’m glad you like it.” He kissed my forehead. What are your safe words?

“Penguin and lawyer.”

He nodded as he spoke, “you wanted a pin-up girl experience,” He laced his finger through my hair and brought me close, “you will have that; are you prepared to be pushed tonight?

My voice was just above a whisper, “Ok,” as my heart began to pound. The fear of the unknown won over the desire to be lost in time with him. “No feet or breath play?”

“Understood,” he smiled. “your clothes are in on the bed.” A noise came from the kitchen. 

“What the hell? Who’s here?” I stepped back from him. This was something new. Why was there someone here? As I walked around him, he followed me into the kitchen, a man was looking out the kitchen window.

“Bill, this is a beautiful spot, what a great backyard. There is enough room for a basketball key and hoop.”  Hearing Sir’s name struck me. 

“This is your photographer, Pete. Do you still want this?”

I dropped my head and said, “Yes, Sir. Thank you for this. May I go get ready?”

“Good girl, off you go.” He slapped my ass as I walked by.

I was shaking by the time I closed the bedroom door. There was another man in my house. I was vibrating, my throat tightened, and I could taste bile. I didn’t even look at the bed. I went to the bathroom and watched myself in the mirror.

“Ok, girl, calm the fuck down. Safe, sane, and consensual. This is your fantasy. If you don’t want it- say so.” I stared at myself and did some sort of sexual fantasy inventory of the last six months with Sir. I ran the water and brushed my teeth, rinsing the taste from my mouth. “Ok, girl, get present.” Heavy eyeliner with a small wing and mascara made my eyes look bigger, a lip pencil, powder, and deep red lipstick finished the look. I powdered my cheeks and chin. I learned powder on the forehead, just got make-up in my eyes when I began to sweat.  Nancy Sinatra would be proud.  I brushed out my hair and put it in a twist. I secured my hair with bobby pins, and I made my way to the bed. He had been through my drawers, and there was a gift box: the stockings and full garters, a pair of high waisted girdle panties, and a bra. Compared to modern lace lingerie, this stuff was granny wear, but I loved how securely it held me. I felt safe and sexy in it.  The gift box was small. Inside was a small pocketknife, like the ones we got in souvenir shops when we were kids. And a note.


Sweet one, 

 I want to take you there. No cutting of you. Just cutting away the bull.  If you trust me, bring the knife with you.  If you just want your picture take, don’t.  

  Sir 


I opened the knife and ran the backside of the blade along my forearm.  The blade was shiny; I turned it over and dragged it along my arm. I was curious enough to close the blade and bring it with me.

In front of the chaise, Pete had a small table that could adjust the height. I remember seeing one in the Sears photo studio when I was a kid. Black velvet draped over it. He had me stand behind it. He spun it until it was just under my boobs. He locked the table’s wheels and positioned me with my elbows squeezing my tits together. The camera flash filled the room repeatedly as he talked to me. I didn’t realize how wound up I was until I released the knife onto the posing platform in front of me. Pete never broke stride. He just talked me through poses. 

Sir stood behind him, just watching. After a dozen different poses, Sir stepped into the light. He was in his discipline dress, a pair of well-worn jeans.  He stood between me and the camera, kissing me fully on the mouth. A warmth filled me, and I purred as my body responded to his touch. I froze when the heavy flash went off. He pulled me in and spoke softly. “Are we good? You are amazing, I am with you.” The camera flashes continued.

“You’re enjoying yourself?” he asked. 

He moved the posing table, and I stood in the middle of the room, wanting permission to touch him. Permission to drop to my knees and take him in my mouth. Permission to drag my nails over his chest. I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth and nipped at it, waiting. I hated waiting.

I nodded. I was holding my breath, my brain was racing, but not in a bad way.  He took the knife, opened it, and laid it on the leather table. Sir roped and restrained me; it calmed me. Sir was not gentle. I watched as he pulled and adjusted the red ropes. Pete posed me, adjusted the lights, and froze moments. There was music somewhere. On the floor, kneeling with my ankles bound and knees lassoed to my arms tied at 90 degrees, I looked up at Sir. He stood silently – I smiled. He unzipped his jeans. His fully erect cock laid against the zipper.

I opened my mouth.  His glorious smooth cock, warm and tasty. I loved the feel of him in my mouth. He pushed his cock to the back of my throat, I gagged as he held my head, and I used my mouth and tongue, saliva ran down my chin, my eyes watered. He called me his whore, and my enthusiasm to suck increased. The pace of sucking his cock made my pussy ache. I fought the restraint wanting to touch him. I gagged and sucked, trying to keep eye contact- he held my head and pumped his cock until is cum ran down the back of my throat. He was sweet in my mouth. As he separated from me, I became self-aware.  I watched as he left me alone in the middle of the room, my face was wet and uncomfortable. He zipped up his jeans and talked to Pete about what a used up little slut I was. They talk about me like I wasn’t there. I couldn’t move. My head was spinning. I tried to free myself my wiggling, the result was me falling over.

He was at my side, “you are a stupid slut.” He righted me. “Pete, let’s move her up here.” You will be freed when I decide I am done with you and not before.” They each took a side and put me on the chaise. The camera was there and intrusive. I couldn’t contain my frustration. I was crying. Sir stroked my skin and kissed my tears. “Where are we? do you still want this?”

“Yes,” I said without reservation.

He stood behind me, his head close to mine, the knife slide across my skin, under my bra.  He cut the straps and released my breast. He pinched and slapped my breast, sucking and kissing my neck -a mix of humiliation and sexual hunger intensified the experience. He moved methodically, cutting away my clothes. I was exposed. I could feel the heat rise. My entire body was blushing, my façade was cut away. The lingerie hung off me like peeling skin. I was raw. I started to sob, trying to hold back the tears, my body heaved as my breath caught in my chest.” Sir cut the rope that held my thighs, opened my knees, and fingered my sex. My heaves became moans, and he flicked my clit and finger fucked me. While the ropes were pulled away, I opened myself to him.  The pace was frantic. He stripped away the remnants of my lingerie, he tore at the stockings as he flipped me over. His hand across my ass sent shock waves rolled through me and intensified my arousal. A shift to the belt made my clit swell and thumb in excitement. I counted as he had trained me to do. He smoothed and checked my skin after every five strokes.  I ached for his touch. My cries and whimpers were met with a crop to the thighs. I was so aroused my ass popped in anticipation of being brought to climax. I rode his fingers and gripped them with my cunt. 

“May I cum, sir?” He stood and stepped back. I grew cold as the room came back into focus. Pete stood with his camera.  

I rolled over and sat up in confusion. “Oh my god,” I balled up and dropped my head to make myself into a ball and hide from the camera. I had forgotten about Pete. 

A flash filled the room. He was still taking pictures. I raised my head; the tears flowed as I saw what reminded me of my pride lay in shreds on the floor. I was tired, and my body felt heavy. I bent over and picked up a piece of my bra. I wiped my face with it and stood under the harsh light of Pete’s lens. I was utterly exposed. I was frozen. My brain wouldn’t work. The flashed continued. I rose my hands and shielded my face the onslaught of flashes. 

“I’m done,” I said. I was fully back into my body, and my brain was starting to function again.

Sir was at my side, the lights were off; the room was dark, except for a candle, the music was still playing.

“I want you.”

I hesitated and tipped my head towards Pete to suggest, “but he’s here?” He said nothing, but held my gaze. I opened my legs and welcomed him in. 


Sir,

I am still processing this weekend. We had talked about pushing my boundaries. In the moment, letting my body be present erased the raw and exposed sensation, I felt as you cut away my bra and the flash froze the moment in time. Your hands around my neck, your teeth grazing my shoulder as he recorded us, was exhilarating. I hope I expressed my gratitude for constantly keeping me with the sensation and not in my head.    

Scared and struggling with shame. The sexual tension and my body’s response to being exposed and vulnerable scrambled my brain a little. 

Yours.

Tagged With: bdsm, bdsm play, fetish, good girl, kink, power exchange, sex, submissive

Erotica: Walk Towards The Ocean

August 23, 2020 By eve 2 Comments

good girl on her knees, submissive
via stock.adobe.com

Walk towards the ocean, down the old cow path there is a swimming hole and waterfall was the last line of the instructions he had sent. I reread the message and stuck the phone into my bag. The logistics of this type of outing was challenging. Hike in a bathing suit or change there? My compromise, no panties, and friction rub on my inner thighs. There are no there cars around. Daddy said he’d meet me there, he is hiking from the next cove over. I checked my small knapsack, clipped the car keys inside, and set off down the path. 

It was late afternoon and the sun was at my back. I quickly realized the entire walk was going to be downhill, which meant the walk back would be all uphill. The thought of a mile uphill made me tired. Daddy was a nature nut and I am nuts about Daddy. I’m walking by myself on a Tuesday afternoon, bumbling towards an unknown place because it will make daddy happy. I don’t like this, I don’t feel graceful or elegant. I don’t want to do this, but daddy says I have to expand my horizons. There is freedom in being daddy’s girl. I am released from the responsibilities and daily grind when I am not at work. I get to feel young, lay down my lab coat and reports. As Daddy says he knows best and I should do as I am told.

The sun at my back made the view spectacular. It’s like I am walking into a giant painting. The sound of the waves hitting the rocks is carried up across the bluff. I sit on a large rock and retrieve my water bottle, it is a perfect day for this. It’s not long before I hear rushing water. In my excitement to see Daddy, I skip towards the sound, promptly followed by tripping and tumbling. Landing on my back tits up and breathless. The knapsack stopped me from really hurting myself, I’m just embarrassed. I lie there looking up at the clouds for several minutes frozen in my self-consciousness. No one is laughing there isn’t anyone here. I am filled with a sense of relief. Like the bumbling fool in a B movie I right myself. I look down to see that my boobs are almost out of my shirt, the knapsack strap had pulled up underneath. I am rather disheveled. I drop the bag and reposition my clothing. I thought Daddy would be here by now.  It wasn’t as far as I was expecting, trees and an incline to the left shelter the swimming hole.

Sitting cross-legged at the edge of the swimming hole I dip my hands and arms in. The water is cool. It’s a good time to change. I look up and down the trail before I pull my swim bottom out. I make sure the ground is dry, take off my shoes, and leave on my socks. They are really cute. There are hiking mice across the toes. I try the trick of putting one leg in the bottoms and feeding it through my shorts to put on the other leg. Growls of exasperation and anger as well as a reprimand to the clothes for being uncooperative fills the air. My face feels flushed and in my frustration, my clothes now feel like they are strangling me. I am not having fun and I want to go home or even back to work. This is so stupid. 

I dig out my phone from its compartment and text Daddy. This is not fun. It is pretty, but thereis nowhere to get changed and I am by myself. Where are ou?

His reply is a picture of trees. No words.

“Agghhhh” I squeal in frustration. I may have even stomped my feet, a little. I pull on the swimsuit bottom that is still around one thigh and almost fall over. I plop on the ground and continue to text. AS soon as I get myself organized I am going home.

“Oh, baby don’t be like that” He is across from me on the rise.

“What are you doing over there?” I spit, mortified at the thought that he has been spying on me.

He tossed his knapsack over and walks across the rocks at the far end of the swimming hole. The man is a freaking gazelle. He is beside me and kisses me on the forehead. I feel silly and found out. I want to go.

“Oh, Babygirl, I’m here.” He speaks melodically. He wraps his arms around me drawing me in. I want to run and hide. He releases me as my body relaxes and I stopped sobbing. I was sobbing, what the fuck is wrong with me.

“Why did you make me come here alone?” He doesn’t respond. 

“I’m here now.” He kisses me softly and smoothes my hair. He holds me by the shoulders. I know a lesson is coming. A finger raises my chin until I look him in the eyes.

“What?” I spit at him. “This is not my idea of fun, tripping my way to the ocean at the end of the earth, for what?” I flick myself away from him and plop down to remove the swimming bottoms that I still have around one leg. I exhale hard and center myself focusing on the task of leaving. He kneels next to me and takes the bottoms off my leg.

“Let me help you.” As he is removing the menacing bathing bottoms he hooks a finger into my sock and takes that too.

“I don’t need your help” I protest, I’m angry at him, he has made me look like a fool.

“You may not want my help, but I want to help. You are frustrated, why?”

I stick out my hand, palm up, “my sock please” my tone is severe.

“Now, are you being reasonable? You had a rough time, but now you are being a brat, unnecessarily stubborn. What will you accomplish storming off in a huff, how far up that path will you get before you will regret this behaviour.” I know he’s right. lower my hand and head in shame.

A whispered, “I’m sorry,” is all I can manage.

“Enough of that, stand up for me,” I comply. He undoes the button of my shorts. Instinctively, I clap my hand over his. He removes it and continues, I draw my hips away challenging his action wordlessly.

“I’m not going to stop. You are free to express your feelings, you are beautiful and have nothing to hide.”

“People might see.” My eyes bulge and my voice squeaks. “I have a professional reputation to protect.”

“Ok, who do you see that is going to report you for not wearing your lab coat? Anyone?” He looks around, up the trail and down. “Who did you run past on your way here? How many cars were at the top of the clearing. I’m not saying that there is no chance of anyone coming near us, but really we are 30 minutes from the city, with cell reception in this amazing spot. Breathe baby.”

He opens the zipper and kisses me gently. “You keep looking up and down the trail, I’m going to see what I can find here.” I did as he suggested, I let him play away as I surveyed the area. I was almost oblivious to what he was doing. Both of his hands slide around my hips and worked my shorts down to my hips. His mouth kisses the small mound of hair, groomed to his preference. I was unable to process the attention and affection. The sense of having my ass exposed makes my face redden. I am mortified. I’d almost rather just be pantsless, the waistband resting at the edge of my bottom brings back a knot in my stomach and throat from childhood. I don’t like it.

“Daddy, pencil.” Tears roll down my face. “I don’t like this.”

He stops immediately. He does not let me pull my pants up, rather he helps me sit on his lap.

“Can you tell me what happened?” His voice is engaging and genuine.

“I don’t like having my pants pulled down.” He is wiping my tears as I speak. 

“I pull your pants down all the time, It’s not that, try again.”

“I don’t know, someone might see my bum.”

He smiles, “I have my mouth on your pussy and you are afraid someone might get mooned by you? Take a second and think about that.” As he waits for my response his hands move over me, fingering the hair at the back of my neck, stroking and listening intently, slowly awakening my desire for him.

“It’s embarrassing.” Is all I offer. 

“Ok, Babygirl, you are holding onto something that you don’t need to. Be here! now, how does it feel to be here with me? How does this place feel?”

“Well you’re wonderful and it is pretty” Why can’t I think? I try to maneuver the t-shirt over my ass.

“Ok, over my knee. Get that ass in the air. Count for me.” He rubs my ass until I respond to his touch. The first slap is firm and I choke down my protest.

“Count!,” he says and delivers the next one more firmly. A series follows, a hard dozen, I count. My ass stings and my tits start to ache.

“Are you still embarrassed?” he asks without anger.

I look at him and my face is crimson with mortification. As we make eye contact his hand slips between my thigs and he slides his fingers through the dampness to my clitoris. He continues to speak as he explores my swollen clit. I gasp in pleasure.

“We are all alone in the world, nothing else matters. Not an open field, not some long worn childhood humiliation, this is all we have right now.” He gestures towards the waterfall as he slides a finger into my vagina. “Next to a fabulous waterfall and swimming hole.” His thumb presses on my anus and I can no longer hold eye contact. He pulled back just enough to remind me I have to keep looking at him. He is watching me. “Are you ok?”

“Is your embarrassment helping you enjoy yourself?” he asks as he thrust two fingers in my cunt. I curl around his leg and open mine to allow him full access. Once my vaginal muscles start to contract he puts a hand under my tummy, a sign I am to let him up. Yoga helps with this. I move to downward dog with his hand occupying my holes. The balls of my feet press into the ground and I am back in my body. I wish he had taken off the other sock.

“Can we find somewhere more private?” I ask.

He withdraws his hand and slaps me hard. “Get the brush from my bag.” I drop my ass and retrieve the brush from his bag. My shorts are gone, my single sock is muddy and a little damp. I kneel in front of him holding the brush up. 

“Did you agree to meet me here?”

“Yes, I’m sorry”

“Did you agree to play on my terms?”

“Yes, but…”

“No, there is no argument here. You called pencil, we talked through it and started again. You didn’t call carnival, so why are you asking questions that stop play?”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not sorry, you don’t like it when I call you on your shit. Now, listen to daddy, I will never harm you. I will push you. I am going to fuck you hard, right here and you will not die of embarrassment. Get that top off and in a position like a good girl.”

I stood in front of him with my hand interlaced behind my head. I swear even my knees were blushing at this point. He slapped my tit and sucked the erect nipple gently. I stood looking at the ocean with my back to the world.

His hand holding the hairbrush as he nipped and licked my tits and spoke; “I am going to spank you before I make you cum. Daddy knows what is best for you. Now, on all fours face the other way, head up, if you drop your head I will spank you again.”

I waited on all fours looking ahead terrified someone would come down the path. This time the impact of the hairbrush was no offset b the building of an orgasm. It was punishment and I humiliated by my behavior. When he stopped and rubbed his hand over my ass it felt hot. He kissed it and slide his fingers deep inside of me. I watched the path almost unaware of his touch, I was so afraid of someone finding us.

His cock slide in and my body reacted. The path towards me seemed to fade away as I closed my eyes and the light of the setting sun created kaleidoscopes on my eyelids, the warmth of the sun-dried my salty tears as waves of ecstasy moved through me. His hands-on my hips slapped my ass and intensified my experience, I craved the discomfort that came with each slap. It was like the chocolate sauce on a cheesecake. The smack on my ass intensified the experience. His pace had to be intentional, When he slowed my mind started to look to the path, but as he worked to edge me deeper towards the orgasm my senses were drawn to the pleasure he brought me. The sun was hanging lower in the sky now. My body was electric with sensation. He withdrew as he wrapped himself around me and squeezed my nipples.

“Baby girl is going to ride Daddy.” He spread out the blanket I had taken from his bag. He lays on his back, his condom wrapped cock completely erect and waiting. I positioned myself between his legs, slide onto my stomach where I could suck on his balls. I licked and sucked until a moan escaped him. I stopped and immediately positioned myself above him. Just the tip while I reached around and held his balls. I then began to move up and down, stopping to rotate my hips. I could feel him come to full size and fill me I leaned forward, placing my hands on his shoulders I rode and bucked letting untold noises of pleasure erupt in the air. The orgasm was intense and I didn’t want it to stop, I slowed my movement so his cock was stroking my G spot, whimpers seeped from me as I rode the wave of pleasure.

My eyes were squeezed so tight from the pleasure I was seeing stars. I chased the frenzy to the crescendo where his hips press him up, and I ground until he came. I wrapped myself around him and thanked him. Eventually, I rolled off and he came to his side facing me. We laid there for several minutes before I fell back into my body and felt the earth under me.

 He kissed my forehead, “Are you still embarrassed?

“Not really.” I smiled. 

“Good. Let’s head back.”

“Why? I said I WAS NOT embarrassed.”

“Well, I can have you walk back naked if you want?” he said as he pulled his jeans on and did up his belt. “It will be dark soon. No one will see you, but it might be cold.”

I threw my shoe at him. “Very funny.” I slide into my shorts and t-shirt, took off my other sock, and put on my shoe. He passed me my other shoe. 

Let’s go, maybe next time we can get into the water. He carried both of our packs as we walked back to the car. The first stars were just visible as we arrived. Still no one in sight.

Tagged With: bdsm, fetish, good girl, kink, power exchange, submissivbe

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