Come Be My Good Girl

As we both collapsed on the bed, my clit a complete and utter mess, I focused on remembering how to breathe. Mia laughed, playfully poking my nose as she watched me sink into the mattress, exhausted. I smiled back at her, snuggling against her chest while she played with my wig, sighing happily and content.

Kissing my forehead, Mia listened to my murmuring as she held me. "Well, we're definitely doing that again."

I couldn't have agreed more.

Six months went by in a flash. Six months of messages, of commands to come over to her place to be controlled, to be played with, to be her toy. Mia kept finding different ideas and outfits to try, and happily went along with all of it. Through humiliating situations, hilarious moments, and mind-numbing orgasms, I trusted Mia with every part of me. Even if we went weeks or a month of not seeing each other, all it took was one simple message.

Come be my good girl!!!

Walking out of work, unable to contain the smile spreading across my face, I stared down at my phone in excitement. Sometimes a list of instructions followed, or a teasing picture of what I was in store for. Whatever it was, I knew my answer would be yes. I knew over the last year I learned an honest truth about myself, a truth that had led to some of the most wondrous nights I had ever experienced.

I was Mia's good girl.