But I Am a Good Girl

The moment I step into Master's house, I begin taking off my clothes. I start with my blouse, unbuttoning it carefully before slipping it off and folding it neatly, then setting it on the floor next to the door. A good girl is always naked for Master, and I know that I want to be a good girl. After a few moments, my slacks join it, then my bra and panties. I put my sandals next to them-I don't always dress this formally for Master, especially not when he never sees me wearing anything, but I was getting ready for an evening out when I got His text. I've postponed my plans; it will cost me a little money to change my reservations on such short notice, but I am a good girl and a good girl is always available for her Master.

I finish stripping and check my work. The pile of clothes is neat, orderly and precise, just the way He wants it, but I still take a moment to make sure. I am making myself ready for Master, and folding my clothes neatly is a sign of respect for Him.

I take the collar out of my purse and snap it into place around my neck with fumbling fingers. My hands shake as I fit the strap through the buckle. I'm always nervous when I come to visit Master-I'm not afraid of Him, but I'm always afraid of disappointing Him. I want so much to earn his praise that I can't even describe it. I live and die on a word, a glance, a single caress that touches me deeper than a thousand lovers. I know it sounds needy, even desperate when I put it into words, but that's only because words can't really capture the way it feels to be His. To belong to him.

I put the collar on and stop in front of the mirror, making sure I look perfect for Him. I'm always nervous, but this time even more so. This time, there is a second pile of clothes sitting next to mine.

I know that Master has other girls. He's never made a secret of it. But this is the first time He's ever summoned me when one of them was still here. I remember-I think I remember discussing this with Him when I first agreed to let Him hypnotize me and dominate me. I know I told Him I was straight, and I'm almost certain I told Him that I couldn't see myself in a threesome. But did I tell him I wouldn't do it? I don't remember anymore.

I stop at the door to His bedroom and kneel. Then I knock once and wait for permission to enter. I don't know exactly how long He keeps me waiting; the rituals of removing my clothes and putting on my collar always send me a little bit into trance before I even enter the bedroom. He doesn't need to hypnotize me anymore; I'm so well-trained that my mind goes soft and smooth just from being His. When I'm like that, it's very easy to lose track of time and stare blankly at the door until He calls for me.

It feels different this time, though. Normally, the relaxation settles over me like a soft blanket while I wait, leaving me almost perfectly content by the time He allows me to enter his bedroom. The rest of the world falls away and all I am is His within these walls. But this time, I can feel the core of uneasiness wriggling under the blanket. I'm worried, deep down in a place that the trance isn't touching. I'm frightened that I won't be able to do what He wants me to do.

I try to tell myself that it's okay if I can't be His perfect girl. I try to remind myself that He doesn't really own me, that this is all just an illusion that we agreed on and that I can withdraw consent any time I want, for sex or hypnosis or anything. But I know that I'm lying to myself. I know that something deep inside me needs a Master, needs that sense of total fulfillment that only comes from hearing praise from the voice of authority. Master may have brought out that vulnerability in me, but He didn't create it. Something in me has always wanted to be a good girl.

I hear His voice say, "Enter", and my reverie is broken. I open the door and allow it to swing wide so that Master can see me on my knees for Him. I see His smile, and I shiver deep inside with the knowledge that I've made Him happy. I see the woman on the bed next to Him, and my breath hitches slightly in anxiety.

She, too, is kneeling, her legs spread wide to display her shaved pussy. Her eyes are closed and her face is slack; she's clearly already in a deep trance for Him. Her hair is shorter than mine, barely shoulder-length, and it's darker than my mouse-brown locks. She's tiny, barely five feet tall and willowy, with narrow hips and almost no breasts to speak of. I immediately feel big and ungainly next to her.

I feel ashamed of my body for a moment, but then I hear Master's voice in my head, the mantra he instilled in me the first day we met. "Master loves you, Master thinks you're beautiful, your beautiful body pleases Master. Master loves you..." I can feel proud of my body when I remember that it pleases Master, and knowing Master wants me to be proud of who I am makes it easier to obey.

But I still don't know if I can do this. Master beckons me forward, and I crawl across the room to the bed. He makes a further gesture, and I climb up to join Him. Them. "Good girl," He says. "Slave Tara, this is Slave Gabrielle. She is another one of my pets. Slave Gabrielle, you can open your eyes now."

The other woman's eyes open, but they remain glassy and unfocused. I wish I was that deep. I know I'm not awake, not really; I'm never truly awake in this room. Master's conditioning has settled into my mind so deeply that simply being with him in here puts me into a light trance, the kind you almost don't notice until you wake from it. I want Him to take me deeper, though. I want him to take me so deep that disobedience isn't even a thought. But I'm scared to ask for it, too. I'm frozen on the edge of resistance, unsure of what to want let alone what to do.

"Isn't she beautiful, Gabrielle?" Master asks. Gabrielle's glazed eyes stare at me and her face breaks into a beatific smile.

"Yes, Master," she whispers. I can't quite believe she's telling the truth-I'm not attracted to her, but if there's one of us in this room that's beautiful, it's her. But she's so deep in trance, and her smile is so genuine that I have to accept it. She thinks I'm pretty. She likes my body. She wants me. The knowledge freezes me like a deer in the headlights.

Master leans back against the pillows. His cock is hard, and His fingers idly trace its length as he speaks. "It would please me to see the two of you kiss," He says. His eyes glitter with arousal.

I almost speak. I can feel the pressure of the words welling up in my throat, struggling to come out and admit that this may be too much for me. But that would be disobeying. I can't disobey. I am Master's good girl. But I can't make myself obey, either. My body won't move. It's like a nightmare, literally like a recurring nightmare I've had-Master commands me and I can't make myself obey. I feel my cheeks flushing...

And then Gabrielle leans forward and kisses me. Her lips are soft, but the kiss is insistent, lingering. She puts her arms around me, drawing me into an embrace, and I feel my breasts pressing into hers. She holds me for what feels like ages, scraping her teeth slightly against my lower lip as she kisses me hungrily. I feel my body relax into hers, sagging slightly with gratitude to her for kissing me. For helping me to obey.

"Good girls," Master says. His cock is actually dripping now, leaking a trace of clear fluid from the tip. I want to taste it so badly, but He has other things for us tonight. "Caress each other now. Your bodies are beautiful to me...explore that beauty."

Gabrielle finds it easy, I can tell. She leans deeper into the embrace and her hand slides down to caress the curve of my ass with quiet passion. I hear her moan into my mouth as we continue to kiss. I wonder how long she's been fantasizing about this, how many nights she's spent fingering herself while imagining making love to a woman under Master's hypnotic spell. I still can't quite make myself believe that the object of her fantasies looked like me, tall and heavy and round, but I can't deny her obvious enthusiasm for my body.

I try to return it as best I can. It's not easy; her skin feels strange, too soft and smooth under my touch. I've always been very sensitive to touch-at first I thought I didn't like touching people, then as I had my first sexual experience I realized that I adored it too much to treat it casually. Touching Gabrielle isn't unpleasant, but her body feels distractingly different. I can't let go and enjoy the sensations.

But I am a good girl, so I obey. I run my hands down her back, trace the curve of her ass with my fingernails (that gets a sharp moan out of her), caress her hips and the smooth length of her thigh. She loves it, I can tell; the air is thick with the scent of her arousal. But I'm not doing this to please her. I'm doing this to please Master. I keep glancing at him out of the corner of my eye, hoping he's still turned on, hoping he's proud of me.

He is. He's completely fixed on the sight of us playing with each other, drinking in the scene with an intensity that's almost like he's hypnotized as well. He strokes his cock carefully, as though he's afraid he might cum just from watching us. He's beautiful. His pleasure feeds my arousal in a way that Gabrielle's kisses never could, and suddenly I find myself kissing back with new enthusiasm.

Then Gabrielle's fingers find my cunt, and I realize just how aroused I really am. She slides into me easily, her hand making a soft liquid noise as it slips into my sticky, warm slit, and I feel my head loll slightly at the dizzying rush of pleasure. She whimpers, a tiny whimper at the base of her throat that barely hints at the intensity of her feelings, and then she begins to pump her fingers in and out with a maddening slowness.

"Good girl, Gabrielle," Master says. When I hear it, my hand moves of its own accord between her thighs. I can't think clearly anymore; I don't feel like I'm in trance, exactly, but the feelings in my pussy have thickened the fog in my brain to the point where I'm responding more on instinct than anything else. And right now, my instinct tells me that Master wants me to finger-fuck Gabrielle the same way she's fucking me. I touch her pussy and gasp at how wet she is. She practically drips onto my hand.

And then I'm inside her, matching her rhythm stroke for stroke as we masturbate each other. I hear her moan, or maybe I hear myself and I only think it's her because I'm not supposed to be feeling this good right now. I'm not supposed to be enjoying this. I'm not supposed to rub my tits against hers and whimper at the sensation of our nipples scraping together. I know my resistance has broken, but I can't remember why I ever wanted to resist something that feels so good.

"Good girls," Master repeats, almost chanting it as we gasp in unison. "Good girls, good girls," and I know it's true. I am a good girl, Master's good girl, and once again my resistance only showed how perfectly obedient I really am. I nuzzle Gabrielle's jawline, kissing down the curve of her throat, reveling in the perfect erotic beauty of my own submission. Master made me do this. Master made me want this. I have overcome my fear and proved myself to be truly His. The second I realize that, I feel my pussy clench hard around Gabrielle's fingers as I cum.

After that, it's easy to obey. It's easy to guide Gabrielle onto her back and kiss my way down her body, lavishing attention on her petite breasts before I finally work my way down to her beautiful cunt. It's easy to worship her clit with my tongue and fingers, knowing that it's Master's will and I am a good girl. The resistance is all gone now, and I can savor her taste on my lips and know that I love her by Master's will.

Master takes me from behind as I lick, forcing my face into Gabrielle's pussy again and again as He pumps into me. I feel myself cumming again and again, lost in His hypnotic control as I bring Gabrielle to one orgasm after another, and I feel myself sink even deeper into Master's control with each thrust. I have completely forgotten my anxiety-I exist only in pleasure now.

I am a good girl. And that's all I ever wanted to be.

THE END