Weeks ago I’d broken up with Eric. I had liked many things about Eric, but he kept wanting more physical intimacy. That was not going to happen the way he wanted. It’s important to me to be a good girl. I have many specific ideas of what being good means. One is that girls shouldn’t do more than chaste kisses until they get married. I was determined to graduate before I got married. Graduation was a few years away. He didn’t approve of my strict boundaries. I believe a boyfriend should always accept a girl’s boundaries. My limitations on physical intimacy had become a deepening sore spot for us. So, I broke off the relationship.

It hurt to break it off. It had been a two-year-long relationship, so I had expected it to hurt. It hurt even more than I had expected. I still think it was the right decision. I’ve always been determined to be a good girl. I was not going to compromise my boundaries simply because a male asked me to do something.

Yet I’d found myself rebounding to William. William, the former lizardman in training.

It was strange at first to call him “William.” It seemed appropriate, though. Everyone had stopped using William’s old nickname when his mentor died from a rare cancer. It was hard to jokingly use William’s nickname once the original lizardman had died. So, instead of lizardman in training, he was William to everyone now.

Soon after I’d broken off my relationship with Eric, I couldn’t help but be increasingly intrigued by William. I guess I had ignored him as a possibility while I was with Eric. I started to think of going on a date with William. Not merely a date. I had started to want William to be my boyfriend. That line of thought seemed fast to me. My girl friends all suggested I wait for some time before I jumped into another relationship. Going on a date might be fun, sure, but they all told me to take it slow. They all told me I should give myself time to heal.

I didn’t take that advice. When William asked me out on a coffee date, I impulsively and enthusiastically said “yes.” When we went out, we were seated in a private booth that wasn’t visible to anyone else. I found myself charmed by him. By the end of the date, I’d realized that he was smart, funny, and attractive. Time had flown by. Our two-hour date had felt like minutes. I’d enjoyed our time immensely. I told him, “this was fun.” I was so glad he agreed and that he wanted to go on another date with me.

For our second date he invited me to a nice restaurant. Every hour until the date I kept thinking about possibly becoming his girlfriend. For the event I dolled up and dressed up. My hair and makeup were on point. After some dithering, I selected an expensive perfume that I thought he might really like. My short skirt, tight top, and high heels were over-the-top for a first dinner date. I looked myself over in the mirror. I was obviously and embarrassingly eager. Was I trying too hard? I decided I wasn’t going to change my choices. If I didn’t try my best, and he stopped being interested, I knew I would regret my choices. When he picked me up I could tell he appreciated my effort. He kept glancing at my clearly outlined breasts and my mostly-exposed freshly-shaved legs. I felt relieved that I’d attracted his interest. He took me to the restaurant. We were seated in a romantic private booth. We again weren’t visible to anyone else.

We talked and talked. I couldn’t help but get lost in his eyes. Time flew by. We were there for hours, yet it again felt like minutes to me. I knew I really wanted to be his girlfriend. When he asked me to be his girlfriend, “yes” was my only possible answer. I was so eager I said it several times! I almost didn’t explain my boundaries, I wanted to be his girlfriend so much. I did it anyway. I was so relieved when he agreed to respect my boundaries.

Agreeing to a new relationship so quickly was fast for me. I usually took things slow. My girl friends later gave me grief for moving so fast with William. It’s true this speed was out of character for me. It’s true that they had advised me to take things slow. There wasn’t anything wrong with quickly starting a new relationship, though. I made sure they all knew that. They laughed and agreed. My friends wanted me happy. I seemed to be happy with William. That’s all that mattered to them.

Over the next few weeks of our dating, things changed.

I found myself romantically falling head-over-heels for William in a way that I never had for Eric. I’d been physically attracted to Eric, sure. Yet the intensity of my physical desire for William was soon much more than I had ever experienced with Eric. My physical desire for William grew even further every day I spent time with him. I soon wanted to physically attract William in a way I hadn’t considered for Eric. I wanted to impress William. I wanted to make it clear to him that I was gorgeous. I found I simply had to change my style and always wear skirts and dresses. These soon replaced my previous “T-shirt and jeans” lifestyle.

Once I’d switched to skirts and dresses as my daily attire, I soon found short hems and exposed cleavage were what I really wanted to wear. I couldn’t believe how much I needed to wear them. I couldn’t believe how much I wanted to please and attract William. Even when he wasn’t around, I found wearing my old drab style was no longer acceptable. I now wanted to always wear distinctly feminine clothing. I started to secretly wear, under my skirts and dresses, lacy silk panties that didn’t cover much. I even started to keep my pussy shaved smooth. At night I stopped wearing my comfy sweatpants. I switched to only wearing revealing silk nighties. The hems of my new nighties barely went below the crotch. My bust was more uncovered than covered at night.

It’s okay, though. There’s nothing wrong with a girl choosing to wear more feminine clothes. I still want to be good. Wearing more feminine clothes is fine for a good girl. There’s nothing wrong with hidden sexy secrets like revealing nighties, daring panties, and a cleanly-shaved pussy. There’s nothing wrong with short skirts and cleavage, either. They’re perfectly normal. If a girl decides to show off her body a little, that’s the males’ problem, that doesn’t make her a bad girl.

I had insisted on chaste kisses with William, as I had with Eric. William had agreed. Eric had never gotten anything more. Soon after William and I started dating, he’d asked me about having more physical intimacy. I’d expected this. I had prepared myself to say no. I knew I simply needed to make my boundaries clear. Yet instead of saying no, I compromised a little. I’d asked him if we could limit ourselves to passionate kisses. My decision surprised myself.

Don’t get me wrong, I like our passionate kisses. Before William I’d always insisted on not doing that. Yet, with William, I couldn’t help but move my boundaries a little. No big deal, though, right? I’d still kept my boundaries at kisses. I felt uncomfortable thinking about going further in real life. I know many people think my limited sexual boundaries are weird. Maybe I should have adjusted my boundaries sooner. Maybe my former boundaries were excessive. I felt I should decide my real-world boundaries.

In my fantasies I was interested in a lot more, though. I soon found myself taking out my vibrator every night before going to sleep. I soon couldn’t even get to sleep before giving myself sexual release. Every time, without fail, I found myself fantasizing about being thoroughly dommed by William. In my imagination I was unable to resist him. In my fantasies he would order me around, or punish me, or take advantage of me. In some of my waking dreams he ordered me to suck his cock. I would quickly kneel to give him a vigorous blowjob. On many nights I imagined him applying a harsh corporal punishment to my bare bottom. His every exploitation of me in my fantasies got me hot and bothered. Each imagined event made my pussy wetter.

My fantasies always eventually led to me being naked, on a bed, with William’s big cock absolutely railing me. Sometimes he was on top of me in missionary position, splitting me apart at my cunt with his tool. Sometimes I was on all fours as he harshly thrust into my cunt from behind. Sometimes he held me face-down, lying flat on the bed, as he deeply violated my ass with his cock. He was always in control of me in my fantasies. The intensity and daily regularity of my masturbation was new to me. I guess I hadn’t been in a relationship with such good romantic chemistry before. No one else noticed this change in my life, but I certainly did. A good girl can have fantasies, though, right? They’re simply fantasies, not reality. I’m still a virgin. Good girls can fantasize.

The fire of my sexual desire for William kept ratcheting up. After two weeks of masturbating every night, I found myself also sometimes needing to run to the ladies’ room during the day to relieve my pussy’s needs. If we passionately kissed during the day, I usually needed to relieve myself within an hour afterwards. He was always on my mind as I masturbated to achieve my orgasm.

My private sexual drives weren’t matched by what we did together. William had been quite the gentleman after I’d agreed to passionate kisses as my boundary. He never asked to go beyond the boundary I’d set. I began wishing he would. It wouldn’t matter, of course. I would still say no. At least, I was pretty sure I would say no.

I’d recently noticed something else. I realized I hadn’t been appropriately responding to those in authority. I realized I hadn’t been as respectful as I should have been. When those in authority asked me to do something, I hadn’t always done the work to the best possible standard. I hadn’t pleased them as much as I should have. Nobody else had noticed, but I knew it.

I felt terrible about my failure to respect and obey authority. How could I be a good girl, if I wasn’t adequately respectful and obedient to those in authority? My professors, especially my supervisor, deserved better! I resolved to do better. I tried harder. I needed to be good.

My boyfriend deserved better, too. Oddly, I felt that as a girlfriend, my boyfriend was my superior. That’s an old-fashioned way to be thinking. I felt like I should resist the thought. I certainly didn’t tell my friends. They would think I was crazy. Yet the thought kept returning. I guess my ideas of what makes a girl a good girl are old-fashioned too, right?

I decided I should let my boyfriend take the lead. There was nothing wrong with choosing to follow some traditional gender roles. I let him decide when we had dates. I let him decide what we did for dates and where we did them. I discovered that it’s nice to let the man take the lead. It soon felt so natural to me. It had never felt so good to be submissive to a man before I’d met William.

William soon asked for electronic control of my calendar. I granted it. He started setting up schedules for me on my calendar. Others might think this was an invasion of my privacy. Perhaps. It did make it easier to coordinate our schedules. I knew I should trust my boyfriend. So I did.

He soon did something with his control of my electronic calendar that I found infuriating. He assigned a daily curfew to me. He made it clear I have to be home by 10pm on Friday and Saturday, and by 8pm the rest of the week, unless he gave me permission to do otherwise. This set me off. I nearly exploded when I discovered he’d set up curfews for me on my calendar. How dare he! We hadn’t even talked about this. This was an arrogant unilateral decision on his part. If I quietly obeyed, this curfew would also kill my social life. I immediately went to his place to tell him what I thought about his stupid curfew.

We sat down and discussed it. I soon calmed down. He explained to me that my curfew was for my own good. I discovered he had good reasons. I did need to get a good night’s sleep. I did need to have a consistent sleep schedule to do a good job the next day. I needed to keep myself safe from the people who might hurt me if I was out late without him. He had been concerned for my welfare. I might not make good decisions in the moment, and my restedness could affect our relationship. So it only made sense that I needed to ask his permission to stay out beyond curfew. I became glad he was taking care of me so proactively. I realized that if I was going to be good, I needed to obey my curfew. He had set my curfew, yes, and he had set it without consulting me. Yet it was for my own benefit. It felt right. I agreed to obediently follow his new rules.

On Thursday night I went out with my girl friends to dinner. We then went to a bar to enjoy some drinks. As time wore on I felt unease. It was soon 7pm. 7:15pm. 7:30pm. I knew I needed to leave now to obey my curfew. William had recently set my curfew. I needed to obey it. I knew he wouldn’t grant me an exception tonight. Yet to leave, I knew I’d have to tell my friends why I had to leave early.

I was too embarrassed to admit to my friends that I had a curfew. I was especially too embarrassed to admit to them that my boyfriend had set my curfew. I didn’t want to leave, anyway. Why had I agreed to obey my curfew? It was so early and so arbitrary. I didn’t need to obey a curfew set by my boyfriend, did I? I could be good without obeying his stupid rules. I dithered and dithered. I stayed to 7:40pm. 7:45pm. 7:50pm. I realized I couldn’t possibly get home in time. At that point I decided I was obviously violating curfew. I decided I may as well enjoy myself. I committed by ordering another drink.

I didn’t get home until 11:45pm. I told myself that I can decide the time I arrive home. I knew my boyfriend can’t tell me what to do. At least, I kept telling myself that.

When I got to my room, I started sobbing. I knew I had done wrong. My boyfriend had told me what to do. He had trusted me. I had broken his trust. I had broken my promise. I had disobeyed him. I hadn’t been a good girl at all. I decided to send a message to him. At first I decided I would tell him what I’d done and that it was no big deal. I started to write a message to him saying that. I couldn’t send it. I ended up writing:

« I didn’t get home until 11:45pm tonight. I’m sorry. »

I soon got a reply from William:

« I’m disappointed in you. Come to my house tomorrow morning 10am. We need to discuss this. »

My heart sank. I couldn’t believe how much his disapproval hurt. I dreaded our conversation tomorrow. I had been a bad girl, and I knew it. I got into my short silk black nightie. Even my nightly masturbation session didn’t help counter the crushing feeling from his disapproval. I attempted a second session. It didn’t help either. I cried and cried into my pillow. I could hardly sleep.

By morning I was a wreck. I put myself together as best I could. I put on a cute white blouse and short flowy blue skirt. I fixed my makeup, trying to hide the trail of my tears from my eyes. If I looked like an angel, perhaps he’d treat me like one. I went to his house. I made sure I was on time.

When he opened the door I stammered, “I’m really sorry! I know you told me I needed to be home at certain times. I know you trusted me. I know I broke your trust. Please forgive me!”

His face was unreadable. He coldly said, “come in. Go to my living room couch.”

I did. I nervously sat down on his couch. He sat beside me and said, “I’m disappointed. You deliberately failed to follow your curfew.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“My rules for you are for your own good. Don’t you agree?”

“Yes. Um, yes, sir.”

It felt odd for me to address him as “sir.” Yet it somehow felt right. He was chastising me. He deserved my respect. I needed to submit to his leadership.

He replied, “there needs to be consequences for your actions. Get the paddle off the wall and bring it to me.”

I looked up and saw the paddle. It was wood, thick, and almost as long as my forearm. I knew of only one reason he’d want a paddle now. The paddle looked like it would hurt like hell if he applied it to my ass. I didn’t remember the paddle being there before. I was less worried about the paddle’s immediate past. I was more worried about my ass’s immediate future.

I said, “you can’t be serious… are you?”

“Yes. Now.”

Something about his strong tone made me obediently get up, retrieve the paddle, and hand the paddle to him. I wanted to be a good girl. I had failed to be a good girl. In my heart I knew he had every right to apply this time-honored consequence to a girl who had failed to be a good girl. He still sat on the couch. I stood in front of him, fearful of what he’d say next.

He said, “over my lap. Now.”

I went to his right side and bent over his lap. My ass was perfectly situated for forceful instruction by the paddle in his right hand. I was directly facing the floor. He yanked up my flowy blue skirt all around my waist. My lacy silk barely-there black panties, now fully revealed, were no longer my secret. He grabbed my sexy panties and pulled them down to my ankles. He locked my legs with his own leg. He swept my right wrist behind my back and held it there with his left hand. I was thoroughly trapped.

He raised his arm high and began paddling the daylights out of my bare ass. It hurt immediately.

I swiftly begged, “OW! Please, I’m sorry William! Sir! I’m sorry! I was wrong! OW! OW! I’m really sorry! I’ll obey! I won’t disobey you again! I’ll always obey my curfew! I’ll do as I’m told! Pleeeease! OW! OW!”

He continued to roast my bare bottom. Hard smack after hard smack brought me to tears. My ass was deeply on fire. I continued to beg for him to stop paddling me.

He said, “Sarah, I’m quite displeased with you. I’m disappointed. You have been a bad girl. You need to accept your punishment for being a bad girl. I will continue to punish you until I’m satisfied you will change your behavior and become a good girl.”

“Yes, sir, yes, sir! I’m sorry sir! I’ll change my behavior! OW! I’ll be good! I’ll obey! OW! OW! I’ll be a good girl!”

I’d been spanked as a little kid, but not after I’d become a teenager. I hadn’t liked spankings as a kid. This paddling was far more intense. I kept crying and begging as his paddling continued to add bruises to my bare ass.

I noticed something else, too. William was now sporting a massive erection. His cock was as hard as stone. I was laid out, with my lower privates bare, on top of his rock-hard cock. My tummy rubbed against his cock. Only his pants and underwear separated our genitals. My pussy rubbed against his muscled right leg. I became intensely aware of how little clothing separated our privates.

I had done all I could to share nothing more than kisses with William. I had resisted many previous temptations. I now found myself overwhelmed with lust. I wanted his cock. I wanted that monster hard cock inside my mouth. I wanted that monster hard cock inside my cunt. My libido went into overdrive. It reminded me of the many fantasies I’d been having. My libido begged me to turn my fantasies into a reality.

My left hand moved on its own without my conscious awareness. It reached back to stroke his cock through his pants. I didn’t realize this until my left hand touched his mound. My hand felt electric from desire once I touched his cock through his pants. I was embarrassed from my complete lack of self-control. Yet I was unable to move my hand away. My left hand, now that it had found its destination, felt glued to his erection. Instead of pulling my hand away, I began to gently stroke his cock through his pants. I could feel my pussy almost dripping from desire.

William said, “are you trying distract me from disciplining you? A good girl shouldn’t try to distract the man disciplining her.”

“I couldn’t help it, sir! Your cock is so close! Touching it feels so good!”

“I see. You think you can touch my cock and not relieve me? Are you a cock tease?”

“No sir! I’m not a cock tease!”

“Well, good girls aren’t cock teases. Good girls follow through. On your knees.”

He released me. I dropped to my knees like a stone. My lust was overwhelming. I couldn’t look away from the zipper at his crotch. I knew his statement about being a cock tease was merely an excuse. I was grateful for his words. My own mind was looking for an excuse. The painful roaring in my butt had suddenly, somehow, become unimportant. If anything, the deep bruises in my ass were making me even more horny.

I unzipped his pants and fished out his hardened cock. I hurriedly placed my mouth around his cock before he could stop me. I began sucking him like my life depended on it. I could taste his precum on my tongue. His precum tasted startlingly good. I couldn’t get enough of his salty ambrosia. I went up and down his cock. My tongue lapped up everything. I opened my throat for him. I went up and down, up and down, trying to pleasure his cock with my mouth, tongue, and throat. I bobbed my head so vigorously that I could feel my tits wiggle. My hands tried to pleasure his balls and legs.

“Good girl. Strip, go to my bedroom, and lie on my bed.”

I let his cock leave my mouth so I could reply.

“Yes, sir,” I obediently said as I leaped to obey.

I couldn’t strip fast enough. Once nude, I raced to his bedroom. I laid on his bed on my back. I spread my legs wide. My ass still hurt. I didn’t care. My dripping wet cunt was full of need for his cock. When he arrived in the bedroom, I was ready to give my virginity to him. I was so ready.

He knelt between my legs. I spread my legs further in invitation. I made sure he had a full view of my eyes, my open mouth, my bare breasts, and my smooth sopping wet cunt. He thrust his massive cock into my cunt. I briefly cried out. I knew I had finally given away my virginity. I had no regrets. This was amazing. There was a mild brief pain in my cunt, but I didn’t care, because it was paired with a deep pleasure. He thrust in and out, in and out, in and out. I could tell he was enjoying my body’s delights. His every thrust brought me to a higher level of a mountain of pleasure. I’d never felt so good in my life. I could tell he was quickly building to his orgasm.

He finally screamed from his release. I could feel my cunt fill with his cum. His cum sent me even further into a new height of joy. I realized I was on the top hill of a roller coaster of pleasure. I knew I was about to be released straight down the track of pleasure mountain. I knew I was in this coaster’s front row seat, facing straight down. I could feel my intensely sensitive pussy about to release its orgasm. I’d masturbated daily while fantasizing about him, but nothing could have prepared me for this kind of intensity. My all-consuming need for my orgasmic release was indescribable.

“Oh my god,” I gasped, excited and a little afraid of this new experience. My pussy twinged with unimagined pleasure. I gazed up into his powerful eyes. My eyes widened completely. I panted for air, causing my bare breasts to jiggle as they rapidly rose and fell. My eyes dilated. My mouth opened like a canyon. I knew I could not resist whatever would happen to me next. Then it happened.

I screamed, “OH MY G…,” as the overwhelming pleasure of my intense orgasm exploded. Its release was unstoppable. It washed away any thoughts of boundaries. It washed away any thoughts of self-control. It washed away any thoughts at all. The power of speech briefly left me. My orgasm revealed a deep truth to me: he was the man I needed to be good for. Forever. I knew I would do anything for him. I would treat him with endless respect. I could only hope that he might, someday, again grant to me the pleasures I was experiencing now.

I slowly came down from my orgasmic high. I kissed his mouth. I kissed him, and kissed him, and kissed him. Every kiss was messy and unrestrained. Our tongues did not hold back. His mouth tasted to me like need itself. I couldn’t stop kissing him. Kissing him on his mouth was, for the moment, as necessary to me as breathing air.

He smiled and said, “good girl!”

The phrase was patronizing. Yet I couldn’t help but feel deep relief. I had pleased him. That’s what mattered to me now.

I replied, “thank you, sir.” Kiss. “I’ll do anything for you, sir.” Kiss. “I’ll always be a good girl for you, sir.” Kiss. “I’ll obey everything you say, sir.” Kiss.

My conscious mind finally understood what my unconscious mind had figured out many weeks ago. When I’d said “no sex before marriage,” I hadn’t really meant that. A wedding and a marriage license wasn’t the point. What I’d meant was that good girls don’t leap from one man’s bed to another. I would have sex with only one man, ever. I now knew who my body belonged to. My body belonged to William. That meant it was fine for him to bed me, whenever he wanted, in any way he wanted.

After years of saying “no” to sex, it was a relief to me that I would never be able to say no to him.

I gazed into his eyes in reverence. I knew he was my life’s new purpose. I would always be a good girl for him. It didn’t matter what he did. It didn’t matter what he demanded of me. It didn’t matter if he had many other women. He was the new center of my world. I would obey him from now on. I would please him from now on. I would always submit to him and be endlessly respectful to him. No limits. No limits at all.

For him, from now on, I would always be good.

THE END