The Good Girl Part 1

I am his good girl. I’m I do as I’m told and I hardly ever get punished. 

I love my life. I wouldn’t change it for anything in the world. He’s given me the house of my dreams, I have no responsibilities outside the house, and I’m madly in love. 

My Master is a good man, a handsome man, a terrifying man. But as long as I’m his good girl I have nothing to worry about. 

My day has structure which is what a good girl needs. Something about idle hands as master always says. Every morning I wake up at the same time. Sometimes an hour later if it’s a weekend and we’ve been entertaining guests the night before. Sometimes I awake in the master bedroom sometimes I awake in my own room. 

My room is down the hall. Filled with the furniture that we picked out together. The other doors on the second floor are locked. They are reserved for good girls. 

Present Day

I start breakfast and brew fresh coffee. The weather is wonderful so I set the table outside on the back patio. As I’m frying bacon he comes up behind me. He grabs my waist and pulls me tight telling me good morning. I feel his scruff scratch against my neck and I enjoy the feelings of his arms around my body. I feel safe. I feel like his good girl. 

After breakfast he goes into his office as I clean up the kitchen. He’s preparing my list for the day. I hear him finish and head upstairs to get ready for the day. I follow in suit. 

Full makeup. Hair up. Always a dress. He spoils me, he really does. My wardrobe would make any girl faint. Whatever products I need he keeps me supplied. I submit my monthly list and he sees that I get whatever I need. Good girls need to look and feel like good girls. Once I’m ready I wait downstairs in the entry way. Obediently sitting near the door like I’ve done so many times before. 

He descends the stairs and I can’t help but smile. I can’t even see him with my head bowed down but I know he looks handsome as always. He places my list on the table. He grabs my chin in his hands and tilts my head up. My stomach does backflips. This never gets old. He kisses my cheek softly and placed my collar around my neck. I hear the faint locking sound and he helps me stand up. 

He grabs me for one last kiss. This one with more passion. I want him so badly but I know better than to act without permission. Before he’s out the door he simply reminds me to be a good girl. 

As soon as he’s gone I grab the list. Most of it is usual daily chores. Making the beds, vacuuming, laundry, etc. Today he’s added that I change the sheets in one of the spare rooms and he’s informed me where the key is placed and that I return it before he comes home. 

This throws me off. I never go in the spare rooms. Why would I need to freshen it up? Is someone going to be staying in it. Changes to my routine scare me. I don’t like change. 

I go about my regular chores as normal. I get to the last task of changing the sheets. I make my way upstairs and unlock the room. It’s beautiful. A twin bed just like mine but that is the only way it resembles my room. The walls are filled with beautiful works of art. An easel sits in the corner with a half finished painting awaiting the artist. A cold chill runs down my spine. I change the sheets like I’m supposed to but I can’t help but notice the closet door. I stare at it. But not for too long. I know better than to look inside without permission. I don’t do anything without permission. I am a good girl. 

The Past 

I came upon a posting on a kink message board. The message was simple. 

“I am looking for someone to be my good girl. Someone who wishes to be taught, to learn, and to become the best possible version of themselves. Serious inquiries only please. I have years of experience and plenty of good people to vouch on my behalf. This is a lifestyle for me and it will be for you as well should things go well. Please only contact me on my personal email and not on this site.”

I remember sitting in my apartment reading this post and laughing. What a hopeless romantic. Any man who takes himself that seriously can’t be anything but a fake. I even showed my roommate the posting. We both went back and forth trying to imagine what kind of creep he must be. 

I couldn’t help but go back to that message though. The need to put a face to the message was growing. For science, I told myself, I decided to send him an email. 

“Hello. My name is Regan. I read your posting and my interest has been piqued. Care to explain further with what you’re looking for?”

"Hello Regan,

I am Kaleb. Pleasure to meet you. I’m glad I’ve caught your interest. However I’m not looking for a new sofa. I don’t have a list of the traits for the submissive that I seek. I’m simply looking for someone who fits comfortably with my life and who I feel a connection with. The only way to find that out is by getting to know one another. So please, tell me about yourself Regan.”

And so we went back and forth emailing one another for several weeks as I slowly became more and more hooked. I had been browsing BDSM sites trying to learn as much as possible as quick as possible. My only experience was a couple of online doms which I explained to him. I could tell this made him uneasy. I assured him this is something that I’ve always wanted I’ve just been selective about who I would eventually embark on the journey with. He appreciated my patience and high standards. 

The time had finally come that we were to meet. He gave me loose guidelines of what to wear and strict instructions on when to arrive. 

• Hair pulled up out of your face
• Wear a skirt or dress of a respectable length, nothing too tarty.
• Arrive at 7:15 and find a table near a window. I'll know if you're late.
• I will join you at 7:30

And thus began the courtship of Regan and Kaleb. Over several months I fell madly in love with the man. I loved the confidence he exuded. He knew what he wanted and exactly how he wanted it. No detail ever went unnoticed. I had never met someone so particular before. He trained me and I was an obedient little sponge soaking in everything I could. We started out painstakingly slow. I would get so frustrated by the simplicity of the tasks I was given. He would giggle at how cute I was for wanting as I called it “the whips and chains experience” he would always smile and remind me that I was his good girl. I asked what would happened when I was a bad girl. 

His face hardened instantly. He grabbed my arm and led me to a door. He explained that very bad things happen to bad girls. That behind that door is what happens to bad girls. It is was nothing like the “whips and chains experience” it was real punishment. That if I ever earned a trip down there he would make sure I would regret it. He has no tolerance for girls who are bad.

I felt the hairs on my neck stand up as he explained all this. I had never seen him so cold in the 6 months we had been dating. And so I vowed to always be his good girl. He kissed my forehead and simply said.

“I know you will”

After 2 more months he asked me to move in with him. I was head over heels excited. I had been anxiously awaiting this day. 

Move in day was Christmas, my birthday and every other major holiday all in one. I took my bags straight up to the master bedroom where I had spent so many nights before. I was surprised to see him frowning at the door. He explained that this was his room. And while I will often be invited to sleep with him that I would have my own room. 

My face dropped at the thought of not sharing a bedroom with him. He took my hand and led me down the hall. The hall in total had 5 extra rooms. We walked past four and stopped at the last one. This is your room. He opened the door and it was completely empty aside from a twin bed. I asked if this was a joke. 

“No my love, we will fill it together. We will fill it with whatever your heart desires. This is your space and I want you to feel completely at home in it. I know it can be hard moving into someone else’s home. The space can feel foreign and not like your own. So this space is for you to do whatever you wish with it. “

The first night did not go as planned. He kept correcting every little thing I did. I had been inside this house countless times but now it felt like I was under a microscope. He could sense my discomfort with his constant corrections and so he sat me down. 

“I asked you to move in because I thought your initial training was complete and that you were ready. If you think you’re not ready then please let me know tonight. I need your full compliance in everything I ask of you. You are my good girl now. You will follow a strict schedule. You will do as your told. You will do everything you can to be my good girl. Can you do that?”

I mull this over and I know deep down that this is what I want. I want to be completely submissive. To give all my control over. So I tell him. 

“I want to be your good girl”