My Submissive Girlfriend Fantasy: I Just Want to Be His Good Girl

People assume I am always the one in charge. The tease, the brat, the one calling the shots. But my favorite submissive girlfriend fantasy is the exact opposite of all that. I want to give it all up. I want a man to tell me exactly what to do, and I want to be such a good girl that he cannot help but praise me.

I have someone who does that for me. I will call him D.

On My Knees

It starts the second I walk through his door. "Knees," he says, and I drop. Just like that. No hello, no small talk. My knees hit his hardwood floor and my whole body goes liquid, because I know what is coming and I want it so badly I ache.

He stands over me and tilts my chin up with one finger. "Did you touch yourself today?" he asks.

"No, Sir," I whisper, because he told me not to, and I obeyed. Good girls obey.

"Prove it," he says, and guides my face to his zipper.

I worship him with my mouth. Slow at first, tongue tracing every vein, then deeper, taking him to the back of my throat until my eyes water. His hand fists in my hair, not gentle, controlling my rhythm. "That is it," he growls. "Such a good fucking girl for me."

Those words go straight between my legs. I am dripping down my thighs and he has barely touched me.

Owned

When he finally pulls me up, he bends me over his couch, yanks my skirt up, and tears my panties clean off. I hear them rip and I moan like a slut, because I know what that sound means. It means he cannot wait. It means he needs me.

He spanks me first. Hard. Ten sharp cracks that leave my ass burning and my pussy clenching around nothing. "Count them," he orders, and I do, voice shaking, and every number earns me a low "good girl" that makes me wetter.

Then he is inside me, thick and deep, one hand tangled in my hair pulling my head back, the other rubbing my clit in fast hard circles. "Who do you belong to?" he demands.

"You," I gasp. "I belong to you."

"Come for me," he commands. "Now."

And I do, because when he tells me to come, my body simply obeys. I shatter around his cock, screaming into the couch cushions, and he follows seconds later, filling me up while he holds me pinned exactly where he wants me.

After, he strokes my hair and calls me his good girl, and I curl into him feeling completely owned and completely safe. That is the secret about submission. It is not weakness. It is trust so deep you can let go of everything.

Is that your fantasy too? Being told what to do, being praised, being owned? Call me. Tell me what you would order me to do first. I am already on my knees.