When She Calls Me Little Girl

‘All right, little girl, come over here.’ She gestures for me to go to her, where she is sat on the sofa. White button down shirt, top two buttons open, black jeans, bare feet. Black hair pulled back in a low ponytail. The grey streaks at the temples that make me crazy just visible

Just out of the shower, I knew something was up when the nightclothes I’d taken in with me had been replaced. She had changed whilst I was showering, as well. Having been in a business suit when I’d gone to the loo.

Her voice is calm. ‘Come here and show me the lace.’

I go to her, ever compliant, and, standing between her legs, lift the bottom of my tank top to reveal the lace along the waistband of my pants. I look to her for approval.

She hums, ‘Very nice,’ then leans forward and taps the tiny satin bow at the front. ‘It’s good they have the bow or else they wouldn’t be very feminine.’ She smiles, her hands on my hips as she looks up at me.

I grin, glad she likes what she sees. Her hands trace over my calves up to my butt and up under the back of my tank top, as her eyes wander over me with hunger and possession.

She pulls my hips toward her and asks, ‘Are you going to be good for me this evening, little girl?’

I nod and smile.

The corners of her mouth curl. ‘I thought so. So obedient.’

Retrieving a bag from over the arm of the sofa, she carefully lays out harnesses. I lick my lips. I would make a terrible top, as I’d want to get everything over with as quickly as possible. The Governess takes her time, knowing it drives me crazy.

Straps and buckles laid out to her satisfaction, she says, ‘Arms up.’ Holding my arms over my head so she can remove my tank top, I eye the bulge in her jeans. My Mistress is quite tall—she often shops for trousers in the men’s section and has them tailored to fit properly. This means there’s room if she wants to wear a little something extra sometimes.

And sometimes she does.

When she does, she likes to call me ‘little girl’.

Words that go straight to my little girl parts.

Tank top off, she leans down and helps me out of my pants, instructing, ‘Left foot first…and now the other. Very good.’

Clothes folded and placed on the floor, she begins buckling harnesses on me. First the one around my waist with criss-cross straps like an ambitious set of suspenders that connect to a parallel set of straps around each of my thighs. Then the chest harness with its multiple straps crossing my back and one right between my shoulders which was good for holding onto.

She takes her time fastening each buckle, running her finger under each strap—testing the tightness to be sure my circulation won’t be cut off, but that they were also snug enough she can move me around easily.

Done with this part of the process, she sits back, looking over her handiwork.

‘Turn around for me, little girl.’

I turn this way and that—feeling sexy in my outfit—so she can see the front, back and sides.

‘Very nice. Very good. Come here. Give me your wrists.’

She puts on padded leather cuffs then has me lie down on the sofa. She clips my wrists to my thighs with double snap hooks and, as she carefully places my ankles on her shoulders asks, ‘Now, good little girls get wet. Are you wet for me?’

I nodded. That had taken care of itself when she called me over to her.

Pulling on a latex glove, she runs her forefinger around me.

A hum of deep satisfaction issues from the back of her throat. I love that sound. I have pleased her. ‘You are a good little girl, aren’t you?’ One perfectly shaped eyebrow arches with her question.

I nod. Other than nodding, I have to lie very still. I’m allowed to whimper or moan or issue any sound I’d like, but I’m not to move.

Sometimes my body does whatever it likes, though.

This only makes her smile because she knows I’m very obedient and am not disobeying her on purpose. She likes doing things that make me move involuntarily.

‘You’ve learned such control, little girl. I’m so proud of how much control you have now.’ Her finger is still circling me and I’m beginning to ache.

‘But the control of little girls can still be overcome, I think.’

Then the latex of her finger is inside me. Just to the first knuckle. I gasp, wanting more, but if I ask she’ll take longer. Best to be patient and let her do as she wishes.

She watches me—her dark eyes glittering in the dim light of the fire. A half smile on her lips as she plays with me.

She’s moving in and out of me, slowly introducing more of one elegant finger each time.

I clench my fists at my sides and focus on my breathing and remaining still.

‘Little girls like two fingers, don’t they?’

I groan, which she takes to mean yes and after a moment of adjustment, her middle and ring fingers are moving, still agonizingly slowly, their full length, in and out of me. My entire body is on fire and I can’t maintain eye contact with her.

‘It’s sexy when little girls grind against my hand.’

Permission has been granted to move, thankfully. Eyes closed, head back, I begin moving in rhythm with her hand.

I can feel her watching me. She loves watching me enjoy myself. This used to make me self-conscious, but now her attention adds to my excitement and it’s obvious from the sounds coming from between my legs I’m getting wetter.

Her free hand is lingering over my upper body. ‘Little girls like pretty chains, don’t they?’

Um. Yes? I nod. I do like chains.

Carefully withdrawing her fingers from me, she sits back and retrieves a pair of nipple clamps from the bag she’d pulled her glove from. They are elegant little silver things that look like vices. This is new.

‘Do you like them little girl?’

I nodded!

A smile spreads across her face and that eyebrow arches again. Taking my ankle, she places my left foot on the floor and my right foot beside her on the sofa then helps me sit up. After pulling off her glove, she gently affixes each clamp to my nipples. Only after teasing each one to a point, though. Mustn’t allow the little girl to rest for a moment. Then she stands me up in front of her.

‘Let me look at this pretty little body of yours.’

I want to cover myself, but my hands are restrained and she’s been working with me on standing and allowing her to look at me, since I’m hers to look at and do with as she likes.

I like being hers to look at and do with as she likes.

She runs her fingertips over my stomach and brings me out in goosebumps. ‘Yes. The new jewellery is lovely on you. The silver compliments your skin tone well, little girl.’ She tightens the screws a bit, watching my reaction, then tugs down on the chain twice.

‘Very good. Little girls are trusting. You know I’m not going to hurt you, don’t you?’

I nodded.

‘Of course you do. Good girl.’

She unclips my wrists from my thighs and reclips them to one another. Then she stands and attaches a leather strap to one end of the cuffs and pulls my hands over and behind my head and attaches the other end to the back of my harness.

Little girls love leather straps.

After checking the length of the strap is right she helps me onto the sofa. First on my knees, then onto my side facing away from her then rolling onto my front. The length of strap behind my head is long enough I can still push up on my elbows a bit.

I feel the sofa move behind me and myself throbbing in anticipation. Finally.

Her belt is being unbuckled. The zip and rustle of clothing being adjusted. The tearing of a condom packet. Then she grabs the harness around my waist and pulls my hips back towards her. A latex glove is being snapped on.

I bite my lip, aching for her to be inside me.

She leans over me and I can feel her between my legs. She tugs gently on the chains at my breasts, ‘Are you ready, little girl?’

I whimper and nod.

She sits up on her knees and takes her time teasing me again. Running her hands over my body. Tugging straps of my harnesses towards her. She finally reaches around to touch my clit while slowly introducing the head of her cock into me.

‘Well, well. Little girls get very hard, don’t they? That’s very good.’

She holds on to my hips and begins to move in me then, eventually finding a rhythm that has me moaning with her thrusts. She experiments with holding various straps of my harnesses—on my thighs, waist and chest—to see what response each one elicits—and discovers grabbing the straps around my thighs and fucking me as hard as she can makes me lose all composure to the point of near screaming. She stops and starts several times to test this hypothesis.

‘Very good. Very good,’ she says, every time I respond the same way, being on the brink of orgasm each time. ‘Little girls like being fucked from behind, don’t they?’

She asks this after her fifth experiment was successful and I was dying to come.

Panting, I nod and whimper.

Leaning over my back, she begins to touch me and fuck me simultaneously. My thighs begin to quiver, then shake violently. I’m bathed in sweat and appealing to all sorts of deities. My hands are grasping at air, as I want to grab her ass and pull it harder into me. I want more of her inside me.

She sits up on her knees and, grabbing the strap in the middle of my back, hauls me up on my knees, as well. Holding me up with one arm across my chest, while her other latex-covered hand is touching me furiously, her voice is near my ear. Matter-of-fact, though she is breathing heavily with exertion. ‘Good little girls come on their Mistress’ cocks. You want to be a good little girl, don’t you?’

Boy, did I. I wanted to be the best little girl.

I whimper and nod.

‘You want to be my good little girl, don’t you?’

More sounds she knows mean I want nothing more than that.

‘Then I want you to come all over my cock like the good little girl I know you are.’ The hoarseness of her voice tells me she is close, too.

I have finally been given permission. I come so hard I think I might have left Earth for a few moments. My head is spinning and my mouth is dry. Certain signs of interstellar travel.

She continues gently running her hands over my body as I feel myself still clenching around her. Mentally I’m on a cloud and am only vaguely aware as she carefully unclips the strap connecting my cuffs to my chest harness. She leans me forward and disengages then helps me roll onto my side, where I grin up at her.

‘Hello, there.’ She boops my nose.

I make a happy sound.

She brings me water and removes the nipple clamps, massaging and kissing each one to lessen the sting, then curls up on the sofa with me, having changed into pyjama bottoms while getting my water.

I nuzzle into her neck, ‘Did I please you?’

‘You were a very good little girl.’ She kisses me on the forehead and I know I must have been extra good because forehead kisses are the best thing ever and only the very best little girls get them.