“Who is this?” It certainly wasn’t the kid. The voice was fully matured, heavy with a presumed authority that made me want to step back and slip away. I asked him again. He said, “You’re invited to a party. Everything’s secret. No one knows who’s coming. A limo will pick you up.”
“When is this party?” I heard some quiet but mean chuckling, “Why should I tell you and ruin all the fun?” “Why should I come and let you have all the fun?” “You’re pretty funny.” I said, “Here’s something to laugh at.”
I flipped closed my phone, slipped it in my bag and went home. I got the usual eye from my horny doorman. Though he remains proper, he’s dying to fuck me. I had a feeling that what made his seedy little look more seedy was that I had gotten over my dark haired ice beauty look. I’ve let my natural reddish blonde hair grow fully in, hoping it might tame me, make me feel more like the natural girl I really am despite the fact that tonight I had gone back to my bad self. I went to bed and slept like a log.
The next morning Thisley came in and ran my bath. “You look much better madam,” as he handed me my coffee. It was Saturday morning and I was in no rush to wake up. So I crawled up in my love seat, sipped, and groggily asked, “Better than what?” He said, “Your hair. It much better suits you.” He’d been away for a month so his observation counted. I gave him back the coffee, “I like it hot.” He nodded and was off.
I was quite comfy in my silk pleated baby doll and lace panty and had no desire to move for the rest of the day. Thisley returned with my coffee. It was hot this time. He dutifully went off, but I called him back. “Yes, madam?” “Has anyone called without leaving his name? Someone with a strange voice?” He said, “I wouldn’t allow that, madam.” I wasn’t too sure how he could disallow that, but I admired his chivalry and devotion and let him know that. I noticed something seemed to be on his mind. “Yes, Thisley?”
He gave me that I’m-sorry-but-I-have-to look. “It’s been a while madam.” It had been a while, a good month, in fact. Sometimes he wakes me up in the morning, turns me over and gives it to me good and hot. There’s nothing weirder then getting your bottom hotly slapped when you’re half asleep. I’ve told Thisley more than once that though he has the contractual right to spank me, at least let me have coffee first. Well, now I’ve had my coffee.
He took the cup out of my hand, turned me over as I complained. “I don’t want to get spanked, Thisley.” “It’s been a while, madam. I’m sure you understand.” I tussled my hair so I could see, “I still don’t want to get spanked.” He told leaned over me, I tried to move away, but he gripped my arm and tugged down my panty and inspected my bottom.
End of Diary of A Rich Girl – Chapter 136, by Carrie
Diary of a Rich Girl to be continued…
