by Carrie
Diary of A Rich Girl – Chapter 66
Having that boy sit there with his agency spanking booklet open and his pencil ready to write was not my idea of how to start the day.
He looked up from his booklet and made his move, “How many times a week do you get spanked?” I pretended my hearing was challenged, but that didn’t work for him. “It depends.” “On what?” “On my spanker.” He pressed on, “Does that mean a lot or a little?”
I crossed my legs the other way. Then I put my hand through my new short haircut and fluffed it up. I adjusted my skirt, played with the hem of my tank top, then fidgeted with my Hermes tote bag. I moved some stale peanuts in a bowl until I got my fingers very salty. I said, “It all depends.” “On you?” I looked up and said, “No, on my spanker.”
I brushed the salt off my hands. I didn’t like this kid. I unconsciously dangled my pump off my foot then I slipped it back on so he’d look somewhere else. He said, “Can you be more specific?” I sneakily wiped my fingers on the couch. He caught me. I folded my hands and played along.
“I do things that are, well…” “What?” I said, “Things you’re too young to know about.” He tapped his pencil on his booklet and said, “How am I going to correct you if you don’t tell me?”
I wanted to sock him one, the little twit. He was getting way out of hand. I crossed my legs again, fluffed my hair and reached into the back of my skirt, where he couldn’t see, and adjusted my lacy panty skirt that was creeping up on me. Our eyes caught for a second, but that was all.
“I can call Thisley. He’ll tell me. He knows I’m in the Young Butlers’ Training Program.” I wanted to hang the kid out the window and scare him a little, but I gave in, faked a smile, and said, “I’m a haughty girl.” The boy all knowingly nodded and said, “We learned about girls like that in lesson 2.” Like I was interested in lesson 2.
“Do you try to run away from your spankings?” I coolly said, “No,” and then finished the sentence, “I never run away.” “Why?” “What for?” He scribbled something down and looked up, “Are you panties taken down?” I coolly added, “Always.”
He closed his booklet, “I was thinking. Since I’m done with lesson 6, I’d like to give it a try.” “Give what a try?” He said, “You know…” “You mean spank me?”
“Yeah.” He was serious, too serious in fact. He put his booklet to the side and took out a junior sized spanking paddle out of his school pack. It had “junior” burned into the wood with the Queen’s crown stamped over it. I was almost impressed.
“The agency gave you that paddle?” “After I finished lesson 6, they did.” How thoughtful. “Don’t you think you’re kind of young to be spanking a grown woman?” He didn’t think so.
I tossed my head back and ran my fingers through my hair, again. I often do that before I get spanked or when I’m nervous. I had a feeling it was both this time. I said, “I’d feel kind of funny letting a kid spank me. I think you can understand that.” He said, “No, I can’t.” I looked at him long and hard, “Why not?” “Because I’m not a kid.” Coulda fooled me.
He had an ace up his sleeve. He showed me an approval sheet that could be torn off the end of the booklet. It more or less said that with an adult’s approval the kid may take the next step. “So you’re asking for my approval.” “Yep.” “I gotta think about this.”
“What’s there to think about?” I said, “For one, you get to see me take off my clothing.” “You don’t want to me to learn?” “It’s not that I don’t want you to learn…”
We sat there in silence, he more resolute than ever. But he wasn’t going to have his way. I got up and humored him, “You’ll make a good butler one day. When you’re of age, give me a ring.”
On my way out Bixby said with great remorse, “The household and I apologize for having you wait.” “Nevermind that, why don’t you let that kid out more often?”