by Carrie
Diary of A Rich Girl – Chapter 67
Mother was in my study grimly having tea. There was a photo dangling from her fingers, “What do you have to say for yourself, Caroline?”
I remembered the photo. Little John had taken it a few months ago. He likes, or should I say liked, having me walking around in high heels and a very short tank top, one that my nice boobs push out. Everywhere else, I was stark naked. Actually, I sort of got into having my bush exposed dead center. The more I walked around like that the more it tantalized me. I secretly thought about walking around in public exposed; I still do, but only once in a while.
Mother showed me another photo. My head was pushed into a pillow and turned toward the camera. My eyes were dreamy and off center. My jaw slacked, as if I were crying. My lovely white bottom was arched up into the air. My branding, slut, though merely a half inch in height, could be plainly seen, and so could Little John’s big black cock that was in my pussy. I could hear myself wildly moaning.
Mother said, “You have a lot of explaining to do,” and dropped the photo on the floor. She showed no mercy. The next photo I was sprawled out on one of Little John’s whore house beds. He had gotten me completely stoned and stripped me of all my clothing. My fancy pink panties were rolled up and twisted off to my side. My bra was dangling off my arm. Someone, I guess a john, was holding my legs back wide to expose my lush bush. His cock was hard and dipped up. I was sucking on a finger like a little girl, totally unaware that I was going to get fucked.
That happens when he gets me high with that special stuff of his. I usually get pimped. I usually come back the next day for more. I haven’t had any in a while, either, and it’s been making me suffer.
The last photo she showed me, not the last in that deep pile, I was kneeling on my bed. My long hair was parted down the middle and dreamily flowed off my shoulders. I had nothing on except for my very short blue jean shorts that were unbuckled, zipped down, and open at the waist. My boobs arched up in the air. There was an innocent gleam that touched my eye. Light filtered through the window giving me a halo effect. Little John says I look like a little angel in that photo. He says that I like to pose. It’s not true.
Mother felt differently. She left the room. It was deadly silent. It was even more silent on the way out to the beach. The only thing she said was, “You dirty little slut.”