Thursday, 7:15 pm. I was on my back, legs brought back over my head, panties down, and getting hotly spanked with the rough underside of a slipper with steady fervor. I hadn’t been spanked like this in a while. The sound of the slipper on my bottom rung through the chamber of my bedroom. I stopped counting at twenty. All I could do was yell and squeal.
Mr. Bingham, or should I say Trevor, had arrived promptly at 7pm. No small talk. No fuss. He pointed to the sofa, “Get on your back.” Not a rebuke. Not a word. He had me remove my Armani black skirt. He folded back my legs, reached under me, grabbed my white lace panty and tugged it up my thigh.
I’ve had many spankers in that past few years, many who desperately wanted to get hold of my gorgeous body, but none were allowed to use me because of looks or money. They had to have that quality. And Trevor had it in spades. I think none is as efficient and thorough as Trevor. Like a hawk he had spotted me in the little market downstairs. He pursued me, out witted me. And none, whom I go to get spanked, ever get to fuck me. Trevor was the first (players like LJ don’t count).
What was a squealing was now a howling. I cried out “Oooh” as if it had a line attached deep within me. I shook and threw my arms, bucked as he spanked me. I hadn’t been spanked like this in a long time and it showed as my hips and legs tossed about the sofa.
My cries were girly and whiny, full of pain and abandon. I was totally in his control and didn’t mind it one bit.
He tugged my panty waist up to my thighs to get it out of the way. He didn’t switch to a cane or paddle or even his hand. He kept with the slipper, a dainty looking thing that in his hand was wicked and hard. Then he got rough. He tore open my blouse and threw me about until it was off. He pulled up my bra and clamped my nipples then got back to spanking me, legs over, slipper on target, girl in writhing pain and howling agony.
When he finished with me I lay loose and slow on the sofa. My eyes were wet from crying, my legs spread out and back lifted up to keep my burning bottom off the sofa. He got rid of his pants, turned me so my head was on the back of the sofa and separated my long legs and put his cock in me.
I wasn’t fucking him, he was fucking me. I was there for his cock like I was there for the slipper. He fucked me without even so much as kissing me. Just very business like. My head was to the side and my eyes were shut. I took my pleasure where I could.
His fucking me was more than good. It was warm and nice. I turned away from the bland wall and stared into his eyes. I put my arms onto his shoulders. I brought him closer. I was beginning to like him. I let him know by bending my knees back, gyrating my hips, and kissing his lips.
End of Diary of A Rich Girl – Chapter 155, by Carrie
Diary of a Rich Girl to be continued…
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