by Carrie
Diary Of A Rich Girl Chapter 1
I’m a New York City girl, and I do well very well in my business and have more money than I need. So I decided it was about time to spoil myself. I have a lot of boyfriends, but I’m still unmarried and need a man around the house.
Recently I inquired about getting a Man Friday or English Butler. One who could do the heavy work of carrying my fashion designs and booklets to the office. One who could be in the house and do things when I asked. A butler seemed to be the kind of person I would need. So after inquiring by phone I went down to the agency and was introduced to several English butlers. One fellow interested me. He was very courteous. I was told, with a glint, that he was very experienced. I hired him on the spot.
His name is Rodney. He is of medium height, fair, and very proper. I have been taking him wherever I go, since I’m a girl on the go. He is prompt. He remembers whatever I may forget. I’ve even feel comfortable prancing around my apartment half nude as he helps me pick out day or evening clothing to wear. That he happens to get a glance of me in my panties and bra, is almost besides the point. He never glares or shows the slightest interest beyond serving me. He is always at my service,and is constantly picking up after me. When I undress I leave a trail behind me, and with Rodney around nothing ever seems to hit the floor!
One day Rodney, to my great surprise showed up late. His eyes were puffy. There was an odd smell about him. He walked with an uncharacteristic tilt. I was positive he was drunk. He had on the same suit as the day before. I demand that anyone who works for me comes dressed in clean attire daily. I scolded Rodney. I dished out a fair amount of abuse. He had embarrassed me coming into my Madison Avenue apartment building like a drunken slob. I then slapped him across the face in anger. “This should teach you a lesson”, I said.
Rodney, as usual, kept his composure, resisting any rebukes of his own. But there was a curious steely look that he gave me. One that I felt entirely comfortable with. When I was done, I was surprised at the silence that greeted me. I finally demanded, “What do you have to say for yourself!” Rodney, in his mild manner merely said, Madam, if you paid me on time I wouldn’t have had to walk home. It’s discourteous for a person in my position to have to ask my employer for his check, so thinking that there might be some financial problems of your own, I decided to wait. Well, it seems last night on my home I got roughed up, to say the least, and spent the night, penniless, sleeping on the street. But I ask no sympathy Madam. Just give me my check. I quit.”
Well, I was shocked, I didn’t know butlers quitted. I just thought they stayed on and on. I said to Rodney, “You can’t.” I thought he might laugh as he approached me, but the laugh was a disguise for an anger I had never seen in him. Then it was Rodney’s turn to tell me off, “Madam, you think you’re a Duchess, even a Princess. But you’re not. I’ve worked for many. You certainly have a lot to be said for yourself. You’re young and pretty and wear the finest clothing and under garments, and you have the makings of a princess, but there is a lot you will have to learn, and only a butler can teach the secrets of royalty. You cannot buy it. What a good butler may be is a short cut to your own refinement as a person. You were not born to the manor, Madam. But to the manor come many to stay. “
I cannot tell you how humiliated I was made to feel. In fact something strange, something I couldn’t yet put my finger on was going to happen. I asked Rodney, “Well why didn’t you say so at first that you hadn’t been paid?” “Because, Madam, had you been of proper upbringing you would have inquired first with compassion then with rebuke if necessary.You went quite the opposite. Therefore, I plan to take leave and find a lady with more breeding and knowledge unless, of course, you can prove to me that your worth my staying.”
I immediately apologized and ran to get my check book. But I felt a hand strongly touch my shoulder. It was Rodney. He said, “No no no, young lady. It’s not that easy. What you need is something that you’ll remember. What you, need Miss Caroline…” and then he paused as he took the check book from my hand, ” Where you ever spanked as a child?” Spanked? Did he say, Spanked?
But the question which was really put to me in that subtle way of his was, did I want Rodney to go? No. I liked him. He knew how to serve me. But my heart raced when he mentioned the word spanking. Did he
really mean to give me a spanking? I wasn’t sure. I thought he was just politely inquiring about my past behaviour. So I said to him, “Well, yes of course I was, but so what? That was many years ago since I has my last spanking. But what of it?”
“Were you a girl who got her spankings on a regular basis,” he asked? I answered him, “Well, yes, if you have to know, I was spanked regularly.”
I could have said no. But I’m a lousy liar. And I think he would have respected me less, and I was losing respect fast. I was also determined to get it back. “And how were you spanked?” I answered, “Look Rodney, I don’t know what this is all leading to, but will you reconsider?” Rodney said, “I am reconsidering, Madam, I am, or I would have been out the door.”
“When was your last spanking, Caroline?” I refused to tell him. I believed I had told him enough. the nerve! Then he told me to come to him by my bed! I wasn’t sure why, I mean I couldn’t believe that…yet, I approached him, I didn’t want him to leave. Rodney then said to me, “You haven’t answered me.”
I kept looking at my watch. I would be late to work if this went on. I looked into the mirror to check myself over. I was wearing a sleeveless black dress, two inch pumps. My black lace skimpy panties felt warm, I
wanted to take of my garter and change them, I was feeling so uncomfortable. My hair, long and jet black, flowed over my milk white shoulders. I said, I am beautiful, I am sexy, I am smart; yet, here I was shivering with fear as Rodney took that familiar position on the bed.
“I think it is time, Caroline.” I felt my heart jump. I knew. Oh Jesus, I knew! He was waiting for me! But I couldn’t. I just couldn’t go to the butler and have my spankings! So I stood there while he said, “Lift up your dress.” I just I couldn’t. I felt so humiliated being told what to do!
Of course he had seen me many times dressing and undressing, but this was different. But as I thought this over I noticed him unbuckling his belt. My heart raced. I was shivering,and once more he told me to lift up my dress as he held off with removing his belt. I no sooner promptly lifted my dress and let him see me in my panties and garter. “Now remove your dress.” I slowly and carefully approached him, knowing that I was going to be spanked, knowing that if I were good that he might make it a quick affair, and praying that I could get out of this humiliating position, and so I said, “How dare you try to spank me.” But my threat wasn’t strong enough. I felt my words crumbling at my feet. Rodney did dare m! So what would I do?
I decided to be be brave. To be smart and to challenge him with my body. Maybe that would scare him off. So I fluffed my long flowing hair back and undid the zipper to my dress and let it drop to the floor. I stepped out of my pumps and onto the cold parquet wood, shivering in my skimpy fancy bra and lacy panties waiting for the next look that might put me over his knees. I could feel my breasts bulging up from my racing heart. He then ordered me, “Over my knee, Carrie. Right this very moment!”
I waited no longer. I pinched up my lower lip to show him I was a brave girl and that I could take anything that he could dish out. I submitted to his commands. I even raised my bottom as a show of pride when I mounted his knees: Here. Do you what you want with me – was my attitude.
I soon felt his fingers bunch my small soft lacey panties down to my thigh. He expertly groped my bottom feeling for my soft spots and then suddenly delivered the first whack upon my skin. It stung. But that was nothing. He began to slap his hand harder until each stroke caused my buttocks to squeeze together. I then put my hand in his way. He responded by whacking my hands and then I heard the metal of his belt buckle as I tried to insert my other hand. I knew I shouldn’t have tried to interfere with my spanking. I knew he wouldn’t take kindly to it. He was going to let me know who was the boss of my spankings.
He folded the belt and then proceeded to slap it hard on my bottom, slapping it harder, over and over until I cried and screamed, kicking my legs, which were caught tight with my panties twisted around my ankles,
binding my legs together. I was begging, pleading with him to stop, but Rodney spanked me even harder as I tried to fend his hand off with mine, as I was screaming NOOO NOOO, OH PLEASE STOP, PLEASE STOP SPANKING ME!
I wrestled, I fought, kicked and moaned louder than a siren while Rodney was giving my bottom terrific hits with his belt, making me squirm so that he threatened to tied my hands. He unbuckled my brassiere, slipped it off, and tied my wrists. He continued to spank me, but I wouldn’t stop screaming. He warned me to shut up, but I was so loud — I am always so loud; so he took off my lacy black panties and stuffed them in my mouth.
I thought Rodney was finished with me as he left me on my bed to cry all by myself, but no, he delivered a few more good stings on my bottom. He then removed my panties from my mouth. He knew I was done for, exhausted, finished, spanked so hard a I felt the greatest joy surge within in me of relief. He then lifted me up off the bed and helped me dress, pulling up my panties for me, snapping up my garter, and getting my snug bra around my breasts. He helped me into my dress and then I sat down as he slipped on my pumps. Rodney had even rubbed some salve on my bottom.
When I was all dressed and ready to leave the door. Rodney asked me when I was expected to be home. Alas, Rodney had decided not to quit. I stood by the door and said to Rodney — to regain face — “Thank you for the spanking. I’ve had worse, though. But, still, I think i may have done some good.”
I slipped out the door and wondered when he might punish me again. What did he have in store for me? Could I stay on good behavior? I soon found out that I was a girl who needed a strict regimen of spankings.
