by Carrie
Diary of A Rich Girl – Chapter 100
I watched as he took a bridle with a rubber snaffle bit from a cubby hole. I had a feeling he saved it for girls like me. Like a specialist he thread the leather through his fingers as he eyed me with a sick grin. He said, “Get over that pile of hay.”
A square clump of fresh hay had been place on the floor obviously for my benefit. I knew the butler called and told him I was coming. I could imagine the conversation: “She’s real pretty, too. Thin and tall, the New York glamorous type. The kind you see in those flashy magazines. You know what to do.” And then the groom in reply, “Oh, you bet I do. I know how to put those hot saucy bossy types in their place.”
He caught me looking at him again and this time he didn’t warn me. He put his boot on my back, gave a quick tug of my panties and then beat my bottom with his crop. I counted five hard swats and each one snapped like a split sheet. I gritted my teeth, but still howled. He laughed. “I ain’t done with you yet.”
He grabbed my hair, pulled my head back, and fitted the bridle over my head with the split rubber snaffle bound in my mouth. He took rope and bound my wrists behind my back. He did the same with my legs then he blindfolded me. I had never been punished blind. This was a first. I had suddenly been thrown into total darkness.
He tore off my mini and my panties then my t-shirt. He ruined fifteen hundred dollars worth of clothing. And without warning he punished me. He took the crop which had a soft flexible rod and flat pad at the end and flailed my bottom as hard as he could. My bound body jerked up and out like a snapped bow. I rolled my head back and gasped through the snaffle and let out a piercing groan.
A moment of quiet passed but not long enough. He struck me again. Again, I snapped up and out like a bow and let out another piercing groan. But he didn’t give me a moment. He whipped my bottom five times with increasing ferocity. Tears streamed down my eyes as I jerked up and down. He yelled for me to keep still, but I couldn’t. My punishment for being bad was ferocious. I threw up my legs and howled louder and louder.
“I thought I told you to shut up!” I shook my head searching for his face, but I was blinded and gagged I pleaded for him to stop but the snaffle bit gargled my words. I was trying to tell him to punish me slower, easier, to make it longer, that if he made it longer it would be easier for me to take. And then somehow, as if he had understood, he began to pace my punishment and it got better.
I realized what he had done. He needed the first few minutes to let me know who was in control and as I lay there limp after the last series of hot whippings, he knew his slut, that’s what he called me, he wouldn’t use my name, had submitted to him completely.
He lifted the blind so I could see. He said, “You know who’s in control know, don’t you?” I nodded my head quickly and said, “Yes, sir. You are.” He said, “You know I’m your master and that I can do whatever I want with you?” “Yes sir. You can do whatever you want with me. I want you to.”
I stared into his face. He said nothing so I felt obliged to speak, “Sir, I’ve been told that it’s best to punish me long and slow.” He smiled, “Is that how you like it?” I said, “It’s how my punishers like it. They like to punish me that way.” He chuckled, “Have you been a bad girl?”
“Yes, sir. Very bad and naughty. I need to be punished thoroughly. You mustn’t spare the rod.” He kind of smiled, but I wasn’t sure if it wasn’t something else, “Then that’s what I’m gonna do.” He dropped the blinder on me. I heard his feet crunch in the scattered hay. A moment of silence followed then my punishment continued. He punished long and slowly with the crop, spacing out the strikes hard and soft, always letting me recover so he could punish me again.
He did liven things up with quick swats that made me hop and down, but he was just trying to scare me, have a little fun. But he regulated each hit and in the quiet of the barn I got into the rhythm of his punishment for me. My body toughened and I jerked less. I moaned longer and deeper as if I were singing a chant, a punishment chant. He was very good with me. He knew what to do to me. I had never chanted pain in such a way. And as I chanted and rocked I felt better and better and wished for him not to stop.
But he did. I didn’t want him to. I was furious. How could he! I was just getting into it. Why! But there was nothing I could do. He took off the bridle and unbound me. I still couldn’t believe he had stopped. He knew I wasn’t done! He knew I needed to be punished more! And then I understood how sly and wicked he was. He knew exactly what he was doing, “You can always come back for more.” I looked at him, wondered, then blurted, “When?”