by Carrie
Diary of A Rich Girl – Chapter 110
He pulled at my zipper. I said, “Stop.” I reached down but he grabbed my wrists. He was stronger than I thought. He pressed my hands against the wall and turned out my wrists. I said, “Stop it.” In a softer more compliant voice I begged him to release me. He let go of one wrist and slapped me hard across my face. It was quick, but the sting held and it corrected me.
I’ve been slapped before. When I was a teenager and a boy made out with me and wanted to fuck me and I’d resist he’d slap me and get his way. Those who caught on knew that if they slapped me they could fuck me. It did something to me that I still don’t understand.
Marco lowered my zipper. I didn’t interfere. He opened my low rise jeans and exposed my panty. I felt like meat. As if I were part of some presentation for the lewd. His father stepped out from the alcove with the phone pressed to his ear. I supposed it looked odd, me standing there flat against the wall with my jeans tugged down and my lacy panty exposed. I made a plea but he ignored me. The boy said, “Everything’s under control.” Farrelli disappeared back into the alcove.
I was now alone and scared. The boy knew it. He tugged my jeans down to my knees. “What are you going to do to me?” “I’m going to punish you.” I barely voiced my answer for fear of what he’d do, “I don’t need to be punished.” He played with me, “Don’t you ever need to be punished?” My wrists still hurt. I didn’t want to anger him any further so I said, “Yes.” “Yes what?”
But I had waited too long. I thought I could delay the inevitable. He grabbed my halter with his fingers and ripped it right in half. I jolted back and shouted, “Yes, I need to be punished.” My lacy black bra was now exposed. My firmness obviously delighted him. I felt like fucking meat with my jeans crunched down to my knees and my tits in his face. And then in a softer voice, one of resignation, I added, “I get punished a lot. ”
“Why?” “Because….” He waited then yelled at me, “Why.” “I don’t know why except that certain people think I need to get punished so they punish me.” He asked, “And you let them?” I said, “Yes. Yes, I let them.” He said, “Do you enjoy it?” I didn’t know what to say. If I said no I’d be lying. If I said yes I’d be lying. So I said nothing. I just stared at him.
He slipped his hand under my torn halter and cupped my large tit. It amply filled his palm. He said, “Nipple ring.” For some dumb reason I said. “Yes.” He almost laughed. He put the tip of his two fingers on the soft satin of my bra, grabbed the ring then pulled it out until I screamed. He smiled. “Good.” He was punishing me, but not the way I had expected. I had never been tortured and this boy was showing me something new.