Reading Time: 2 minutes

by Carrie

Diary of A Rich Girl – Chapter 114
And he did. His wrist snapped the flogger with a tight narrow movement so that it immediately recoiled and left a burning pain across my bottom. I bucked forward squeezed my pillow and buried my face into it and moaned. Ohhh did I moan. He flogged me again. I jerked forward. My legs bunched up. My face drove deeper into the pillow. I let out a cry as wide as a siren.

But he was just getting ready. He wasn’t near done with me. He flogged me five times more, steady as a metronome. Then I stopped counting. I bucked back and forth. My face slid across the pillow. My fingers tore at the sheets. The pain was almost liquid. It traveled fast and enveloped my whole body. I panted and grunted. I was beyond the initial pain. Little John knew that. It meant he could punish me further. And he did. I bucked, moaned, hollered, threw my hair, and cried as load as I could. “Oh God! Oh God! Oh God! Until I collapsed on the bed. But he didn’t stop.

My face rode the pillow. My eyes shut as I held onto the thrust of each hit hoping that the pain would last longer and not fade away. And when it didn’t I told him and he beat my bottom harder and harder and harder until my whole body shook and I screamed like I was coming. I screamed so loud the light in the room faded. Then, at that point of almost breaking, I let go of the sheets and fell on my back and twisted back and forth trying to ease out the pain. I was in agony. I was in ecstasy. Little John left the room.

The door opened a while later. It was Delmore again. He stared at me, but I didn’t care. “Can I get you anything?” My knees were folded over to my left so I could reach and sooth my bottom. I whisked the hair out of my eyes and waved him away. The door shut. But not the pain. I spent the next half hour? hour? suspended in its care until nursed its way out of me.

I got dressed. Made myself look presentable and left. Little John was nowhere to be found. The girls seemed to be getting ready for the night shift. I slipped out, almost unnoticed, except for a jealous girl who said something that I won’t bother repeating.

It was impossible walking. Every step was like a little hit. I eased into a cab and when I was asked where I was going I could barely open my mouth. I said, “Just go. Go.” I pointed uptown. The seat of the New York cab was typical. The springs were gone. It smelled. And everything was oily to the touch. I sat on my hands, the soft palmy part. The cabbie asked me if anything was wrong. I said, “Yeah, your cab. It sucks.”

RETURN TO “DIARY OF A RICH GIRL” TABLE OF CONTENTS