by Carrie
Diary of A Rich Girl – Chapter 12
I had been sitting in the waiting room of Miss Maltby’s butler agency for nearly an hour without even a kindly word from her office that she would be running late. That lack of professionalism, as previously discussed in this diary, was not only egregiously discourteous, it was unbecoming for a woman with her mediocre position.
After having tried to speak with that intellectually handicapped secretary of Miss Maltby more than once — she not only disinclined to speak, she refused to acknowledge my presence– I was ready to bolt out and forget the damn appointment. Perturbed, annoyed, and humiliated, I decided after waiting so long another few minutes might not hurt (though it just might hurt someone else.)
A rather beautifully elegant woman exited the main office and proceeded into the waiting area to get her little son who was engrossed with his Game-Boy. She seemed a bit pained as she took his hand. Several times she sighed as she spoke to him. I noticed her hand giving her bottom a long soothing rub as she left the agency. Well, that wasn’t going to be my fate today.
My name was called. Seething, yet controlling my anger as best I could, I left the waiting room and entered Miss Maltby’s dour office. Like Geoffreys had done, she was busy studying my dossier. Several times she arched her brow with dissatisfaction and reached for her special red pen.
Miss Maltby was the apex of all plainness. Although I’m sure she saw herself as a fiery crimson daughter descended from the isle of Lesbos, in person she was just the opposite. Her pile of grayish blue hair was neither interesting nor fashionable. Her pearls were perfectly fake, and the cameo she wore on her dress was as staid as a bowler on an Englishman’s head. Like week old bread, the woman was perfectly stale.
Her frumpiness exuded, whenever she moved, a whiff of badly laundered clothing. She was a dried up ossified woman whose fecundity was ripe with blandness, provincialism, and tiresome conventions. To say I didn’t like her would in fact be kind. You can imagine how I really felt, if you care to guess.
“I’ll be with you in a minute, Miss Dupree.” The nerve, after an hour. She folded the dossier, and with a neat push of her forefinger shifted the thing away from her. She clasped her pudgy porcine hands and looked up. “It has been a while, hasn’t it?”
“What has been a while, Miss Maltby?” She looked aghast, as if I were trying to pull something terrifically wicked on her. She took that mean little forefinger of hers and shifted the dossier back an inch and flipped it open.
” You haven’t been properly spanked in a long while, according to Rodney.”
I said, “That’s absolute nonsense.”
“Really, when did he last spank you?”
I said, “I was last spanked yesterday.”
She said, “Well of course this report concludes at the end of last week.”
“That’s right, and I was thoroughly spanked two days before that as well.”
Miss Maltby pointed at me, “Lift up your skirt and let me see.”
I lifted up my skirt, “Miss Dupree, how can I tell if you don’t lower your panties?” I slipped my panty down and showed her my bottom. She had nothing to say. It had been thoroughly spanked. “You may lift it up.”
I sat down — my bottom was still stinging, Mr. Farelli had superbly spanked me twice this week — and waited for my next reprimand. “Miss Dupree. I cannot say enough how I find your attitude displeasing. You seem to think that we’re doing you a disservice, when in fact we are doing just the opposite. You have been rude to my secretary, and you have insulted all the staff whenever they approach you. I find it strange how you can confuse sincerity with impropriety.”
I said, “According to the contract, if I get my spanking within forty-eight hours of visiting you I am free to leave without any punishment from the management.”
She said, “You’re changing the subject.” We annoyingly stared at each other for a good long moment.
Miss Maltby was forced to admit, “Technically you are just within in the edge. Though I will spank you anyway because of your impudence. I think you’re a girl who needs to be punished by someone who knows what they’re doing, and I am that person. I suppose a good caning will temper your flare for verbal abuse.”
“I read about Mrs. Groton in the papers.” Now that was a surprise. It was none of her business.
She continued, “Mrs. Groton came to me and with great courage and asked us to thoroughly punish her everyday. Thus, Thisley and I enforced a regimen that she has dutifully followed. I admit she puts some stress on our staff, but she is determined to rehabilitate herself. I’ve always admired a lady who puts aside everything else and chooses to assiduously deal with her difficulties. There are too many of you out there who could learn from Mrs. Groton’s example.”
I said, ” How nice to know.”
She said, ” I think she is ready to enter society again.”
I was really pissed, now. The nerve of her to interfere with my personal life was the last straw. I leaned right into her, “Miss Maltby, not only is it none of your goddam business, but if you dare to open your mouth to me one more time, not only will your ass get spanked, but I will personally whip you myself.”
She looked as if she had been peed on. She leaned back, blustered with outrage, “Get out of my office Right now! Don’t you ever come back here. Rodney will no longer be in your service. You are a disgrace and a sham!”
“A disgrace and a sham?” I reached for her spanking strap on the side of her desk, “We’ll see who is a sham.”
She arose from her chair and tried to take the whip from me. Not fast enough. I grabbed her collar and brought her down. Her fat unbalanced body tilted back and fell on the floor. I flipped her over, lifted her skirt, and whipped her lumpy bottom with a ferociousness that even surprised me (notwithstanding that I’m 5’9″ and was a star field hockey player at Breeley.)
The crowning glory of my little achievement was that the outside office thought it was me who was getting it- – but not Miss Maltby. I therefore had all the time in the world to thoroughly whip her into submission. And when I did her false pride vanished from her tight lips. Her phony regality disappeared and revealed a small minded mean woman who was nothing more than a craven bully. When I was finished with her I left her on the floor to whimper. Maybe, from now on, though I had my doubts, she would be more decent to people in the future.
As I marched out of her office her fool secretary dumbly smirked at me as she glanced at my bottom. Well, that smirk would not last very long. When I arrived home Taylor warmly greeted me, “How did it go?”
“Just as you said it would. Though had she not made me wait an hour, I might not have had the gumption. Where’s Rodney?” Taylor smiled, “I sent him packing'”
“Good. Where are my bags?” He showed them to me and we went to my beach house, the one on Fire Island, for the weekend. I wanted to avoid the Hamptons’ crowd for once.
