by Carrie
She didn’t answer me right away. I think it was my near nakedness that gave pause. Whether dressed, partially dressed, or frolicking on the surf topless I’ve always been the object of everyone’s gaze.
Ever since that moment when puberty turned a seemingly dull angular girl with mismanaged hair and no sense of style, rarely of anyone’s interest, then to what is known in boys’ circles as a piece of ass, my life has been about beauty, people of beauty, and all the loose change that goes with that.
Men cannot resist opening a door for me, or helping me when I don’t need it, or being concerned when there’s absolutely no concern at all, or speaking to me when there’s no need to speak. (Even women are considerate to me that I might give them a moment and treat them as equals.)
Ms. Keener, short and stout, though not overweight, but certainly handicapped by her plain looks and rather tight face and impossibly boring hair, no doubt was thinking: If I only looked like her.
Not that Miss Keener is very bothered by my good looks. She’s perfectly suited for her lifestyle and enjoys what she does and prefers the dutiful and secure position of a rich woman’s maid. She takes great pleasure in executing her duties and does it with a thoroughness that can only be the product of her nature not her position. So she may gaze at me, but she is quite content.
She was making a study of me, or should I say of the long black straps that extended from my lacy black panty waist to my stockings that accentuated the curve of my black lacy pantied bottom. I could tell she was satisfied that bent over, my bottom would amply plume and show itself firm and ripe. How could mine not? I suddenly felt obliged to interrupt and say something, anything to delay what was coming, but I was immediately cut off.
To further mitigate my attempts to speak she showed me my letter, “I have your statement here which reads, ‘I have earned all my own money and I’m free to pursue my life as I want. I therefore contest any punishment and ask at least for a delay.’ ”
All clients are allowed to contest their punishments before hand and the agency has an extensive pile of mine. Miss Keener gave her response” “I’m sorry to say, after taking your request into consideration that it has been denied. Thisley and I respect your opinion and there’s no doubt there’s some merit to it. You will be whipped.” And that was that. “Turn around Ms. Dupree.”
The door opened. One of the new boys under Thisley’s training entered. He was to be present. I had vehemently protested that this boy should witness my whipping. It was a very shameful thing for me. No matter. I had been advised because he was in training he will butler me in the morning from the moment I get up, get out of my bath, and out the door, until further notice. Thisley asked me if that was understood. Angry, I bit my lip, walked out and silently cried.
Miss Keener cleared her voice and straightened up. My whipping was about to start. “Ms. Dupree. Hands on back of chair.” A tear came down my cheek. “Turn around Ms. Dupree. I do not want to have to ask you again…..”
End of Diary of A Rich Girl – Chapter 162
Diary of a Rich Girl to be continued…
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