by Carrie
Diary of A Rich Girl – Chapter 30
Ever since that busboy left Fire Island I’ve been hearing the most preposterous stories concerning his departure. One of the other busboys said that a twenty foot shark ate the ‘illegal’ up. Another said that a riptide sucked him away, and another that he had been shacking up with a rich fancy woman who strangled and dismembered him. They believed she was the mother of the American girl he had reportedly fornicated. It was the only story that had made any sense to me.
The following day I was at the beach helping Ned and Ryan set up their kite, when one of Little John’s ‘johns’ noticed me. I didn’t recognize him at first. I just thought he was another horny guy, which he was, anyway. Then I placed him. It was last week,
Little John had called me and wanted to know if I’d like to come over to visit. He also didn’t forget to tell me that I was the prettiest white girl he knew and how special I was. I know that sounds like a lot of bunk, but when he says it, it just kind of works.
He even had the nerve to tease me and say: You’re my blue plate special…I got a little upset and told him: How many times do I have to tell you, I’m not that kind of girl…I hung up just to let him know how irritating he could be.
An hour later the florist came into my spaciously streamlined office with the most beautiful assortment of flowers. A little note from you know who was filled with the sweetest things, (which I just can’t repeat.) I decided not to be a stick-in-the-mud, so I called Little John back and said: Maybe I’ll just come up to say hello, but that’s all. He said: That’s more than a man deserves…
At seven sharp I walked through the door looking cute as can be in a summer baby blue mini-skirt that bounced right off my hot little bottom. I matched it with a white tank-top and no bra that nicely showed me off.
Little John greeted me as soon as I entered. He knows that I won’t put up with anything less than he being right there when I make my entrance. There were several other good looking well-bred girls sitting in the living room. Some were reading magazines, others were schmoozing. You’d have thought it was a Park Avenue doctor’s waiting room, except for Delmore’s decorating talents.
Delmore, Little John’s endearing man-about was busy making the girls coffee or whatever they needed. He wears these oversized purple glasses that barely balance on his nose. He has this nasal tonality, generally practiced by those of the upper echelons of society, and it comes utterly naturally to him, and despite his tall lanky, almost spindly frame, he moves like Martha Graham. I wouldn’t call him totally flamboyant, but he does have a capricious flare, a sort of lightness that suggests artistic fragility, (but then we’re all so fragile when you get right down to it.)
Delmore had redesigned the living room into a cum Parisian literary salon from the 1920s, minus the books. When I complimented his talent, he replied in kind and said that I’m the most special of all girls. I couldn’t have agreed with him more.
Nonetheless, I thought I was getting a cold reception from some of others. Well, I can be cold too. So I ignored them all, especially that boorish Christy girl. Christy is one of those drop dead Texas blondes with sweetened blue eyes who just loves black and Spanish cock. Prior to coming to New York, she was a cheerleader, a well rounded girl, as you can see.
Delmore and I ignored all the other stuck-up girls. We had a most pleasant conversation, that is until Little John came into the room and looked his girls over. As usual, I was the first pick.
Little John and I left the parlor and all the stuck-ups. I mentioned to him that I had just finished work and needed to go home and pack for my trip to Milan, and that I had just wanted to stop over and say goodbye. He knows I’m all business, and though I respect his business, mine comes first. So, I resolutely told him I didn’t want him to try and trick me, again. It just wouldn’t work; I was too smart for that.
Anyway, I thought it would be better to talk to the john and find out why he needed to pay for his pleasure, instead of going home to his worried wife. I happen to be one who puts great faith in reform. As a protestant, and as a Puritan Wasp, it comes natural to my way of thinking. Anyway, guys, in their hearts, really much prefer a nice chat. And so do I.
Little John, as usual, saw it otherwise and we started to have a little argument. He not only got angry with me, he threatened to spank me. I hate when he gets like that. I reprimanded him and tried to put some sense into his head; yet, after some serious exchanges — I believed I was making some headway — he lost his patience with me and had the temerity to lift up little mini-skirt right in the hallway and give me several hot spanks on my satin pink panty.
I gave him a good hit on the arm and told him to stop it doing that to me. It was terribly embarrassing, and unbecoming. To my surprise, it only made things worse. We had a little tussle and he had the nerve to put me face down on a small couch in the hallway. I was fuming and desperate to get myself off that cramped little French fixture. I gave a few admirable kicks while he tugged down my panty. I even thought I was making headway.
How foolish of me. It was he who was succeeding. He slapped-spanked my bottom fast and furious with the palm of his hand. He knew how to spank me, alright I was forced to steep my elbows into the little cushions while I got my tush thoroughly spanked.
When he was done with my spanking, he warned me: Get to work or I ain’t gonna visit you in that beach house of yours next weekend…Feeling snubbed, I stuck my nose up into the air told him that he had already promised and that he couldn’t renege. I got up, ignored him — I wouldn’t even look at him — and smartly lifted up my lacy panty then went into the bedroom to be pimped. Now he’d have to come over. It was worth the indignity.
The john was waiting. His impatience showed. He seemed to be a little scary and gruff. He took his time exploring my femininity. He liked what he saw. I didn’t. Nevertheless, he told me to sit on the big plush bed.
I refused and tried to verbally reform him. He would have none of it. In fact, the sinner put me on the bed, against my will, because I’m not that kind of girl, and lifted up my skimpy tank-top up to feel me up, as if I were some slut.. I tried to push his dirty hands away, but he got tough with me, and said: I already paid for you… I was infuriated
He wasn’t done. He showed me his big thing and crudely said: It’s gonna be nice putting this in you…I wanted to call Little John for help, but I knew he would have nothing to do with me because we had fought. I tried to move away, but the john grabbed me by my lovely shoulders: Haven’t I seen you before — in some magazine?…I told him he was crazy. I lied and asked: What would I be doing in a magazine?
It didn’t matter. He was hard. Very hard. I stared at his ripe cock. Its mushroom head was flush red and it pointed straight up. He tried to kiss me. I turned my away. So, he got rough and pushed me down on the big bed and pulled back my legs like I was a chicken to be trussed. He didn’t even take my fancy little lacy panty off; instead, he let it bind my ankles so he could fuck me with it in his face. He was a sniffer. I told him: I don’t want to be fucked like that. He laughed: Too bad.
He stroked my creamy soft thighs and slipped his fingers nicely over my dark bush until one managed to slip in. Trussed and bound he worked that little finger in me until my will slowly dissipated. He pulled his finger out and sniffed it: You like big cocks?…He slipped his finger back into my vagina and continued to work me.
He asked me again if I liked big cocks. I murmured a faint yes to pacify him and said: I like big cocks…He then crudely asked me if I wanted him to fuck me with it. I said yes, but I didn’t mean it. He showed me his cock so I could touch it and know it before it was put into me. It was hot and it was hard and it was big and it would hurt. He pressed it up against me. It slid right in.
I stared at my stuffed bush, overwhelmed with how much cock it took in. I thought he was going to fuck me, but he wasn’t yet done insulting me. He was keeping a little secret: Little John told me he found you in the park…I told him that wasn’t true and that I had been forced to come up here against my will, and that I’m not a hot slut, and that I don’t liked to get fucked, and that I’m my daddy’s little girl.
Undeterred, he continued : So, you’re a very respectable girl. Very high class. Good breeding. Mayflower background…I proudly agreed with him. He said: So respectable, you’re a slut…And then with a wicked smile he added: I heard about the boys in the park.
I tried to cover my ears. How could anyone be so cruel? I wanted to end this inquisition, but he said: Now it’s my turn to fuck you, but not before I tell you something else…He was walking through the park several weeks ago and Little John showed him something interesting. There was a slut in the bushes with her legs sticking out and a guy with his pants down to his knees busy fucking her. The john said: Little John told me: That’s the girl I been telling you about, Carrie. She’s real fancy and rich. One of them high society white sluts who likes to get fucked by all the boys. She don’t know it, but that lovely sweet assed white slut gonna be working for me one day.
I was astounded. I didn’t know what to say. I avoided the john’s eyes, but he laughed good and hard and said: Tell me that it wasn’t you getting your pussy fucked in the bushes…I looked at him and pictured myself with my naked legs sticking out of the woods and the boy’s bare rump hotly pumping me. He had said that no one would see us. I hastily took his word. I then told myself, more than the john: I had no idea anyone could see me.
I looked up at the john while he worked his cock in me.. He was so big and strong with me. I wrapped my legs around his and grabbed the sheets then looked off into the room at nothing. I was feeling more than I could see. He softly whispered into my ear: You’re a such a hot slut with the boys, aren’t you?…I opened my eyes and in-between moans I said: Yes. I’m hot a slut with the boys…He tautly held my panty bound ankles straight back over my head, which not only lifted my torso higher, but allowed him to fork me deeper with his cock.
My head tilted off the bedside so that gravity opened my mouth, which only further increased my heavy panting and moaning and I again cried: I’m a hot slut…He smiled with satisfaction and continued driving his cock into me as I hollered: I’m a hot white slut. I’m a hot white slut…Louder and louder until I was shouting it.
When the john was done with me he left me on the bed like a played rag doll. My clothes were strewn over the floor. He turned me over for a second and read aloud the branding on my bottom: White Slut…And with great satisfaction he gave it a good hard slap and left me there to stare into the ceiling.
Back to the beach: The john handed me his cell phone. Little John was on the line. He told me what I needed to do. I complained and made a fuss. I told him I was trying to help Ned and Ryan fly their kite, and that he had some nerve for this kind of imposition. But he told me I was dependable. He needed me.
Now, I must be honest and admit that I appreciate being called dependable, but I certainly didn’t like the context. Nevertheless, as a rich businesswoman, an accolade such as that is rare, and when it is given it is received with great appreciation.
So, after some hemming and hawing, I gave in and told Little John that I would consider letting myself get pimped, just this once, because he had been nice to me. I reminded him that I wasn’t that kind of girl and that he shouldn’t get any ideas. I ended our conversation and let Ned and Ryan know that I’d be right back.
The john and I headed to the dunes where I allowed him to separate me from my little beach panty, I was told to get on all fours, He didn’t waste any time. He got his cock into me and fucked me good. Moments later the boys’ kite plunged within feet of my head. I heard them running up into the dunes yelling after it. I had to stop or they’d find me. I quickly ended our session and sent the john on his way. The boys found me, but lucky for me, they were more interested in their kite.
A week later Little John finally came out to visit me. I had been wanting him to spend the weekend with me, but he’d been playing hard to get. As soon he dropped his bags he had a nice cool drink and then proceeded to spank me on my bed. He loves to spank me. I knew I needed a hot spanking, though I did protest and put up a little fight to show I had spirit, and only then did I submit to my spanking.
Let it be known that I had already told him, after we had first met, that I wanted him to spank me. I like it when a tough man spanks me hot and hard and controls me. Little John has no problem controlling me. I have no problem being his slut.
When he was done spanking me he told me he wanted to go to Moses beach to show me off. I like it when he wants to show me off. Ever since he took me to 12th Avenue I’ve been letting him do that with me. So I put on a hot skimpy lacy beach panty, and hand in hand we walked to the nude beach.
When we got there he had me slip off my panty so every one could see my branding, white slut. People stared, some were jealous of the black cock and the white slut, some wished they were me, and, I suppose, some didn’t.
Nevertheless I felt sexy. My big tits sloped and swayed, and my plushies were plump and knobby. My fluffy bush looked delectably sweet. I was filled with heat and radiated it in kind. I spent the rest of the afternoon doing what Little John wanted. He owned me. I was his piece of ass. And it was perfect when he pimped me several times later in the dunes to strangers he just picked up. Longer after the beach had been cleared, I was still getting pimped.