by Carrie
Diary of A Rich Girl – Chapter 5
I was absolutely livid with Rodney. I told him I had no desire to speak with Mr. Farrelli about his daughter, but Rodney was maddeningly insistent. I was just damn tired of Farrelli requesting I come visit him.
Rodney finally gave me an ultimatum. After a good shouting match, mostly on my part (I must admit that my butler never raises his voice), Rodney threatened to have me turned over to be thoroughly spanked by Nigel. I new how rough and tough Nigel was with Anne. I new how rough tough he would be with me.
But I still put up an argument, “I just don’t see why I must be obligated to deal with Farrelli’s problems.”
Rodney said, “Because every other tailor in the neighborhood won’t put up with your demands. Mr. Farrelli is the last one. Furthermore, he is honest, and exceptionally talented with women’s clothing. And I will not travel all over town just because of your haughty attitude. You will visit him this afternoon, madam, or I will have you sent to Nigel. It’s up to you.”
It was near six o’clock when I entered Mr. Farrelli’s little cluttered establishment off Lexington Avenue off 74th St. He was getting ready to close. I figured I’d give him a few minutes then run off to the gym for a workout with my trainer.
Mr. Farrelli was pleased to see me.
I told him, “I am so sorry I haven’t been down here sooner, but I’ve been overloaded at the office. It’s our busy time of the year, and we’re busy packing for our next show at Milan. I’ve been meaning to see you, but every time I stop by it’s just after you’ve closed. I guess today is my lucky day.”
Mr. Farrelli, delighted, took me in by my hands and in his quaint manner poured some tea for me.
I got down to business, “So what seems to be the problem?”
“Oh, it’s my daughter. She hurts us so much.”
“What exactly is the problem?”
“She goes to discos, doesn’t study, and she sleeps with young men. We came home from church one Sunday and we found her in her bedroom with a man, and it broke our hearts.”
I said, “I guess you’ve spoken to her.”
“Of course.”
“How did she react?”
He said, “She told us she can do what she wants. She said that my wife and I are stupid little people.”
“What did you do?”
“Ms. Dupree, what can we do?”
I said, “You can throw her out of the house.”
Mr. Farrelli put his hand to his heart as if he had been shot and said, “And what? Have her live on the streets?”
I told him, “Then you’ll have to find someone whom she’ll listen to, someone with authority.”
He said, “She only listens to him.”
I asked, “And who is him?”
The words tripped off his lips with the utmost sorrow, “All the men she sleeps with. I am ashamed to say, but my little girl has turned into a slut.”
I thought he was going to break down and cry. He held onto his sewing machine to balance himself. The measuring tape that hung off his shoulders seemed to weigh him down. I thought he would fall over such was his despair..
He said, “Rodney, your butler, did say that you might be able to help me.”
“And just what did Rodney specifically say?”
“Well Ms. Dupree, he said you know about these things. You are very successful and well known and you are a woman. You know what a woman needs.”
I advised him, “So is Mrs. Farrelli.”
Again he dropped his head and drooped his shoulders. He said, “All Mrs. Farrelli knows how to do is to pray to the saints, and well, I guess the saints are busier with more important matters.”
“Did Rodney suggest anything?”
Mr. Farrelli said, “Yes, he did talk about discipline. But I couldn’t hurt a fly.”
I said, “You shouldn’t even hurt a fly.”
“Then what am I going to do?”
I firmly said, “Why don’t you just give her a spanking. A strict regimen just might be the thing.”
He looked at me in astonishment, “A spanking? Why, I wouldn’t even know how.”
I had had enough of this pathetic weakling, “Come now, Mr. Farrelli. You don’t know what a spanking is?”
He shrugged and waved his hand up and down to show me that he knew.
I corrected him, “Mr. Farrelli, all you’re doing is waving goodbye to the air. If a girl is going to be spanked you have to change your attitude. You have to show your daughter who is boss. At the moment she is.”
He seemed to be astonished, but eager to engage in this sudden realization, “I see. You mean that she is the boss and we are the kids.”
I just had to laugh, “Exactly.” I headed to the door when he said, “But how do you do it?”
I thought I had finished with Mr. Farrelli. I so much wanted to head over to the gym. “Mr. Farrelli, you must change your demeanor, you must show her you’re the boss.”
He helplessly asked, “How do I do that?”
I put down my bag. I walked over to him and said, “Then let’s pretend I’m your daughter. Tell me you’ve had enough.”
He said, “I’ve had enough.”
I wanted to cry and laugh, “Mr. Farrelli, put something behind it or I’m walking out right now.”
It took a moment then with a more resounding voice he told me that he wasn’t going to put up with my bad behavior anymore.
I said, “Good. Very good. It’s at this point, when you get her attention that you put her over you knee.”
Dumbly he tried to pick me up. I shouted at him, “Put me down!”
He let go of me. I quickly straightened my skirt. “What the hell was that all about?”
He shrugged, “I thought I was just doing what you asked of me.”
“I didn’t ask you to do anything!”
The weak man sat down and put his head in his hands. It was unbearable. Somehow I couldn’t share his pain. I felt he was more pathetic than his daughter. Then he looked up at me and said, “I will do like you say. I will speak with strength. I will then give her a spanking.”
I said, “Just put her over you knee and smack her bottom with your hand. Take it from there.”
“Yes, I will try, but will it work? Are you sure it will work?”
I said, “It will certainly change her attitude about you. She’ll think twice when you ask her not to do something.”
He asked, “I guess you know.”
“Of course I know.”
He looked up at me and with wide curious eyes and asked, “You have been spanked?”
“I never said that I was spanked.”
“But maybe once you were?”
I told him, “Well, yes, once.”
He asked, “Did it work.”
“I suppose so.”
Then he asked, “I must know. If it worked for you than I can feel much better about my prospects with my daughter.”
I said, “Yes, well….”
He asked me, “It didn’t work?” Again, his despair gripped him, “What shall I do?”
“Of course it did. It worked very well the last time I got my spanking.”
“But…I thought you were never spanked.”
Tired, I said, “Well, now and then, yes, I get a spanking. But that’s besides the point Mr. Farrelli. Just put her over your knees and get on with life.”
He said, “I should have my daughter lay across my knees?”
” That’s generally the way.”
He said, “Of course you’re speaking from experience.”
I said, “Just have her lay across your knees.”
“With her skirt on?”
I said, “Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous. If you were to spank me what would you want to do?”
Mr. Farrelli said, “I guess I would have you take off your skirt.”
“See, how simple it is, now? You’re on your way to success.”
He seemed confused, “But my knees are only so wide, she is taller than I, like you. When you get spanked where do you put yourself?”
I couldn’t believe how dumb this man was. I said, “My bottom must be arched, so I must have my bottom over your knee.”
He looked confused, “Arched?”
I curled the back of my hand to give him an example.
He then asked me to show him. I said, “Show you?” He then apologized. I said, “You want me to take off my skirt!”
He said, “No, of course not.”
The man was beyond inept. His weak nature acted as a mental inhibitor. He had to be shown everything like a child. I curled the back of my hand, again. Then he ridiculously curled his. I wanted to run out of that little tailor shop.
I cried, “My god, how many times have I come in here with problems with my clothing and you’ve quickly fixed them. I really can’t see how you can’t figure this out.”
But then I realized, as he dropped his mournful head, that the pain from his daughter’s bad behavior had incapacitated him, making him feel utterly useless. So I thought it over. Mr. Farrelli has seen me changing a hundred times. He’s had more than a glimpse of me, and more than enough looks to feed any libidinous desires. He’s probably seen every beautiful woman in the neighborhood near naked.
So I said, “Come now, Mr. Farrelli. Don’t be so despondent.”
I took off my suit jacked and put it on a hanger. I was wearing a black button cashmere sweater that nicely formed to my assets. I decided to keep it on, but I slipped off my skirt and hung it along side my jacket. I suppose he got a nice glimpse of my black lacy pantied bottom at I stood on my toes to up to hang my clothing, but then he’s already had many glimpses of that part of my anatomy before.
I turned around and faced him. I must say that I rather enjoy being the teacher. I guess it’s empowering to be able to tell someone how to do something properly. I said to him, “Look at me, and see if you can find any hints that might help you out in spanking me.”
He asked, “Hints? Can I practice on you?”
I said, “No! Certainly not! I’m not going to allow you to spank me.”
He shrugged his shoulders, “Should I ask you to get over my knees?”
“Absolutely not. You should tell me. But there are certain tricks of the trade that you need to now incase your daughter bucks, that is if she kicks and squirms, which can make it hard for you to keep her on your knees.”
He looked at me and asked, “Is that what it is done to you when you — buck?”
I told him, “Let’s just say that it can happen.”
“Oh, so then you really don’t know.”
I said, “Don’t be silly. Of course I know.”
“So then you do buck.”
I gave up and said, “Yes. I do buck.”
He asked me, “Are you get spanked often..”
Tired of his questions I said, “If you mean– am I a girl who needs to get spanked? yes – – and no.”
He asked, “When you were last spanked?”
“Just the other day.”
He said, “Rodney spanks you. Doesn’t he?”
I said, “If you must know, yes. He has permission to spank me.”
He asked, “You get down to your panties like this?”
“Of course I do.”
He asked, “Then you go across his knee?”
“How else?”
He asked, “And you buck?”
“Of course!”
Then he asked me, “What are those tips you were going to give me?”
Finally he got back to the message. I turned and showed him my firm tight bottom and lifted up my sweater so he could see me well.
I said, “What do you see?”
He said, “Panties, garters, stockings, your sweater, oh and your pumps of course.”
I told him, “You may want me to take my pumps off, because if I kick and holler they just might hit you.”
He said, “That’s a good idea. Take them off.”
I didn’t plan on doing that, but finally he found some initiative. So I ‘obeyed’ him and took them off.
He said, “You still seem to have a lot of clothes on, Miss Dupree.”
I told him, “It isn’t necessary for one to take all one’s clothing off. At least not yet.”
“What do you mean?”
I said, “After I, I mean your daughter, places herself over your lap, you may first want to spank her with her panties on. Depending how it goes, then you might lower them. It hurts more when you tug them down.”
He asked, “But what about your expensive garter?”
I said, “Oh, you can tug that off if it’s in the way or leave it on, but what is more important is my brasserie”
“But you’re wearing that little sweater.”
“Of course, but if I, I mean your daughter, tries to fight you with her hands, you might want to have her take if off and leave it with you before she goes over your lap. You can use it to tie her wrists over her back. It really does the job.”
He asked, “Are you sure?”
I gave him a look, which he understood. He then asked, “Is there anything else?”
I said, “There are many things, but since you’re a complete novice, I think it best that you keep it simple. Oh, there is one other thing. I flicked the thin hem of my string bikini and said, “If she gets too noisy you may want to place this in her mouth.”
He said, “Won’t she choke?”
I looked at him and said, “I never do.”
He said, “Thank you for telling me all this. I promise to not say a word to anyone.”
I said, “I didn’t think you would. Anyway, I want to help your daughter.”
He said, “Thank you. Thank you so much. You are so kind. I will tell the Mrs.”
“I told you not to tell anyone.” He promptly apologized.
As I reached for my skirt he said, “Ms. Dupree…”
“Yes, Mr. Farrelli?”
He asked me, “May I try just once, to see what it is like?”
I told him, “Why don’t you take that stack of clothing and put it on your knees and try it.”
Then suddenly that glum despondent look of a born loser painted his face with frailty and emptiness. He wasn’t asking me to feel sorry for himself. He didn’t even have the courage for that. So I hung my skirt back up and approached him. Like a good student he immediately straightened up.
I said, “I’m already late for my trainer. I want you to pay attention so I can get out of here.”
“Of course, Ms. Dupree.”
I put myself across his knees and properly arched my bottom for him. He then shyly asked me, “What do I do now?”
I said, “You must feel my bottom so you know where the soft spots are.. You may slip your hand into my panty, but you do not want to drop them. That’s for more serious spanking.”
I felt his hand slip into my panty. His fingers explored my bottom. He said, “I’m going to give your panties a little tug, but I promise I shall tug them right up when I’m done.”
He tugged them down and continued exploring me.
I told him, “Just one second. Notice how I’m arching my bottom for you. Now you can spank me very hot when I’m like that.”
I decided to drop my head to the floor and relax while he continued. He was very thorough. He asked, “Should I keep your garters on?”
I said, “Why don’t you decide instead of asking me every time.”
“Pardon me, I’m sorry.”
He then made his decision. He gently, but nicely, tugged my waist garter down and further explored my bottom, but then brought it back up. I knew he did this because I was wearing my panty over it, so it didn’t need to be taken off.
He continued feeling my bottom .Then he lifted up my sweater.
“What are you doing?”
He said, “I thought I’d try unclasping your bra and tie you up.”
“Do you really think that’s necessary?”
He lowered my sweater.
I said, “No. Lift it up. Stop being such a weasel.”
He lifted little sweater right over my head and dropped it to the floor. I allowed him to unclasp my bra and slip it off. My breasts and hair hung to the floor, He neatly tied my wrists behind my back. I told him, “Now you may give me several practice spanks.”
He once again searched my bottom for a soft spot. When he found a favorite area he gave me a smack.
I said, “That’s about right.”
He then gave me a good hot one and I let out a load moan.
He said, “You’re quite right. You do moan loud.”
I said, “Mr. Farrelli, that was nothing. Now give me ten good hot hard practice spanks. Make me feel it. That’s what you need to learn to do.”
He delivered ten hot hard smacks. But the tenth I was getting loud again.
He asked, “Should you be given more?”
I said, “Well, what do you think your daughter would need?”
He said, “Would you mind if I just took you over?”
I said, “It’s about time, Mr. Farrelli.”
I properly arched my bottom for him. He thanked me and then started to give it to me hot and hard. He smacked and slapped my bottom they way a girl needs it. I had quietly counted up to fifteen, but could no longer go on. I was being totally spanked. I moaned and screamed so loud that I didn’t need to tell him what to do next.
He promptly took off my little black panty, but he couldn’t find my mouth, I told him, “Dammit, just yank my head back by my hair!”
He did that and found my mouth wide open. He stuffed me good then let me go and continued to beat my bottom while I kicked and bucked under his hot hand.
He spanked me long and diligently, relentlessly driving his hot hand on my red hot bottom. There were moments of great riffs followed by extended moments of measured hits that nearly drove me off his knees. I begged to no avail. I hollered to deaf ears. I swayed my tied wrists, but could only gain inches off his knees as he worked every inch of my bottom with his hot and eager hand.
I was so hot from my spanking that I coughed up my panty and filled his little shop with my terrific cries. I begged him, “Oh God stop spanking me!” But he continued with my punishment, and I continued bucking and hollering under his hot hand, “Oh God! I don’t want it so hot! – – I don’t want it so hot!”
Tired of my hollering and screaming he shoved my panty back into my mouth and quickly my cries were muffed. He returned to my spanking. I thought it would never end. He was so wickedly thorough with me. He lent me no mercy. He treated me like he owned me, his to do what he wanted. Each slap was a call for his authority and my submission and at that point, when everything seemed to go black, he thoroughly finished me with a series of hard cracking spanks that shook my whole body.
I lay exhausted across his knees with my hair over my face. Tears soaked my eyes. My bottom no longer arched up for him but lay flat and red upon his knees.
He then said, “I think we’re done.”
He undid my wrists. He pulled back my head and pulled my panty out of my mouth.
I said, “We most certainly are.”
I lifted myself off his knees with his help and slipped on my panty. He helped with my bra and clasped it for me.
After I got dressed, he took me to the door.
He said, “Thank you so much for you help.”
I said, “You did an excellent job. You should have no problems with your daughter.”
He said, “Your not only an excellent teacher, but you’ve helped me regain my courage.”
I said, “I’m glad to hear it.”
He said, “Would you like to take some of your dresses home with you? I’ve just finished them.”
I said, “No. That’s why I have Rodney. I’ll send him over in the morning.”
He said, “Very well.”
I worriedly looked at the window and said, “I hope nobody saw us.”
He promised me, “Now one saw you get your spanking.”
I said, “No. I mean when I got up and you helped me with my panty and bra. It would have looked rather funny – – a naked lady with her tailor, if you know what I mean.”
He assured me no one could have seen inside.
A moment passed and he asked, “If you should like to experience this again, please let me know.”
I said, “I told you. I have someone who punishes me.”
He said, “Very well.”
Then I remembered, “Rodney will be going away for a fortnight.”
He asked, “And you’ll be needing someone else?”
I said, “If I did, I would have to stop by when you’re closing.
“That should be no problem.”
He wondered, “How many times might you be stopping by?”
I said, ” Possibly often, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course not. You’re one of my best customers.”
I said, “Then we’ll see how it goes.”
I thanked him and left his establishment.