by Carrie
Diary of A Rich Girl – Chapter 89
The guy came in and shut the door. He was eating a Chunky Bar. I could smell the nuts and raisins and the warm chocolate from his mouth. I wanted a bite, but I wasn’t about to ask. And I wouldn’t get any if I did. There’s something savage about little boys. They care not what you think of them and will do anything to please their primordial instincts. Teasing girls or grown women gives them nothing but perverse pleasure. He gave me the once over while smudging his face with the back of his hand.
I was worried that messy hand would round my clothing. I was wearing an Armani black business skirt, a white sleeveless cashmere sweater blouse that gripped and hinted what was underneath, especially on profile. I had on skimpy white lacy satin panties and bra with garters and stockings. Oh, and some new eight hundred dollar black suede booties, side zipper, with nice four inch pencil heels. I looked reserved, but suggested interesting possibilities.
My hair, now short, has reels of lovely highlighted auburn waves that glisten off my bright blue eyes. My hairdresser loves pampering me whole afternoons. But not for eventualities like this.
I had an idea. “Maybe you’d like to watch some TV?” No response. “I bet there’s a show on you don’t want to miss.” He shook his head. “You wouldn’t want to disappoint Barney, would you?” No dice.
He finished the candy bar, locked the door, approached me and checked me over again. I decided I had enough of the bullshit. “Alright, how do you want to go about this?” I was giving in but getting tough at the same time.
The top of his head was about breast level. He said, “Like the way my sister gets it. “In your panties.” I heard a swish. A sheet of paper slid under the door. The boy retrieved it.
“Says here you kick and holler a lot and that you get all pouty before you get spanked and that you like to get difficult and give Mr. Thisley a whole lot of trouble…Is that true?” I bunched up my lips like I was going to spit at him. “Is that true?” I folded my arms and said, “None of your business.” He said, “Living up to your naughty reputation?” I turned my head away in disgust. I was seething.
Then he went down the list, “Says here you don’t like your panties taken down. Says here you get saucy, haughty and hot headed just because you’re rich and beautiful.” He paused for a second, “Wow?” He looked at me. “And you’re loose.”
I didn’t give him the pleasure of looking at him. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself. Girl with your body. It’s not like you’re some dog, get it when you can.” He turned the paper over. “Says here Thisley caught you in the park.” He approached me then stopped, as if he’d just stepped into something and asked, “Are you weird?”
He was just trying to torment me. Of course I’m not weird. I’m very successful, rich, and a junior committee member executive of the Met. He said, “Says here you were bent over in the bushes. I wonder why.” “I had to pee.” He looked at me, “You never heard of a bathroom?” I warned him, “You’re getting out of line.” He said, “Want me to call you know who?” I didn’t. “Then watch your mouth.” I scrunched up my lips and counted to ten for his sake.
“Why were you bent over with your panties down in the park bushes?” I was suddenly on the verge of tears. I wiped my eyes and said, “Stop asking me these questions.”
He gave me a moment to collect myself. “Will you behave when I spank you or are you gonna act up?” I nodded that I would be a good girl. “You gonna do what you’re told?” I wiped a tear away and I nodded that I would.
He dropped the paper on the floor. It drifted back to the door. “Good. I don’t want a word out of you. Is that understood?” I lowered my head for a second. “Is that understood?” I said, “Yes.” “Yes, what?” “Yes, sir.”