by Carrie
Diary of A Rich Girl – Chapter 96
Little John must have forgotten that he just got married. “Yo, baby doll, I’m down in Miami Beach and in the dumps. Can’t get you outta my head. I’m all alone. The weather is bad and the people are miserable. When I want sunshine I think of you.” I checked the Miami weather: 90 degrees and sunny.
An hour later another missive came my way. “I guess there must’a been a snow storm in your neck of the woods and all the lines came down cause I ain’t heard from you yet.” I looked out the window. Not a drop of snow.
Then he sent one with a picture attached of a crocodile wrestler from one of those tourist spots outside Miami. He wrote, “He reminds me of you.” The croc was getting kissed by the wrestler. I wondered who the croc was…?
My fixation with Little John seemed to come and go and always with a vengeance. And while Thisley told me to straddle the chair in my bedroom and make sure my bottom was sticking out over the edge, I wondered if maybe a hypnotist was worth looking into so I could forget that bozo of a man.
“Keep your head up and look straight.” “Yes, sir.” I was wearing a sheer panty with a ruffle, heels, and nothing else. I had just gotten back from work and was told that I needed to be spanked. I put up and argument and was shown the agency contract.
My bottom was pertly parked on the edge of the chair. “Don’t slouch.” “Yes, sir.” I arched my back. “Keep your head up.” I made a mistake; I slightly turned. I got a hot smack on my bottom and took the pain all the way up. I didn’t make that mistake again.
“Keep your bottom still.” “Yes sir.” I arched my back to keep my tush in position. My lovely tits pushed forward. I set my chin and waited. I got smacked. I was lifted off the chair. “Sit still.” My voice trembled, “Yes, sir.” Then I added, “My bottom hurts.” I got hit hard for that and let out a loud piercing moan.
“When I tell you to stick your bottom out I mean it.” I saw him reach for the paddle. I hate the paddle and he knows it, and I always get it when I’ve been super haughty. He didn’t wait. He swung it hard on my bottom. My whole body lifted. I let out a loud razing cry and begged, “Oh please stop…” The paddle met my bottom again and the snap was loud. It echoed across the room. I grabbed the back of my chair so I wouldn’t fall over.
“Didn’t I tell you to keep your hands off the chair?” “Yes, sir.” “So then why did you disobey me? ” “I don’t know, sir.” “You’re a liar.” “Yes, sir.” “What do I do to girls who are liars?” “You spank them hot and hard.” “That’s what I’m going to do to you” “Yes, sir.” “Yes, sir what?” “Yes, sir, spank me hot and hard.” “Lift your bottom up an inch.” I did. He tugged my panty down and exposed my cute bottom. “Get ready.”
I wasn’t allowed to sit. I had to squat. I kept my arms out wide and waited for my beating. And then he got to work. He gave me swift hot smacks across my bottom. Each hit my knees sprung up and my mouth opened wide until I was howling. From afar it probably looked like I was doing squats, but up close it was more like driving in a nail.
He spanked and spanked. I could no longer squat. I was in pain. I fell over and hugged the back of the chair as he continued working my butt over, making it red and stinging hot. I was begging for mercy. He knew how to make me beg and he knew I could beg good, long, and deliriously loud.
I could no longer hold myself up. I slipped off the chair. I curled up on my hard wood parquet floor. He bent over me. I was in between his legs. He continued my spanking. I threw my arms and head in a fury and deliriously begged while he beat my bottom hot and fast. The more I begged the harder he smacked. My pleas, my cries, my soaking wet tears and wild kicking only made my spanking worse.
I grabbed onto his leg. He pushed me off. I tried to squirm away. He grabbed my hair. He pulled me back. I covered my rear and got my hands smacked. I howled and cried and begged for him to stop. But he didn’t. He wouldn’t. He beat my bottom. Nothing would stop him from spanking this haughty Park Avenue girl. Not even her pitilessly wailing that carried through the whole household.
When he was done with me he left me on the floor with my panties down my hips. I stayed curled up for a good half hour, knowing not to move until I was given permission. Then he came in and spanked my bottom some more for good measure. He tossed me on my bed. I lay sprawled out with my head and arms hanging over. The housemaid came in for me, but I sent her out.
Then Thisley returned. He grabbed my ankles, pulled me off my bed, tore off my panties, stuffed them in my mouth, and dragged me out of my room into the middle of my household so anyone could see me. I was made to stay there for an hour as the help took turns satisfying their schadenfrauden needs.
The following morning I fired the whole staff, that is except for Thisley. I walked to work. It was painful as I twitched and rocked. But for some reason walking winds out the pain. As I made my way down Fifth Avenue a stunning woman walked out of her building on 68th street. She turned my way and took notice. As she went on I was pleased at what I saw. She had that walk. That spanked walk. It’s good to know you’re not alone.
At the office Farrelli noticed my little condition. He looked jealous so I set him straight. “You know that other people have their turn with me. So don’t bitch.” I went into my office and checked my email. It seems the weather was still lousy in Miami.