The following chapters have been edited by Woodman’s game. Thank you, game.
Chapter Ten – Daddy’s Little Princess
Two people lay, side by side, upon a grassy knoll surrounded by poppies and cornflowers on a clear spring day. One, the man, sat up and gazed lovingly down at his little daughter as she basked in the late afternoon sun.
"You see over there, my little princess? Over that hill is a lovely castle. One day, when you’re all grown up, a handsome prince will come to carry you away on his fine white horse and you’ll live happily ever after," he told her.
Little Elise lifted herself up on to her elbows to gaze over the colorful fields, then frowned and turned to look up at her father. "But what about you daddy? Won’t you come and live with us?"
"Of course I will, princess."
Of course he never did.
Parenthood had suited Elise’s mother even less than marriage. She was young and beautiful, wild and independent. Life with Elise’s father had initially been a thrilling new adventure, however, within a very short time, she had become restless. He had hoped a child might hold her. That caring for something so small and precious would some how change her. How could anyone have not adore little Elise?
He stared down at the child lying next to him. Her long lashes fluttered as she squinted into the sunlight and her soft lips formed a sweet smile. How could her mother have left so soon after the baby’s birth?
Can one miss what they have never known? If growing up without a mother left a void in Elise’s life, her father was determined she would want for nothing else. Whether it was something as simple as an ice cream or as extravagant as her pet pony, daddy’s little princess always got what she wanted.
Then, one month short of Elise’s sixteenth birthday, it all changed. Nothing would be the same between them ever again the day he married Jean.
Everything would have been perfect if it hadn’t been for her. How could her father just let that woman take over their lives? How could he do that to his little princess? Fuck Jean! Why did her father have to be so weak?
~~~
Elise stared out of the window to the lovely gardens below. Silently she recalled Layla’s words: "Men are like that you know. They will hurt you. They don't always mean to…" A single tear trickled down her cheek; then, she whispered, "…but they will."
Chapter Eleven – The Training
The following weeks Elise discovered exactly how life would be until Mistress Layla chose to release her. Each morning Rose would come in to her room, and place a breakfast tray on the bedside table before opening the curtains and allowing the sunlight to stream in. "Enjoy your breakfast, Miss Elise," she would say, and then she would leave. Upon returning a little later she would follow Elise into the bathroom. Rose never spoke, preferring instead to observe her washing herself in unnerving silence.
Elise had been allowed to choose a whole new wardrobe of beautiful and expensive clothes and accessories; however, during her training, she was always forced to remained naked but for a leather collar around her neck and matching straps around her wrists and ankles. Each band had a metal ring attached. "I’m sure you’re wondering what those are for." Rose told her. "Well, little slut, they’re to keep you secured when you’re not feeling..." She hesitated, thinking for a moment before smirking and adding, "…quite as co-operative as we might require you to be."
Before commencing her first session, Rose reminded her of a few basic rules that Elise would need to remember, or pay a painful price for forgetting.
"You’re here to please Mistress Layla. You’re here for her pleasure and use for as long as she chooses to keep you. Do yourself a favor: don’t even think about trying to leave before we are ready to release you. There is no telephone here, and I’m sure you’re already aware that we are a long way from town."
Elise understood the hopelessness of her situation only too well.
Each day she would be required to crawl around the room as Rose held the end of her leash. Often Rose would tap or slap her ass if she felt the girl was not holding her head up or crawling correctly. When that exercise had been completed, Elise would sit on the floor with her knees spread wide. Often she would be made to sit like that for a couple of hours. "It’s all part of your training," Rose would tell her, "a good little slut must be disciplined."
A good little slut? Elise failed to see how sitting for long periods like that could possibly improve her ability to please, sexually or otherwise. It bored her and it made her back ache. One evening, on one of the rare occasions when Rose was not in attendance and Layla appeared to be in a congenial mood, Elise questioned her about it. "Rose knows best," was all Layla would say.
Often as she sat there, Rose would sit behind her on the bed. Many times she would just watch; other times she would read a magazine or book. Elise could never be sure what she was doing. Only occasionally she would hear a page turn and perhaps a little chuckle if Rose happened to find something that amused her.
When Rose felt she had sat there long enough, she would stand up and offer the girl her index finger, instructing her, "lick it, little slut."
At first Elise had been unsure of this strange ritual. Timidly she had flicked her tongue out to let it touch the tip of Rose’s finger. It tasted salty and felt dry.
"No, no, not like that! Let your mouth relax. Wet your tongue first."
Elise swallowed and made a conscience effort to coat her tongue with saliva before lapping at Rose’s finger a second time. It slid easily from between her lips over Rose’s finger, and so she did it again.
"Now suck it, just the tip to begin with," Rose instructed her.
