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| THE LITTLE SLAVEGIRL
By Peter King
© Copyright Peter King
The right of Peter King to be identified as the author of this book has been asserted in accordance with Section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights and Patents Act 1988.
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Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying, and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the author.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
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THE LITTLE SLAVEGIRL
Layla Westbrook was a vivacious young lady, not quite twenty-one years old yet. She was nearly six feet tall with blonde hair that was so long that it reached the top of her perfectly round ass. Her bright green eyes always sparkled when she smiled, enhancing her natural beauty. Her body was lean, but curvaceous, with a pair of natural C cup breasts standing out prominently from her chest. But Layla was a misguided soul, a girl who inherited a significant amount of money when she had turned eighteen. She used it to live the party life, that is until it started to run out, leaving her with only one option…Daddy. She had always been Daddy’s little girl, taking advantage of his seemingly endless generosity. But he knew she would never change and now he had another plan, one that would change Layla’s life forever, whether she liked it or not.
Chapter 1: The Girl in the Box
Layla stared out at the rolling green hills and forests she could see in front of her, but it was nothing more than a cruel joke. She was sitting Indian style with her legs crossed and a sturdy leather strap wrapped around her lower legs making sure she stayed that way. Her wrists were manacled with hard leather cuffs that pulled her arms apart and down to the sides of the box. The box itself was barely over two feet tall, just high enough to enclose her sitting body, with only her head sticking out of the top of it. The top was made out of two pieces of wood with semi-circles cut into each side that held her neck between them. A padded leather collar kept her head erect, and made sure when she dozed off she could not choke herself, a thought that had crossed her mind when this unbelievable ordeal first began.
She had been sitting here in this simple square box for two full days and nights, but the nights had been the worst. At least the sun was rising now, but since it rose at the front of the house and she was sequestered behind it, she had to contend with the cool damp shade of morning. Just behind her box was a house she used to remember fondly, a place she had spent many pleasant times, but now it was the center of the hell she was living. How it came to this she still refused to believe, even though she knew she would stay in this box until she did, or at least until Daddy believed she did.
She had tried to convince him every time she saw him since she was trapped here that she would change and learn the lesson he said she needed to, but he was not persuaded. In fact she barely recognized him now, terrified of what he told her he was going to do with her. The fact that they were up in the mountains and at least twenty miles from the nearest town meant she was literally at his mercy, and theirs too. They were Daddy’s maids, four of them, and given her new situation, they were like a quartet of evil harpies.
She had never trusted them since they came into Daddy’s life, shortly after Layla had left home to pursue her adventures. First came Cass, short for Cassandra, she was a mean looking blonde in her early twenties. Lila met her when she visited Daddy for his forty-third birthday, and the bad vibe she felt with her never diminished, and in the last few days she had learned why. She rarely saw Daddy since she had been ‘boxed,’ with Cass and her cohorts tending to her most of the time.
Cass’s cohorts were Linda, Sally, and Amber. Linda was a brunette who had long legs and a big chest, one that rivaled even Layla’s ample bosom. Sally was a petite redhead; one who Layla remembered was rather flat chested but was since enhanced, likely at Daddy’s expense. Then there was Amber; she was also petite with dirty blonde hair that hung to her shoulders. Amber, like Cass, scared Lila, having a look of true evil intent that was always present whenever she looked at the captive girl. They all came to work for him as his maids over the first year or two since Layla had taken her late mother’s trust fund money and struck out on her own.
Once the maids had come to work for Daddy, Layla found that avoiding visits with Daddy was the best practice for her. It was not just their demeanor toward her; it was also how they dressed. For some reason that she could not fathom at the time, they always wore diminutive and revealing uniforms. Sexy little maid outfits, with tight bodices, short skirts, fishnet stockings, and impossibly high-heeled shoes. They looked less like maids and more like sluts to Lila, and now she knew they were.
As she weakly struggled against the bonds she knew were unbreakable, Layla cringed at the prospect of their morning ritual. They always came out of the house in the morning, ready, willing, and able to humiliate the boxed girl. Once she had awakened this morning, after another night of fitful sleep, she did what she had to do. As much as it humiliated and grossed her out, she moved her bowels and urinated and now she was sitting in the foul smelling mess. But sitting in her own excrement was far better than what would happen if Cass and her entourage found she had not done her ‘business.’ Though it had not yet dawned on her, she was taking the first steps towards her full submission to the demands of her captors.
When she heard the patio door creak open she braced herself, having a new answer ready for Cass when the time came, hoping it would satisfy the mean bitch and her assistants. As usual, they were laughing and giggling as they came out of the house, like schoolgirls heading out for recess. But their laughter only made Layla more miserable, remembering how she used to love to laugh. In the last few days she began to wonder if she would ever laugh again.
The four ‘maids’ came over to the box, with Cass standing directly in front of Layla’s face, while the other three stood just behind her chief tormentor. Of course they were dressed in the inadequate uniforms they always wore, ones that declared more about their sexiness than their supposed positions as maids. Layla stared down at Cass’s long legs covered by the fishnet stockings and black pumps, knowing that if she looked up at her without permission she would suffer for it.
“How is baby today?” Cass asked, her tone as contemptuous as usual.
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