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Capturing Cressida - ebook

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Capturing Cressida by Imogen Edwards

Cressida is a beautiful young university student. When she is suddenly taken in the dead of night, she-s taken to a house in the woods, where the evil Mr. Roberts tells her that he plans to sell her as a sex slave. With her pubic hair shaved and dressed like a schoolgirl, she's forced to perform a striptease, as Mr. Roberts makes a video of the act for prospective buyers to view. She is later beaten to make her submit, then made to fellate her captor, all before the camera. Once sold, Cressida is flown to a mysterious destination, a palace in an unknown country, when she learns that she has been purchased by the wealthy Ruslan, and will be one of his many sex slaves. Sandhu, his right hand man takes charge of her sexual indoctrination and training. When she rebels, she-s cruelly punished. Although Cressida resents Sandhu-s authority over her, she is strangely drawn to her compelling trainer. Cressida is meticulously prepared for her first visit to Ruslan, through thorough physical workouts, a tattooing and elaborate henna designs painted on her body. Finally presented to her owner, Cressida learns he is a cold and degrading man. But protesting his treatment, only earns her a cruel whipping. When she-s given to yet another man she revolts. Sandhu drags her away, and chains her up to await what-s sure to be a horrific punishment. When Sandhu tells her that she has disappointed him with her disobedience, despite his careful training, Cressida is mortified, realizing only now that he has developed feelings for her. As the cruel punishment for her latest crime commences, a local uprising in Ruslan-s realm, threatens everything. Can Cressida escape her owner-s grasp? Can she find love from a most unexpected lover? Or, will she be forever consigned to serve the ruthless degradation of powerful owners, who keep her life locked firmly in their ruthless grasp. A stunning, passionate and romantic SM tale.

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“Excuse me, miss,” he said, barring her way. “Can you help me?”
Cressida kept walking, intending to brush past him. She heard another car door open, and then suddenly she was grabbed from behind. She opened her mouth to scream and something was pushed against it, something cold. Too late she tried to stop herself breathing in. She felt herself falling.
When Cressida came to, she was in a car, driving fast through the night. Her wrists were pinned behind her back with what felt like handcuffs. A man sat beside her on the back seat as another one drove the car.
“Where are you taking me?” she cried. “What are you doing? Let me go!”
She knew how futile such protests must sound. The man beside her turned and leered.
“Shut her up, Billy,” the driver said.
Billy reached down and picked up a roll of duct tape and some scissors. He cut off a strip and held it up.
“No, no, please,” Cressida begged. She had a fear of suffocation.
“Close your mouth,” Billy said.
Cressida screamed. Billy hit her across the face.
“Close your fucking mouth, bitch,” he said.
She cowered in the corner of the car, trembling. Billy stuck the tape over her mouth. Cressida tried hard not to panic. Think, she said to herself. Think about what you’re going to do next.
She glanced sideways. Billy had a thin, sharp face. He looked barely out of his teens, with his spiky hair and skinny frame. The man in front was older, thick–set, though she couldn’t see his face. If she had to try and take one of them, it would have to be Billy. She knew she would have to do something the moment she got a chance. She had little doubt of the fate that awaited her. They had clearly come prepared, with the chloroform, the hand–cuffs, and the tape for her mouth. They would take her somewhere quiet and rape her. She could only pray they’d let her go afterwards.
After another ten minutes the car turned off the road and down a rough track through a wood. They drove three or four miles before approaching a house set in a clearing. There were no lights. The driver stopped the car, got out and went into the house. A light outside came on. Billy got out and opened the door on Cressida’s side. He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her towards him.
“Out, bitch,” he snapped.
Cressida stumbled out of the car, her hands pinioned behind her. Billy was still holding her hair. He pushed her in front of him, steering her towards the house. The other man was waiting inside; he went ahead down the hallway and opened a door, turning on a light that illuminated some stairs descending.
At the top of the stairs Billy paused, pulling her back by the hair.
“Shall we have a look at her?” he said to the other man. “She’s cute, isn’t she?”
He reached down and pulled Cressida’s dress up to her waist. The other man stared at her legs.
“Want to pull her knickers down and see her pussy, Harold?” Billy asked.
“Better not,” the other man said. “You know Mr. Roberts doesn’t like us interfering with them before he gets here.”
Billy shrugged, then let Cressida’s dress fall. Pushing her forward, he marched her down the stairs. She might have stumbled but for his hand gripping her hair so tightly. It hurt.
At the foot of the stairs Billy let her go. On the dirty floor was a mattress, grubby and stained. The basement was half full of old furniture, packing cases and other assorted junk. There was a dank, musty smell. In a corner she saw a bucket. On the mattress was a pair of iron manacles, the sort you might find in a museum.
“Stand still,” said Billy gruffly.
He fixed an iron ring around each of her ankles, locking them with a large key. The rings were joined with a heavy chain about six inches long. Cressida lifted a foot:; the iron was heavy round her leg.
Billy reached out and ripped the tape from her mouth. It stung and Cressida cried out.
“If you scream here, no one will hear you,” he said. “But Harold and I like a quiet life. So be a good girl and shut up, will you?”
He turned her round and unlocked her cuffs. Cressida stood rubbing her wrists, wondering if the moment had come. Should she struggle, or lie passively as he did his worst? With the irons on her legs she couldn’t do much else.
“Sleep well, darling,” Billy said. He leered at her again, then turned and walked back up the stairs, turning out the light. Cressida heard a key turn in the lock. She trudged towards the mattress, almost falling as the chain between her ankles held her back. Even if she should manage to escape, she could not run far or fast in her shackles.
She sank to her knees, sobbing quietly. These men were going to violate her, of that she had no doubt. But why had they delayed? And who was the Mr. Roberts they were waiting for? She wrapped the blanket around her and curled up into a little ball. In the far corner of the room, lit only by a faint light from a grill up near the ceiling, Cressida thought she heard a rustling sound. God, no, anything but that, she thought and shuddered.
There was silence in the house. Evidently they were not coming for her tonight. As the hours passed she drifted in and out of sleep, constantly awakened by lurid dreams. At last the gloom grew a little brighter as the dawn came up. Cressida shuffled over to the bucket, her chain clinking, relieved herself, and then tried to sleep some more. But she was more afraid than ever now. Whatever fate was in store for her, she would find out soon enough. She resolved to resist them as far she could. If she went down, she would go down fighting.

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