Amazing Grace
Copyright© 2025 by Edward Pembroke
Chapter 13
BDSM Sex Story: Chapter 13 - Cute young schoolgirl Grace Perkins feels that life cannot get any worse. She is bullied at school and hates her awkward young teenage body. But she reckons without the evil intentions of a vile pervert who decides to make her his target for his plan of abduction and enslavement.
Caution: This BDSM Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/ft Teenagers Blackmail NonConsensual Rape Reluctant Slavery Heterosexual Fiction Crime BDSM MaleDom Rough Sadistic Spanking Torture Anal Sex Analingus Enema Facial Masturbation Pegging Sex Toys Spitting Squirting Voyeurism Water Sports Small Breasts Violence
Grace sat in her cell, the basque still on. She had been told not to take it off — not that she could. The knots were pulled so tight she could barely breathe. Every movement hurt. Her suspenders dug into her thighs, the straps biting against her legs, leaving her raw and aching.
Screens surrounded the cell again. All four blazed with images: pornography, revolting and relentless. No men — only women, forced into endless performances of lesbian sex. Bodies pressed against each other, mouths where they shouldn’t be, objects shoved into places Grace didn’t want to look at. She flinched at the sight of feet being licked. The whole thing was vile. Who could want this? Who could even watch it? She tried to turn away.
But there was sound, too. An AI voice. At first, it sounded nonsensical. Then, with a stab of horror, Grace recognized it. The words were hers. Her diary — her most private thoughts — being read out loud by a cold, artificial voice. Line by line, violation layered upon violation.
Grace shut her ears, and closed her eyes. It had been like this for hours. The beast had been away for forever. At what point, she thought, would she start praying he would return?
Edward Pembroke had not expected to be back in the Perkins’ house just days later, facing Charlotte Perkins. He was relieved that she showed no flicker of recognition — nor did any of the locals. This was the first time in Willowbridge he had appeared without disguise.
Charlotte looked very different from the lively woman he had collected hours of footage of. Gone was the cheerful smile and the energy. In their place was a dour expression, a sagging face with sad eyes, and a weary stoop.
“Hello, Edward.” Charlotte took his hand. “Thank you for coming. Jeff says you were a policeman for many years.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“And you have a granddaughter who is Charlotte’s age?”
“I do, yes. That’s why I am so very sorry. To lose a child like this must be so...” He faltered. “I’m sorry.”
“I can’t believe I’ve lost her,” Charlotte sobbed, clutching Pembroke’s arm. “She’s not gone ... she’s been taken. By someone.”
Pembroke put a hand on her arm and gave her an awkward hug. He glanced at Jeff and his wife, nodding to them with quiet sympathy.
“I am eager to do anything I can to help,” said Pembroke, curious as to what she meant.
Pembroke spent the next few hours walking along fields near the cliffs, pretending to keep his eyes peeled, He wondered when they would find the phone and the shoes. Perhaps the tide and the currents really were that powerful, it was no wonder the police seemed resigned to her having been washed away.
Later, Pembroke was enjoying tea in the Perkins’s house, eyeing the walls of the living room and noticing the spot where he had hidden the camera there.
Later, Pembroke was enjoying tea in the Perkins’ house, eyeing the walls of the living room and noticing the spot where he had once hidden the camera.
“Oh, there you are, Edward.” Charlotte appeared, squeezing his arm.
“Yes ... oh, thank you for the hospitality. I’m sorry we didn’t find anything.”
“Edward, I want to talk to you in confidence.”
“Yes, indeed.”
“Can we go into Grace’s bedroom? It’s more private.”
They entered the missing child’s room. Pembroke resisted the urge to smile in recognition. He glanced under the bed at the place where he had once hidden before abducting the girl in question.
“Edward,” Charlotte said firmly, her voice raw, “there is no way my child committed suicide. Or that she simply fell from a cliff.”
“Charlotte,” he murmured, softening his tone, “what do you believe happened?”
“Someone took her.” Her eyes brimmed with fury as much as grief. “I don’t know who. But the police are useless. They just keep dragging the shoreline, waiting for a body. Wouldn’t it have surfaced by now?”
Pembroke stayed quiet. He didn’t want to raise the matter of currents and tides.
“I know what you’re thinking — the current would have taken her away. That’s all the police think. But I know my Grace. She never would have jumped off a cliff. Someone took her.”
“Do you have any ... clue?” Pembroke asked, his heart thumping.
“Someone was in this house.” Charlotte’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I dismissed it at the time — I was so busy. But cups moved, underwear missing, one of my pens set down in the wrong place. Little things. Too many to be chance.”
“Did you tell the police?” Pembroke forced calm into his voice, though his jaw stiffened. Damn. He should have been more careful. The woman noticed everything.
“They don’t care!” Charlotte snapped, her grief sharpening to anger. “They didn’t even dust for fingerprints until half the village had trampled through. And now it’s worthless.”
Pembroke breathed slowly, steadying himself. Good. Let the police remain blind.
“But do you have any idea who might have taken Grace? Who might have been in your house?” he pressed.
“No,” Charlotte sobbed. “How could anyone do this to my beautiful girl? She was so kind, so loving. She had so much ahead of her. She was all I had.”
Her body shook as she buried her face against Pembroke’s chest.
“Charlotte,” he said gently, stroking her arm, “I’ll look into it. Tell me what you want me to do.”
“Just ... please ... help me find my little girl,” she whispered, breaking against him.
“I’ll do everything in my power.” Pembroke smiled, Charlotte’s hair smelled just like her daughter.
Later, Pembroke found himself commiserating with the local police, the way only an old cop could.
“It’s never easy for a mother to accept her daughter’s taken her own life,” the inspector sighed, his voice heavy with weary resignation. “I’m sorry she’s latched on to you.”
Pembroke gave a faint shrug. “I understand. And I hope I’m not treading on anyone’s toes. Truth is, her cousin lives next door to me. She sought me out. I’ve told her not to get her hopes up.”
The inspector’s expression softened. “No offence taken. Always glad to work with one of our own. Let’s keep in touch.”
“Of course,” Pembroke said evenly. “I’ll help the investigation in any way I can.”
Pembroke smiled as he drove home. Grace was never going to be found, but he had a nice opening to get to know her mother. For now, it was soon time for Grace. A few more days until her period was over the contraceptive had effect and Charlotte’s little girl would lose her virginity.
That evening, Grace was perched on the stool again, thighs akimbo, showing off her red stockings, panties and basque, so radiant against her white skin, as she stared into the camera for another video entry.
Her befuddled face betrayed her unease as she was forced to answer more degrading questions from the computerized voice.
“How do you feel, Grace, about your captivity?”
“I—I don’t...” She swallowed, her throat tight. “I don’t know how to ... how to say it, sir.” Her eyes flicked to the camera, then away, unable to hold the gaze of the lens.
“I—I feel ... scared. And—and confused. I don’t ... I don’t understand why...” Her voice cracked. “Why any of this is happening to me.”
“What has been done to you?”
Grace’s breath hitched, her fingers twisting violently around the straps of her suspenders. She couldn’t look at the camera. She stared at her lap instead, her cheeks burning. “I—I’ve been...” She swallowed again. “Spanked, sir. And—and made to ... to dance. And—and shaved. “ Her voice dropped to a mutter. “Everywhere.”
“Have you shaved your body?”
Her face flamed crimson, her body locking up. “Y-yes, sir. I had to ... shave everything. Even—” She cut herself off, her teeth sinking into her lower lip hard enough to taste blood. “Even the ... the private places, sir.”
“Have you been punished?”
Y-yes, sir. I-I was ... spanked.”
“Why were you spanked?”
“B-because...” She whispered it. “Because I forgot to call you ... sir.”
“Are you going to be a good girl?”
She nodded frantically, her voice a pleading whisper. “Y-yes, sir. I—I’ll try. I don’t ... I don’t want to be bad anymore.”
“Are you still a virgin?”
Her entire body tensed, her thighs pressing together instinctively, as if that could hide anything. “Y-yes, sir,” she squeaked, her voice high and thin.
“Have you ever kissed a boy before?”
She shook her head, her voice barely there. “N-no, sir.”
“Soon you will do all of these things. How does that make you feel?”
Silence. Kissing? Him—that monster—doing those things to her?
“I—I...” Her voice broke. “I don’t ... know what I think about that, sir.” She swallowed, her throat clicking dryly. “I— ... I don’t know...”
“Do you want to have sex here?”
“I don’t know ... sorry sir ... please ... I don’t want to be punished...” she almost wanted the act to over and done with rather than face this taunting.
Pembroke smiled. It was a pathetic interview, but it was nice to capture these authentic moments of the early days of her captivity, as well as the constant monitoring from the cameras. He didn’t mind her vague answers, what he enjoyed was her hesitation, her fear, her utter humiliation as she tried to keep some dignity. She was still in shock, still unable to process what was happening to her.
“That’s that for your interview, Grace. Now, time to continue your journey down here. It’s time for your first kiss. Remember what you wrote in your diary about it?
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