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Betrayal of the Virgin Bride

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Her wedding night becomes a nightmare, as the naive virgin, Sally Kettering, finds herself trapped on board a cruise ship by her deceitful husband, George, Mr. Sun, a power Chinese businessman, and a variety of sexhungry predators there to participate in the deflowering of an untainted bride. Her husband has embezzled money from his company, and only Sally's cooperation will keep him from prosecution. But not until she agrees to help him does she discover that her precious virginity is the only prize the ruthless Mr. Sun values. Three days of humiliation and s****l surrender follow, until she's spoiled goods and bewildered by the crudely humiliating s****l acts she's forced to perform. Finally set free, Sally is haunted by the pain and pleasure experienced in her brief captivity. Desperate and guilt ridden, she attempts to wipe out her terrible sin by submitting to a brutal taskmaster, who punishes her body to cleanse her soul. Yet, nothing will remove the s****l desire that visits her body. When Sally later attacks the officious Mr. Sun for offering her a place on his ship as a resident w***e, she makes a crucial mistake. Little does she know the prices he'll extract when he abruptly takes charges of her. She is powerless to stop the retribution he metes out, or break his firm grip on her s****l desires.

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With the exception of quotes used in reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, by any means, including mechanical, electronic, photocopying recording or otherwise without prior written permission of the publishers. For information contact: Pink Flamingo Publications www.pinkflamingo.com P.O. Box 632 Richland, MI 49083 USA Email Comments: comments@pinkflamingo.com Prologue I prefer to think of my fate as a product of my own feral nature—a nature, that, in my naïveté’ I was completely unaware of until it metaphorically slapped my face with its existence. In fact, I ignored the first few cold slaps, whining that I’d been the victim of cruel men’s perversions, that I’d been unwittingly caught in a cunning trap of deceit. That was what I believed then. . . but now? I know that I have only myself to blame for the harrowing exploits that were thrust my way, seemingly forced upon me. In some respects, I created the life I’ve lived deliberately, as if the plan was clearly written well in advance. I believe in self-produced destiny, not in accidents, bad luck or chance—although, I believe we sometimes cloud our life’s desire in fabrication and twist our personal nature to match or defy the opinions of our immediate society. We think we know ourselves, but what we see is only the reflection of what others think we ought to be, staring back at us from the mirror of our world with eyes prepared to criticize or approve. We posture, we negotiate our longings, we procrastinate and we hide truths, until we are no more than like tattered papers tacked to a phone pole, one-dimensional, flat and torn, flapping in the breeze. We could fly away and be lost just as easily. I suspect that some, like me, sell out to convention, never to recover from the false shrouds of their youths. Considering where I am now, I must be grateful for my bad luck, my twisted fate, my horrifying destiny… because they eventually led me to myself, a woman fulfilled, self-knowing and content.

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