Carol (Carol Schmidt Series) Read Online Free PDF

in the passenger seat.
    They pull away, the broad tires of the Merc rolling effortlessly
over the rough dirt track. It will be nearly twenty miles before they hit
asphalt, but the dusty Arizona desert is pretty much flat, and with the car’s
deep German suspension beneath them they’ll hardly notice it.
    They’ll be in Phoenix in ninety minutes, and a few hours after that
they’ll be two time zones away. Nobody will ever know they’ve been here.
    As they drive, she looks in the mirror, watching as the small,
single-story building they’ve just left recedes into the distance. She has no
idea who owns it. The Cardinal had found it, telling her that nobody ever came there.
The place smelled of decay, as if it had been abandoned years ago. Even after
they’d fixed it up inside a bit, the stink of old dust and neglect was pungent
in the air. Not that it mattered. You can’t smell dust on-line...
     
    His eyes open a fraction. There’s a tiny dot of red light.
    Immediately, a wave of exhaustion washes over him. His eyes close.
That light? What was it?
    There’s a fuzziness to his thoughts, like a bad hangover, but
without the headache. He forces himself to look again. His eyelids feel heavy,
as if there are stones sitting on them. The red light is still hovering in the
air, high up in front of him.
    The fuzziness dispels quickly as panic sets in. Where the hell is
he? He twists his head, finds it difficult to move. Tries a shoulder. A leg. He
can’t.
    His body jerks as the panic intensifies. He feels the restraints on
various points of his body. He is tied to a bed, and he can’t move.
    And he can hear his own voice.
    What the f...?
    His own voice?
    Definitely. Groaning. Wincing. Crying...
    To his right, three feet away, is a small, beat-up table. On the
table is a laptop, and it’s playing a video. The video is of him and Carol in
the hotel room. It’s the second camera, the one that took in the whole bed and
nothing else.
    As he strains to focus, he sees his stiffened penis disappear into
her mouth. He hears his own wince of delight, and on the screen he sees himself
arch his back, both hands up behind his head.
    God, he remembers her doing that to him. For a second or two he’s
lost in the memory of it, transfixed by the vision of such recent pleasure, now
right before his eyes. He feels his cock twitch as he sees himself thrusting in
and out of her mouth, and he notices that she’s reaching down and playing with
her pussy as she sucks him off; she was really into it, he tells himself,
just amazingly horny, the best pickup...
    Jesus! Where am I?
    He looks around the room. Light comes from a large window on one
side, which has a stained bed sheet draped across it. The place is old and run
down, like a shed that no one’s used for a couple of decades. The bed he’s on
is hard and narrow, although the sheet itself is brilliant white, crisp,
shop-fresh. The bands which keep him there are thick, rounded leather, and seem
to puncture the mattress itself, running right through and under the frame of
the bed. Ankles, knees, wrists, and neck. He’s not getting out of this on his
own.
    He turns his attention back to the laptop. He can hear his own
groans escalating, and he can see his rigid penis dripping with her saliva, a
sticky purple rod that she clearly loves having in her mouth, grasping it at
the base and steering it in and out, her tongue going wild.
    He looks around, at the window, at the cracked walls, the dust
everywhere … It’s a game. It’s gotta be. What is this place? Her basement? No;
the window. A shed, then? She must have drugged him and somehow got him into her
shed. Dirty bitch. The video? How did she get that? She must have known about
the cameras in the hotel room...
    Then, as his on-screen moans reach a crescendo, he realizes something:
his face is visible on the video footage. She whips his cock out of her mouth
just in time. He ejaculates violently, three great squirts of white semen
shooting