Serial Volume Three Read Online Free PDF Page A

I’d been aching for this all day, thinking of Patty here and helpless. I’d been enjoying the excoriating pain of my hard on the entire time we’d been making small talk and eating.
    I almost gasped as I slid the head inside of her tight, hot hole. I grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her towards me, but I didn’t want to kiss.
    I bit her neck as I sunk my shaft balls deep in her pussy. She screamed and I bit harder. I felt chorded sinew grind in my teeth and skin give way as I came.
    Hot blood flowed down my chin as hot cum spurted up inside of her. I let out a long groan and loosened my teeth.
    I spat a chunk of flesh out onto the floor and cradled her head against my chest as she cried.
    “I’m sorry,” I said, “I get so excited I can’t help myself. I promise I’ll be more careful next time. Shhhhhh…”
    She sobbed and my cock softened, fell out of her with a wet slap and cooled in the air as I comforted the whore I’d meant to kill.
    The whore I would kill eventually.
    But for now I soothed her and cared for her and channeled all the frustrated anxiety I had because of Pet, because of my father, because of fucking life…I channeled it all into her.
    Fair or not, it was her lot in life.

Chapter Five
    Patty Wilson
     
    Her neck throbbed and her heart pounded in the darkness even though he’d been gone for hours.
    After he’d left, she’d cleaned herself up using the napkins from the Chinese take out bag, but she could still smell him on her.
    It made her sick.
    As bad as Jason or Chico or his other friends had been, they’d never been like this. This terrifying, this intense.
    Her entire body shook, and she thought she might actually throw up. She didn’t know if it was from the assault or coming down off the coke¸ but she was in a bad way.
    She didn’t want to puke though, she didn’t know when he’d come back and bring more food. She couldn’t afford to lose it.
    She closed her eyes and felt hot tears slide out. She knew she was going to die. Patty had stared into the eyes of the Devil himself, and she knew he was going to take her soul.
    She would never see sweet baby Sarah again, never nuzzle her soft neck, never pat her little tummy and sing her songs as she cooed and kicked her chubby feet.
    She wailed, it echoed back at her, and emphasized her plight. She reached up and tugged at the chain he’d wrapped around her neck before he’d left, the padlock like some sick pendant. It rubbed her wound and she winced.
    She prayed for the hundredth time that Sarah was okay, that her mom and John had kept Sarah with them.
    It was strange how sensory memories could come back based on some small trigger.
    When she had pooped herself on the table, she’d been humiliated and prayed for death.
    When the rich guy had come back and taken her for a shower, all was good again, in spite of her kidnapping.
    But going back into that room, smelling that warm shit and greasy food scent had almost made her break down in tears.
    It smelled like home. The tiny house she shared with her mom and John and Sarah and her mom’s dogs and cats, always had the vague odor of crap and greasy food lingering in the air.
    What a stupid memory to have, but Patty was choked up thinking about it.
    She’d hated her bedroom the entire time growing up, hated the chipped and peeling green paint on the walls, the dead, brown lawn, the broken down cars in the driveway of their neighbor, Mr. Raymond.
    She’d hated it all, but right now she would give anything to spend one more day with them all.
    Even her mom, she craved sitting on the couch next to her ample body, feel one of her mom’s soft, pillowy arms wrap around her and talk about the last big win her mom had at bingo.
    Even John, although he wasn’t Patty’s dad and he was one guy in a string of men her mom had brought home, she missed the kindness he’d shown her. Kindness with no strings, no lingering hugs or pats on the ass when her mom wasn’t looking.
    And Sarah.