Chapter 150 - ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY

Chapter 150: Chapter ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY

ANGEL

"Fuck." His hand tightened in my hair, guiding my pace, controlling the depth. "You must be desperate, aren’t you? Sucking cock like your life depends on it. Because it does, doesn’t it?" He laughed, low and dark. "I love it when you’re motivated."

He started thrusting. Shallow at first, letting me adjust. Then deeper. Then deep enough to make me gag, his cock hitting the back of my throat and pushing past the resistance.

I choked around him and he groaned like I’d just sucked out his soul.

"Music to my ears," he murmured. "The sound of my Angel gagging on my cock." He pulled back, letting me gasp for air, strings of saliva connecting my lips to his shaft. "Look at you. Drool everywhere. Tears everywhere. Snot probably in there too—lovely. And you’re still sucking like your life depends on it." He angled his head, considering. "Well. It does. Your life. That parasite’s life. Same thing, really."

He thrust back in before I could respond. Not that I had a response. I had nothing left except this—my mouth, my throat, my willingness to do whatever it took.

"You like that?" He asked, and I couldn’t answer because my mouth was full of him, my throat was spasming, my eyes were watering so badly I could barely see. "You like choking on Daddy’s cock? This is what you were made for, baby girl. Right here. On your knees. Mouth stuffed full. Tears running down that pretty face."

Tears were running down my face. I couldn’t stop them any more than I could stop the drool leaking from the corners of my mouth. But I didn’t stop sucking. Didn’t stop taking him as deep as he wanted, didn’t stop swallowing around him when he hit the back of my throat.

This was the price of my baby’s life. And I’d pay it. I’d pay whatever he asked, however many times he asked, for as long as it took.

He pulled out completely, slapping his wet cock against my cheek. Once. Twice. Leaving streaks of spit and precum across my skin like war paint.

"Tell me you love it." He rubbed the head across my lips again, tracing them. "Tell Daddy you love sucking his cock."

"I love it. I love sucking your cock, Daddy."

"Again. Louder. Like you fucking mean it."

"I love sucking your cock." I looked up at him with wet eyes, red-rimmed and swollen. "Please let me keep going. Please let me make you cum. I want to taste you, Daddy. Please."

Something wild flashed across his face. It almost looked like love, if love could be this twisted and dark and hungry.

"Naughty little thing," he murmured, and it sounded like the sweetest endearment he knew. "My filthy little Angel. Such a good whore for Daddy." He grabbed my face with both hands, thumbs pressing into my cheeks, forcing my mouth open wider. "Hold still. Daddy’s going to use this throat now."

He thrust back in and took over completely. No more letting me set the pace. No more shallow strokes. Just him fucking my face while I knelt there and took it, my hands braced on his thighs for balance.

I gagged. Choked. Drool ran down my chin and dripped onto my gown. My throat spasmed around him with every thrust, fighting to expel the intrusion even as I forced myself to relax, to open, to take.

"Gonna cum," he groaned, his hips stuttering, losing their rhythm. His grip on my face tightened, fingers digging into my cheeks hard enough to bruise. "I’m gonna cum down that pretty throat, baby girl. You’re gonna swallow every fucking drop like the good little whore you are. Aren’t you?"

I tried to nod around him. Made a desperate sound that might have been yes, muffled by the cock in my throat.

"That’s right. Good girl. Good fucking—fuck—"

He slammed deep and held me there, his cock pulsing against my tongue as he came. Hot and endless, flooding my throat until I had no choice but to swallow or choke. I swallowed. Again and again, my throat working around him, taking everything he gave me because that’s what good girls did.

He groaned my name, and then the door opened.

The doctor stood in the doorway—middle-aged, balding, wire-rimmed glasses, wearing a white coat that looked too crisp for this nightmare. He clearly wasn’t expecting to walk in on his boss getting his cock sucked in the medication room. His eyes went wide behind those glasses. He stammered something that might have been an apology, already backing away.

Damien didn’t stop.

He thrust into my mouth a few more times, lazy and satisfied, milking the last drops of his orgasm.

"Give us a minute," he said, his voice completely casual. Like he didn’t still have his softening cock in my throat. "Then prepare everything."

The doctor nodded frantically and fled, his footsteps echoing down the corridor.

Wait... prepare everything?

My blood turned cold once again. I stared up at Damien in confusion as he finally pulled out, slowly, savoring the drag of my lips along his length.

He tucked himself away, zipped up, fastened his belt—all with that same maddening casualness, like he hadn’t just used my throat like a fleshlight in a hospital corridor.

"W-what is he preparing?"

I stared up at him, still on my knees. Waiting. Hoping. Praying that my sacrifice had meant something.

"You did so well," he murmured, leaning to cup my face in his hands. "Everything is going to be fine," he whispered against my ear, his breath warm on my skin. "I promise, Angel. Everything is going to be okay."

I wanted to believe him. Maybe I’d misheard what he said to the doctor. Maybe "prepare everything" meant something else. Maybe—

He stood and took my hand, pulling me to my feet. My legs were shaky, weak from kneeling on cold tile, and I stumbled. But he steadied me with a hand on my waist, holding me close like a lover instead of a captor.

Started leading me toward the door.

Toward the examination room. Where the instruments were waiting. Where they were going to—

No.

No, he promised!

"Damien." My voice trembles on his name. "You said—you promised—"

The cry choked from me. His grip around my waist tightened.

"Angel..."

"You said everything would be fine. I did what you wanted. I did everything you wanted. You promised!"

He didn’t answer. Just kept walking, pulling me along, his grip on my hand gentle but inescapable. His other arm wrapped around my waist, half-carrying me down the corridor.

The floor below me went hazy. My legs were giving out, my body deciding that it had had enough. That it couldn’t take any more. That unconsciousness was better than whatever came next.

He lied.

Damien always fucking lied. And I fell for it again, like the stupid, desperate, pathetic girl I was.

The world went black before we reached the door.