Page 20 of Choke

“What’s your favorite song,” Mona asked one girl. She always held the women after my father and his men had roughed them up.

The girl, Lesley, sniffled and whispered, “My Girl.”

Mona nodded and began to sing. Her voice was shaky, but her embrace was firm as she brushed the damp hair away from Lesley’s face. It was deeply moving. Despite her fear, Mona had a deep compassion. She focused on helping another when she didn’t need to. At that moment, I understood how she’d stolen Callum’s heart. Because she’d also stolen mine.

I tug Callum’s hair until his head falls back. “You wish you were fuckin’ her, don’t you, Callum?”

I fist my dick and violently slap his face with it before shoving it deep into his open mouth. “Keep your eyes on the screen, baby boy. I wouldn’t want to punish you again. Eyes on her hands as she moves them over her naked body. Choke on my dick and imagine her cunt wrapping around your cock as she rides you.”

Callum gags on my dick as he desperately gasps for breath.

“That’s it, baby boy. Take it all the way back. I love the way you choke for me.”

I thirst for the salty tears that fall from his eyes. Bending, I lick the saltiness from his cheeks. “You look so pretty when you cry for me.”

Callum’s hands move to my ass, and he pulls me further into his mouth. He’s showing me that he likes it. My boy is trying to regain control.

I laugh, remembering how it used to be me choking while he called me names.

“Where have you been?” I asked as soon as Callum opened the front door.

I hadn’t seen him for days. He snuck out at the break of dawn and stumbled in late at night. I knew he was staying later than he needed to at the compound for her. He had an irrational fear that something would happen to her if he so much as blinked. He was the same with me in the beginning.

But it was different in my situation.

With me, he feared I would kill myself. With Mona, the fear was that my father would have her murdered.

He didn’t utter a word. The quiet thud of his jacket against the wall hook was the only sound.

His silence was maddening.

I stepped toward him, grabbing his throat and slamming him against the wall. “Where have you been?”

My instant rage-filled action had no reaction. Callum stared at me, his eyes vacant, as if the man I loved had become a shell, robotic and lacking in passion. My chest tightened, and my world narrowed as I witnessed the dull lifelessness in his eyes. At that moment, I would have done anything, uttered any word, no matter how depraved, for the faintest glimmer of joy to ignite within him.

I didn’t wait for him to respond. I crushed my lips to his in desperation. Relief flooded through me as he parted his lips, and his tongue tangled with mine in a dance consumed with anger. His body reacted to mine, his cock surging against me.

“Is this what you want?” Callum hissed through gritted teeth.

Before I could respond, he gripped my throat, restricting my ability to speak. “We can do this all night, Atlas. Hashing out violence until we feel something other than pain. I enjoy this game.” The metallic taste of blood invaded my mouth as Callum’s teeth sliced my bottom lip. “Why don’t you be a good boy and get on your knees for me? That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

My body responded to his demands even as my brain raged at me to punch him in the face.

With one hand firmly on my throat, Callum used the other to unfasten his pants and release his cock. My mouth watered, and my lips parted. Callum thrust inside my mouth, pushing in all the way until he hit the back of my throat. I gagged, and saliva formed in abundance.

“You don’t get to question me, Atlas. You don’t get to ask me where I’ve been or who I’ve been with. I get enough of that from your deranged, demented, dehumanizing father. You don’t want to be like him, do you, Atlas? You don’t want to be a weak, insecure little man who demands others kneel to him out of fear, do you?”

Callum’s words were a bullseye, hitting their mark.

“How do you think he’d feel knowing that this is how you like to pray, baby boy? Do you think he’d be interested to know how you beg for God while my cock is deep in your ass? How would the great Marcus Meyer react if he knew his son loved my dick more than he loved his Daddy’s little bullshit cult?”

My body instinctively reacted, and I moved my head up and down Callum’s cock. I loved when he used depraved words that my father preached against in his sermons. I always found it wildly amusing how Marcus Meyer pretended to be a god-fearing man. A prophet ordained by God. He pushed the narrative on the naive women and corrupt members of his church. In reality, Marcus was a drifter, a crook, a maniacwho had no issues harming people to fill his pockets and obtain more power.

Callum pulled out of my mouth. “You look so pretty, baby. You’re my pretty boy, aren’t you?”

I nodded, basking in the praise. I wanted to be his good boy. I wanted to be his filthy slut. I wanted to be anything Callum needed.

He placed his hand under my chin and collected the saliva trailing from my mouth before wiping it on my face. “You know how beautiful you look with spit and cum on your pretty face?”

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