"Don't you worry your pretty little head," he murmurs affectionately, laughing at the way Monty tentatively tastes themselves, tastes their own milk, produced from their own breasts, something else he was sure they had never experienced before falling into his hands. He's a little surprised when they lean forward almost ravenously, sucking on Justin's thumb with every evidence of enjoyment.

"You like the way you taste, sweetheart?" He teases, letting his hand go slack and watching them fellate him desperately, clearly trying to distract from the long neglected throbbing emptiness between their legs, in both their holes. "I'll be sure to drink you up later when you're ripe and ready."

He pulls away then, and bends to remove more toys - cuffs and ties and a curious looking device, a shaped glass cup with a tube attached - placing them on the bed. The room is so brightly lit, allowing him to see truly everything.

"Should I let you keep your pretty dress on, sweetheart? You're going to make such a mess." He could well afford it, and the dress was very cleverly designed; he wanted Monty to have everything they wanted to truly fulfill this fantasy of theirs.