Their Patron's words cut sharp and hot into them and Monty's cheeks bloom even more red than before right as Justin pinches at their cunt, squeezing the lips tightly together underneath all those layers. "Please, not now, sir," they beg, playfully, a game they know Justin often enjoyed, this forged resistance, a frail barrier to easily break down in order to sweeten his eventual conquest. "I don't want to mess up my clothes when we're out."

Still, Monty rolls their hips in a small circle, bucking up along with the little jerks of the car.