"There we are," he offers praise, his eyes avid as he watches the way Monty moves beneath his gaze, the way they shift to accommodate his order, moving themself into further vulnerability in pursuit of obedience without Justin needing to do anything further.

"Look at that hungry, slutty little cunt," he says, biting and warm at the same time, just the right level of degradation. He leans forward, bends, rests one proprietary hand on Monty's inner thigh, forcing it to spread open wider, higher. "Do you know what it wants, little one?"