"You're going to have to earn it, little one," he replies, spreading both hands out on Monty's skin, relishing the contrast in size between his larger palms and long fingers and Monty's slim, stocking-clad thighs. His thumbs strokes along the elastic garters, snapping them taut against their skin. "Do you remember what I said I'd do to your little cunt? Your sweet, desperate pussy?" He continues to press, forcing them to the limits of their flexibility, his hands inching closer to their core, so he can stroke his fingers along the backs of Monty's own hands, holding themselves open to his gaze. Their body seems to practically flutter, pulsing under the attention in anticipation, and he leans down, so close his hot breath ghosts over their fingers and damp skin.

Then he steps back, pulls away.

"Hands and knees, little one."