fuguestates | DOING SOMETHING UNHOLY

He doesn't bother to hide the cheerful lust in his expression as he looks down at Monty, enfolded in his arms in the middle of a step, gazing back up at him pleadingly. "Are you sure, sweetheart?" He teases, pretending to be reluctant. "You don't want another dance first?" But even as he speaks he is stepping back slightly, their hands still clasped, ready to escort them off the floor and out to the waiting car.

Their fingers squeeze around Justin's as they shake their head, eagerly led back out the door and into the night.

The car ride back is a blur.

Immediately after the two of them step back into the house, the lights in the foyer still turned off and their shadows cast long behind him by the moonlight streaming through the window (it's so horribly romantic, they think errantly -), Monty claws at their patron as they're suddenly struck with a deep, rumbling hunger. Their fingers dig and pull, wrinkling the expensive material of Justin's shirt and nearly tearing one of the pearl buttons completely off. Punch-drunk and dizzy, Monty wondered why it felt like it was getting harder and harder to breathe. Their fine brow furrows, confused at their own strange state. Their skin feels almost too hot to the touch now, their clothing too restrictive and tight, as if a fever were gripping them, making their tongue and hands loose and careless.

"I really like it," they confess, voice husky and trembling with a strangely genuine vulnerability, "when you call me sweetheart."

Monty bites their lip, their thighs pressing together, desperate to create any sort of friction or pressure against their hot, throbbing core. But the chastity belt is nevertheless a cold, hard, persistent denial.

He practically smells the moment the aphrodisiacs he'd asked the restaurant to include with the meal kick in, so he is prepared for Monty's sudden desperation. He easily catches hold of their frantic hands and holds them up out of the way, letting them press against his larger, more solid body, aching and writhing for more, yet still utterly denied. "Is that so?" He asks, sounding sweetly delighted - he was very good at this, but it was always gratifying to get things right - and then scoops them up into his arms in a bridal carry as he heads for the playroom.

Things are already shifted around, a large four-poster bed pulled out into the center, a few large mirrors positioned strategically around the room, a few furnishings softening the more utilitarian aspects of this room where all kinds of filthy activities took place. They would play with some of them over the next few days, but he wanted Monty in the right mindset first, as proper thanks for this extraordinary gift of their femininity and trust.

"You've been so lovely for me these past few days," he murmurs, gazing down at them, taking their full weight with no issue, giving them an opportunity to look around the playroom before he deposits them down on the bed.

"Anything else you really like, sweetheart? It's almost time for your reward, I think."

The room looks transformed and they take notice, turning their face left and right, their cheeks a cute splotchy pink. But they say nothing yet, merely pauses to gaze at their own reflection in one of the many mirrors. Their eyes are hooded and slightly blank, dazed, and it takes them more than a moment to conjure the words to respond.

"I like when you take me out on dates like this," they bite their bottom lip, chewing at it adorably. "I like when you pull out my chair for me and hold my hand and treat me like..." they stop here suddenly, swallows. No, now's not the time.

On the bed, their legs are splayed loosely, carelessly, and their hands come dancing up their waist to cup their breasts, squeezing them idly, feeling how they seem to be heavier now for some reason.

"I feel...strange," they breathe with a girlish little giggle.

He watches the way Monty fidgets on the bed, the way they touch themselves and shiver under his gaze, the fascination as they watch themselves in the mirrors now surrounding them.

"Should I get you out of that dress first, sweetheart?" He asks. "Though perhaps you'd enjoy making a bit of a mess."

They giggle. "You know me so well, sir," they purr, before laying down on their back, allowing their dress to hike up their thighs even more.

"Do your tits feel a bit full and heavy, sweetheart?" He asks solicitously, his gaze drawn to the shiny metal of the chastity belt revealed by the way Monty is hiking up their skirt on the bed. "I asked the restaurant to add a little something, to make our weekend together really special."

He pauses, smirks very slightly. "Well, at least two little somethings."

They nod in response, holding and squeezing the swell of their breasts in their own hands, feeling for the change. "You did this for me, sir?" they whisper, adoring and reverent as they pinch and roll a stiffening nipple between their fingers, heart beating faster and faster when they think they might be feeling a bead of wetness.

"Of course, sweetheart," he murmurs, smiling down at them as he reaches for the compartment within easy reach, filled with toys already selected and prepared for their time together. "You're my little doll, aren't you? I have to make sure you're prepared for me, absolutely perfect in every possible way."

He takes out a pair of nipple clamps, holds them up before their eyes. "Let's start with these, shall we?" He doesn't wait for assent, takes it as given, tugs the dress down, revealing Monty's bare skin beneath the elegant fabric. With a grin, he reaches out, wrapping his hand around Monty's right breast, fastens and tightens the metal over Monty's nipple, already swollen and peaked from their own stimulation. "I don't want you leaking before you're ready," he murmurs, running his thumb over the sensitive tip, catching the little drop of liquid, squeezed painfully out by the toy. He glances between his thumb and Monty's eyes, before he cups their cheek and runs his damp thumb over the seam of their perfectly painted lips.

They nod eagerly again. "Your favorite little toy. Just waiting for you to play with every day, right?"

The clamps are tight and painful, making Monty start to squirm with delight, their breasts feeling even more sore now. "I feel like I'm going to burst," they gasp, utterly aroused by the very thought as the flick their pink little tongue out to taste themselves on their Patron's finger, watching him pull it away damp and smeared and shiny with lip gloss -

Monty can't help it then, leaning forward and fulling wrapping their lips around Justin's thumb again, sucking it clean.

"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.

The taste is interesting and not all together unpleasant. Monty laps at it a little more before pulling back and licking their lips. They glance at the items near by, curious; they're particularly interested in the cup and tube. It's not entirely foreign to them. In fact, they've seen it used once or twice on other companions before (briefly).

"I wanna keep the dress on," he says after a moment of consideration. "I wanna get it messy. I think we both like it when things get messy."

"Absolutely, sweetheart," he purrs, pleased and aroused, and then steps away, wrapping Monty's wrists and ankles in the sturdy, padded cuffs and forces them spread-eagle on the bed, utterly exposed and helpless. They look utterly debauched already. The loose, low-cut neckline of the dress is already pulled even lower, revealing the clamps pinched tight around their prominent nipples, their breasts straining with milk, the material already damply translucent. The uneven hem is hiked up around their hips, splayed wide on the bed, allowing Justin to see the cruel metal chastity device that is still there, hiding everything between their legs - their utterly clean and hairless pussy, the dusky furl of their ass, the miraculous jut of their little cock, a pleasurable impossibility for Justin to savor and enjoy.

"I can't wait to pump your pretty pussy lips," he says, as he curls his fingers over the body-warmed metal, teasing over the lock, making it ring like a tiny bell. He swears he can practically feel how hot and swollen Monty is already, practically pulsing already under the mere implication of his touch. "I want to see how full and pumped you can get for me, sweetheart. You want my cock, don't you? Think about how it'll feel, when your pussy lips are swollen and sensitive, when you're stretched around me and feeling every inch of me inside you."

"If only you weren't still locked up for me," he croons, an almost devious smirk on his face as his thumbs trace the edges of the metal, scraping lightly against the soft skin of Monty's inner thighs, restrained and spread wide on the bed. "I should let you out, shouldn't I?"

Edited 2023-09-05 21:01 (UTC)

They squirm, unable to look away, entranced by every word coming out of their Patron's mouth. Every filthy scene flashes in their mind's eye and they struggle against their bonds, so eager to begin, to feel everything that was promised.

"Oh," they sigh, "it'll feel so good, won't it, sir? I'll be so swollen, so tight for you. You'll have to fuck me like it's my first time, push so hard into me..." Monty stops, biting their lip as if to savor the invisible flavor of this soon-to-be-realized fantasy. "I'll be able to feel all of you. It'll be so much. But you won't stop, will you, sir? Not even if I pass out from it all, not even if I beg you."

Their thighs tense with anticipation, already damp with a sheen of sweat and their own wetness which continues to slip out of their desperate cunt.

"Please, sir," they gasp, lips damp with themselves still. "Keep it on. I'll...I'll cum too soon if you let me out." Monty's cheek are rosy with arousal and their expression is drunk with unfiltered need. They love this sort of game, where their Patron pushes them, wrings them dry - and then asks for more. Monty's never felt so satisfied with anyone else.

"Is that so?" he purrs, deeply pleased and anticipatory, excited for the rest of the long scene he'd planned for both of them. "You're too much of a slut to control yourself, aren't you? But how will I fuck into you if I can't reach your desperate, aching holes? They must feel so empty, isn't that right sweetheart? You didn't come to me at all for almost a week before I locked you in, and now it's been a whole other week. You must be absolutely aching."

DOING SOMETHING UNHOLY

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