fuguestates | DOING SOMETHING UNHOLY

When Justin Baruch wakes up, his bed is empty. This was an uncommon, but not at all surprising occurrence, though he did enjoy those days when Monty felt inclined to offer a warmer, more...intimate kind of wake-up call.

He stretches out his arms and pads out of bed, heading to his private gym for a more traditional workout, a habit of his on early mornings when he was alone, and then showers and gets ready for the day.

He's toweling his hair dry, an open button-down shirt on, when he pokes his head into the luxurious suite of rooms set aside for Monty, containing no less than two full walk-in closets of their clothes and toys and jewelry and belongings, and pauses at the sight of his Companion standing in front of a mirror, dressed in complementary business attire, and raises an eyebrow, a pleasant anticipatory heat running through his body.

"I think I'm in the mood for an early treat before breakfast," he comments, eyes steady on Monty, to judge their reaction to the suggestion. "I've got several public appearances to make today, so it'll have to be quick or I'll miss my first appointment."

They glance up, eyes locking on their Patron's face as it suddenly appears in the mirror behind their own. A blush rises instantly to Monty's young face and for a moment they nearly apologize on impulse before biting their own tongue. Their Patron doesn't look...upset. In fact, there's that familiar simmer of pleasure in his gaze that Monty has learned to look for, to yearn for.

It meant he liked what he was seeing.

A punch of heat knocks into Monty, curling right between their thighs, making them start to throb. "Of course, sir," they respond, their voice pitched lower but still tender, warm, and sweet as always. "Should I wait for you in the car, then?"

"I believe that would be for the best, yes," he replies casually, his eyes lighting up with the obvious strength of Monty's reaction, even though there is no other sign of it as he steps back and away, draping his towel across his broad shoulders and buttoning up his shirt the rest of the way. "The weather is lovely today, so I think we should drive with the windows down today. Get some fresh air and sunshine."

It takes him a short amount of time to get ready - habit and practice seeing him through - and he greets his driver with a nod as he slips into the seat, where Monty is already waiting for him. He instructs the driver to take the long route to the cafe they often frequented, a short distance from the office, and then seemingly doesn't notice Monty at all, gazing out the window with a pensive expression, until they are stopped at a red light in one of the safe districts of the city, and he reaches to the side without looking to cup Monty's cock in the palm of his hand, groping them carelessly.

In the car, Monty cuts a sharp figure against the dark leather interior. They look nothing like a typical Companion would aside from the simple leather collar securely fastened around their throat and the small silver nametag that dangled in the center that had stamped upon it Property of Justin Baruch in a tasteful script.

Their face lights up the moment Justin sits down, even though their Patron doesn't spare them a single glance. The car purrs to life and starts to drive and for a moment, Monty is flooded with worry, their gaze cast down at their own feet. Was Justin ignoring them? Whenever Justin did, it was usually an intentional form of punishment, a manifestation of their Patron's displeasure. Did I do something wrong? they think, their fingers rubbing over their own knuckles nervously. Maybe they shouldn't have leaned so heavily into their masculine presentation, maybe they should have asked for permission first, maybe when they looked like this it wasn't as attractive to their Patron as when they were slight and girly and pretty -

But then the sudden pressure of Justin's hand reaching over and grabbing onto the small curve of their cock beneath their clothes makes Monty squeak, their knees pinching together cutely. "S-sir," they murmur helplessly, hips starting to squirm. They grip onto their Patron's wide wrist as if to try and push him off, as if they didn't want this (but they do, they really, really do).

Edited 2022-11-06 19:11 (UTC)

"You know, it's a bit harder to touch you like this, little one," he replies without turning his head, an obvious smile in his tone of voice. Justin was more than strong enough to take whatever he wanted, even if Monty were inclined to put up a genuine fight, but given the circumstances, Justin takes no notice at all of his Companion's hands gripping his wrist in faux protest. He slides his hand further down, between Monty's legs, a proprietory gesture, with absolutely no sense of being unwelcome or any potential rejection, deliberately grinding the heel of his hand between their thighs, despite how Monty tries to clench their legs closed. He can already feel the way Monty is reacting to this slightly rough treatment, and continues to toy deliberately with their genitals, his gestures casual and exploratory, thick fingers stroking along Monty's rapidly stiffening little cock and then teasing over the opening of their pussy through the layers of clothing.

"Does that displease you, sir?" they ask quietly, turning their head to look at Justin as he speaks. "...Or do you like the extra challenge?"

Their hips jerk minutely when they feel Justin's fingertips stroking a line along their still clothed cunt, as if trying to coax it open. Monty sighs shakily, imagining the feeling, their heartbeat starting to race with anticipation.

He laughs softly - not unkindly, but there is a very slight hint of mockery in it. "How sweet of you to ask," he says, his thick, strong fingers pinching tight, a deliberate slide of pressure between Monty's legs. It's no long gentle or tentative. "I don't find making you moan like a little bitch challenging at all, whatever it is you're wearing."

The car starts to move again, the little jolts of unevenness in the road lending an additional roughness to Justin's touch between his Companion's legs, focusing now on their cock, pumping it through the fine material of the expensive slacks Monty had picked out that morning.

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.

He briefly lets go of Monty, watching the way they sway and press their body against the teasing pressure, seeking it out even as Justin is easing it away, and then wraps a possessive arm around Monty's shoulders, tugging their little Companion (they were the exact right size for Justin to manhandle as he pleased in almost any given situation) over until they were leaning against Justin, their legs lifting slightly off the seat of the car, vulnerable to every jolt and pothole in the road. Justin slides his hand down under Monty's slim thighs, forcing them to lean against him even more for balance, practically supporting Monty's weight in his hand, and using that leverage to fondle them even more forcefully, with Monty's own weight pressing their cunt down against Justin's broad hand, rubbing deliberately against their taint and stroking over the obvious bulge of their little cock in the slacks.

"We're almost to the cafe," he whispers in Monty's ear. "I'll need you to go pick up my order, but you'll have to be quick or I'll be late for my appointment. You can do that for me, can't you, little one?"

"Y-yes sir," they whisper, dizzy and unfocused. They feel so small like this, so helpless. "Please, stop, you're making me too wet."

Monty looks down fretfully. They can feel the dampness start to gather, certainly staining their underwear, but the slacks so far remain spotless. They dig their fingers into Justin's wrist, the blunt nails creating tiny pinpricks of pressure as they lean their head against their Patron's shoulder, mouth slack and panting.

The car goes over a speedbump, forcing Justin's hand to nearly slap against Monty's sensitive little cunt. They nearly howl, legs spreading, desperate for relief.

Edited 2022-11-06 23:20 (UTC)

"Mm, spread your legs for me properly, little one," he orders, not even bothering to address Monty's helpless little plea, sliding his hand even further between Monty's legs, until they are practically riding his forearm, humping against him as the car jolts and sways. His other arm is resting against the car door, on the open window, seeing the few eyes turn towards them at Monty's desperate cry, curious about what they might see.

Knees bent, they pull their legs up a little off the floor of the car and reaches their hand back to above and behind them to grip the top of the headrest for leverage as they grind down against their Patron's arm. It's shameless and embarrassing and Monty feels both pathetic, degraded, and so, so aroused all at the same time. Their eyes squeeze closed; the car speeds up. They should stop, should straighten out their clothes and try to remember their errands -

"Please," they say instead, unsure what they're even begging for anymore.

"You can't even control yourself for a short car ride, can you?" Justin murmurs, but he sounds almost gleeful and pleased, rather than disappointed or upset. "You're all dressed up and so handsome for me today, but you're still just a needy little bitch for me, aren't you, Monty?" He curls his fingers deliberately, digging them hard into Monty's taint, practically lifting their weight up with the motion as the car slams on the brakes in front of the cafe. Justin glances out at the destination, but turns his full attention on Monty.

"You're close, aren't you, little one?" He croons, grinding his knuckles hard against Monty's vulva, squeezing their cock. "You must be soaked down there."

"I am, yes, I -" They throw their head back, crying out in frustration when the car stops and Justin's hand is heavy and insistent on them still. They feel their pussy gush just a little, right when their Patron squeezes, causing the front of their slacks to darken slightly with the evidence of their pleasure.

But it's not enough. Not nearly. And now the driver is saying something about their destination and the parking meter. Monty hears the door unlock and their eyes fly open in alarm. That's right, they had an errand to run.

They barely have any time to recompose themselves or to come down from the high of getting so worked up. And it's not like anyone says anything, but it's enough that they themselves know what they look like, walking into the café with their hair a mess, their cheeks blotchy, and their clothes damp and wrinkled where they shouldn't be. They go to the counter and wordlessly grabs their Patron's order, never once meeting anyone's eyes.

It's so humiliating.

And so fucking hot.

He smiles softly to himself, watching after Monty's progress, the looks they are drawing, the surprised and knowing glances from other passersby, recognizing a licensed Companion and their powerful Patron. Some of them - more in the know, or interested in such gossip - might even be able to make a guess exactly who he was, might match up his identity with that of a faithful shadow from red carpet events or other outings. Regardless, he gazes straight ahead once Monty has slipped through the doors and into the crowd inside the cafe, hidden from his view, thinking about what lies ahead of him for the rest of the day.

The door opens and closes and Monty slides in, blushing a lovely flush of red, looking deliciously mussed and flustered. He nods at the driver, who pulls away, and he holds his hand out expectantly.

"That was fast," he comments casually, as though he hadn't just been fondling Monty moments before, leaving them aching and wet with arousal. "It usually takes them longer to toast my order."

Their breath catches cold in their throat.

"I," they start, flustered, staring at the items in their hands and then back at their Patron. "But sir, you didn't -!"

He raises an eyebrow - not particularly surprised, in all honesty, but then, he definitely hadn't picked out Monty for their attention to detail - and frowns. "I didn't...?" He asks, delicate and dangerous, holding Monty's gaze.

They respond immediately to Justin's expression and his tone of voice, desperate to please. "I'm so sorry, sir," they say, their hands curling in on their own lap, shoulders pinching together. "Forgive me, I...I spoke out of turn. I wasn't trying to...accuse you or..."

"Oh, I know, little one," he replies, light and airy and utterly unconcerned. "You were in a rush to get out of there, weren't you?" He takes a deliberate sip from the cup of coffee, sets the bag with his food down to the side - he wouldn't be able to eat it now in the car after all - and watches Monty with a heavy, assessing gaze, noting every little detail, the tension and anxiety and excitement underlying their movements and words.

"Why exactly were you in such a rush though?" The question is clearly rhetorical, a carefully spun thread leading Monty down the path of Justin's choosing, and he pretends to think on it for only the space of a few breaths. "Was it because you were embarrassed of your slutty little cunt soaking into your underwear, enough to show everyone in that cafe exactly what a whore you are?"

The car turns a sharp corner, tilting Monty off-balance to fall against Justin again, and this time, Justin slaps their ass hard, fingertips noting the dampness of their slacks, a quickly spreading warmth and wetness against their crotch.

"Or were you hurrying back to me, little one? Ready to spread your slutty legs for me and beg me to fill your throbbing, desperate, hungry cunt?"

The dirty words, the rough and entitled touch. Monty's eyes flutter closed and they bite their bottom lip, clinging to their Patron as the car speeds up. "Yes. Both," they admit, tilting their head up to look at Justin's face appealingly. "Do you think anyone noticed? Do you think...they liked it as much as I did?" Their words are barely a whisper, a tiny confession: it's obvious that Monty loved the idea.

A small, swallowed moan and Monty continues, consumed by this daydream, their hand wandering too, sliding over to Justin's belt buckle, flicks it, making it click loudly. "Maybe someone back at the café is still thinking about it. Maybe they're touching themselves, imagining what I'd look like if they could touch me, if they could just pull my needy little cunt open and fuck it, hard, just like you do, sir."

"Could anyone like it as much as you do, little one?" he asks, with a smile as he looks down at Monty's upturned face. "But I'm sure at leaat one of your admirers is imagining bending you over and fucking you open, maybe even using both your needy little holes at the same time." They frequented that cafe regularly, after all, despite it being out of the way, specifically because it was located within a designated adults-only space, and because the system protected such activities there. There were always gawkers and passersby, but some good number of the customers in that little district likely had dreams of being pulled into a scene with a Companion, or even had held a contract or two of their own.

He smirks as he looks down at Monty, the eager pleading in their wide blue eyes, already clearly desperate, and takes another sip of his coffee. "Obvious," he declares, not without affection, tapping Monty's nose. "But really I don't think you deserve my cock right now, not after your carelessness." He removes Monty's hand from his belt buckle, gestures at their own pants, the spreading patch of dampness, undeniable evidence of their desperate arousal.

"But I'm feeling generous this morning. Show me your needy little cunt, handsome, and I'll lend you a hand. If you can't get yourself off before we arrive, that's on you. I'm far too busy today to indulge you further, and you've already set my schedule back."

They wrinkle their nose a little when it's tapped and pouts. "But Mr. Baruch," they murmur, "even if you're busy, you need to take a little break, don't you? Why not let me help you with that? Relieve some of your stress. It's my fault for making you late anyway so let me make up for it."

The car stops at a light and Monty takes this chance to slowly undo the button and zipper of their pants, pushes aside the thin boxer briefs beneath to expose themselves.

"See, sir?" they ask cutely, their face never turning away from their Patron beside them as they draw their legs up so that they're practically bent in half on the wide seat, their cunt on full display, spread slightly open already and still damp from the teasing before. "I can be good for you, can't I?"

"A shame you don't think of these things until after the fact," he says, scolding, but still good-naturedly amused. He doesn't reply one way or another despite Monty's wheedling and pouting, simply watches as Monty tugs down their clothes, exposing themselves to his avid gaze. It's a beautiful sight - his Companion really was such a treat - and he reaches his large hand out to rest on their slim thigh, sliding his thumb along the already damp, hot folds.

"Is this you being good?" He murmurs, turning his hand so he can use his fingers to spread Monty open, exposing the soft, vulnerable skin to open air. "Or is this just you being a needy, selfish little slut?"

"Can't I be both, sir?" they ask, looking down now to see the way their Patron is playing with them so easily. Monty bites their lip, uses one of their own hands to fondle their small cock, tugging at it, feeling how it's already twitching with need.

"I like it when you do that, sir," they whisper back, clenching around nothing, watches the way their cunt tries to close and tighten but can't with Justin's thick fingers in the way. "Reminds me of our first time together."

He smiles softly, his expression warm and almost sweet, his own memory jogged by Monty's words. They had been so anxious and shy, back then. In the present day, Monty had gotten far bolder, more comfortable in their own skin, and nowhere was that more evident than in the eager, willing way they submit to Justin's whims, greedily accepting rough treatment and soft caresses with equal enthusiasm.

"Sometimes you pull it off," he replies, conversationally, sliding two thick fingers into Monty's sopping cunt with an obscene squelching sound and pumping them in and out. "Though sometimes I wonder if a slut is simply what you naturally are. It seems to be far more difficult for you to be good."

DOING SOMETHING UNHOLY

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