fuguestates | DOING SOMETHING UNHOLY

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."

They moan, eyes locked to the lewd actions being done to them by their Patron's hand. "I just like sex," they whine, "and I just don't like to hide it so much. What's so wrong with that?"

The car goes slightly downhill now and the tilt forces most of Justin's hand inside of their body. The sound it makes is nearly enough to make Monty want to squirt on the spot, their eyes rolling back as they thumb at the head of their own little cock, adding to the jolts of pleasure shocking their body.

"Plus," Monty gasps, "you don't want me to be good, do you, Mr. Baruch?"

He chuckles softly, and adjusts his hand, offering Monty the heel of his hand to rub against, just under the base of their little cock, while his fingertips stroke against their taint, in and out of their pussy. "Certainly not all the time," he replies, and leans forward to kiss Monty, swallowing any other words or noises they might want to make.

"But you still have to deal with the consequences of your actions, regardless."

He glances out the window, noting that they were already turning onto the street that led to the parking garage for the office.

They melt into the kiss even while their body moves desperately along with each thrust of Justin's wrist, bucking and squirming rhythmically. They moan, feeling the fingers inside of them spread now and again. It feels so good when they're forced wide open.

And for a moment, they completely forget where they've arrived.

"Wait," they say, lips smeared with their shared saliva as they try to pull back and away. "Wait, sir, I - I don't have a change of clothes for work, I -"

Justin doesn't hesitate for a moment, even as darkness falls briefly over the car as they pass out of the morning daylight and into the underground parking structure, kissing Monty thoroughly and forcefully, practically swallowing the moans and noises they make while fingering them open roughly. "Consequences," he murmurs, and then he practically pounces despite the confines of the car, pinning Monty down on their back against the seat of the car with one hand and then forcing three fingers into their already sopping cunt, fingerfucking them roughly, the obscene squelching sounds swallowed up by the dull rumble of the car tires over the uneven paving.

They let out a loud yell that’s hardly noticeable with the way Justin has had them covered and pinned with his own far larger and stronger body. Monty struggles automatically, instinctually against the man, gasping with tears in their eyes when they feel their Patron mercilessly start to fingerfucking them, practically assaulting their little cunt, forcing it to accommodate the intrusion while they plead, “No, sir, please, don’t - don’t make me -!”

Monty cums screaming and twitching on his Patron’s hand, feeling the way his desperate pussy squeezes and squirts a shocking amount out onto their barely undone pants, staining and soaking through most of it completely.

He doesn't let up in the slightest, curling his fingers and thrusting them in roughly as Monty squirms and spasms around his hand, his thumb teasing deliberately at their clit to draw out their orgasm. He spares not even a glance or a thought to the mess Monty is making, even though the driver suppresses a sigh from the front seat. Most of it was on Monty's slacks anyway, soaking the fine material.

For a moment, he considers continuing, forcing Monty into a second or more prolonged orgasm, but he has to get on with the rest of his day.

"I need to get to my meeting," he says casually, roughly withdrawing his hand and holding it up to Monty's mouth for them to clean off, feeding them their own release. "I'll expect my order - done correctly this time - in my office before I'm done. Do you need more instructions than that, little one?"

Their whole body is burning with oversensitivity, their eyes blank, unfocused, totally fucked out. Their hands grab at Justin, desperate to keep him close.

The car has stopped moving. Monty barely notices because their Patron is talking to them, is giving them directions as they suck obediently on the wet fingers shoved into their mouth. They draw their tongue slowly, hungrily over the nails and knuckles as if it were the most delicious thing they've every tasted.

They don't answer immediately, in fact, momentarily lost in the heat of their Patron's touch, arousal completely overriding their mind as they cling to Justin, pulling back breathlessly to try and kiss him again, to make him stay, to tempt him into more debauchery.

DOING SOMETHING UNHOLY

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