fuguestates | DOING SOMETHING UNHOLY

"Maybe," they tease, their voice a lilting sing-song before pressing closer into the man's arms and guiding one of his hands down between their legs, underneath the flimsy flaps of their skirt so that he can feel.

(It's strange for Monty now to even think about ever being without their Patron. Justin has rooted himself as such an obvious, almost permanent structure in Monty's life now, the one who provides the boundaries for which Monty lives, as well as the one source of fulfillment for all of their desires.

Do all Companions feel this way? Does it matter?)

He curls his fingers slightly as Monty directs his hand, grasping the metal ring at their clit between his thumb and forefinger, and tugs, sharp but not overly forceful, just to see how they react.

"Are you fully cleared now, little one?" He whispers in their ear. "Because I've been waiting to play with you all day while you were gone."

They shiver, moaning softly when that ring is played with. A jolt of sensitivity, bordering on pain, spreads from the base of their spine and up to through their stomach.

"Yes, sir," they reply, lashes fluttering as they pull back just enough to see the look on Justin's face, see the way his eyes are already hooded with pleasure. "Did you miss me this whole time? Tell me you did."

He lets go of the ring, turns his hand, slides his wide palm down between Monty's legs, insinuating his thick, sturdy fingers between Monty's slim thighs, jostling the two other rings, a dull clack of metal and flesh as they rub against each other. "Of course I missed you," he replies, complying with Monty's earnest little plea. "After all, your proper place is wherever I am, isn't it, little one? How else can I take care of all your desperate, slutty holes? I have to make sure my precious little doll is satisfied, don't I?"

They beam, rolling their hips back and forth against the thick warmth of Justin's fingers, feeling how wetness starts to gather right at the core of them. They can start to hear it too, that slightly damp squish as they grind down -

"That's right, sir," they murmur against Justin's mouth now, tongue flicking at the corner of it. "You take such good care of me don't you? You know exactly what I need. No one else can satisfy me, can they? Not all those men who try to look up my skirt when I cross the street, or the women who stare at me in the bathroom. None of them. They all want what you have, don't they?"

"I certainly do my best to take care of what's mine," he replies softly, his hand moving in time with Monty's rolling hips, feeling the damp stickiness of their arousal gathering, sliding against his own skin. "And you've been feeling so empty, haven't you, little one? All those weeks without having your cunt used and properly filled? But now you're fully recovered we'll have to make up for lost time, won't we?

"I'm going to tie you down first," he murmurs, soft and low by Monty's ear. "You like squirming for me, don't you, little one? I want to take my time to open you up for me, to tug hard on your new little rings, stretching you out and open so I can see right to your slutty core, so your hungry pussy is already gaping for me. Maybe I'll pin you open like that, so I can see the way your pussy pulses, practically begging for me to fill it up.

"But I won't do that just yet, no matter how prettily you beg. No, I'm going to warm you up, completely work you over. Do you know why I wanted to wait, why I was so insistent? Because I know exactly what a little painslut you are, how much you want me to make you feel filthy and used up. I'm going to whip your slutty pussy until it's swollen and tender, until you're properly hot and tight for me, until you can barely move for the exquisite agony I'm going to bring you. Maybe I'll use the leather crop on you. You like that toy, don't you, little one? You love the way it feels, the sound and sting of it on your skin. Imagine feeling that on your stretched open pussy, over and over again, digging right into your wet little hole as you cry for me."

Edited 2022-11-25 04:50 (UTC)

"I love being yours," they sigh, dreamily, completely enraptured in this fantasy that Justin was describing, one that was just about to become quite real for the both of them. Every whispered detail makes Monty groan loader, a hot flush flooding his body as they gyrate their hips harder, fingers clawing against the man's chest, ruining his finely pressed shirt.

"Please," they say, voice harsh and rough. "I want that - all of that - I want you to stretch me out, use me up, want you to make me scream for it, want you to torment me because you know I like being good for you, right? You know I'd do anything to please you, to make you want to fuck into me so hard it hurts for days after." I want you to want me as badly as I want you all the time.

"Don't let me cum the whole time, ok, sir?" They're breathless, panting, their cunt already slick and dripping into Justin's hand. "Make earn it."

He pauses for a long moment, feeling the way Monty is already squirming and grinding against his hand, their body seemingly already overcome by the fantasy he's outlining. "Do you want me to make that an order, little one?" He asks, but there is a warning tone. "You know what will happen if you fail to obey, don't you? And you'll be especially sensitive today, with your little clit pierced for me."

They stop momentarily but it's harder than it seems. That question dangles in the air before them, a writhing and clear temptation. A delicious threat.

"Yes," they say, as if hypnotized, their own hands continuing to be disobedient, wandering down Justin's body before snaking between them to grab a gratuitous handful of his groin, the semi-hard curve of it filling their palm. They squeeze. "Yes, sir."

Edited 2022-11-26 01:28 (UTC)

He smirks, letting Monty touch him back, their hot little hands groping him hungrily. Then he catches their hands and holds them still, using his grip to tug Monty up close, their smaller body against his, so he can whisper in their ear:

"Go to the playroom and get dressed, little one. I can't wait to play with you."

The playroom is one of the smaller areas in the house but it's also one of the more detailed, private, and even elegant spaces they shared. They didn't always use it, but when they did, it usually meant a particularly long, juicy scene was to be expected.

Monty sucks in a trembling breath, filled with anicipation.

On one of the lux, plush benches near the middle of the room, Monty sits waiting, outfitted in a nothing but a pale lacy bra (so reminiscent of what they had worn the first time Justin had touched them, had made them cum, in that small hotel room on those scratchy, cold sheets -) and sheer thigh-highs held up by garters and a matching belt around their small waist. They keep their legs crossed so that it's not immediately obvious they're not wearing any panties.

Though, that wasn't the only surprise down between their thighs.

A few more minutes pass. Their high heels tap patiently on the floor, their red bottoms a striking slash of color.

Before Monty had officially becomes his Companion, the playroom had seen a lot more use. There was something about the space that put him into the perfect mindset of dominance and command, and the easy access to toys and furniture had formed a significant part of his interactions with his previous Companions, both long and short term. But with Monty, it was so easy, so natural, to slip into that character, and something about them was just undeniably inspiring. They were so sweetly submissive, with a wide, deep streak of masochism that seemed perfectly matched to bring out the sadist within him - it seemed impossible, sometimes, exactly how well they seemed to complement each other's inclinations, Monty eagerly allowing - and even suggesting - Justin to take extreme liberties with them, escalating higher and farther with the passage of time, as they grew more and more comfortable in their own skin.

The door to the playroom closes behind him with a nearly inaudible click that nevertheless sounds portentous, Justin's heartbeat picking up and shifting him into the Dominant mindset.

"Present yourself properly, Monty," he orders, voice soft but undeniably commanding. "Let me see your pussy."

Monty really just loves seeing how their Patron slides into this role, how his shoulders square and his jaw sets and his demeanor solidifies, immovable and commanding. It makes Monty feel weak all over, makes them want to do nothing other than devote themselves to Justin's every request, to please him utterly.

"Yes, sir." They fight back a whimper, but there is no other sign of resistance as they immediately - but slowly - spread their legs wide. The heels they're wearing make a sharp sound as they slide across the floor. Between their thighs, they're completely bare, the silver rings piercing the soft folds of their sex obvious and glinting in the low light, begging to be touched and already slightly damp.

Their own fingers twitch at their sides. They will themselves to stay still. It's a clear sign of their eager obedience.

Edited 2022-11-28 02:43 (UTC)

He grins, wide and almost feral, sharp with anticipation and hunger. "Properly, I said," he murmurs, but there is no mistaking his good mood, his general air of pleasure and intent. "Now that you've chosen to give me more to play with, I expect you to follow through. Tug yourself open for me, little one," he orders, gesturing with his hands. "I want to see all of it."

"Yes, sir."

They bite their lip and reach both hands down, fingertips fluttering over the flat of their stomach, past their little cock and to the ring piercing their clit. They pause here momentarily, rubbing the pad of their index finger against the metal, pressing the small piece of jewelry harder against the already sensitive skin before moving further down.

"Like this, sir?" The words are almost a whisper as they start to play with the damp seam of their cunt. Their motions are purposefully slow, forcibly patient, smearing their own wetness all over themselves. Then, and only then, do they pinch at the piercings on either side of the wet lips and start to pull, their legs spreading even wider now and lifting up off the floor so that Justin can see so much more clearly the way they're body is forced to open up, the tight, pink core of them slowly revealed for the first time in months.

Edited 2022-11-29 03:16 (UTC)

"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?"

"It wants to be fucked," they breathe, clenching around nothing as they speak, shameless and obvious already. Their fingers dig into their own skin, feels that interesting contrast between the smooth metal and the textured folds of their labia. They lick their lips, their fingers already getting slippery with themselves as Justin's hand presses and presses and presses so that their legs splay even more apart, lewd and wanton.

"Please, touch me more sir. I want to feel you where I need you most. Look, see how empty I am? I can't stand it."

"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."

They pout, bottom lip pushing out pink and plush, shiny with moisture. Their fingers wander, dipping into themselves shallowly. "But I like it like this, sir. So I can see you."

They know they're being purposefully bratty, a playful disobedience that they know their Patron tends to...enjoy.

"Oh?" He leans into the single short syllable, his gaze hot and heavy, wandering down from Monty's bright blue eyes, their pouting, full lips, the adorable scrap of lace decorating their chest and down to their spread legs once more.

"You really think you can hold still for me like this, little one? To stay still and obedient, keeping your legs spread out just this wide, while I whip your cunt, make it red and swollen and tight for me to fuck into?"

His voice sounds more skeptical than anything else, reminding Monty of the bargain they had struck outside of the playroom.

Their expression goes coy, lashes batting, their fingers continuing to toy with themselves.

"...I can," they say, in such a way to suggest that they're trying to convince themselves they could. But Monty can be stubborn when they want to be, and particular about things when given the right encouragement.

But there's also something...enticing about failure in this charged space between them, something that makes Monty curious about just how far they could be allowed to push the scene.

His expression settles into something a little smug, anticipation and appetite blending as one as he watches the way Monty is playing, the mood they're in and what they clearly want from the current scene.

"Well, never let it be said that I'm not adaptable," he says, and then he turns away, his mind working rapidly to revise his original approach, considering his supplies on hand.

"But remember, little one. You asked for this."

He steps back from Monty, tilting his head slightly to admire his handiwork. Since Monty had insisted on maintaining their position, facing Justin head-on, he'd adapted. The silver chains and accompanying weights that were intended to hook into the rings piercing Monty's body were still there, keeping them stretched out, vulnerable and open. He'd deliberately lengthened them by adding extra links, because in addition to the weights he'd added a larger set of rings to each one, that he'd then hooked onto the sharp pointed heels of Monty's shoes, forcing them to maintain a very punishing, challenging position, their legs bent in half, fighting against gravity and fatigue to avoid stretching their labia open to the point of pain. He'd likewise tied up their hands, stretching them up above their head and out of the way - not enough to be a strain on their shoulders or back, but something for them to struggle and tug against as the rest of the night played out.

He had another decoration entirely for their clit piercing, a series of interlinked chains of differing lengths all fanned out, with rings at both ends keeping them together, one end linked to the piercing, and the other tugged upwards, tucked in the waistband of garter belt they were wearing, the silvery metal draped over their cock and jingling musically with every desperate tremble of movement.

He plays idly with the riding crop he'd threatened them with already, smirking as he watches them realize the extent of their predicament, balanced on the padded bench with their arms outstretched, the natural movements of their body forcing them to constantly adjust to avoid falling, while even the slightest movement offers a challenge in terms of strain and pain.

Monty loves being fully adorned like this. Nothing makes them feel more...valuable to their patron than when they get to be such a canvas for him, for him to decorate, manipulate, to control. But what they like most is how they can capture Justin's full, undivided attention like this. It's actually the part of Justin that Monty lusts for the most. They're exceedingly greedy for it; its the primary currency of their life, worth more weight to them than all the money and material luxury this "job" provides. All the pretty clothes, sumptuous meals, expensive trinkets...none of it compares to this, this uninterrupted time with their Patron who is looking at them, flicking that beautiful leather crop, as if to devour them.

They sway slightly on the bench, all the added jewelry and accessories jingling lightly as they move. It's a punishing, challenging position even with the help of their arms bound tight above them. Their little cunt twitches, feeling strained and forcibly held open by its new piercings, desperate for something more, something substantial.

"Aren't I so pretty for you now, sir?" they ask, eager for more proof of their Patron's approval.

"Oh, you are absolutely lovely for me, little one," he replies readily, his eyes practically glued to Monty, his head tilted as he listens for the sounds of all their decorations shaking together, those tiny, musical chimes, amplifying the slightest of movements as they settle into his desire for them, into the display he'd chosen to make of them, a sculptor as demanding and exacting with flesh as any with stone.

But they would be far louder than that, before the night was up.

"Look at your pretty little cunt," he practically coos, and then slides the tip of the crop along Monty's inner thigh, pressing it against the chain held taut on the right side, before tracing over the already damp, pink skin. "I can't wait to really put you through your paces. Are you sure you're ready for me, Monty?"

Monty trembles, their whole body responding to Justin, gravitating towards him. They can't help it; it's as if they can't see anything else in the entire room.

"Yes, sir," they whisper, eyes wide and already a little starry, a little unfocused. "You'll have no mercy for me, won't you?" They sound excited, almost expectant.

The head of the crop slices slowly along their sensitive folds, the black of the leather in sharp, delicious contrast to their pale, pink insides. Monty squirms against the bench, their jewelry decorating the most sensitive parts of them jingling in delight.

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