fuguestates | DOING SOMETHING UNHOLY

"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.

He nods along with Monty's question, still probing with the crop, pressing the flat of it against Monty's cunt, stroking against it with the fine dark leather. He can already see the beading wetness of their arousal gathering on the spread-wide folds of skin, and imagines he can hear the wet lewd sounds as Monty squirms underneath his attention and the crop. He slides it up deliberately to catch in the ring pierced through their clit, and then drags it further, along the sensitive length of their little cock.

He loved having them utterly vulnerable and subject to his whims like this. He'd never had a Companion quite like them before, even putting aside the uniqueness of their anatomy. Monty was so eager, so joyful in their submission, in their hunger and inclinations. It had taken some time to work through the initial barriers of shame and uncertainty, but Justin had worked hard to provide them with this safe space, with the needed boundaries and certainties, and Monty had absolutely blossomed under his care and attention.

"You'll be good for me like this, little one, won't you?" He murmurs. "You want me to really push you to your limits. In that case..." He pulls the crop away, brings it down hard on the edge of the bench, deliberately missing their body, a teasing threat, a gentle breeze against sensitive skin that so seldom was exposed like this.

"Count down for me. From one hundred. Every time you lose count, I'll add another five strikes to your total."

He pauses, waits for the order to sink in, watching Monty's face closely. "Your pussy is going to be so swollen and red," he says almost gleefully. "Think about how it'll feel for me to finally bury my cock inside you, after all these weeks. You want it to hurt, don't you, little one? All for the sake of pleasing me?"

Monty nods, closing their eyes briefly only to snap them open again with a delighted gasp when they hear the sound of the crop slap down against the bench right beside them. The sharp whistle of the leather as it cuts through the air...it's one of the most arousing sounds they've ever heard. Their wet cunt clenches instantly in response, tugging slightly against the piercings now holding it open. It is already starting to ache just a little, but Monty wouldn't have it any other way.

"I can't wait, sir," they breathe. "If it pleases you, I'd want you to whip my little pussy until I pass out. And I'd want you to fuck me even then. I know how you like it when I'm loose and easy, how nice I must feel taking your big cock inside of me without any resistance at all..."

Then, Monty bites their lip to swallow their own moan of excitement before they start to count.

"My perfect little doll," he coos, clearly pleased and excited, and then for a moment there are no other words, simply a fraught, delicate moment as Justin looks them over once again, taking in the beautiful picture they made, the apparent eagerness to please, the obvious trembling of excitement and arousal in their entire body.

The crop whistles again, a sharp whine, as he lands a strike right against the small exposed part of Monty's ass. Just as a warm-up.

"Count down for me," he reminds them, and then begins in earnest, working up to a pattern - a few gentler strikes to warm up, then a harder one right against their exposed pussy, in groupings of five, pausing for random intervals to increase the tension and anticipation.

Those four words are all Monty ever longs to hear. All they've ever wanted was to belong, to be possessed (My), to please another (Perfect), to be easily held (Little), and beautiful (Doll). With Justin, they have it all.

At first, the numbers come easily but with each clap of the crop against their most sensitive part, the damp core of them, they start to mess up. They stutter, the numbers criss-cross, and their hips jerk as they cry when their Patron whips them harder just like he had promised.

It's starting to really hurt, to burn, their exposed cunt completely swollen and pink, the piercings glistening with slick.

Fuck. Monty thinks they might actually cum from this -

His attention and awareness are so attuned to Monty's mood and physicality that he notices immediately the way their careful positioning slips, the quiver of movement, and he stops short of the the next strike. There is a frown on his face, but it is conspiratorial, a shared joke between the two of them in light of the current situation.

"Are you still with me, little one?" He murmurs, his tone outwardly curious and vaguely displeased, but his eyes avid and intent. "You've made five mistakes already, so that's at least twenty five more strikes."

"Please, sir, no more -!" They gasp, their voice a deep, needy moan of appreciation, giving away their true intentions: they're still hungry for it.

Shaky and reeling, Monty feels high off the attention, off the pain, their cheeks blotchy and stained with tears. Their skin burns, their cunt red with abuse, clenching pathetically around nothing. And still they beg. “Touch me, I need you, please - haven’t I been s-so good for you tonight?”

"Of course you have been, little one," he replies readily, as quick with praise and validation as with the pain he'd been dealing out for the past few minutes. Monty suffered so beautifully, so clearly drinking up the rough treatment, reveling in having Justin's full attention, in the heights they are being pushed to.

"But we've barely even gotten started, and you're already so close to coming like a desperate little whore. How are you going to last the rest of the night, hm? Are you sure you want me to fuck into you while you're so oversensitive? I'm not going to have any mercy on you, you know that."

He puts down the crop he had been swinging idly back and forth, and then turns to go back to the display of toys on the other side of the room, coming back with a soft suede flogger and a long paddle.

"Maybe we need to change things up a bit, hm? You can pick which one you prefer for the rest of your whipping."

Edited 2022-12-10 04:39 (UTC)

"But I feel so empty," they whine, hips squirming. They pull at the ropes binding their wrists, ignoring entirely how their hands are going just a little numb. Monty's imagining how it'll feel, anticipating it, the way it'll be such a tight fit, how Justin will have to really force his way in, pound through their small body. And how it'll be such delicious agony when they finally do cum -

But then, Justin turns back around and Monty nearly starts to drool at the sight of their Patron holding the new toy in hand. Within a heartbeat's time, it becomes clear they're more interested in the flogger, their gaze trailing down the soft tassels with reverence. They've been on the receiving end of them many, many times now. It's a clear favorite. Monty just loves the contradiction of it: how soft and supple (almost unassuming) it is when it's resting versus how sharp it stung when it hit.

"That one. Please."

His gaze sharpens very slightly, but he sets the paddle down on the other side of the bench next to the crop, just within reach and within sight, but mostly out of the way of what they were currently doing, an implicit tease and threat.

"Do you need something else inside you as well while I whip your needy little cunt, Monty?" He asks, raising one eyebrow, stepping in closer so he can trail the soft thongs of the whip along Monty's skin, a whisper of contact over the sensitive - and sensitized - swollen flesh, little pinpricks of sensation like a curtain jostling over Monty's spread wide pussy and then up over their little cock. It's nothing like the whipping that will result from Justin's expert handling of the little toy, but the intimation is there, a sampling and a taste of what was soon to come.

"That can very easily be arranged. Maybe a little plug for your ass? A vibrator for your pussy? But you said you didn't want me to let you come until I fuck you open on my cock."

"No, you. I just want you, sir -!" They're groaning and crying, their hips wriggling and tilting up, trying to rub against the feather-light touch of the new toy, its leather tassels supple and yet rough. But the way they’re bound makes it nearly impossible for them to get any real sense of satisfaction.

They’re helpless.

And they love that.

"Spoiled," he teases, and then pulls the flogger back, letting the strands sway back and forth with the slightest motion of his wrist so only the thinner ends brush against Monty's skin, like a series of little pinpricks, the lightest of stings.

"If you want my cock, you're going to have to earn it, little one," he chides, as if scolding an errant child. "You're doing well so far tonight, but I really wonder if you'll be able to hold out." He tilts his head, and then raises his arm, holding it still for a breath, leaving Monty utterly exposed and untouched, watching the way their flesh quivers and shakes.

"I wonder if I even want you to hold out," he adds, and then brings his hand down in a strike. It's hardly as dramatic as the crop, without the sharp, concentrated sting of the wide flat tip, just a myriad of sensations all at once, over a larger area of sensitive, swollen skin.

It's not the same as the crop: it's worse. And that's better. It hardly takes a few strikes until Monty's body seizes, tenses, their abused little pussy squirting aggressively as they cum from the constant overstimulation.

They're not expecting the agony of doing so however, and they whines sharply, their legs jerking and trying to close against that overwhelming tremble of feeling. "S-sorry, sir," they keen, "I couldn't - couldn't help myself -"

Justin can't help grinning, watching Monty's body jerk and sway from their bonds, the utter mess they're making of the bench and the floor in front of them, the sounds they're making as they struggle, trapped by the predicament they had begged for. It's so perfect, utterly arousing, and he palms his own cock with his other hand through his fine slacks, just watching them.

"You needy little slut," he coos, watching as their body goes slack, their bent legs shaking with the effort to not tug hard on their piercings. "I knew you wouldn't be able to hold out. That's part of what I love so much about playing with you. Think about how it's going to feel when I finally fuck into you, how hard and how desperately you're going to come around my cock. I'm not going to let up, you know. You need your holes stuffed, and I'm going to take my time about it too.

"But," he adds, with mock severity, "since you couldn't obey, I think we need to make a few adjustments, don't we?"

He steps forward and unhooks the rings of the chains from the sharp heels of Monty's shoes, offering a brief relief as they try to let down and close their legs. Then he strums against the chains of their still-stretched piercings and decorations in the now very swollen flesh swaying and slapping against their own welted skin, adding even more heightened sensitivity, letting them try to prevent him from reaching by pressing their thighs together, their legs splayed open on the ground, heels slipping in the pool of their squirted release. The chains between their legs jingle musically, even muted by their own flesh, while the weights tugging on the lips of their pussy hang down and rattle against the bench as their full weight hangs from their bound hands, held back by being tucked into their garters, but loose enough now to tangle, metal links warmed by their own body heat and the blood pulsing under their abused skin.

"I wanted you on your hands and knees," he reminds Monty, but he doesn't have any expectation of their being able to comply. Instead, he reaches up to lengthen the chain around their hands, lowering them down. They sit splayed on the edge of the bench, whimpering against the soreness of their whipped-red skin, their legs shifting constantly searching for a comfortable, painless position and never quite finding it.

Monty's head is in the perfect position now, right at Justin's waist, level with the bulge of his cock.

"Are you tired of having me in your mouth, little one?" He teases. "After all these weeks?"

"I - I can't," they gasp, their body twitching and twisting, trying desperately to get a sense of balance and comfort, though they know full well they won't find it. Not now, not tonight. The images conjured up by everything Justin is saying only makes Monty more frustrated, more pathetically needy. Had they not been held up by the restraints around their wrists, they would have easily fallen to the ground and crawled to Justin, frantic to touch him, to appease him, to have him.

The metal between their legs is damp and glistening, shining with their own release, dripping with it. The piercings themselves are starting to ache, oversensitive and throbbing. Their little clit is so swollen and red too, causing the ring sitting through it to arch up and out.

(Monty desperately wants to be touched there, wants the edge to be taken off just a little, to have something warm and thick and hard to rub against -)

But then their head is guided down to their Patron's hips, and then lower. In fact, if Monty leaned forward just a little more, the tip of their nose would press right up against the tent in Justin's slacks.

"Never," they breathe their reply, lashes lowering, mouth falling open automatically, their little tongue sliding out, eager for a taste.

He laughs, sounding pleased and happy, and he lets Monty's tongue just touch against the cloth of his slacks, press against the hard hot length of his erection, before he pulls away, leaving their body swaying, bent over and hanging from their wrists.

"I know, little one," he murmurs affectionately. "You just want to please me, don't you? You're always ready for me to use any and all your holes however I want, my sweet, precious doll." He tousles Monty's hair gently, a light caress, and walks around to the other side of the bench, adjusting its positioning, tugging Monty's seated body back until they really are hanging by their wrists.

Then he reaches forward for Monty's hips, lifting their weight up bodily with the support of the chains they are already hanging from, and sliding his hands down along their legs,swinging them back so they are kneeling up on the bench.

"But I want your ass and your cunt today, understood? And you still have another twenty strikes to take before you get fucked."

He picks up the paddle, and walks around Monty, observing their positioning - their bent legs and the beautiful heeled shoes, the swollen lips of their pussy, the weights and chains hanging down from the piercings, the translucent elastic of their garters.

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