fuguestates | DOING SOMETHING UNHOLY

"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.

They preen at the compliments, hips pushing back immediately when they feel Justin's touch. Their body fits, as always, perfectly into his wide palms as if they had been tailored somehow - custom made - just for him.

Monty's never felt particularly lucky in their life. Except when it came to this.

Their waist tilts and their legs try to spread even wider, the chains and jewelry adoring the core of them swaying and clinking melodically as they move. With each breath they take, their small breasts rise and fall, dusky nipples hard and perky with arousal and anticipation.

They'd do anything to get fucked right this moment. They vaguely think of asking even for the handle of the paddle - but they bite their lip, knowing that if they were patient, if they obeyed they would deserve their Patron's cock at the end.

"There we are," he murmurs, sounding satisfied and admiring, clearly absorbed in the beautiful picture Monty makes. "So lovely for me. Maybe I'll even take it easy on you, since you look so perfect like this. I wonder how many times I can make you come on my dick, when I'm finally fucking into you. How much your sweet little cunt is going to clench around me as you cry and moan like the needy little whore you are."

He taps their shoulders, their thighs, their ass, adjusting their positioning, forcing their head lower, their legs a little wider still on the bench, the weights swaying with how difficult it is to maintain balance.

"Twenty," he reminds Monty, as he slides the thin edge of the paddle between the hanging lips of their labia, dragged down and open by the hanging weights and rings. He digs it in deliberately, dragging it along the wet folds of skin, circling over Monty's vagina, and twisting it in a clear, unsubtle tease of penetration. "I won't make you count this time, but you have to thank me for each hit, understood?"

He doesn't wait for a reply, simply yanks the paddle out and smacks Monty's right asscheek, and then the left, without a pause. The third strike is aimed between Monty's legs, a lighter stroke, against the already swollen mound of their stretched pussy, hot and tight, throbbing with blood.

Each adjustment is done with grace, their limbs shifting instantly the moment paddle so much as grazed their skin. That is, until, they start to feel it pressing hard between their thighs, the wood digging nearly into their cunt. Monty can't help but cry out in reaction, their hips instantly grinding down. They're so aroused and feeling so horrendously empty that they briefly think about actually fucking onto the paddle again -

But then the first hit comes, then the second, and on the third one, Monty screams, their entire body jerking harshly. It hurt. A lot. Which only made Monty shudder even more intensely, overcome by a twisted combination of pleasure and agony. They couldn't get enough, eyes going starry and blank as they find themselves begging hoarsely for more, for harder.

He can tell Monty has sunk deep into subspace, their voice hoarse already with sobbing and begging. It was adorable and arousing at the same time, and he has to pause after ten strokes to unzip his pants to relieve the pressure, watching the way their body sways and shivers under the harsh treatment, each loud thwap of the paddle accompanied by the musical rattle of the chains and weights swinging together and Monty's broken cries of pleasure and pain, their genuine begging.

He forces himself to take his time, no matter how much he wants to toss the paddle away and bury himself inside Monty's desperate, straining heat. He can already imagine how it would feel, forcing his cock into the abused but eager flesh, hot and swollen with rough treatment and unaccustomed to use after the last few weeks of waiting for the piercings to heal. It's just as well that he had prepared for this, as a treat for both of them, that he would be more than physically able to satisfy their complementary wants and needs.

The final strike is downwards, the paddle perfectly centered, a sharp, stinging impact right between Monty's spread legs, laid across their very core, jostling all the beautiful chains. He sets it deliberately aside, and then steps forward, his hands ghosting over Monty's red asscheeks, and bends down to slide his tongue over the soaking wet inner folds of Monty's cunt, stretched and aching.

"My perfect little doll," he repeats, muffled against Monty's skin. "You're so hot and swollen and tight here. Do you even remember how to take me properly, little one? Can I bury my cock inside you like this, forcing my way into your dripping pussy? It'll hurt, won't it, Monty? Just the way you like it."

He tugs on the chains holding Monty's wrists, pulls away so he can slide the very tip of his cock along Monty'a stretched-open body, brushing it over their inner lips, listening to the damp squish of skin rubbing together, anticipating Monty's moans.

"Try and take me in, little one," he whispers, rolling his hips but not truly forcing his way in just yet, setting all the weights swaying, a subtle shifting pressure along the hard shaft of his cock. "Show me how much you want this. Want me."

They start sobbing in earnest when they feel (finally, finally - ) the thick, wet head of their Patron's dick nudging in past the swelling, damp folds of their sex. It feels so painful, so good. The fit is incredibly tight, reminding Monty of the very first time they dared to try touching themselves, sliding just the tip of their middle finger inside of their virgin cunt, teasing it and feeling the dry burn of inexperience and young curiosity.

"Please," they croak, not sure at all what they're trying to beg for anymore, lost in a swirl of memory and the present. Their own cock, small and hard and dripping, continually twitches with effort, as if trying its best to behave, to hold back. But it's so sensitive - everything is so sensitive - like an exposed live wire.

Their body wriggles, squirms, and they shake their head pointlessly, feeling dizzy and euphoric. "Can't," they wheeze. "I can't, sir, I -"

"Mm, I really should ease you in, shouldn't I?" He teases, his tone all solicitous consideration, but knowing full well that right now Monty was craving hard use. "It's been so long, after all. I need to take my time."

And correspondingly, draw out the pleasure and sensation and frustration for Monty.

He settles his hands on Monty's hips, forcing them still, and slides out, slotting his cock between Monty's spread thighs, slick already with their own release. He rubs, grinds deliberately against them, thrusting over and against the sensitive opening of Monty's cunt in glancing movements. Monty's legs are spread too far to hold Justin in place, but his cock is hard and stiff enough that it doesn't matter even as Monty's body leaks slickness over Justin's length in a deliberately cruel tease.

Then he reaches around, presses his palm against the head of his own cock, pressing it up against Monty's clit and rubbing against their piercing, aligned to Monty's dripping cock.

"You can come for me like this, can't you, little one? You must be so sensitive here. Let me feel you come before I bury myself inside your hungry pussy."

"Yes," they gasp, "I want to - so badly, so, so badly - oh -"

The pressure of Justin's hand and cockhead rubbing simultaneously up against their pierced clit is too much. After just a few circular swipes of their patron's thumb and a particularly emphatic flick of their forefinger against the ring (making it shift slightly), Monty shivers violently, feels that oh-so-familiar jolt of pressure and feeling in their navel rising up to bursting, making their eyes roll back into their skull, lashes lowered and slack -

They cum with a pitched whimper, just slightly after being commanded to do so, spine tensing in a pretty arch, their dick kicking as it coats itself with its own creamy spend and their pussy clenching like a vice around nothing as they squirt just once, wetting their already sweaty thighs and the plush bench beneath their knees.

Monty's chest heaves, their body shaking and slackening but still very much on edge.

Just as Monty starts to come, spilling all over themselves, Justin digs his fingers in for balance and pulls his own hips back, sliding into Monty's throbbing, dripping cunt with a loud, slick sound, burying himself deep inside them from behind, forcing his way in roughly. He barely hesitates before he is thrusting in a rhythm, yanking Monty back and forth on the bench and groaning with pleasure at the feeling of their body spasming around the thick, punishing length of his cock, pounding into them over and over, while he continues to rub deliberately at Monty's pierced clit and the dripping length of their little cock with his free hand.

"Hrnng!"

Monty grunts through their nose on reflex. Their body tightens instantly once Justin starts pushing in, forcing the man to use more force and strength to fully sheath himself. There's a moment, right as their Patron grinds the base of their dick against the abused lips of Monty's cunt that they nearly lose it.

But where's the fun in that?

It doesn't take long until Monty's panting and groaning with each thrust, the rhythm haphazard and uneven, Justin's cock a merciless piston fucking Monty open and deep. The combined stimulation of his hand still rubbing indiscriminate shapes against their clit - turning and moving the ring there constantly - is enough to knock Monty almost entirely comatose. They manage to stay conscious, just barely, hopeless and mindless, unable to even think about speaking, their tongue a dumb and useless muscle in their slack mouth, smeared with drool.

"Mm, this was so worth the wait," he murmurs, reveling in the tight, hot heat, the pulsing of Monty's much-abused cunt around the length of his cock. The decorations and weights sway and shift, body-warmed metal covered already with their own release, the piercings tugged and strained. Justin's cock drags perfectly in time with his fingers, stimulating Monty's pierced clit from inside and out, fingers plucking at the ring and tugging at the fine chains trailing from it, while he grinds his cock against the walls of Monty's stretched open cunt.

"Have I already fucked you stupid, little one?" he murmurs with a gleeful, false solicitousness, knowing exactly what game both of them were in agreement on. "I'm not going to stop, you know. You owe it to me. You need to make it up to me. I even prepared, to make up for all those loads you swallowed down these past few weeks. They're going to go right into your needy, desperate slutty cunt, and when that's so full you can't even move without leaking me, I'm going to do the exact same thing to your ass."

Monty's hands are going numb. They clench their fingers weakly, unable to do much else. Justin's hips collide with theirs, shoving their body forward and back, forward and back like a heavy pendulum. The bench legs, trying to contain the weight of them both, squeaks against the floor loudly in the large room, barely drowning out the low, possessive growl of Justin's voice curling like smoke in the shell of Monty's ear, making them even weaker in their limbs.

Across the room is a leaning floor mirror and Monty can't help but catch a glimpse of the picture they're making: their body, pale and slight, being used so brutally, so adoringly; the way Justin's teeth flash white when he clenches them, possession and obsession knotted together in every tight line of his jaw, the grip of his fingers; their own face loose and sloppy, tongue lolling out of their mouth and eyes rolling back.

They don't need to respond, verbally, to Justin's taunts for him to have his answer. That much is clear.

One thing he had always prided himself on - in almost all aspects of his life - was keeping his promises. There were, of course, cases where what people thought he'd promised turned out to be something else entirely, but within the bounds of his own values, he always delivered.

He took especial pleasure in doing so when it came to Monty.

He's almost lost track of the number of times he's cum into their aching, straining cunt, the various liquids mingling together and dripping over the bench, practically spraying out with every thrust, his fingers soaked in it. If it weren't for the beautiful mesh of chains Monty was wearing, the links hooked into their jewelry, Justin might lose track of their clit, but as it was, he can tease them with pinpoint perfection, twisting and yanking on the rings and squeezing around their cock, slippery with their combined release but never quite letting up the constant stimulation. By the time Monty is nearly insensate with pleasure, their thighs quivering with effort and their knees sliding on the bench only to be caught by the bonds around their wrists and Justin's strong hands, Justin has moved on, slick fingers probing perfunctorily at their ass, feeling the way their body opens up perfectly with the ease of habit at the familiar demand, even after weeks of deliberate abstinence.

"Your holes are so good for me, Monty," he whispers, sounding pleases, as he rubs his damp cock between the aching red cheeks of Monty's ass, well-spanked and yet still eager. "They know exactly how they're meant to be used, don't they? They've missed being properly filled and fucked." He arches up, buries his cock home in one long, demanding, purposeful motion, barely giving Monty any room to adjust or shift around the girth of Justin's cock filling his ass.

His fingers pluck deliberately at the chains, pulling on the already strained and weary flesh of Monty's clit and pussy. He knows Monty is far too exhausted at this point to do more than shift slightly in response, but he can still feel their eagerness as he starts to work up a rhythm again, eventually coming twice in their ass, leaving them leaking from all their holes, their little cock spent and twitching with overstimulation while his own cum leaks out, dripping from the bench down to the floor.

"Wake up for me, baby," he murmurs, pulling out of Monty, his cock followed by a gush of cum, dripping down their spread thighs and absolutely ruined stockings and garters. "I want to have you on the floor."

They were starting to sink even further into wordless, comatose submission, but the shock of their Patron filling their ass in one sudden thrust makes Monty's eyes snap open and a sharp gasp squeeze out of their throat.

They struggle to say something, but no words are forming against their teeth, only guttural and nearly animal sounds grind out.

Justin's voice keeps them present, keeps them tethered to the now, to everything that's happening to them. His voice is the one clear anchor Monty clings too even as their body is overcome by excruciating pleasure.

"W-what?" is all they finally - finally - manage to say, the word fumbling on their lips. Their legs are soaked with their mingled release, cum cooling in thick stripes all the way down to their ankles. The heels they were wearing have long falling off to the side, forgotten. In fact, all the decorations on their body are barely visible now, covered and stained as they are.

Monty turns weakly to look over their shoulder, their face a flushed, damp mess - just like the rest of them.

"I want you on the floor, baby," he repeats, patient and purposeful, reaching one hand out to stroke Monty's cheek, thumbing away the drool that had gathered at the corners of their mouth, rubbing against their lips. "I wanna feel your cunt around my cock one more time, wanna feel you open up for me like the whore you are. You're feeling empty already, aren't you, baby? Even after all this time, even though you're absolutely dripping in my cum, even though it's practically sloshing around inside you. It's still not enough for my precious little doll, is it?"

He straightens up, unhooks the chain from which Monty's wrists are hanging, his fingers rubbing warmth back into their arms, keeping Monty held close. He's stripped off his own clothes by this time, and other than Monty's filthy stockings there is only the intimacy of skin on skin contact between them, as he scoops Monty up in his arms, holding them close against him. He brushes his lips gently over Monty's forehead before he lowers them down to one of the padded sections of the floor, turning them over on ther back and settling between their spread wide legs, getting a good close look at their wrecked, used holes, gaping and trembling with use, coated in their mingled cum.

"Let me in, baby," he murmurs, grinding the full length of his rock-hard cock between Monty's legs; there is barely any friction at all. "Show me you want to be put to good use, little one."

They nod along with Justin's every statement, instantly agreeing, starry-eyed and pliant and good. "Yes, sir," they whisper, reverent and sweet, their little body shivering against their Patron's far larger one. The skin on skin contact is soothing, allowing Monty to relax even though their hips, legs, and groin are aching from the rough treatment, their stomach feeling tight and full from all the times the man had cum inside.

Monty wouldn't have it any other way.

Being on their back was their favorite position to have sex in though they were always a little ashamed to admit it, worried that it was a dull, painfully conservative desire. But Justin didn't seem to mind. In fact, he never seemed to mind any of Monty's preferences and actively encouraged them to elaborate, to explore, to indulge.

(This is the closest, Monty thinks, that they'll ever get to being loved and in love. They're not exactly sure what that might mean.)

It feels almost naturel, like this, to lift their legs up and open, keeping their holes exposed and welcoming, already fucked loose and easy and wet from before. "I need to feel you again," they reply. "I can't get enough of you, sir. Wish I could keep you in me all night." Their hips lift just so as they reach down now to guide Justin back inside of their body, biting their lip at the feeling of his thick cockhead dragging down their inner thigh and instantly back into plugging their pussy shut. There's barely any resistance now and with just a tilt of Monty's back, they feel Justin sink nearly all the way into their throbbing cunt.

He lets gravity and desire do all the work, sinking into the wet, welcoming depths of Monty's cunt, no longer tense, but still tight, adjusting with easy experience and the aching laxness of exhaustion to Justin's cock, fitting like a well-crafted glove to his full length and girth. It's a sweet, intimate position, their bodies pressed almost full length against each other, legs against Justin's chest and over his broad shoulders, and Justin's abdomen rubs against both Monty's pierced clit and the twitching length of their little cock, grinding down from both sides as his cock sinks in fully.

He leans forward even more, more for intimacy than purely for pleasure, practically plastering their bodies together, and kisses Monty's lips almost reverently, with obvious affection, as his hips start a slow, rocking motion, never pulling out far, but offering additional sensation and pleasure all the same.

"I'm home, little one," he murmurs, lovingly, breath shared between their open mouths. "Is this how you want me? My cock?"

They whimper, a delicate sound, thin like gossamer. Justin always feels just a little too wide at the base, a little too challenging to fit in completely comfortably, but Monty’s learned to associate that slightly painful stretch with being wanted, being adored, with having properly pleased their Patron.

“Yes,” they reply, arms linking behind the man’s neck, keeping his face close, their breaths mingling together as their bodies move in tandem. “Just like this. Wish we could be just like this always.”

They rock their hips up, grinding in small circles, feels the way their piercings throb as they’re continually stimulated and pressed against. Monty focuses in on that special sensation as they kiss Justin back slowly, sweetly. The burst of feeling behind it all, shared between the hot press of their lips is strangely overwhelming.

"Can you feel me inside you, little one?" he murmurs, as they continue to exchange kisses, their bodies rocking together unhurriedly towards a mutual completion. Somehow that pleasure seems almost secondary to the intimacy of their current closeness, even with the reminder of what exactly linked them together. "Are you enjoying your new decorations?" He thrusts forward deliberately, hard and forceful, feeling the drag of the rings and hot, swollen skin against his length.

"You're so beautiful for me," he whispers, quiet and heartfelt. "Both your pleasure and your pain are all for me, aren't they? Can you give me one more, baby? Let me see you come for me one more time just like this." It was beyond tempting to drag things out even further, reveling in the deep subspace he'd put Monty into, the shared closeness and the mutual pleasure, but after the past weeks of deprivation he wanted to be cognizant of allowing some amount of recovery time. After all, he intended to continue to enjoy Monty's new piercings to their fullest extent as often as possible, now that they were fully healed. Overdoing it on the very first night, no matter how prettily Monty begged, was really not the most prudent course of action.

He works up a rhythm again, deep and forceful rather than fast, lingering at all the most sensitive spots, driving both of them towards one final orgasm, moving with inexorable purpose and intent.

Edited 2022-12-29 15:03 (UTC)

DOING SOMETHING UNHOLY

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